Cyclocross: because riding a road bike on dirt is surprisingly fun

I have a new sport and, coincidentally, a new bike.

Last week I tried Cyclocross (CX) for the first time. For those unfamiliar with this particular strain of cycling, it’s basically riding road bikes off-road, powering through a “loop” as many times as you can in a half hour. It’s a solid workout if you want it to be.

Last week’s cyclocross course. I forgot to Strava this week’s because I was a little disorganized and running behind schedule.

I say “loop”, because each course is actually a twisty, turny maze of plastic tape, which, in the case of Victoria’s Wednesday Cross Club events, is tied around old golf club handles that have been speared into the ground. The “loop” features tight corners, sudden steep pitches, off camber grassy hills and even a few gnarly rock sections that would be simple on a mountain bike, but can present a bit of a challenge on a cyclocross bike. On a dry course, you can definitely tell the mountain bikers from the roadies. The roadies hop off and run the technical sections while the mountain bikers tap into their bike handling skills and ride just about everything. I have yet to ride a course in the rain so it’s very possible things may look a little different when the mud comes.

For my first attempt at this new hobby last week, I borrowed my friend Krista’s Specialized Tricross. It didn’t make sense to buy a new bike for a sport I had never tried before. Cyclocross bikes are surprisingly expensive and my hunt for a used ride in my size and price range – cheap – had yielded zero results. Thankfully, Krista’s bike was a perfect fit and I had a blast zipping around the course for three laps, which added up to a whopping 6 kilometres. I could have squeezed in a fourth lap, but since it was my first go, I wasn’t sure if I should risk still being on the course when the start gun went off for the elite group.

My newest ride, a 2008 Trek XO1. It’s far from new, but it’s a great starter bike. No, I’m not riding with toe clips, but those are the pedals this bike came with.

At this point, the cycling gods must have been smiling on me because my friend Sabrina spotted a classified ad for a bike in my size. At $550 is was also in my budget. A quick test ride and inspection last weekend, and I was the proud new owner of a size small 2008 Trek XO1.

I had my first run with it tonight and it felt pretty good. It may need some minor tweaks, but it’s a solid starter bike. It does have fairly skinny tires and the tread isn’t very aggressive for a CX bike. This didn’t cause me any issues tonight since the conditions were dry, but I can see it being an issue when the rains hit in full force. That said, I’m not changing them until at least next season. I’ve invested all I care to invest for this year. If something breaks, I’ll fix it, but that’s it.

In my two experiences of cyclocross, I have noticed a few hazards to watch out for:

1. Loose gravel. This can be a challenge on a mountain bike, but it’s deadly on a cyclocross course. Though some CX bikes have fairly wide, aggressive tires, it’s still very easy to wipe out if you roll onto gravel in a turn. I’ve watched several people eat dirt in these sections and I’ll be grateful if I avoid being one of them by the end of the season.
2. Mud. While riding a muddy trail in the rain may be a blast on a mountain bike, I doubt it’s terribly fun on skinny tires. There was a small patch of mud on a steep little climb on this evening’s course and by the fourth lap, it was getting rather slick. A good rain and we would all have been spinning my wheels. Spots like this are where the dismounting and remounting skills will be key. Sadly, I don’t have any of these skills yet, but I’m working on it.
3. Other riders. Actually, most people were very courteous. Faster riders waited for a good opportunity to pass and slower riders offered up places to pass when they could. There was only one guy who thought he was hot shit and cut me off in a corner, nearly taking both of us out. It was a bit of a jerk move since these Wednesday evening events are practice nights and not actual races.

So far, I’m stoked on my newfound sport. I’ve had great support from friends willing to watch my son while I race since they ride in a different category. It removes one huge barrier to my participation and I’m excited for the weeks ahead. Hopefully I’ll have a few interesting tales for you as things progress.

A little adrenaline to start your day

Note to self: Not everyone enjoys technical climbing

As I’ve progressed as a mountain biker, sometimes I forget that not everyone enjoys the challenge of grinding their way up rooty, rocky single track.

It was brought pointedly to my attention this weekend when my boyfriend expressed mild discontent with my chosen route for our ride. It was a technical climbing route with plenty of roots and rocks to get over while huffing and puffing our way to the top. He does not enjoy these technical ascents, a sees a fire road climb as more efficient and easier on the lungs. He’d rather not climb up the same things he hucks over on the way down. It is simply not fun for him.

Not everyone enjoys technical uphill climbing. Those of us who do like to dress for the occasion sometimes.

