KissCross (Holland Municipal Park (Chris's perspective))

Thanksgiving break came and went. The culmination was the final cx race at the Holland Municipal Stadium on Sunday. I checked the forecast on Saturday before Eric and I headed out for a run to find out that Sunday was supposed to be 50 with a chance of rain in the evening. I must have looked up the weather for a different zip code because Sunday's weather was not even close. The fog from Grand Rapids to Holland was ridiculous. I basically just rambled on to Eric, and mentally hoped the fog would clear. To the contrary, by the time we reached Holland, stepped out of the car, and unloaded the bikes, a slight drizzle started. I pretended it was heavy fog, but my mind's logic that fog equals small rain drops failed when I could no longer rationalize that large rain drops falling at a faster frequency is not the same as small rain drops. So I accepted the fact we no longer would be racing in just fog. Oh, and as the rain penetrated my clothes, causing goosebumps on my calves, I jumped in the car to realize the temperature had dropped six degrees. The temperature now approached freezing according to the car's thermometer. Once in the car, I decided warming up on the bike was out of the question. I would run the course once just to see what I was going to have to race, but until then stay warm in the car.

The time had arrived, I made mental excuses long enough. I only had 15 minutes to pre-ride the course before the C racers went off, therefore 15 minutes before I got to see my buddy Renner tackle the cross racing for his first time. The pre-ride disclosed how exciting the course was going to be. Instead of the usual barricades, which I plundered every time in the past, there were two phenomenal stair obstacles, which involved running up the stadium and down the other side of the stadium. In the center of the stadium was this spiral where I had to ride in circles for a few minutes. Regardless, it should have been a fast course ... except for the rain.

Scott finished and appeared to be clean and happy. I took three minutes to snap a photo and congratulate him. I then took off for the car and sat in the heat with Eric. By the time the B race was set to start, the course was in horrible shape. Just sitting at the starting line waiting for the start announcement chilled me to the bone. I looked around to realize that I thought I could hear Rick's teeth chattering next to me. The race ended up being a blast, partially because it was the last race, partially because it was muddy, and partially because my chain kept falling off.

Since this was the last race, I had a pretty light mood. I wanted to win, but I had completely abandoned all of my normal pre-race routine, signified by the 350 plus road miles I put in early in the week and back to back days of running with Eric. I expected my legs might not be turned around by Sunday, but I also knew it was the last race where I would finally get to shed that extra burden of constantly worry about if I am doing the right training or eating the right food.

It also was awesome to race in the mud. As years have gone by, I attempt to live up to the social construct of being an “adult.” The heydays of running around in the mud were shed as I began paying to educate myself at college institutions, or so I thought. But cyclocross turns out to be the perfect excuse to suit back up as a child. It at least provides a means to silence my mother's voice in my head explaining the inappropriateness of running around in spandex in the cold while it is raining and getting covered in mud. I assumed she would allow it for this limited venue so I still satisfied the societal constructs of proper behavior for a male while wearing spandex. Although I did chuckle while after the race because I had to hose off our clothes before we could even wash them. I totally pictured my mom telling me I couldn't come in the house like that and that I was going to catch a cold standing in the rain. I thought it was a valid point and I didn't really want to stand out there, but I knew she probably wouldn't drive 5 hours round trip to clean my muddy clothes. Regardless, the mud got so bad by the last lap that running the course was faster. Either way, I would definitely sign up for that again.

Its also turned out to be a true test of my sanity when my chain kept falling off. I held it together despite my seriousness towards competitive events because in the end its all about having fun. It's the exact reason I chose to finish the race. Catastrophic things occur, and the day I can't still have fun riding because of my seriousness no longer makes racing fun. Not to mention these things are bound to happen when you don't have perfect mechanically sound equipment. The mud adds to the ability to point out the weaknesses in your setup. The culmination of my 50 dollars to create a cross bike showed its weaknesses halfway through the spiral where I dropped my chain on the inside. I got it back on, finished the spiral, and ran up the stairs where it dropped off again on the backside of the stadium. Finally I stopped and flipped it over to attempt to bend the tensioner where it had to go. After what seemed like an eternity, a spectator held my bike while I finally got my chain on. I headed back around the pond in front of the stadium where it fell off again. I ran it around the pond and pit stopped at the car to grab a tool. I took a look and realized my pulley was off the bearings on the chain tensioner. So the chain was able to bounce around, causing it to fall off. However, before I fixed that problem I had already screwed with the alignment. I made a few line of sight adjustments and got on to re enter the race course. Scott intercepted me to generously offer his bike. It was a good thought, but I determined to stick it out, plus I thought I had it fixed.

I got fifty feet down the track again and it fell off on the inside. I flipped my bike back over to realign it. I struggled this time just to get my chain back on. Just as expected at cross races, a spectator asked if she could take a look at it. I have no idea what she did, but some things just need a woman's touch. My brute force attack to bending and warping in the heat of racing is not always more efficient then methodically unscrewing things and adjusting it properly. Nevertheless, I sped away after she worked on my bike. I thought I was doing the same thing, but whatever she did made the chain stay on the rest of the race, even as the mud piled on.

By the time I seen Rick on the backside of the stadium he was on his fourth lap, while I was finishing my first. Knowing a top spot was not possible didn't matter to me. If I set out to do something, I attempt at all costs to complete it, even if the result might not be what I expected. Here was no different. It also provided nice piece of mind for the final race because I still wanted to see how fast I could go, but I didn't need to turn my self inside out. All in all it provided an excellent experience. I finished the race just as the A's were getting ready to take off.

It was a lot of fun and we all had a good time. We loaded up the bikes and headed back to Eric's house to hose everything off and wash our clothes. And most importantly, brewed up a nice hot pot of coffee to warm the internals. Then I checked back into reality where I made the mad dash to Okemos to begin working on my lawschool work again.

Picture of making the inside turn of the spiral.

Sweet picture of the fog covering the field.

Eric making the turn in the center of the spiral.

Me running the outside line in front of the stadium.