Rides: Wind advisory, sleet, cold = cycling bliss

I shut my left eye and pedaled a few strokes, then closed it and opened my right eye and pedaled a bit before switching back to my left eye. Sometimes, I shut both eyes and rode blind. It was all I could do to protect myself from the frozen pebbles of rain that were stinging my eyes. It was freezing. There was a wind advisory in effect until midnight. It was a miserable day for cycling. Still, I had a blast. It was just the kind of conditions I wanted for the first ride of 2012. I wanted the ride to be memorable and indeed it was.

I didn’t go long. The ride lasted about an hour on my ‘cross bike over the dirt roads outside of northeast Ann Arbor. Just getting out and doing as many kilometers as possible was the goal for the day. I was close to staying indoors and doing a roller workout. There was a great temptation not to ride at all. I slept in until 8 a.m. When I took my dog out for her morning walk, the temperature was perfect for a ride, but there wasn’t enough time to go out before church. The forecast called for plunging temperatures in the afternoon along with freezing rain or snow showers. And that’s exactly what happened. After lunch, I tried to psych myself up for a ride, but I ended up  sitting down with a mug of tea and “The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo,” which I can’t seem to put down. At 2 p.m., I took a cat nap and woke up at 3 p.m. I stepped outside and the weather was absolutely wicked. Blustery winds, chilly, a dark brooding sky. “Screw this winter riding. I should just ride indoors until March,” I thought to myself. But as I mentally prepared for another roller workout, going outdoors became increasingly appealing. Then the dark clouds parted and there was a burst of sunshine. I started putting on my cold-weather gear and that lifted my spirits even more.

Once I got on the road, the sun disappeared, dark clouds re-emerged and strong winds began whipping me around the road. One gust nearly knocked me over. About five kilometers from home, just when I turned off on the dirt roads, the sleet began to fall. My black tights looked like someone had dumped sticky rock salt on them. The icey rain wasn’t melting and soaking my clothes, so I wasn’t too worried. The roads became wet with cake-batter mud, and my booties were quickly coated with the stuff. The sleet seemed to be coming down horizontally, finding its way through the top of my sunglasses and slamming into my eyeballs. Damn that hurt. It was a good pain, though. And the crazy masochist within me loved it.

‘Cross: Wicked S-curve gives me a good head smacking

One second, I’m steering through an S-curve on a muddy slope, struggling to stay upright . The next second, my head is smacking the ground and the moisture from the frosty grass is quickly soaking through the left side of my lycra shorts. “Damn, did I really hit my head? Am I OK?” I ask myself. I start wondering if I have a concussion. Then I realize I have no idea what a concussion would feel like. Am I woozy? No. Dizzy? No. Head aching? No. Must be OK then. My pride kicks in, and I look around to see if anyone saw me crash. Luckily, there were no witnesses. But another guy is coming down the hill. He clears the first curve, loses control and sluuuup. He’s down, too.  I feel much better.

This isn't the wicked S-curve. It's another one. Photo by Markus Nee of the Ann Arbor Velo Club.

I brushed the mud and grass off my leg and head before hopping back on the bike and continuing the first lap of my warm-up for my first cyclocross race. For a minute, I became overwhelmed with self doubt. Did I really know what the hell I was doing? No, I didn’t. But initially, I didn’t think it mattered that much. ‘Cross didn’t look that hard to me. The only thing I was really worried about was the sections of the course with barriers. I had never practiced dismounting from my bike, picking it up and leaping over the obstacles.  The local bike club held several ‘cross clinics at the start of the season, and I planned to attend but work and family got  in the way.

I didn’t expect the course to be so treacherous. Half of it was laid out on the side of a steep hill. This played to my strengths because I love climbing more than anything else. But the challenges I didn’t anticipate were the sections of the course that cut across the hill, tricky off-camber stretches on mud as slippery as axle grease. This seemed cruel and dangerous. I pedaled along, staring at my tires, praying they’d keep gripping the ground.

On my second warm-up lap, my heart began pounding as I rode closer to the wicked S-curve. I told myself to keep calm and figure out how to navigate it without going down. But as I neared the section, I noticed the course had been altered and the S-curve was eliminated. It was just too damn dangerous. Not just for me but for most folks. Maybe I didn’t suck so bad after all.

‘Cross: Get the guy on the carbon Cannondale with matching skinsuit!

“Get the guy in the sweatshirt. Get the guy in the sweatshirt.” That was my mantra on Lap 1 of my first cyclocross race. On Lap 2, my mantra was, “Catch the guy with the beer gut. Catch the guy with the beer gut.” Then on Lap 3, it was, “Get the guy on the carbon Cannondale with the matching skinsuit. Get the guy on the carbon Cannondale with the matching skinsuit.” Finally, on Lap 4, I was gasping, “Don’t let the woman beat you. Don’t let the woman beat you.”

Photo by Markus Nee of the Ann Arbor Velo Club.

I guess it’s obvious from the company I kept on the course in Ann Arbor last weekend that I wasn’t racing at the front, though the woman was an outstanding athlete. I was racing in the 40+ group, and we started 30 seconds ahead of the women. She passed me on the second lap, but I was able to  keep her within striking distance. We spent the fourth lap trying to drop each other. I would pass her on a hill, then she would exploit my pathetic bike-handling skills in technical areas or sections with barriers. She really pulled away when I amazed myself  by doing a near-textbook dismount and gracefully hurdling some barriers. But when I jumped back on my bike, it wasn’t upright enough, and I came crashing down on it. Absolutely humiliating. I was able to get on her wheel down the final stretch and pip her at the line. She said, “Damn, nice job.” And I said, “Well, you still beat me by 30 seconds!” She then thanked me for putting up a good battle and making the race interesting for her.

Cross fans have such a wonderful sense of humor. Photo by Markus Nee.

It was a bad result for me, though. I’m capable of so much better. But I’m not upset about it. I wasn’t aiming for a good result. I just wanted to finally experience cyclocross for myself. While living in Greater China the past 10 years, I watched from afar as the sport exploded in popularity in the U.S. I wanted to give it a go so badly. One of the reasons why I gave up my life as a foreign correspondent, switched careers and moved back to the U.S. was to be able to better pursue my cycling passions and enjoy a more active lifestyle.

But here I was, back in the states, watching the ‘cross season slip away from me. Every weekend, I was unable to race for a bunch of reasons: long business trip overseas, complications in building up my bike (fodder for a future blog post), time conflicts with my kids’ soccer games, poor racing form (more fodder for a post).

But all the stars finally lined up last weekend when Michigan’s ‘cross race series finally made it to Ann Arbor. To be continued…