bikelovejones

Like anyone getting into a new cycling discipline, the idea has come to me that perhaps there's a bike out there that's more appropriate to my size and riding style.

This discussion came about during, of all things, a telephone discussion with one of my wholesale reps. I was scrolling through the distro's Web site looking for a part, when I accidentally clicked on their bike offerings and found THIS:

(Redline MonoCog, 26" wheel version)





While I love Stompy, the truth is that the bike is heavy, even for a singlespeed bike, and I've spent half my 'cross season wondering if there's a better bike out there for me. Since my style is more mountain than road, it's highly unlikely that I will ever race 'cross on a skinny-tired, drop-bar bike, unless that bike can take ridiculously fat tires and works with an upright bar. Velo Bella's bike sponsor (Ellsworth) doesn't make singlespeed 'cross bikes; and their singlespeed mountain offering has disc brakes, a shock fork and 29'er wheels. Not for me. Soooo -- I asked about this Redline and was told that, not only is it a good bike for the money, but if i want to buy it through the shop I can get a screaming deal on it. My price would be below wholesale. I asked for some time to do some research on it before deciding and was told that would be no problem.

So I'm kicking it out to my readers who ride a lot.

Here's my criteriae for a singlespeed bike:

1. Must take 26" atb wheels, so I can do both short-track AND 'cross on it. (29'ers look like fun, but dragging them over barriers is not, especially when you're 5' 7".) If I cannot loop my arm through the triangle 'cross style, I have to be able to reach comfortably over the top tube to grab the downtube (like I do with Stompy) and run with it under my armpit.

2. Must take V or Cantilever brakes (so I can race 'cross). I don't want a disc brake bike, and I'm not big enough to need one.

3. Must be fully rigid and fully steel.I know this will make for a heavier bike, but if I'm looking at something newer it should still weigh less than my 14-year-old Kona. Hopefully.

4. Must be easily upgradable and convertible. If I find the right frame I will gladly swap over my existing parts (I'm especially fond of my Truvativ cranks and bottom bracket; the Stylo crankset is impossible to find in 170mm length now). I will also expect to swap in a shorter stem and my Misfit bars.

The other option would be to look for a used 'cross frame and build it up as a singlespeed with 700c wheels that take REALLY fat tires. It would be sort of like a 29'er, but I'd be able to carry it like a 'cross bike (arm looped through the main triangle with hand draped over the handlebar) on the run-ups, which I cannot do with a mountain frame.

I'd really like to keep this at around 300 bucks, either for a whole bike or a decent frameset.
I welcome suggestions or offers.

Cross Crusade is over for the year. The series ended with yesterday's Barton Park races. I am sad. Just when I was beginning to get the hang of it, and getting to know some really nice folks, it's done.

..::sigh::..

Random thoughts on the season and on yesterday's race.

What worked:

1. Embrocation. Although it wasn't as cold or wet as it had been at PIR, putting on embrocation just made everything a little bit nicer. Putting on leg warmers over freshly-embrocated legs warmed me up just enough. It was still cold enough that I decided to leave the leg warmers on for the race, and perhaps that's why I didn't have as much of a post-shower tingle in my knees afterwards; more of the stuff probably stayed on the inside of the leg warmers. Still, this stuff is really cool and I'm a believer. So are a couple of nice kids at Team Beer that I shared my embrocation with.

2. My clothing choices. I DID get a little bit of a chill before callups, but I just kept doing little warmup laps near the start chutes until the last possible minute, with my rain jacket on. Finally, just before Beginner women were called up, I shed my rain jacket, hung it on a bit of fence wire, and was fine for the race. My jacket was waiting for me when I finished, and it went back on immediately until I could get back to the tent and change into dry clothing. Staying warm is key for these November races.

3. Not worrying about other racers. While I definitely felt a competitive "fire", it was all about how I could be stronger and improve my bike-handling techniques, and not about the other women passing me right and left. I'm older and slower than most of the women, and they are going to pass me. Once I accepted that reality I could get on with enjoying my race for what it was: a chance to ride hard and play in the mud.

4. My gut. Yesterday my gut was quite cooperative, with no grumbling to speak of. Racing when you have active Crohn's disease is, frankly, a crapshoot (sorry). You can plan your racing calendar and sign up but there is no ironclad guarantee that your body will be in the mood on the appointed day. I think that was part of what happened at PIR last week. Much as I wanted to be in a good space for racing, my body was not, and it let me know loud and clear. This week, me and my body were in total agreement and I was glad.

5. My bike. I LOVE Stompy and I love racing on a singlespeed. It's the best. Period.

Thoughts on Cross Crusade and OBRA in general:

1. OBRA rocks. OBRA does a great job of making space for beginners, especially women, and growing the activity for riders at every level. It does this through excellent organization, people who know everything and can answer questions clearly and concisely, and (most importantly) a virtual no-pull policy. OBRA will not pull a slower rider from a race unless the rider is having an obvious problem that poses a danger to themselves or someone else. In other parts of the country, I am told, this is not the case. If you're too slow (i.e., you're blown off the back or get lapped quickly) you will be pulled from the race. As someone who is habitually blown out the back door, I am grateful that OBRA lets me stay in the race.

2. Cross Crusade manages to find a good balance (most of the time) between a rolling circus atmosphere and a bike race. I was a little shocked at the amount of beer consumed at these races -- especially before NOON -- but overall I never felt like my safety was at issue. (Then again, I did not go to Astoria over Halloween weekend, either.) CC organizers ran the whole works like a well-oiled machine and everyone approached the enterprise with a mixture of down-to-earthness and good humor that helped this newbie grow comfortable in the rarefied atmosphere of Oregon cyclocross.

