Bicycles | Clothing | Components | Backpacks | Books and Movies | Bottles | Electronics
Glasses | Helmets | Lubes | Nutrition | Pumps | Racks | Safety | Shoes | Skin and Muscle Care | Tools
Trailers | Trainers |Wheels and Tires
Search

rule Articles:
rule


Selections from a
  Cycling Semolier
From the Top of Australia
   to the Sea
Automobile Killer?

rule


NAHBS 2009
NAHBS 2009 Dreamers
NAHBS 2009 Details

rule


TOC Epic Days
TOC Prologue
TransAm at Sixty +
The Park Tool Summit
Breaking Away

rule


Change Your World
Perma-Grin: Cyclocross
My Pashley & Me
It's Just a Bike
From Tragedy to Kona
Art in Motion

rule



Cyclocross freedom to laugh and forget your worries, want to feel liek a kid, try cross

Weekend mornings in the fall and winter, find me curled up with a steaming mug of tea and a good book. Unless of course, I'm out on a cross course taking a beating, alternating between sweating and freezing, gasping for breath.

I'll admit, it sounds unpleasant. Why do I do it? I ask myself the same thing before each race while riding my warm up lap, fingers freezing, as I try to clip in with the mud already encrusting my cleats. Why? As my heart hammers its way out of my chest cavity; all this before the race has even started. My couch and a fuzzy blanket start to look more and more attractive.

...Because it;s a gas to ride cyclocross. Bordering on masochistic maybe, but fun none the less.

The race begins, I glance around, sizing up the competition. My fellow racers are serious mountain bike and road racers fully decked out in team kits, vibrant, approaching garish. They ride high-end mountain bikes or cross bikes costing more than my first car, way more. Yet, sprinkled among them are commuters with their utilitarian rides, complete with straight handlebars, rear racks and pedal cages. There are even a few teenage guys riding fixies, clothed in urban hipster gear, hoodies, and cropped jeans (with outrageously wide cuffs) seemingly strays from some misplaced critical mass ride.

A circus atmosphere prevails as I circle the course. Trombone players in clown wigs salute finishers, spectators ring cowbells at every turn. Occasionally, there's a "dash for cash," We detour off course to collect soda cans containing one, five, or ten-dollar bills, diversions often resulting in spectacular acrobatics. I use my dollar to buy cheap but warming coffee...

No matter how serious you are, you are still having fun

Woodchips, grass, sidewalks, roads, streams and even stairs pass beneath my churning pedals. No terrain is off limits. Staying within the caution tape and little orange flags challenges my oxygen starved brain.

It is the second lap. I've mastered the course through pure repetition... The weather is erratic in fall and early winter. We race in 70 degrees and sunshine this week, in snow and freezing temps the next. The conditions make for variety, spontaneity, stimulation and suffering - they make for cyclocross.

Cyclocross freedom to laugh and forget your worries, want to feel liek a kid, try cross

Weekend mornings in the fall and winter, find me curled up with a steaming mug of tea and a good book. Unless of course, I'm out on a cross course taking a beating, alternating between sweating and freezing, gasping for breath.

I'll admit, it sounds unpleasant. Why do I do it? I ask myself the same thing before each race while riding my warm up lap, fingers freezing, as I try to clip in with the mud already encrusting my cleats. Why? As my heart hammers its way out of my chest cavity; all this before the race has even started. My couch and a fuzzy blanket start to look more and more attractive.

...Because it;s a gas to ride cyclocross. Bordering on masochistic maybe, but fun none the less.

The race begins, I glance around, sizing up the competition. My fellow racers are serious mountain bike and road racers fully decked out in team kits, vibrant, approaching garish. They ride high-end mountain bikes or cross bikes costing more than my first car, way more. Yet, sprinkled among them are commuters with their utilitarian rides, complete with straight handlebars, rear racks and pedal cages. There are even a few teenage guys riding fixies, clothed in urban hipster gear, hoodies, and cropped jeans (with outrageously wide cuffs) seemingly strays from some misplaced critical mass ride.

A circus atmosphere prevails as I circle the course. Trombone players in clown wigs salute finishers, spectators ring cowbells at every turn. Occasionally, there's a "dash for cash," We detour off course to collect soda cans containing one, five, or ten-dollar bills, diversions often resulting in spectacular acrobatics. I use my dollar to buy cheap but warming coffee...

No matter how serious you are, you are still having fun

Woodchips, grass, sidewalks, roads, streams and even stairs pass beneath my churning pedals. No terrain is off limits. Staying within the caution tape and little orange flags challenges my oxygen starved brain.

It is the second lap. I've mastered the course through pure repetition... The weather is erratic in fall and early winter. We race in 70 degrees and sunshine this week, in snow and freezing temps the next. The conditions make for variety, spontaneity, stimulation and suffering - they make for cyclocross.

Send This Story To a Friend
Your Name:
Friends Email Address:
Your Email Address:
Custom Message:
Banner Ad

Banner Ad