Crossing into Autumn

Photo courtesy londoncyclesport.com

Sunday was a beautiful autumnal day. Too warm and sunny to be autumn proper, but with that light crispness in the air that hints at the seasons changing. Having a terrible sense for judging temperature, I'd packed all my cold weather gear but as I was getting ready to roll out onto the course, I realised that normal summer fare would do.

After a bit of confusion while on a recce of the circuit, and even more at the start, I felt myself "blipping the throttle" at the line waiting for the Go! As soon as we were off I gave it horns to get to the front of the field; from my limited cross experience I know that working your way through the field can be difficult and burns a lot of energy. There was a lot of room running to the first real corner so I was able to make up a lot of ground blasting down the left and keeping a lot of momentum onto the little grassy climb.

From there it was a blur. I got stuck in with a charging group that felt a little too fast for me and I started to worry that if I put the effort in I may burn out later; even with the benefit of hindsight I have no idea if this was a good idea or not. I did pass one of the group a bit later, and he was completely spent, so perhaps I did make the right call.

After being dropped from the fast group I found myself in an oddly quiet no-mans land. No-one behind me to stay away from, and the group ahead having pulled enough of a gap not to always be in sight. Later in the race I started reeling in the riders ahead of me but, given how the field was strung out, it was difficult to work out which were for position and which were simply backmarkers.

But it didn't matter, I kept at chasing the rider ahead, chipping away and getting past. It was hurting and all I could think of was breathing, putting the front wheel in the right place and choosing the right gear. No counting laps, watching the group or thinking of strategy.

At one point I came across the same Kuota rider I'd battled with at the Gunpowder Park race, and I was reeling him in steadily. I passed him, and I guess there must have been recognition, because he responded by turning up the wick and making his way past again. I was hurting but there was no way I was rolling over - it was a simple decision; I dug deep and wound up the pace. I was determined to break him. I was determined to make sure he knew I would beat him. A solid gap opened up and soon I was watching him heading into the hairpins I was charging out of. It was the last I saw of him.

Reflecting on this has made me realise something about cyclocross. It is a very simple sport. You have to mark your goal decide you can achieve it. Mishaps and equipment failure aside, the guy in front is stronger and the guy behind is weaker. There is no further complication. For sure the strength is not only physical, but certainly a combination of physical and mental strength, but it is about strength. It is also very lonely. It is pure.

I don't think I let up from there - I pulled away from that group and, with the 3 lap board out, settled into chipping away at the gap to a Mosquito rider ahead. The gap was simply too great for me, and I couldn't make up the ground, but I still felt great. I hadn't been lapped and I felt I'd done myself proud.

The full results have not yet been posted, but I'm expecting I did get a pretty decent result. This coming weekend is the Halloween Cross at Herne Hill, and I'm nursing myself back to full strength to make sure I can race it hard. It will be interesting!