3. The Oregon 'cross crowd is simply the friendliest bunch of bike racers I have ever met in my life. This scene is so much more welcoming to newcomers than anything I experienced as a road time-trialist 15 years ago, where other racers all but looked down their noses at me. My experience this fall was enough to tell me that, while I have no desire to ever check out the roadie scene ever again, I will definitely be back for short-track and 'cross next year.

My gratitude goes out to some specific folks:

Edwin, Joel, Ira, Molly, John and Danielle for their friendliness and warm welcome to the racing scene.
Hazel for being a willing and cheerful co-newbie to cross with me; I'll see you killing it with the B's next year!
Team Beer, Team Cthulu, Motordome and Super-Relax for letting me hang out (and store my stuff out of the rain) in the vicinity of their tents.
As the only Bella at most of my races, it was nice not to have to do it totally alone.
Velo Bella. Because of their laid-back, non-profit (read: affordable) approach to team racing, I could afford to join a team, get useful info and encouragement from women all over the country, and fly some crazy-memorable team kit in my first full season of racing. Thank you for being a springboard for new racers.
My co-workers at Citybikes, a decidedly non-racing shop, who had the grace NOT to laugh out loud when I announced I was taking up bike racing.
My partner, for being behind me and supporting me in this wacky thing, for telling me that I am a rock star and a real athlete, even on the days when I haven't felt like one, and for being there with hugs, foot rubs and soup when I got home from these things.
Having people in your corner makes a world of difference.

The mantra worked. Thanks to the anonymous reader of my blog who supplied it earlier this week.

Sadly, the camera did not work -- dead batteries -- so I have no race photos until/unless friends send me theirs (with permission to share).

The course was challenging, with two steep run-ups, a concrete slab barrier (oddly, the only barrier in the course!) and several sections of pavement that had been rendered slick with muddy runoff in the previous heats. The best part of the entire course was a steep, quick drop-down; it was steep like the off-camber transitions featured at PIR short-track earlier this summer, and as I walked the course with Joel (who kindly drove me there and home again) we noted where the best lines were. I also noted -- before Joel pointed it out -- that people coming from strictly road-riding approached the drop-down very differently than those with off-road riding experience. The off-road riders approached the drop, picked a line, and dropped down like it was no big deal. The road riders were much more tentative -- and a few stopped short at the top, scared to ride down it. I didn't do a practice ride -- I wanted to save my energy for the race -- but walking the course made it much easier to see where I wanted to ride, and I looked forward to hitting the drop-down. The secret, I understood, was to stay off my front brake, feather my rear brake for just a moment at the top if necessary, throw my butt back behind my saddle (which I could do on my slightly-small mountain bike), and just let it flow down the hill without touching my brakes.

The run-ups were nearly as steep as the one at Alpenrose -- and the second one was almost twice as long, snaking upward through a blackberry bramble. This was the most physically demanding section of the course for me; I topped the run-up and was badly winded each time, my knees aching from the steepness.

Laps were shorter today than at PIR -- around 2 miles per lap -- and the mud was a much more manageable consistency, too -- less grease and more peanut butter, totally rideable on my singlespeed atb. I was heartened by how much vocal encouragement and cheering I got for riding a singlespeed, and for barrelling down the drop-down.

A young woman who managed to pass me on the flats at every opportunity stopped up short in front of me at the drop-down; she was literally paralyzed by fear. The first time, I simply said, "on your right" and passed her carefully. I managed to pick a decent line through the mud and took the drop old-school bmx-style with one foot off my pedal to help me balance against the off-camber slant. It felt fine, exhilarating, actually, and I took it that way each time. On the next lap when the same thing happened again, that same woman was stuck at the top and didn't know what to do. I slowed down and said to her, "Listen, get back on your bike! It's less scary if you're looking at it on your bike! Really, you can totally do this!" She couldn't, and I wished I could've helped her, but we were racing; there were women coming up behind me and I really wanted to complete at least two laps today, maybe even three, before time was called. I learned afterwards that both times she carried her bike and picked her way down the side of the course, just left of the cones.

Another section of the course that I found myself really enjoying was at the sharp turn that took you down through the parking area, over muddy pavement and onto some muddy gravel. A good line had already been carved into it by previous racers -- a benefit of racing so late in the day -- and so I simply went with the line, bunny-hopped a little over the bumpy puddle in the middle, and turned onto the gravel road where I managed to stay up. In fact, I did not go down once the entire race, and my bike handling felt so much better than when I rode my first short-track race back in June! It was so great to note the progression of my bike-handling skills, even as I was pushing myself and my knees complained (loudly) and I could hear my heart throbbing in the top of my head.

And suddenly, before I was really prepared for it, really, the race was over. "You're done!" the officials yelled out to me as I crossed the finish line. "Really?" I asked in disbelief. I knew I'd only completed two laps, and I was a little disappointed. I was sorrier still that I would not get to ride the drop-down just one more time. It was that fun. I hung out near the finish line for a couple of minutes to talk with a friend, and as I turned to head back to the Team Beer tent for my bag, that woman from the top of the drop-down clawed her way up the run-up. Another racer who'd finished ahead of both of us yelled encouragement, and the two of us got off our bikes and jogged with her the last twenty yards to the finish line, cheering all the way. She looked super-tired, and happy to have completed the course.

I am so happy that I hung in there today, that I did not DNF, that my knees didn't give out, that my bike handled the course so beautifully (well, really, there's just no excuse here. I was on a mountain bike.), and that I felt really tired but also really good afterwards. The new mantra worked. I can do anything for 45 minutes.

