Iron Cross

After numerous threatening calls and texts I convinced Jane to register for Iron Cross a few weeks ago. I advertised it as a 'girls' trip'. Come Friday I really didn't want to go. I felt like I was coming down with whatever funk was going around and I had zero interest in riding 62 miles. I couldn't possibly back out after begging her to come with. I knew once we got on the road that we would have fun. That we did. There was no seriousness. No normal pre-race jitters. Nothing. There was absolutely no planning and no expectations. As Jane put it, "It's a goof, mate." There were five rules: 1. Don't punk out 2. Don't get hurt 3. Enjoy it 4. Finish it 5. Keep a running skinsuit count.

We pulled into the venue Saturday for a little ride. Hello, black sheep. Jane on her mountain bike and me on my rusted and busted old cx bike. It was a BEAUTIFUL weekend. It was warm and sunny. Hot even. Jane realized that she forgot shorts and only brought one pair of winter woolly pants (Windstopper and all). We envisioned her melting like the witch in the Wizard of Oz. A pile of steaming knickers would be all that remains...

So we set off to ride. There was a beach and I rode up to the sand on my skinnies and thought twice and dismounted. Jane kept going. I saw it happen in slow motion. She tried to turn in sand. We all know how this ends. I watched her fall face down in the sand and flail helplessly. For once I wished I had a helmet cam. There were people on the beach staring at us. Some laughed along with me and others looked at me like I was an ass for not helping my friend up. She was fine. That was a pro move if I've ever seen one. There were also some very serious roadie/cx people staring at us in disgust. Apparently, laughing and having fun was not acceptable behavior.

There's a body imprint in there somewhere.

Extremely rusty chain and cassette. The picture doesn't do it justice.

Saturday night Jane and I both had sore throats and the beginnings of a cough. I knew it wasn't going to be good. We talked about not doing IC and watching Civil War reenactments. As the night went on that option started to sound more and more inviting. Alas, we showed up to IC Sunday morning. It was nice to see new faces and the familiar endurance racing crowd. However, there were a lot of roadies in the mix. Roadies are a different breed. I'm not saying there aren't nice roadies. For the most part I feel they take themselves way to seriously. I have serious roadie and cx friends and I like to give them shit. Iron Cross was a whole new vibe. Somewhere in between road race and xxc race.

In true Jocelyn form I showed up on a bike that may or may not have 62 miles in it. I was scrounging through my bike bag for food for the race. I had untouched drop bags that I had from endurance races throughout the season. It was a little trip down memory lane. Found Michaux and Shen and a bag I couldn't place. Scored a bar and a few CO2s. I also found a few crusty Gu packs and Honey Stingers and what I hoped were Endurolytes in a plastic baggie. Unfortunately, this time of the year only the undesirable flavors/products were left. Something I've learned in my limited travels: If you have a limited selection of energy products always start with the nastiest flavor first during a race. Get it over with. You'll have the better flavors to look forward to.

It was freezing at the start. Jane and I were spooning at the racer meeting. Her woollies were starting to look pretty good. The start was a little chaotic because there were people everywhere whirring through the tape of the parade lap until the road. It became very apparent who was a roadie once we hit road. It also became even more apparent who was a roadie when we hit the first double track. It really was nothing. You would have thought baby heads were everywhere the way some were riding. Ten minutes in and there were numerous people with flats. I'm not sure what in the hell they were hitting.

I was on one of the longer paved road sections and as people came by I kept thinking to myself, "Grab a wheel. Jump on. Okay the next one. Okay maybe they were too fast. That's okay. Okay..now." I could hear an old team roadie coach in my head, "Grab the wheel! 30 seconds of effort can save you in the long run. Use your burst!!" Nahhh. Really couldn't harness my inner roadie Sunday. She was on holiday. She was on a beach somewhere with a stiff drink and a good read. She only comes out to play when she rides with the roadies to bleed out of her eyes and she doesn't know where she is and depends on roadies to survive because she's miles and miles from home.

The race was fun. The bike was torture. It wasn't that it was a cx bike. It wasn't even my hands. They did quite well. It was the fact that I haven't ridden the bike. I haven't even been on my road bike this summer. I'm not used to the positioning and it became downright unbearable towards the end. The positioning on a cx bike is far from aggressive. I'm not the most flexible person you will ever meet. Ask me to touch my toes sometime and you will laugh your ass off.

I should have heeded advice and changed to a bigger cassette. Some of the climbs were steep and long. I walked a lot more than I care to admit. I got the dreaded hot foot about 3 hours in. I stopped to adjust my shoe. I couldn't get it to loosen up. I kept making it tighter. I thought I was going to have a panic attack because it was so tight and I couldn't get it to loosen. I got a stick and a rock and was ready to go to work. Wasn't really sure what I was going to do with that stick and rock but it probably was going to involve ripping off the buckle. I thought about finishing without my left shoe. I also thought about sawing off my left foot because it burned so bad. I was about to go into full blown meltdown 'holy shit this girl is crazy mode' when a fellow rider saw me in peril. He stopped to help and unjammed the stupid Sidi buckle. My hero. It gave me some sort of relief so that I could finish with both shoes on my feet.

Ended up finishing in 12th place. I think around 20 women started with the day-of registrants. I think only 14 finished. That seems to be a theme at Michaux. Not so bad. I expected much worse. Jane ended up finishing unmelted and in 4th. It was a well organized and fun event with really great volunteers. If you get a chance check it out. It's worth it. Glad I went and got to experience it. But I'm also glad it's over. Looking forward to a bikeless week or so (we'll see how long I last). I'm thinking hot yoga couldn't hurt.