New Jersey Cyclcross Cup Series Winner - Mike Reardon Welcome back cross fans! After a greuling season that saw the racing begin in the sultry month of August and finally end in the snow of December, I can finally look back on the 2007 New Jersey Cyclocross Cup.
After a somewhat challenging first half of the season, I decided to take two weeks off from training. If anyone else is ever thinking that's a good idea, think again. I came back to the bike with zero fitness -- so much for old man muscles.
The second half of the season took me to the state championships and a somewhat disappointing 15th place finish. It was a bitterly cold day and the course was a mix of mud over ice. I went down in the first turn and that pretty much ended the race for me. Distraught though I was, I had committed myself to the long term goal of winning the overall series and wasn't too disappointed without a win at the state championships -- not like I had any real chance of winning anyway!
The series would ultimately come down to the last two races of the season. After holding my series lead, I lost it at the aforementioned state championships race. I was 81 points out of first place and I needed some good placings to pull off a come from behind victory.
It was on a cold snowy morning that I loaded up and headed to the mountains of North Jersey for the coldest race of the season. After three hours on slick back roads, I arrived at the course only to find no one there! I figured I would win the race by default, but an hour before the race my competition started to show up.
Ordinarily we'd all sit on our trainers warming up before the race ... but not today. We were all huddled inside our cars trying to suck up that last bit of warmth before we had to brave the driving snow that was quickly burying the course. On any other day the race wouldn't have been too technical, a mix of loose gravel, dirt, grass, and a nasty section though a baseball stadium. However, when all of that is covered with three inches of snow, anything can happen.
As we lined up on the starting grid, I had no idea what the course was like. I was a sissy and stayed in my truck, no pre-ride for me -- but hey, no one would have an advantage on the second lap. As the starting gun fired, I jammed on the pedals only to realize I was pedaling on a patch of ice. Oops! That would have been good to know ahead of time. I kept pedaling as all the other riders zoomed past me. The race hadn't even started and I was in last place. Fortunately for me, no one else pre-rode the course either, or they did and they all planned on crashing in the first turn, a crash that I missed because I was stuck on a patch of ice. I ended up missing the crash, lucky me, and I got past the pile up of men and machines to hit the second turn in first place.
Of course I didn't know that the exit of the second turn was not a solid surface beneath the snow but rather loose gravel. I hit it too fast, went down and got passed by seven riders. I tried to get on to the back of the group and I did hold their wheel for three laps but then the legs went (two weeks off, remember?) and slowly they pulled away.
With two laps to go, I was running in 8th place where I stayed until the last lap when the guy in front of me had a bad remount after a set of barriers. Of course, that's a really nice way of saying that as he tried to get back on his bike, he tripped because there was so much snow on his cleats he couldn't get into his pedals. Then he ran into the course tape, got wrapped up in that, and proceeded to slide headfirst into a mound of snow. I laughed, but not so hard that I didn't recognize the opportunity to take advantage of his misfortune. I rode around him and crossed the line in 7th place. All and all not too bad. More importantly, that finish put me a mere 23 points out of 1st place going into the final race...
The last race of the year. How appropriate that the series title came down to this. I figured the field would be small, at least I hoped it would be, but as luck would have it, this was the second largest field of the year with 68 entrants. You know, when I raced on the road, that number wouldn't have bothered me. I could sit at the back of the pack for the first few miles then draft my way to the front. A good leadout from Steve or Darrin and I could uncork a sprint and show everyone a clean pair of wheels (I love Paul Sherwin). But cross requires a different strategy.
The race started off right, then made a 90 degree left hand turn, which then led into a 200 meter grass straightaway that got narrower towards the end. At the start we were six across. At the end of the grass straightaway was a two meter wide opening with telephone poles on either side. My plan to sham at the back and draft my way up wasn't going to work today. So the gun went off and against my better instincts, I sprinted as hard as I could off the line. I knew that a good start would be critical and I had it in my mind that I was going to go as hard as I could for the first two laps and see how many people I could drop. As it turned out, my plan worked perfectly. As I jumped off the line, everyone else bottled up behind me, and like every cross race, there was a huge crash right at the telephone pole opening. I made it through with five other guys and we proceeded to get a huge gap on the field.
After a somewhat challenging first half of the season, I decided to take two weeks off from training. If anyone else is ever thinking that's a good idea, think again. I came back to the bike with zero fitness -- so much for old man muscles.