And that's it. That's my first Cross Crusade in the books (today was the final race in the series). I have USGP, where I've been told that I will probably be pulled and may not even qualify to ride the next day; but that's a totally different scene with its own vibe; more serious, with USA Cycling officials crawling all over and the elite-level riders looking for the series win and one last good race before Nationals the following weekend. I will, of course, do my best at USGP but really for me it has been all about Cross Crusade. I am pretty happy with wha I've learned by doing this and I know I will want to come back again next year, at least for the most local, transit-accessible races if nothing else (though Barton Park is a really fun course!).

So I guess this makes me a bicycle racer, even if I'm a really slow one. I don't care.
Wow. It's really, really cool. I'm glad I've done it. I want to do it some more.

I hope there will be some good pictures on Flickr (search under "Cross Crusade 2009" and I'm sure something will turn up.)

Phew.

You read that right.

If you want to see women get their own Singlespeed category at future Cross Crusade races, reply here with your name and contact info. If I can compile a list with a minimum of twenty women who would sign up to race in a Womens' Singlespeed category then Cross Crusade organizers will discuss the possibility with me after 'cross season is over. The more names I can get onto such a list, the more likely the possibility can become a reality in 2010.

Why Womens' Singlespeed?

1. Singlespeed builds bike-handling skills like you would not believe. If you're not fumbling shifts you can focus on the ride.

2. Singlespeed builds strength by requiring you to build momentum heading into inclines. To build momentum you need to not have someone on a geared bike in front of you, spinning madly while going sort of nowhere. So you may have to pass them now and then. Learning how to pass means working on bursts of speed, and working on bursts of speed builds strength over time.

3. Singlespeed categories at races have typically been comprised of a half-dozen women -- and about three hundred men. That's fine for the rare woman who is experienced and already fast. But for the newcomer who wants to try singlespeed, three hundred men will all but guarantee that she finishes dead last -- and in some races she may even get pulled if the field laps her too many times. All ages and abilities -- the original intent of singlespeed -- is one thing, but there is a clear difference between three hundred experienced men and twenty or more inexperienced women; why force them to compete in the same race at the same time?

4. Giving women their own singlespeed category -- within the womens' race, but tallied separately -- gives women the encouragement to try singlespeed, and gives them a little credit for it, in a setting where they can test themselves against each other while building their skills. In a sport where people constantly complain that there aren't enough women, growing more women racers is partly the point here.

So if you would sign up for a Womens' Singlespeed class at next year's Cross Crusade, respond here with your contact info and I will add you to the list.

See you at the races.

Only now that two-thirds of my 'cross season is behind me do the most helpful articles about what to bring to 'cross races begin to pop up on the internet. Every one of these articles assumes that the racer will be going to the races in a car.

Going to races in a car allows you to bring more stuff: extra clothing; a stationary trainer; a pit-wash kit and maybe even a second bike if you're super-serious about the whole enterprise.

But here in Portland, a surprising number of racers do not own cars. If the races are out of town, carless racers will try to carpool with someone else (which still limits what they can bring to a certain extent). If the races are in Portland and transit-accessible, many of us will go "multi-modal"; we'll ride part of the way there and use transit (bus or light-rail) to shorten the trip so we don't fry ourselves before the race. Going multi-modal limits what I can bring with me even more severely. So those formerly helpful articles written by people with cars suddenly aren't as helpful. I live pretty much car-free (except when I go places with Sweetie in her car, and she generally doesn't drive me to bike events).

I am going multi-modal to nearly all of my races this year. (I signed up for Barton Park days before Trimet discontinued Sunday service to Estacada, so now I am carpooling to get to that race this Sunday.)

Going car-free to races requires me to carry less, and to carry it on my back. So here's how I do it:

1. I am currently using a water-proof backpack that, while not quite big enough to carry everything well, was obtained cheaply. So I'll roll with it for this year and try to find something better for next season.

2. Clothing choices: Check the weather forecast. This Sunday's forecast calls for showers, with lows in the high 30's and highs in the mid to upper 40's. This means that I will eschew my team kit this weekend, because it will just be too damned cold to race in lycra (sorry, Velo Bella). Instead, I will reach for wool-blend, full-length tights and a wool jersey and undershirt. A smaller bag means I cannot bring three or four changes of clothing, so I generally wear my race-kit to the event (going multi-modal means I won't work up too much of a sweat beforehand). I'll bring wool warmup tights, a dry wool jersey, changes of gloves and headcoverings, and a rainshell that I will shed moments before the race. Immediately after my race I will retrieve my rain shell, and change into the dry jersey and warmup tights. Dry clothing goes into its own large ziploc bag. I bring a second large ziploc bag for my wet things to go into after the race.

3. Shoes: My racing shoes are water-resistant and very comfortable. I usually bring a lightweight pair of sneakers and a pair of dry wool socks; but the last two races I haven't felt a need to change shoes since I went home not long after each race. Also, there's not a lot of room in my bag for spare shoes so I prefer not to have to bring them unless I suspect that my race shoes will get fully submerged in mud/water and therefore soaked. Shoes go into a separate ziploc bag.

4. Toiletries: Baby-wipes, a small Packtowl for my body and a washcloth for my face and hands (two separate towels because I don't want embrocation winding up on the wrong places!). I've recently begun using Action Wipes in lieu of baby-wipes and I like them; the wipe is larger than a baby-wipe, and can be laundered (gentle cycle, drip dry) and re-purposed for reduced landfill impact. In a second ziploc bag, I bring extra medications (because you just never know), a small first-aid kit (with band-aids and anti-bacterial ointment) and a cell-phone. In the smallest ziploc bag of all rests a contained of embrocation and a latex glove with which to apply it.

