Race Reports: 1999 USCF national championship
Feb 2000
Introduction For two years I have avoided putting personal commentary on this site, on the premise that "everyone has an opinion" (as Clint Eastwood says) and mine are no more interesting than another's. But I always like reading other people's race reports, and a number of people have told me that they enjoy mine. So what the heck, I thought I would put them up here. If you don't have an interest in this--just click outta here. --Dave Carr
1999 USCF
National
Championships
San Francisco
Presidio
12/10/99CX National Championships, SF Presidio, Master 30-39 Officially, Master 30-39 Natz was a forty-five minute race, starting at 2:45 pm and ending at 3:30 on Friday, December 10. But let me tell you instead about the 45 minutes from 2:15 to 3:00, and the nine months before that.
March. I had been looking forward to this race ever since I heard in March that cyclocross nationals would be in SF this year, with a new 30-39 championship race no less. In six years of 'cross racing this would be my first ever Natz and I wanted to do my best. In fact, I planned my whole season around this race and districts, riding Surf City for training while everyone else burned matches hunting the win. Two weeks ago, I took 3rd in a field of 70 at districts and the plan seemed to be right on schedule. One more week of training, and then a taper week for Natz.
Thursday. The day before the Master race, I took off work early and went down to SF to check out the course. It was a real Euro' kind of course, which means fast, not many dismounts, and a whole lot of corners. In fact, I counted more than 20 corners and just four dismounts in a short 1 mile course. And all of this was packed into about 2 acres of land with the course looping back on itself all over the place. It was a great course to watch becasue you could stand in one place and see the whole thing. On the other hand, the course was crazy to score riders on and even crazier to race. I felt really good in practice, but I think I went a little too hard--I felt unusually tired driving home.
Friday. I knew I was in trouble when I woke up Friday morning. I had slept really badly and my heart rate was really high--you know, like they say in books when you're not recovered. I tried to ignore it, but sitting around the house all morning waiting for a 2:45 start is not good for the nerves. So Silva and I finally packed up and went down to the course at 12.
When we got there the collegiate championship was running. Even on a Friday there were hundreds of people down there watching and yelling. It seemed like half the crowd had cowbells too (The promoter was selling cowbells with Saturn logos on them--clever marketing there). This was totally cool and I was getting pretty jacked up for my first ever Nationals race. It's the big time, baby!
I warmed up...but things were not good. My legs were still dead, but I wouldn't really know until the race started. I ran into Kevin Merrigan during warmup, and he was totally amped. "Time to rage," he said. I was picking him to win it. As for me, I was hoping for a top 20 finish based on my result at Districts. I had originally thought top 10, but downgraded myself when I heard the field size: 150 guys!!
2:15 pm. So here's your forty-five minute report, starting at 2:15 pm, half an hour to go. With so many guys, I was planning to stage well in advance, at 2:30. Better safe than sorry, right? Imagine my surprise when I was rolling around at 2:15 and saw that guys were already lining up! I dashed over to Silva, dropped my extra clothes and headed to the line.
By the time I got there seventy guys had already lined up. I was about ten rows back. Clark Natwick (national team cross coach) was there yelling at the guys in front to move back so they can call the big shots to the line, but nobody wanted to budge an inch. In the course of his brief speech fifty more guys showed up.
2:30 pm. By now, the whole field was already on the line and the mood was ugly. Clark was still ordering the front to move back. Each time he yelled about six guys slid back a couple inches. Mostly everyone stayed put as our muscles got cold. There were guys warming up on wind trainers, 80 back in the middle of the pack as if they were preparing to win the race.
As for me, I was just trying to stay positive. In a few minutes the race would start. With a field this size the whole race would be for the first barrier, I thought. There was about 300m of pavement, only 1 lane wide, for 150 guys, then the barrier. After that, there was just one good line for the following half a kilometer. Blow the start and you're done. This same thought was probably also in the mind of the hundred or so guys like me who were too stupid to line up more than half an hour early for the race. If I had thought about it a little more, I might have realized that my best chance of doing well would be to forget about getting a good start and just focus on picking off riders as the race went on. 45 minutes is a long time for a race like this.
2:45 pm. Rational thinking had no place in my mind as the gun went off. In unison one hundred and fifty insane cyclocross racers began to sprint for their lives. Imagine a $1000 one lap criterium race in a narrow alley with mud in the corners. That was the easy part.
I hit my anaerobic threshold in the first 100 meters and kept accelerating. We hit the first barrier and I found myself thrashing about in a mass of crazed cyclocross lemmings madly trying to reach the front, arms and legs flailing, bikes tangled up in the course marker tape, tires spinning in the air like buzz saws. If I didn't make it to the front soon I had no hope for a top 20 finish. I passed guys left and right, in places there was no room to pass.
I hit may max heart rate and kept accelerating. My eyes began to bug out of my head. I don't know how I didn't fall over dead in the middle of that lap. I hit the first runup and sprinted all the way up, fans with cowbells making a wall of sound on either side.
Still accelerating. There was a weird feeling in my lungs like I had inhaled a whole pack of cigarettes. I hope I never have to go that hard again in my whole life.
2:50 pm. Long story short: Nine months of preparation, training, motivation and focus--I poured it all out in the first two laps. I burned the whole book of matches. A friend, John Rowen, later told me I was flying those two laps -- right away I passed a third of the field and just about cracked the top twenty. But the heart and lungs were fed up with this abuse: I hit the wall, hard. Then my back tire -- a supposedly flat-proof $60 'cross sewup bought just for this race -- went flat. After dodging mechanics left and right to enter the pit it seemed like it took ten minutes to change the wheel (no free laps in cross, by the way).
3:00 pm. There's your forty-five minutes. After that puncture my race was basically over. The rest was just a struggle to finish. I followed the race from within, listening to the PA describe the progress of the leaders. Silva later told me I got mentioned on race PA, not for my racing but for the interview I did of Kevin Merrigan on the NCNCA web site... At least I had the honor of being approximately the last guy not to get lapped. I watched Kevin take the win just a few seconds back as I headed out for my lonely last lap. Final result: 58th place.
What can I say. After four days of brooding about my finish I have to admit it was a really exciting race. I had Silva and my folks and a bunch of Napa Valley Velo teammates out there cheering, which was quite cool. And I learned a lot for next year, such as: Show Up Early!
Now I can hang up the dirt bike and take some well-earned rest in preparation for the road season. --Dave Carr
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