Gloucester Gran Prix

Turns out I am a mudder. Who would have thunk it? Certainly not me and definitely not the majority of the folks who looked at Saturday's start list. Richard Fries, (the announcer and a guy who knows a thing or two about cross) stuck a microphone up to my face after the podium and the first question he asked: "Who the hell are you?"

Apparently, I am someone who likes to ride her bike in heinous deep mud.


Saturday's edition of the Gloucester Gran Prix was my 3rd UCI race ever. Gloucester had been described to me as a "grass crit" so I was mentally prepared for a fast day...until the heavens opened up the night before. A flood warning was issued by Saturday morning and the rain continued until after our race. I was excited for the conditions-come on, isn't this cross racing thing just an excuse to go out and play in the mud anyway?


I started on what I think was the 2nd to last row in a race of just shy of 40 women. A long pavement climb led us up to the mud where the race started to unfold immediately. To my surprise, I was extremely comfortable in the conditions. What I quickly figured out was that riding in mud is a lot like riding in deep sand. You have to put consistent power to the pedals (especially in the corners), stay seated and be comfortable with your bike squirming all over the place under you, trusting that it will right itself without you grabbing a handful of brake. I was able to pick my way through traffic and make it up to the lead group about 1/2 way through the first lap. Once I got there I just rode as hard as I could. Really. No strategy whatsoever. Just pedaled. During the last of 3 laps Lynne Bessette, Natasha Elliot and I were close to each other the entire time. I felt them on my wheel and tried my best to shake them-no attack really, just tried to ride them off my wheel with a steady power through the slop. Natasha hung on, Lynne fell off and then Natasha threw in a monster attack in front of the last pit. Good lord, I was so tapped I couldn't respond to this last one like the others. She got a little gap, rode and ran the next few corners flawlessly and I was toast.

I was second by 4 seconds after leading much of the race. Yes, I am still in shock. Thanks, Mom, for being there to wipe my face off before the podium. Gotta love family.


Day 2 of Gloucester highlighted one of the great realities of this silly sport: conditions can change in a heart beat, exposing your strengths and weaknesses like you're wearing your birthday suit-no where to hide. The track was still a little sticky in some corners, but generally speaking it was more like traditional Gloucester: fast and dry. Saturday taught me that I am very good at steady power and at running with my bike (thanks, Eric). Sunday taught me that I need to work on my speed and especially my accelerations. After a long endurance mountain biking season, I'm just not there yet with my fitness.


Sunday's race saw me line up again in the back. But this time I blew my start completely by missing my pedal 3 times. I watched the front of the race go off at a blistering pace and knew I was in for a long day at the office. I put myself in all the wrong places at all the wrong times on Sunday. Unlike Saturday, the pace was so high in the opening corners it wasn't nearly as easy to move up.

I got myself tangled in a girl who took out the tape and the metal stake holding it up in about the 3rd corner, losing a bunch more places. By the time I got back up, most of the race was gone. I got stuck behind 3 crashes total...man, I need to choose better wheels to follow. Anyway, after riding in about 30th, I was able to pass my way up to 8th in the closing corners. I was with one other gal at the end and totally got my ass handed to me by her with a brilliant inside pass in the final corner. She finished me off with her killer sprint-something I ain't got-and I settled for 9th.



I learned sooooo much this weekend. It confirmed my suspicion that cross really is the endurance mountain biker's dream scenario for "off season" training. We are used to being cheered on by the voices in our heads, not by hundreds, if not thousands of rabid, cowbell shaking, screaming, heckling fans waiting for us to eat it on a set of barriers. The motivation is sweet.

I think the most important thing that dawned on me is how important good support is in cross. Nate has been a saint and has been so key to my endeavors. Having a clean bike waiting for you to warm up on, one to take in the pits and someone to help you with the EPIC clean up after a mud race is essential. Having a husband there to change all your cable and housing before the next race is priceless. What a guy. My thanks to him was a 1/2 dozen cider donuts fresh from the apple orchard. Gawd, I think I have a lot more thanking to do.

The best thing about the weekend was that it was 20 min from where I grew up, so the friends and family came out in force. Thanks everyone who made the trip and tolerated the muddy bear hugs after the race. Also, special thanks to Nate's cousin Preston for all these awesome photos. I was glad I was able to put on a good show for my peeps.