5. I usually bring a small ziploc bag containing snacks and maybe a PB & J sandwich. If I know that the soup wagon will be at the races, I'll spring for a cup of yummy pumpkin-spice soup instead. (After the Hillsboro race I went for frites and beer, a choice that I paid for the next morning. So no more fried foods at races!)

6. In the inside pocket of my backpack I have a multi-tool, a spare tube and tire levers. Riding singlespeed -- and having great neutral support at the races -- eliminates the need to bring anything else.

Each of these large ziploc bags is clearly labeled so I can find what I need in a hurry. I put these into my backpack in such a way that the soles of the spare shoes lay directly flat against my back for comfort. On either side of the ziploc bags I carry a water bottle and small coffee thermos. On top of the ziploc bags I stuff my rain shell. It all fits. Barely.


(It all has to fit in here -- slightly smaller than an Ortlieb backpack)

This was taken by fellow racer "Rich" at last Sunday's race, used here with permission:





Yes, it really was this hard. And this steep. And by the time this photo was snapped, I was about 3/4 of the way through the course, in pain and out of breath. I cannot believe I DNF'd. I cannot believe I completed a full lap. I cannot believe I want to go out and do it again this weekend.

A new mantra, as suggested by a reader of my blog:

I can do anything for 45 minutes.
I can do anything for 45 minutes.
I can do anything for 45 minutes.

It's a lot to paint on my handlebar, but it's not bad.

I am told that the Barton Park course is more technical than PIR, and the mud should be a little less peanut-buttery, more watery. There is talk of a "monster" run-up and some "dangerous" off-camber single-track. I will walk, but not pre-ride, sections of the course on Sunday. I have learned that too much pre-riding kills me for the racing, and also lessens the do-or-die attitude that I have found necessary to get through a race.

Today, some pootling time on the bike this afternoon over at Woodlawn Park.
Tomorrow, a "rest" day spent off the bike. Saturday, a light morning spin around the neighborhood. This is the last race of the Cross Crusade series and I would like to finish. I don't care what place, just finishing will make me happy. I am sure other, stronger racers have nobler goals but there's mine and I'm sticking to it.

I would love for someone to invent a morning-after pill that takes away the effects of a really bad 'cross race.

This morning I am sore and achy all over like you would not believe. I feel like I got hit with a million Matchbox-sized Mack trucks, like a Mack truck repeater rifle. My lower back hurts, my hands hurt (remember, my mountain bike has no shocks), my neck hurts.

(...I forgot to mention that when I woke up yesterday, I stretched in bed and suddenly got a ferocious little kink in my neck. I had to apply some Salonpas patches to the area after Sweetie massaged it, and they stayed on all day till I came home. That couldn't have been the cause of my bad day. Could it? Naaaaah.)
I just feel like utter dogflarb.

And oh yeah, my gut is muttering, too, the way it does before a flare-up. Rats.

I may take the bus today, even though it will take me forever to get to work compared to how long it takes by bicycle. I'm just not really excited about riding to work. And that's hard, because my daily commute is something I usually look forward to every day.

Waaaaaaaah. (I'd stamp my foot, too; but I'm too beat.)

Update: most women don't talk about this, and it's silly because it's a part of life for the, ahem, "distaff" side. But my cycle kicked into high gear this morning and, well, that would definitely explain why my energy suddenly packed up and left town ten minutes into yesterday's race. The day before my cycle starts, my energy level ALWAYS goes up, down and sideways; and if I'm distracted (say, by racing or something) then I'm not paying attention to that. It's also probably why my tummy is going all IBD-crap on me today.

Oh well. Live and learn. I'll admit that now that I've figured things out, I'm a little amazed I actually completed one lap on that insane course. I feel a little better, and while I'm still really bummed that I couldn't finish, I'm not beating myself up over it anymore.

Meanwhile, I have scored a ride to Barton Park (thanks to the lovely folks at Team Motordome), and believe it or not I am actually looking forward to my last Cross Crusade race this fall. Crazy.

Today I stopped being a racer, and became a racer-shaped object.

I rested well Friday night, which is what I wanted for a Sunday race. I ate decently and had no serious IBD-related issues. I went to the race early, wearing additional clothing to stay warm while I cheered on friends. When it was time to warm up I stripped off the street knickers and applied a second coating of embrocation (and enjoyed helping three other racers, including two who were visiting from Team Beer-Sacramento, learn how to embrocate as well). I made sure to stop eating solid food around two hours before my race, and had a final drink and bathroom stop well before call-ups. I walked sections of the course, noting that the mud would be come good and soupy by the time three hundred people had ridden and run through it (and that was before the womens' race). I took an easy, long warm-up, first stretching and then doing moderate laps in the start area and around the backside to the first run-up. I did only a couple of "hot" laps, and followed up with some more gentle stretching before waiting to be called up. Call-ups for the women took a long time. After series leaders in each category were called up, The rest of the women were called up by random ending number, and that put me squarely in the middle of the Beginner's pack. I worried that I would knock someone down if we got too close to each other and slipped in the mud.

In the moments before we were sent off, the clouds blew by quickly and the sky darkened dramatically. The rain, which had held off since my arrival earlier that day, began in earnest. A collective groan arose from the hundreds of women before we were sent off by category.