And he’s not the first person to tell me my route choice sometimes sucks.
A few years ago, I took a friend to the same park and on a similarly technical climbing route, after which she dubbed my local park – Hartland – “Hell-land”. Yep, she hated my route that much and her nickname has now become a running joke. (Yes, we are still friends despite that experience).

And I completely understand their perspective.

For starters, technical climbing is hard. I often feel like I’m so far into my anaerobic zone that I may never return to normal breathing again. It was far more challenging in my earlier days of mountain biking when my fitness and muscle strength were not quite aligned with what’s required for riding in this part of the world. With my legs burning and my cardio system red lining, I couldn’t understand how I was supposed to lift my wheel a foot or 2 in the air over a root or rock. It seemed a bit much to ask of my poor little body. Where the heck was that burst of energy supposed to come from? Yelling “Shut up legs!” wasn’t accessing the energy reserves required for such a feat.

It took a lot of time, patience and sessioning to figure out how I could execute the necessary skills without doubling over, gasping and wheezing from the effort. If you push too hard on the uphill, there’s always a concern that you’ll be too exhausted to enjoy the downhill. Been there, done that, it sucked. A half hour grind up the fire road is generally faster and more energy efficient than embarking on that hour long single track climb.

There’s also no rush of adrenaline when you clean that tricky corner you’ve been working on. Sure, there’s a sense of accomplishment and maybe a happy dance at the end, but it’s not quite the same as riding over that big drop or jump you’ve been working up the balls/ovaries to fly over. The sensation of your stomach leaping into your throat as you fly through the air cannot be matched by the feeling you get from a wheel lift and fierce pedalling up a rock or root. It’s more exhausting than exhilerating.

I get a lot of enjoyment knowing that I can climb up some of the same trail features I ride down and there’s no doubt that my downhill skills benefit from that. But when riding with other people, it’s important to remember that not everyone wants or needs that. I think I need to start giving my riding partners the option – fire road or single track climb. Then hopefully, I won’t have anyone else dubbing my beloved local park “Hell-land” in the future.

Time to stretch the skills

It’s amazing what one day of coaching can do for a person’s skills and confidence. One minute you may be gingerly eyeing up that wall ride or seemingly massive table top and the next minute, you’re confidently boosting over even bigger stuff with the giddy laugh of a 2 year-old playing peek-a-boo.

I’ve been feeling like my mountain bike skills plateaued for the past three years. With less time for the trails after the shock and awe of having a child, it seemed like the ability to push my limits was lost to a sense of parental responsibility.

I felt like I should be more cautious. Unlike my job, parenting does not afford me the luxury of sick leave if I break a body part when I fail to clear that gap jump I’ve convinced myself I can ride.

The point was driven home last year when I sliced my knee open after I endoed during a cross country ride. Trying desperately not to pop the 6 stitches just below my knee cap, I spent a lot of time peg-legging it after my then-2-and-a-half-year-old who thought it was hilarious to have mommy chasing him as he bolted toward the road. His high pitched maniacal little laugh still haunts me a bit.

I had actually been relieved when, during my first trip to Whistler as a parent, I was able to get back to the level I had been riding at before I was pregnant. Five foot drops felt pretty good and most of the jumps on Crank It Up were a breeze. And yet, I knew I was going to want more.

I’ve been left wanting until this past weekend. The stars aligned for a last-minute girls’ trip to Silver Star Mountain in Vernon, B.C., for a one day women’s skills camp organized by Jaclyn Delacroix of Ozmosis Training. At $115 for a 2 day park pass with one day of instruction from experienced coaches, complimented by lunch and dinner, it was a no-brainer. With family in the area, I had childcare too!

So on Saturday, I pulled on my armour and full-face helmet, which had been languishing in a closet for the past year, and prepared myself for the possibility of eating dirt.

After a warm up lap, our group headed to the skills park and went back to the basics of jumping. Our instructor, Lynne Armstrong, had us practicing our bunny hops, lifting our front and rear wheels in succession, trying to form a nice little arc just above the ground.

Next, we moved onto the small table tops where Lynne explained and then demonstrated the action of “popping” as she hit the top of the jump. We all mimicked her as best we could, crouching a bit in the approach to the jump and then quickly standing up on the pedals at the lip while performing the bunny hop motion. The arc we made would ensure our front and back wheels landed on the transition evenly, making the whole motion feel smooth.

I’ve had some coaching on jumping before, so I knew much of what she was teaching us, but I’ve never found it a waste of time to return to basics. It can often correct bad habits that have been holding you back or help you put together 2 actions that have been disconnected.

For me, I think it was the bunny hop that was missing. I was popping like a jack-in-the-box, but I just wasn’t using my feet properly. Once I consciously incorporated that action into my jumping, I was on fire. Rather than being scared about not reaching the landing, I was now concerned with overshooting it. I suddenly knew I’d reach my goal of feeling confident on larger table tops by the end of the day.