The second half of the season took me to the state championships and a somewhat disappointing 15th place finish. It was a bitterly cold day and the course was a mix of mud over ice. I went down in the first turn and that pretty much ended the race for me. Distraught though I was, I had committed myself to the long term goal of winning the overall series and wasn't too disappointed without a win at the state championships -- not like I had any real chance of winning anyway!
The series would ultimately come down to the last two races of the season. After holding my series lead, I lost it at the aforementioned state championships race. I was 81 points out of first place and I needed some good placings to pull off a come from behind victory.
It was on a cold snowy morning that I loaded up and headed to the mountains of North Jersey for the coldest race of the season. After three hours on slick back roads, I arrived at the course only to find no one there! I figured I would win the race by default, but an hour before the race my competition started to show up.
Ordinarily we'd all sit on our trainers warming up before the race ... but not today. We were all huddled inside our cars trying to suck up that last bit of warmth before we had to brave the driving snow that was quickly burying the course. On any other day the race wouldn't have been too technical, a mix of loose gravel, dirt, grass, and a nasty section though a baseball stadium. However, when all of that is covered with three inches of snow, anything can happen.
As we lined up on the starting grid, I had no idea what the course was like. I was a sissy and stayed in my truck, no pre-ride for me -- but hey, no one would have an advantage on the second lap. As the starting gun fired, I jammed on the pedals only to realize I was pedaling on a patch of ice. Oops! That would have been good to know ahead of time. I kept pedaling as all the other riders zoomed past me. The race hadn't even started and I was in last place. Fortunately for me, no one else pre-rode the course either, or they did and they all planned on crashing in the first turn, a crash that I missed because I was stuck on a patch of ice. I ended up missing the crash, lucky me, and I got past the pile up of men and machines to hit the second turn in first place.
Of course I didn't know that the exit of the second turn was not a solid surface beneath the snow but rather loose gravel. I hit it too fast, went down and got passed by seven riders. I tried to get on to the back of the group and I did hold their wheel for three laps but then the legs went (two weeks off, remember?) and slowly they pulled away.
With two laps to go, I was running in 8th place where I stayed until the last lap when the guy in front of me had a bad remount after a set of barriers. Of course, that's a really nice way of saying that as he tried to get back on his bike, he tripped because there was so much snow on his cleats he couldn't get into his pedals. Then he ran into the course tape, got wrapped up in that, and proceeded to slide headfirst into a mound of snow. I laughed, but not so hard that I didn't recognize the opportunity to take advantage of his misfortune. I rode around him and crossed the line in 7th place. All and all not too bad. More importantly, that finish put me a mere 23 points out of 1st place going into the final race...
The last race of the year. How appropriate that the series title came down to this. I figured the field would be small, at least I hoped it would be, but as luck would have it, this was the second largest field of the year with 68 entrants. You know, when I raced on the road, that number wouldn't have bothered me. I could sit at the back of the pack for the first few miles then draft my way to the front. A good leadout from Steve or Darrin and I could uncork a sprint and show everyone a clean pair of wheels (I love Paul Sherwin). But cross requires a different strategy.
The race started off right, then made a 90 degree left hand turn, which then led into a 200 meter grass straightaway that got narrower towards the end. At the start we were six across. At the end of the grass straightaway was a two meter wide opening with telephone poles on either side. My plan to sham at the back and draft my way up wasn't going to work today. So the gun went off and against my better instincts, I sprinted as hard as I could off the line. I knew that a good start would be critical and I had it in my mind that I was going to go as hard as I could for the first two laps and see how many people I could drop. As it turned out, my plan worked perfectly. As I jumped off the line, everyone else bottled up behind me, and like every cross race, there was a huge crash right at the telephone pole opening. I made it through with five other guys and we proceeded to get a huge gap on the field.
The course took some twists and turns up a few little hills and across some rooted off camber sections. Fortunately my former life as a mountain biker paid off as I was able to ride these sections without falling. The course then led into an asphalt section that favored the powerful roadie types before heading back onto the grass and into the first barrier. I had a good dismount/remount and was still in the lead as we headed into the painful part of the course.