The rain did not help. Neither did the fact that, as soon as I'd stopped warming up and waited around for call-ups, I got cold in a hurry. (Note to self: next time, get a really cheap jacket at Goodwill and bring to call-ups. Try to toss it far away just before my race starts. If I can't find it afterwards, well, it came from Goodwill.)

I managed to stay upright through the early, slippery paved parts of the course. When we got to the mud, it bogged down quickly, and things began to go downhill. I was already fighting my head, trying to stay focused on my mantra ("Keep Going", painted on my handlebar) and struggling to maintain the upper hand. Riding through the mud took so much effort that I was spent before I'd gone a third of the way around the course. And it was a long course, the longest of the entire series, at over 2.5 miles a lap. I came to the first run-up (shown, here, during a previous heat before the mud really began to degrade):





It is actually steeper than it looks, nearly as steep as the run-up at Alpenrose and another half-length longer. By the time the women were racing the mud had turned to grease. I went down on my knees twice on the way up, and the second time I nearly toppled off to the side because my bike had accumulated about thirty pounds of mud since the start. (This is why the pros have two bikes, and trained helpers to clean and hand off each in turn.)

I made it to the top, and I began to hate racing. I carried on, not out of some noble triumph of spirit but because I was freezing cold and moving helped me to stay almost warm.

I slogged my way around and down the backside of the hill, to another short incline that I was able to ride up -- thick, goopy mud is where I definitely felt some kind of advantage with my slightly wider tires and no worries of a derailleur to break. Then it went from bad to worse. Every turn was sickly, dangerously off-camber and slick as goose-shit (actually, there WAS goose-shit scattered around the fields). Occasionally, there were watery bogs so deep that my rims would disappear. Racers on older road bikes converted for 'cross were in trouble here, because their bottom brackets would actually submerge below the water-line. My higher bottom bracket cleared the water, but it was really hard to keep my momentum going, even with the relatively easy gear I'd selected (32 x 19). At one point, my legs began to burn so badly that I stopped pedaling to coast -- and immediately came to a halt in calf-high water. My foot went down, and the shock of cold water seeping into my shoe sent my resolve tumbling. Still, I kept going; I sure as hell didn't want to stop in a foot of standing water.

The mudfest continued and became simply impossible. I kept fighting the mud on more off-camber corners, trying hard not to go down with my bike. At length, I had to stop trying to pedal, get off and walk the bike through the mud -- lifting and running with it wasn't going to happen at this point. I breathed a sigh of relief when I finally made it back to something resembling pavement, only to see the next run-up:





At this point I knew that I would not, could not, finish the race, and that all I could manage was to tough it out for one full lap. I nearly cried as I dismounted and dragged my sorry ass up the hill and over each barrier. Banana slugs could have lapped me by then. I made it to the top, fell down on another off-camber corner slick as snot, and winced when I got back up; my "trick" right knee was complaining, and loudly. That was it. I was done. I crawled across the finish line, pulled off the course as far as I could, and signaled to the official "D-N-F", spelling out each letter in sign language to make my point. I didn't know which I felt more -- disgusted with myself for quitting, or wrung out from the utter stupidity of the effort. Either way, I felt like crap.

I was cold and wet and grumpy. I retrieved my things; pulled off my sopping VB jersey and slipped on a dry wool one; pulled my street knickers on over my wet cycling togs; said my goodbyes at the Team beer tent and threaded my squishy-footed way through the maze of tents and booths to the exit. On the way, I decided to stop for a waffle; if I couldn't handle beer (and I couldn't just then, because my stomach wasn't feeling so great), at least I could eat something warm and toasty. It helped a little. If I wasn't in such a foul mood, I might have stayed for the Singlespeed CX World Championships, which were due to start in about an hour; but Sweetie had gotten us theater tickets and I needed to get home so I'd have enough time to shower, change and rest a little before we went out. Plus, I was really cold and wet and wasn't in the mood to stick around anyway.

I got home and discovered that Sweetie wasn't feeling well herself; we made plans to trade the tickets for another night and stayed home. It's just as well. Tonight I am bone-tired, my joints are achy from the cold and I am feeling truly beat-up by a stupidly impossible course on a cold, very soggy day. I hope I will feel a little better tomorrow after a good night's sleep.

Next week I am scheduled to race the final Cross Crusade race at Barton Park, assuming I can get a ride there and back. I am hoping that I will want to by the time next Sunday comes around.

Tomorrow is Cross Crusade # 7, being held at a course I've come to see as my home base: Portland International Raceway.

In addition, it's also the site of the Singlespeed Cyclocross World Championships.

Several people I know are racing in both their regular Cross Crusade category and SSCXWC. A few will only race in the SSCXWC. As for me, I will be racing my regularly-scheduled Cross Crusade category (Beginner Women), on my beloved Stompy.

I'm sure that racing a singlespeed bike in the Beginner class and skipping the so-called singlespeed world championships is some kind of crazy anticlimax, a perfect Walter Mitty moment if ever there was one. That's okay. I'm good at the Walter Mitty thing. I've done it before.