Getting a little air on World Cup Downhill in Silver Star. Photo by Gina Hopper Photography

With a bit of practice, we were all feeling pretty good and moved up to the larger table tops, going faster and higher. It was at this point that Lynne suggested we fill our hang time in the air with something – turning the bars or kicking the back wheel out to the side. These are things I have always been scared to try, convinced I wouldn’t straighten things out before landing. But that day, I was feeling brave, so as I sailed over one of the table tops, I did a tiny bar turn and then successfully landed my bike. I’m sure the likes of Brandon Semenuk had done more interesting tricks at age 5, and yet, I was over the moon at this development. In that moment, I was ready to move to Whistler and get a season’s pass for the air dome. Back flip, here I come!

Ok, so maybe there aren’t any back flips in my future (or maybe there are…), but I now know I could hit some decent sized table tops, doubles and gaps and maybe even do more than a bar turn in the air eventually.

I don’t take a lot of skills clinics. There just isn’t enough money and time to do it as much as I would like to, but I’m always grateful for the opportunity to learn something new and take my riding to the next level. If you’ve been feeling stagnant in your riding, or anything else you may do, go learn something new and take things up a notch.

Note: I was lucky enough to spend some time in front of the camera with Vancouver-based photographer Gina Hopper this weekend. To see more of her images or to have her capture your rock star moments, check out her website or Facebook page. She’s also on Instagram, @geehopphoto.

Well that was a long break…now for some inspiration

It’s been a while, hasn’t it? And yet the time seems to have gone by so fast.

One moment, I was eager to share all the interesting stories that didn’t make it into my week of BCBR race posts and then my real life took over. This blogging thing no longer had a sense of immediacy and so I took a long (possibly much-needed) break. I fear now the moment is lost, but I’m going to write those stories anyway since they offer so much inspiration and education.

The first dose of inspiration I recall came on Day 1. As we stood at the start line in Cumberland, people at the front of our group were being interviewed by the announcers. One of the racers mentioned that she was doing the race to prove that having a pacemaker didn’t have to stop people from being active.

Talking to her later on in Powell River, I learned that she was on her seventh pace maker, which is a device that is implanted into the chest to correct irregular heart rhythms. She said she had to be  careful when she exercises because she only gets so many beats per minute.

Every pacemaker has a heart rate cut off, which is tailored to the person using it. The person has to stay below that cut off, preferably 10 per cent below. The reason for staying below that threshold, it seems, is that the pacemaker will automatically lower the heart rate, as a safety precaution, once it reaches or nears the peak heart rate. This results in sudden fatigue.

To help mitigate this issue, she had human powered pedal assist in the form of a very fit race partner who had a tow rope tied around his waist. On the steeper climbs, the racer with the pacemaker would grab onto the end of the rope and her partner would tow her up the hill.

I had a hard enough time getting myself up the hills. I can’t imagine how hard he must have been working, regardless of the fact that he was extremely fit and an excellent technical rider as well.

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Leading by example is not the main thing in influencing others. It is the only thing.
-Albert Schweitzer

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So my amazement for this team was two-fold: I admired her for taking on such a demanding race with an extra challenge most of us will never face, and I admired him for helping her to meet her goal with the kind of support few of us are able to offer. It couldn’t have been an easy feat for either of them.

All of this being more than a month ago, I can’t for the life of me remember their names, but their dedication will likely inspire me for the rest of my life.

If you want to learn a bit more about the types of pacemakers and what they do, intermountainhealthcare.org has a pdf with some basic information.

Looking for the next challenge

As I’ve been settling back into real life post-BC Bike Race, I’ve spent a few evenings researching other epic races throughout the world as I look for another challenge.

See, this racing thing gets addicting even for us back-of-the-pack types. The adrenaline, the atmosphere, the finisher’s medal and (most importantly) the after party all create an irresistible pull year after year.

At eight months pregnant, I volunteered with the media team for the 2011 Mind Over Mountain Adventure Race so I wouldn’t miss out on the fun.

I experienced this feeling with my first ever adventure race, the Mind Over Mountain Adventure Race, which features kayaking, trekking/orienteering and mountain biking. It is just a one day event, but at the time it was the longest and most intense race I’d ever done. And (most importantly) it has a kick-ass after party. It was all so much fun and I met such great people that I went back year after year and volunteered the year I was pregnant.

