November 17, 2006 (Beban Park, Nanaimo) – This is truly a sport for the all-around cyclist. Part road, part mountain, and part running – not summer, not winter, but saddle season (ha ha!). This is the sport of cyclo-cross and every year when fall arrives, the leaves change colours and we change bikes. We hang up our road bikes, or our mountain bikes and unite our passion for cycling under one barrier, ugh I mean one banner. Did I mention that during these one hour events we are forced to run, usually up a small hill and over a set of barriers – yes man-made obstacles, two per lap.

I have been half-heartedly attacking this sport since 2000. Mostly, I just wanted to see what the hoopla was all about, and I can say that after 6 years I still don’t understand what all the hoopla is about. I enjoy the early season here on the wet (not a typo) coast when all is dry, fast and fun, but as it gets colder and wetter, I guess my enthusiasm wanes.

Friday, the day before Cyclocross Nationals, it was a dark and stormy, and close to 10 feet of rain fell (just kidding, but a lot). Those optimistic souls who had hoped for a dry course were now out of luck.

So the stage is set and our plot thickens, or maybe just the mud, it was thick and plentiful. Launching out of the start corral, Kabush, G. Reain, Pinner and Toulouse looked to have the best lines. I was hammering my brains out beside Sneddon, who has been going pretty well in the last few races and was getting faster with each one. Then out of nowhere (back row in fact) Matt Hewitt rockets by, straight into the top five, “what the?!”. Well if you have the speed use it.

Sneddon and I slotted into our usual position beside each other and began to overhaul some young punks that got out in front of us. In the last few races Sneddon has been (as mentioned) going well and getting faster, but today he dropped my butt, decisively and early. My marker was gone and I was alone, chasing. Fortunately there were plenty of fish to reel in. Me and my trusty Rocky CX got to work. The body was working well, no tight back, and the legs were turning out good power, which helped drive me through the mud. After catching a small group of three Rob Britton, Kevin Noils and some other guy I set my sights on Mr. speed, Matt Hewitt – who by the way is doing his internship in Victoria (working stiff).

Ahh, the battle within the battle, it’s what every athlete lives for. I clawed my way up to Matt and passed him, wiped out and found myself chasing again. 3 laps to go, about 20 minutes, and he was dangling just 5 seconds in front of me. I had two laps to catch and then it would be cat and mouse, putting my head down I drove myself like a rented mule, all the while watching Matt’s secret mud lines and studying my preys every move.

We came together finally on the backside of the course, I tried to power by, but he was on my wheel. We were dancing the dance, like west side story, he moved I moved like a shadow covering everything. At the top of the second run up with only perhaps 1 km to go I sat up and soft pedaled, and just as I turned to look at him, he jumped. Damn, “too slow,” I thought as I was forced to chase yet again. 500 metres to go and into the barn, over the barriers, out and through the mud bog, he was so close.

Our aching muscles and laboured breathing were reaching maximum levels, I could taste blood, but it was not the blood I wanted. Matt bobbled in the sandy “S” turns and I was onto him, but he had my number and jumped one last time with 200 metres to go. I couldn’t make the gap and was done in. Crushed into submission with a huge grin on my face, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

We crossed the line shook hands, clapped each other on the back and turned to see how every one else had faired, who had won their day, and who had won ‘the day’.

Dre

ps – Race notes, warming up in horse stall (out of the rain), crazy fans drinking beer and Roland heckling from the side, Matt Palsy on the mike (mix master) and Sneddon for powering into 4th from way back in the bunch. Great location, great people.