I'm taking this seemingly anticlimactic approach because:

a. (and this is probably the biggest reason) The entry fees for SSCXWC are more than twice as much as Cross Crusade. I had already pre-registered for Cross Crusade so I wasn't really prepared to spring for another race so soon. There's also something slightly suspect when a race that has had qualifier races three years running suddenly decides a week before this year's race that instead they will have just one race, open to everyone on a first-come, first-served basis, and capped at 250 spots. That tells me they had trouble selling enough spots for a two-day event. At $45.00 a pop it's understandable. The event is supposed to move to another city next year. I wish them luck. (Last I heard there were still spots available for tomorrow's event. Hmm.)

b. There's no way I have the strength or endurance to do two races in one day, especially within an hour of each other.

c. I'm not especially thrilled about the wacky aspects of the SSCXWC; last year's course featured riding blind through a thick wall of foamy bubbles. There's also a ton of drinking, more than usually found at these things; and I guess that I'm just not into events where the beer just flows and flows. Reports from last weekend's Astoria race, with beer cans being tossed at racers and underage riders having easy access to beer, make me glad I didn't go. The prospect of so much beer at races just doesn't excite me that much. It's certainly not a compelling reason for my participation.

d. Sweetie got us theater tickets for 7:30 pm downtown. So when I'm done, I pretty much need to leave right away so I can get home, clean up and rest a little before going out again. The play is supposed to be really good. I hope I can stay awake for it.

I admit that I am not as physically prepared for this race. Part of me is not excited at going out in the cold and wet; my push-ups and intervals routine has slackened off; there's been stress at work and I've slept poorly for several nights in a row. I also didn't ride yesterday -- I just felt too tired and decided to take a true rest day. The only ambitious thing I did was to rake the front yard and bag up the leaves for compost.
I'm hoping to get over to PIR this afternoon for a little course-walking.

O world, I cannot hold thee close enough!
   Thy winds, thy wide grey skies!
   Thy mists that roll and rise!
Thy woods this autumn day, that ache and sag
And all but cry with colour!  That gaunt crag
To crush!  To lift the lean of that black bluff!
World, World, I cannot get thee close enough!

Long have I known a glory in it all,
   But never knew I this;
   Here such a passion is
As stretcheth me apart, — Lord, I do fear
Thou'st made the world too beautiful this year;
My soul is all but out of me, — let fall
No burning leaf; prithee, let no bird call.

                       --Edna St. Vincent Milay

(pictures taken at Portland's Japanese garden)

I love racing singlespeed. It's freeing, it grows strong bike-handling skills and improves both strength and finesse. I love it so much that, for the remainder of my racing career (however long that is) I will choose to race on a singlespeed bike.

The downside is that, at present, women racing singlespeed bikes have one of three choices: race in their appropriate experience group (Womens' Beginner, Womens' A or B); race in their Masters age group (if applicable); or race in the singlespeed class -- with about three hundred men. At Cross Crusade races, about half a dozen women have chosen the third option, though to my knowledge none has ever beaten all the men to win the category.

Racing a singlespeed bike requires a different approach than racing on a geared bike. With gears, you will naturally slow down as you shift into an easier gear to get up an incline. With only one gear, you must time your ascent and start accelerating from farther back in order to gain enough momentum to get up the incline.
When, on your singlespeed bike, you get "stuck" behind someone on a geared bike who is fumbling a shift, you must either pass her -- or, if there's no room to pass, you will get stuck behind her and possibly lose enough momentum that you are forced to get off your bike and run up the incline. This happened to me at Alpenrose. At Hillsboro, I looked for an opportunity to pass a rider on a geared bike so I wouldn't lose momentum -- and had my first successful experience doing just that.

That said, it would be unrealistic to expect a large field of women on singlespeeds to be truly competitive with about three hundred men on singlespeeds. Physiology is just not on our side. Testosterone really can help you go faster (or else the UCI wouldn't test for excessive testosterone levels at the Grand Tours), and most women just don't come equipped with very much of the stuff. So it makes sense for the majority of women who want to race singlespeed to do so in their own category, and see how they stack up (no pun intended) against each other.

While I would not foolishly insist on a separate race for women on singlespeeds -- there's just no time to add another race to an already packed race-day schedule -- I would love to see women on singlespeeds be recognized for their accomplishments on what is a very different sort of bike. I envision simply adding a womens' singlespeed category to the existing womens' field, and counting the singlespeed riders in a separate classification as they finish with the other women. (At Cross Crusade all womens' categories except A race together. Womens' A races with Mens' A at the end of the day.)

Not long after the conclusion of the womens' race last Sunday, I had a lovely chat with Brad Ross, the Grand Poobah of the Cross Crusade cyclocross series. I asked him what it would take to create a separate womens' classification for women who wanted to get some credit for racing singlespeed. He thought about it for a minute, and suggested that serious inquiries from at least twenty women would be a good start to the conversation.

So, in anticipation of being able to set something up like this for next year, I've invited women to contact me through the OBRA or Cross Crusade forums and let me know if they'd race in a womens' singlespeed classification. I am compiling names and contact info and will schedule a meeting with Brad Ross for sometime in late winter/early spring 2010.

If you're a woman, an OBRA member and a singlespeed fanatic, and you'd be interested in racing in a womens' singlespeed class next year, go to the Cross Crusade forum or the OBRA forum; read the message, and PM me if you want to get on the list. The list currently has eleven women on it (including me). I hope to have at least thirty women who are serious about racing singlespeed and getting credit for it at next year's Cross Crusade. Because singlespeed is simply the best!

(10/25/09, Washington County Fairgrounds. Photo by S. Young, used w/permission.)

(Washington County fairgrounds, Hillsboro, OR)

UPDATE, 10/30/09 -- You may be wondering: what happened to this race report?

Here's what happened:

The same day I posted this report here, I also posted it to Cyclocross Magazine's Forum, thereby entering it in a contest for Best Race Report Of The Week. And for the second time in about thirty-five years, I've won a writing contest. The prize was a large messenger bag, which will come in quite handy for hauling gear.