Now that I’ve upped my endurance (and maybe my speed), I’m keen to find an epic race that features lots of singletrack. As I’ve said before, the singletrack is where I shine. I suck wind on the fire road climbs, but replace that with technical singletrack and I’m in heaven. Sadly, my desire for a strong singletrack component seems to be the sticking point. Scouring the world, there are actually quite a few epic races – Cape Epic and JoBerg in South Africa, Yak Attack in Nepal, Alpac Attack in Patagonia, Mongolia Bike Challenge, the Swiss Epic and more – but most of them lack a significant singletrack component. Now, I can train more and increase my fitness, but at the end of the day, I’ll be bored to tears riding on double track for days on end no matter where in the world it is. And why do something that doesn’t really fill my heart with joy.

So far, just two possibilities have emerged: Singletrack 6 in the B.C. interior and the Trans-Sylvania Epic in Pennsylania. Both look challenging and fun and they seemingly feature a fair amount of those wonderfully narrow trails in the forest.

That’s as far as I’ve gotten with my quest. If anyone has a recommendation, please send it my way, and if you’ve done either the Singletrack 6 or the Trans-Sylvania Epic, I would love to hear about your experience.

Theatre Thursday: Shed the monster

I love this video. Cycling is my happy. It can turn a miserable day right around for me.

Kite*Surf*Bike*Rambling

Cycling is about more than exercise. It’s a lifestyle choice that lifts your mood and gets you out of the house and out of your stressful little world, even for a few minutes. At least that’s what this film from cycling charity PeopleForBikes is trying to tell us.

The advert’s director Evan Fry told Ad Week that although it sounds corny and pretentious “ever since I was a little kid, cycling in one form or another has been my therapy, my church, my athletic pursuit, my trusted friend and my main vehicle for growth.”

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Some visuals

Heading through the start line on Day 4, Sechelt to Langdale. This really conveys the excitement I felt all week in spite of the few moments when I struggled to keep going.
Photo by my friend and spectacular photographer Erik Peterson, http://www.erikpeterson.ca.

For those who are interested, I’ve put together a collection of photos my boyfriend, Scott, and I took during the BC Bike Race. I took all of mine with a not-so-great phone camera so forgive the quality of some of the images. I figured an album on Google would be the easiest way to share them. I’ve captioned them all in case you are interested in the story behind each one: https://goo.gl/photos/KVLNt3WkMgNQBMLGA

If you want to see the pro shots, BCBR has a small collection of their photographers’ favourite photos from the week here.

Also, if you’d like to see the video for each day of the race, you can find them all on the here. Disclaimer: These videos may get you pumped enough to register for next year and there are still a few spots left.

I am an athlete

The day after BC Bike Race 2015 ended, my 2 riding buddies and I were having brunch in Whistler. One of them, Sabrina, looked at me with a huge smile on her face and said, “So, we did BC Bike Race!”

Sporting an equally massive smile, I replied, “Yeah we did!”

Part of me still can’t believe the week has already come and gone, though the aches and pains in my body assure me it did, in fact, happen.

The 3 amigos of mountain biking – Sandra, me and Sabrina – after we’d finished Day 7 and collected our belt buckles.

My finisher’s shirt and belt buckle.

Three women with average fitness and a passion for mountain biking, we each rolled across the finish line to earn the coveted BC Bike Race buckle. Having that blue ribbon draped around my neck confirmed that whatever I did in the lead-up to the event, it was enough.

Those of you who have been reading along for the past 6 months know it was not always an easy journey. First, there was the hip flexor strain, then I fell and jammed my tailbone. Compounding that were the smaller injuries including rolling my ankle and mashing my left hand between a tree and my handle bars. At times it felt like maybe the universe was trying to tell me something. But surely by now the universe knows how stubborn I am.

I’m grateful that the list of injuries stopped when the race started. The only medical issues I had was a baboon butt from not enough chamois cream, one small blister on my left hand and a chain ring bite from lack of attention when putting my bike down at an aid station. Despite hot and dusty trail conditions that made traction challenging at times, I managed to keep the rubber side down throughout the race.

Some others weren’t so lucky. Each day, the medical tent had a few folks on intravenous drips to bring them back from dehydration. There was a queue each morning for people who needed injuries dressed or redressed.

On the more technical trails, I saw a number of riders with dirt- and blood-streaked faces, arms and legs. The excitement temporarily gone from their faces, their exhausted and pained facial expressions showed the tougher side of this race, the one that doesn’t often make it into the upbeat videos that capture each day. I had my share of these moments too.

For people like me, the battle is against the race course and perhaps ourselves. We have no hope of standing on the podium and we’re ok with that. We have jobs and families and simply getting to the start line is an achievement in itself.

