Race Report: Murrysville Cyclocross

Yesterday, around 3:00 PM, I was regretting my decision to ride Murrysville instead of the Dirty Dozen. Saturday was clear and pleasant, with temperatures in the mid 40s. The forecast for Sunday was cold, rain, and wind. A proper introduction to ‘cross, I suppose. I left for Joe’s house around 8:15 AM, we put the trusty Cannondale (which was finally going to be used for its proper purpose) on his rack, and sped off. The rain started in earnest soon after we left, and by the time we reached it park, it was raining steadily, with lots of wind kicking over the hills. I got changed in the rather small shelter that a Cooper Mini provides, and prepared to head out for a lap around the course. I made it to the first grass section and noticed my rear tire was flat.

Oh good.

I went back to the car, changed the tube, and noticed that with my wet and cold hands, I didn’t properly set the bead of the tire, and had to re-inflate the tube. These shenanigans left me with just enough time ride the course, get back to the start, strip off my warm-ups and get to the start line. I really could have used a trip to the bathroom, and maybe the other half of my NuGo bar (and maybe even some water) but there was no time for that. I was concerned my tire pressure was too low (~35 PSI), but I didn’t have much time to dwell on that.

The start was fast, and I found myself in the back half of group (20 racers started) very quickly. This was not at all a good plan, and I started to slowly pick my way through the crowd as the course transitioned from pavement to grass. The first run-up went well, and I managed to pick up another place or two on the flat following. By the time we reached the twisty back section of course, the pack had thinned, leaving lots of room through the tight corners. After another short run-up, I found myself in second place, perhaps five seconds behind the leader. I was fairly content with this position, and found myself maybe five seconds ahead of the third place rider. Good enough. I settled into a pace and kept my nose clean.

I picked up a bit of ground at the start of the second lap, and after the second run-up, I was able to make contact with the leader. We had, it seemed, distanced ourselves from the rest of the group. Again, I was content to sit on his wheel, and sit I did through the start of the third lap. When we reached the first run-up, he decided to take attempt to ride it, and fell (well, actually, he endo-ed, and I had to push his rear wheel out of the way to avoid going down myself). He recovered quickly, but I was able to open a small gap. I wasn’t sure how this was going to work out, and I focused on simply maintaining my pace and staying upright on the rapidly deteriorating course. I settled into a rhythm, knowing the course a bit better now, and was thoroughly enjoying myself, despite being soaked and muddy.

As I entered the start/finish stretch, the marshal said I had a decent gap, but I didn’t bother to really look back. I forced myself to keep my pace on the pavement high. Each section passed without much incident. Prior to the race, I was wondering how the run-ups would feel later in the race. I was able to avoid shouldering the bike, so that made them a bit less draining, and with a crowd of people clanging cowbells, it was easy to be motivated to keep up the pace. When I reached the start/finish straight, the marshal said I had about 15 seconds on the next rider. One lap to go.

I pushed the pace a bit when I could, but I was more focused on dealing with the course. The sketchiest bit was a long, off-camber straight near the barriers. The thin strip of flat grass was a rutted mess, and required concentration to keep the bike on track. This passed without incident, and I was hopping the barriers and preparing to enter the finishing stretch.

I won.

Nutty.

I felt like a bit of sandbagger, but it was my first race, after all. All of that Dirty Dozen training was worth something, I suppose.

The race was really fun. And would have been really fun even if I had finished dead last. It’s too bad it was raining and cold, because the boys would have liked to been out on the course, banging cowbells. The course itself was really good, and very spectator-friendly. Watching the B race, I could catch at least four bits of action without walking more than 50 feet. And despite the conditions, it was well run and well attended. I hope there are more races locally next season. I expect we’ll travel east once or twice to race a few near Philly, too.