Sooo... in order to receive The Prize, I had to agree to remove my post from my blog and post a link to it at Cyclocross Magazine's Forum instead. So -- if you were late to the ball and didn't get to read my report of the Washington County Fairgrounds Mudfest, fear not! 

It can be found in its entirety here.

(co-worker Kathy (L) and me (R) enjoying our favorite beverages minutes after the Beginner Womens' race.)

I took it easy yesterday so I could try some colder-weather practice today.
It mostly worked, though I feel slow and vaguely out of shape. I gave it 45 challenging minutes out in the rain and mud. Woodlawn Park was basically a grassy, muddy bog, which was perfect for practicing in soggy grass and mud.

I didn't practice ANY cross techniques today. Instead, I tried to prepare for Sunday's race at the fairgrounds by aiming for mud wherever I could find it, and riding through it different speeds. There was about two inches of standing water in multiple places on the softball diamond, and the small mud puddle I'd practiced in last week had turned into a brown lake. I needed to feel the cold mud on my legs and backside, and in my face. I needed to feel what a slippy rear wheel in mud would feel like, and if I could manage to keep the bike upright. I didn't fall, but I also didn't totally conquer my fears about riding in muddy puddles too deep to see the bottom. I hear the Hillsboro course will not only run through part of the livestock area, but also does a circuit through the rodeo arena. Delightful. I hope I can keep my bike upright in it.

Adding mud-appropriate tires definitely helped. The Cross Terras were fine for dry, fast conditions but I knew they would be pointless in the bog. I sought advice from the nice folks at the Cyclocross Magazine Forums, and several folks suggested the Continental Cross Country in 26 x 1.5 as THE tire for racing 'cross on a mountain bike. So I sprang for a pair and installed them yesterday. They feel pretty darned good in the mud, though the aggressive tread does slow me down a little. I hesitate changing to a lower gear just before a race so I will live with it and see how it goes.

When I got home, I looked down at my legs. They were beautifully splattered with wet grass and watery mud droplets. My butt was covered with mud. And although I was cold, I wasn't intolerably chilled to the bone, so my clothing choices worked pretty well.





Changes for Sunday:

--knickers AND embrocation (I got the NW Kneewarmers Mild mixture, tried it today and liked it);
--wool undershirt and wool armwarmers with VB jersey;
--long wool socks;
--thin thermal cycling cap under my helmet;
--Croakies -- probably unneccessary but they did make me feel more secure about racing in my glasses.

I am still playing around with shoe choices. On Sunday I'll go with what I've been using -- they work great on my pedals -- but if the run-ups are too slick I will have to go back to the drawing board. The courses will only get colder and muddier in November.

Here we go. Bring on the mud.

You can read why here:

http://bikeportland.org/2009/10/20/americas-top-bike-minds-ask-for-and-receive-advice-from-europe/

A panel of some of the smartest transportation minds from both sides of the Atlantic spells it all out, kids.
Portland can't become Copenhagen because Portland has the ill fortune of being part of the United States, and the United States is too big, too car-centric and was planned too much around the car for us to dismantle it and re-train enough human beings to want the smaller, intimate human scale that cities like Copenhagen were built on.

You want separate bikeways that actually get us to the same places we currently go by car? You want to reduce and eventually eliminate on-street car parking? You want to make it difficult, expensive and inconvenient to own and drive a car?

Move to Copenhagen.

Meanwhile if you accept that living the bicycle life here in the United States will always be harder, scarier, less safe and more fraught with anxiety and risk, and you're willing to do it anyway, then welcome to my world, friend!

Let's go for a ride.

I am counting/hoping on the large network that all of you across the Bikeaverse are connected with to help me find this bag:

<<Timbuk2 PRO messenger backpack, size LARGE>>

Below is a photo of the bag (medium is shown but I really need the large)

This backpack was made by Timbuk2 in 2006-2007. It came in plain black or in black with either an orange or silver reflective center panel, and it was BIG. After trying a friend's I am convinced that this is THE bag I need for race days (because I'm traveling to races without a car). My present bag has worked ok for summer short-track, but is not big enough to carry everything I need to bring to a 'cross race. The T2 Pro Messenger pack will hold EVERYTHING.

Can you ask around and let me know if anyone out there has one of these they'd sell?
Cosmetics don't matter -- I expect that if I find one of these it WILL be used and that is totally fine -- as long as the bag is whole and functional.

If you're a regular reader, you know how to get in touch with me. Please send up a flare if you find one of these, and thanks.

 

(Remember, this is the medium bag and I really need the LARGE one.)

I made a deal with myself that each weekend I wasn't racing 'cross, I would go somewhere and practice 'cross.

This has been relatively easy to set up. For easy or shorter practices, there's a neighborhood park blocks from my house where I can go to practice things like mounts and dismounts and off-camber riding. If I need mud and gravel and whoop-dees to play around with, I live about five miles from PIR (Portland International Raceway) and the single-track section of the course is always open during daylight hours. Sometimes the moto track gate is unlocked and them I can practice riding up the huge berms and over the rhythm section in the middle.

This morning I planned for about an hour of good, hard riding over at PIR. The sky was filled with clouds, the air was balmy-warm for mid-October, and rain was in the forecast. I desperately needed some time riding in the rain and through mud before Hillsboro. We've had a dry fall and so far the cross races in the area have all been on dusty, fast courses. My next race at the Fairgrounds will be run through part of the livestock area so there WILL be mud, and plenty of it.