We have contorted our lives around this event: found training time in the smallest of windows, spent too much money on bike repairs and massages before and during the race, been selflessly supported by family and friends, booked time off work a year in advance, and told other people we were doing the BC Bike Race at every opportunity (even when they had no idea what it is). The list goes on.

For the average rider, from the moment you lay down the thousands of dollars it takes to enter this crazy event, it has a constant presence in your life. And then it’s gone, in the past…unless you get caught up in the excitement when registration day rolls around again.

But it isn’t really gone. My house is now sprinkled with remembrances of a tough but spectacular week: my big and little red BCBR bags, hoodie, race plate, racer handbook and finisher’s belt buckle. My phone and computer are full of photos. And then there are the memories of all the people I met on the trail, in the dining hall, or around the Bear’s Den (the post-race chill-out spot). Mountain bikers are pretty fabulous people, you know.

This experience will stay with me for the rest of my life (or until I go senile). In a way, it has given me permission to say, “I am an athlete”. Not kind of an athlete, not basically an athlete. I am an ATHLETE, as is every other person who participated, even if they didn’t finish every day. The fact that we signed up for a 7-day mountain bike stage race, knowing our loved ones would give us the Dwayne Johnson eyebrow raise, means we are willing to physically push ourselves to the limit. We want to test our bodies and see what happens.

There are myriad reasons why some folks don’t finish all 7 days—a mechanical, a crash, not fast/experienced enough, poor weather/trail conditions and many more. None of these things diminish the fact that those people showed up and gave it their best.

In addition to being stoked that I conquered the course, I’m grateful I had the opportunity to do it. There are plenty of people out there who don’t have the money, time, physical ability or support to make it happen for themselves. An amazing experience like this, no matter how long or short, shouldn’t be taken for granted.

By the numbers

• Kilometres ridden: 323
• Amount of singletrack: 242.25 kms (75% of the route)
• Metres of vertical climbed: 9,815 (more than Everest!)
• Average speed: 9.3 km/h
• Time in the saddle: 35 hours, 44 minutes, 37 seconds (more than 16 hours longer than category winner Katerina Nash. She’s crazy fast!)
• Finishing place: 22nd category / 317th overall
• Number of racers: 600
• Number of finishers: 531
• Fun had: incalculable

My results by the day. Some of those were looooong days.

Day 7: Technical climbs = a strong finish

My body surprised me today. I woke up feeling sore and stiff and I didn’t think my ride was going to go well.

As we pedalled through the start gate, it seemed my suspicions were being confirmed. Just pedalling up the small incline of the road, my legs were protesting. And when we turned the corner to find a wall of double track for us to climb, every part of me said, “Really?!”

About a quarter of the way up, I hopped off to walk.

The next challenge was a big pile up of riders just 2 km into the ride at the start of the singletrack, “Yummy Numby.” There were at least 100 of us just waiting to enter the trail and everyone was walking. It was a ridable trail, but with so many people so close together it’s easy for the whole line to reach a stand still if one person falls off.

Fortunately, the group spread out as we approached the Comfortably Numb climb and I hit my stride. I may have a tough time with fire road climbs, but I can hold my own on technical singletrack climbs. It wasn’t long before I was repeating the words “Rider up” as I caught up to other folks who were walking the notoriously technical trail. My heart rate was spiking up to 184, but my legs had loosened up and I felt good enough to just keep pedalling. I didn’t stop until the bottom of the downhill, “Jeff’s Trail.”

When I got there, I felt pretty good so I ate a bit, drank some electrolytes and kept going, ready to tackle the Lost Lake trails after a short traverse over an all-access trail.

Though there was a bit more climbing, we were pretty much home free at this point. The hard part was over. We hit the aid station at 16 kms. I loaded up with electrolytes and ate some watermelon then sped off.

It all seemed to go by so fast. When I crossed the finish line and had the finisher’s medal placed around my neck, it was hard to believe it was over. I immediately looked for my parents, son and boyfriend, happy that I could share the excitement of this moment with them.

It was a hard week, but a good one. That said, I won’t be riding my bike again for a while so my butt, which now resembles that of a baboon, can recover.

I couldn’t have gotten through this week without help from my mom and dad (a.k.a. Nona and Grandpa), my racing buddies Sabrina and Sandra, my boyfriend Scott, the physiotherapists who helped me heal over the past month, and all of you who offered words of encouragement through my training as well as the past week. You are all amazing!

I have a few more stories to tell about the race week when I’ve had the chance to rest so this blog won’t end today. If you’d like to read about the funny, frustrating and friend-filled stories from the race, check back in about a week. 🙂

At the finish line with my kiddo. We were very happy to be reunited after a week apart.