A quick downhill on some icy asphalt put us at the base of a monstrous hill. I looked at it and figured I would need climbing gear to get to the top. Imagine a muddy campground hill, that's the only way I can describe it. Someone had cut little steps into this hill, but this person must have been a giant because these steps were about four feet apart. Had it not been for the toe spikes on my shoes, I wouldn't have made it to the top. Needless to say, this hill was a crowd favorite and the top of it was packed with spectators cheering us on. Well, it sounded like cheering in my head. They were probably laughing at us because we all looked like idiots running up this thing. After what seemed like a week of running up the hill, I got onto the bike and lost my lead to a much taller and obviously fitter rider. He dropped me quickly and went on to win the race, however, a race win wasn't my goal.
The course went down a steep muddy hill and then went right back up (after the race I watched five people crash on the part within three minutes, silly fools). I lost a few more spots and drifted back to 6th place. Three of us were in a pack chasing the leaders and I was more than happy to let someone else do the work for a few laps. As each lap went by, I was studying the two dudes in my chase pack, looking for weaknesses, trying to figure out where I could attack them with the most impact. I wasn't sure I would have the legs to outsprint them, but with a nice long finishing stretch, I figured I would give it a try.
We headed into the last lap, I gave a quick glance behind me to see if anyone had closed the gap we had worked so hard for, no one had. It was going to be a game of cat and mouse for an entire lap.
The first attack went on a fast ashphalt section. The rider got a quick gap and I had to dig deep to get back on. Fortunately, he jumped a little too late and we headed into a hard left turn before he could get any real speed up. I knew I had to save as much as I could for the final sprint but I wanted to soften up their legs a little. I knew a barrier section was fast approaching and I had consistently better dismounts and remounts so I figured I would put in a little digger at the barriers. I dismounted late and hit the barriers at a fast sprint, immediately getting a gap. I got back on and looked back, my plan was working. Both guys were falling back.
Not wanting to work by myself for the rest of the last lap, I slowed down to recover and let the other guys catch up. We stayed together leading up to the monster hill and I carried enough speed into it that I dismounted a quarter of the way up, saving precious amounts of energy. At the top of the hill, another attack went off the front, a surpise to be sure. He had a good gap and I was slow to respond. I looked up and saw the two of them slipping away. I was in the red and I knew I had to recover. With two more techinical sections plus two barrier sections coming up, I didn't panic. I drifted back and they got about four bike lengths on me.
With less than a quarter of a lap left, I knew it was time to get on the gas. At the first barrier, I had a flawless dismont (I probably looked like a three year old trying to run on a patch of ice, but I'm telling this story and I say it was flawless). I didn't remount but rather I ran all the way to the second barrier as the other two riders tried to remount and pedal. I caught up to one of the other two riders and remounted for the pass to move into fifth place.
Two hundred meters to go to the finish and now there was only one rider to pass to score my best finish of the year. He had two bike lengths on me and as I jammed on the pedals, tragedy struck. I had so much mud in my right cleat I couldn't get back into the pedal. Oh well, it was now or never. I shifted to my hardest gear and jumped. All I could think of was all those sprints we did on the riverwalk all those years ago. Would the old instincts pay off? One on one, we thundered down the finishing stretch. I could see I was closing with every pedal stroke, closer and closer to the finish. Would there be enough room? Did I start my sprint too late? I looked up and saw the line. I gritted my teeth trying to overcome the pain in my legs. Half a bike length to go. Pedal, pedal, pedal. Half a wheel to go. I looked to my right. We were dead even. Pedal, pedal, pedal. I had a gap! Head down, I charged to the line. I looked over to my right as I crossed the line and I was by myself! I had won the sprint to the line, securing 4th place, my best finish, but more importantly, I had secured my overall series win! I was now the New Jersey Cyclocross Cup Series Champion! I pumped my fist into the air and not wanting to miss the opportunity to get a good plug in for CBR, I sat up proudly pointing at the CBR logo on my chest -- of course no one got a picture of that.
I would be remiss if I didn't pay a special tribute to the silent fan of my season, my wife Darsi. She has put up with a season that saw us out the door at 5 am most weekends with at least 4 hours of driving time for a 40 minute race with nary a complaint, she has been my coach, personal trainer, manager, photographer, pit crew, and editor (these race reports would suck without her) This victory is as much hers as it is mine.
So this closes another chapter on the dominance of CBR. With any luck, next year will bring us all more fitness and faster legs, but failing that, remember, none of us ride to get weaker!