I decided that it was warm enough to ride all the way to PIR, instead of taking light rail; the ride was equal parts good warmup and a little bit tiring. The raindrops started falling as soon as I'd crossed the bridge over the racetrack into the cyclocross area. I was sorry to discover that the gate to the moto track was securely locked. The fence was low enough for me to toss my bike over and then climb in after it; but I decided not to do anything that would reflect badly on OBRA (since they use the PIR facilities a lot). So I was good and stuck to the un-fenced areas, which gave me pretty much the rest of the course to play around with.

I rode a couple of laps around the far backside of the moto track where the big sandy berm is, and then I swooped in and out between the trees on the near side of the moto track, practicing sharp turns, mounts and dismounts over a fallen tree, and riding various directions over the baby-whoopdees left over from the short-track season. There wasn't a lot of mud, but I made do with a couple of fairly deep, muddy puddles that allowed me to feel what my back wheel slipping around under me might feel like in a race. The rain began to fall harder and I got a little but muddy from rolling through the deep puddle multiple times. About an hour into it, I'd had enough and headed for home. The rain was really falling when I left PIR and although it gave me a chill it felt good.

I really want to find some serious MUD before next weekend, but time is running out and I think I'll just have to be surprised by the terrain. In any case, I have a good feel for what things will be like when the Cross Crusade comes to PIR on November 8th.

If you have health insurance that you can afford and that offers you adequate coverage, don't read this.
It doesn't apply to you.

Now that the fatally flawed health care legislation looks like it's a stone's throw from passing, it's time to be clear:

The bill as it currently stands will require me to buy insurance from a private insurance provider.

It will require a private insurance provider to accept me regardless of my preexisting condition, but it will not restrict what that provider can charge me in monthly premiums, or what kinds of specific medications or treatments it can deny coverage for.

It will require me to pay for insurance I probably won't be able to afford.

It will let a bunch of suits who make a six figure salaries (and who likely have never struggled financially as I have done) decide how much they think I ought to be able to pay each month. (The suits will probably get it wrong. They always do.)

The bill will not include a public, government-run option, because the private insurance industry can't stand that kind of competition. The insurance industry is calling in its markers (in the form of campaign contributions to members of Congress) and reminding these weaklings what side their bread is buttered on. And by whom.

If this bad bill passes as it currently stands, it will become a bad law, and a law that will be very difficult to repeal.

I invite any of the rest of the forty-something MILLION uninsured American out there to consider what would happen if we all decided not to play. They can't put forty-seven million of us in jail, any more than they can successfully collect penalties from all forty-seven million of us. And they certainly cannot let forty-seven million of us end up destitute and homeless because someone decided we should pay half our income to cover the cost of our FOR-PROFIT health care system. Can you imagine how bad we'd look to the rest of the world if our government allowed that to happen? We just can't look that bad. We need the rest of the world -- and its investments -- too much for that.

In short, we're being told that we will have to participate in a racket that is being endorsed by our elected officials. In short, our elected officials don't give a shit about us. if they did, they'd tell the insurance industry to go to hell. Writing to them now and telling them not to vote this thing into law won't make a difference. But if we all told them we'd break the law if they pass it, that would certainly be something else altogether.

If this bill passes, Americans without health insurance will not have any real reason to rejoice and they should REJECT this law. And that is exactly what I plan to do. If there is no affordable public option, if the government decides to sell me out to private insurers at any price, I WILL BREAK THIS LAW.

Just so we're clear.

I slacked off a bit on the bi-nightly curls and twice-weekly intervals during the High Holidays, and it has taken some effort to reestablish the routine. Yesterday, while most of my bikey pals were out at the Cross Crusade race in Rainier, I went out and played around on Stompy, if only to keep the feeling in my body between races. I wasn't really in the mood to race, even if transportation hadn't been an issue. As Sweetie astutely pointed out, I had spent a lot of time and emotional energy getting ready for my first race and recopvering from all that probably takes longer than a day or two. Still, she agreed that I should go out for a little Stompy-time, as she called it. I'd feel better, even if I only went out for 30 minutes.

It was colder, with a breeze that compelled me to wear wool and add leg warmers and a thin winter cap under my helmet. I rode over to the park and looped around in all directions, passing over the grassy berms and taking off-camber passes at the back of the stone ampitheatre. I desperately need practice time in the mud, but there's only a couple of tiny mud puddles in the park, so I passed through them from all directions, getting the feel of my rear wheel slipping and dropping down into a seven-inch deep moat before hopping back up onto grass or pavement. There's an awful sound after my bike passes through mud -- it collects on my brake pads and when I have to apply my brakes it sounds like a thousand tiny shards of glass scraping against my rims. I try to ride through grass again after the mud to help clear some of the mud off the wheels, but it doesn't really help that much. Still, when I headed for home 40 minutes later, I did feel better, and my bike had glops of mud already beginning to dry in the late afternoon sunlight.

The fall rains are coming as soon as late tonight. Then I'll be able to go look for a muddier place to practice. I am thinking of taking my bike over to PIR on Friday morning and practicing in what will surely be some significant mud by then.


I am anticipating mud rather like THIS at the Hillsboro race:



YUMMY.

If you've read the previous post, you'll see that the president of a new womens' athletic apparel company responded with an invitation to check out her line and also to propose suggestions for a womens' bike jersy design. I went to the Web site for Ellesport and discovered that at present, the largest size they offer will fit a woman with a 36 to 38" chest, and a 30 to 31" waist. I -- and many women -- am completely out of their ballpark. I have politely suggested that Ellesport needs to significantly expand its sizing range before I would be able to buy their clothes, or indeed to take them seriously. Anyone else out there with a womens' athletic clothing line, take note. I am NOT messing around.