Queen's Cross - October 8, 2016

Mud.

I had been dreaming about it, wishing about it, wanting it...since the end of last year's cyclocross season, I had anticipated this year's cyclocross season. Well, with Queen's CX in New Westminster, I got what I asked for.

Mud.

Copious amounts of mud.

Along with the mud, though, came the rain. Buckets and barrels of rain.


It was pouring rain when we pulled up, and pouring rain as we unpacked our gear from the car. Our team's tent has no walls, so the rain was getting everything wet and the mud was getting everything dirty. I had to stop and remind myself, why in the world did I want mud so bad?!??



We had a small tarp to layer and pile our bags and race gear on, to keep from getting mucky on the ground. It helped, somewhat. Rain would pool in the weak spots on the top of the tent and we had to keep pushing it over the sides of the tent, causing cascades of puddles on the ground around us.

No one would leave the race dry or clean today. No one.

While a part of me was trying to stay warm and dry so that I wasn't cold by the time my race began, the other part of me (maybe the child within me) wanted to run around, get dirty, jump in puddles and embrace the mud-fest that was all around.



I spent my time ringing the cow bell and providing cheers and shouts to the racers in the beginner and elite categories, before braving the mud and going for a practice lap. Er, well, half of a practice lap.

The mud felt like soup. Thick, chunky soup.

I tried my best to keep my bright neon shoes out of the mud, but eventually I succumbed to dipping my feet into the mud at the first obstacle I came to. It was deep!


The rain let up a bit as I was practising. We would later realize, that this break in the rain was really just giving us a false sense of hope.

The course turned out to be long, slippery (from the mud) and had a number of hills and jump-overs. The first few categories didn't do too many laps, because the course was long and slow, and I didn't anticipate the Intermediate women being a whole lot faster. In fact, the more people that rode the course, the more mud and rut that was created.

I didn't even finish my practice lap when I decided to turn around and head back up the hill to the start line. I wasn't about to take a chance missing the race! Not when I was already getting mucky and gross.

As I approached the start line, the rain started again. You see, false sense of hope! I had already ditched my jacket at the team tent, and was already getting covered in mud. So, I did what any island/redneck/bush kid would do. I embraced the rain, the wet, the cold. I stopped trying to hide below the trees (which didn't provide too much cover anyways) and I took my place in the start line. I readied myself for the start --- which was a very muddy, slippery start.

I knew that some of the girls would struggle in this mud, and I wanted to use this to my advantage. As soon as the race was started, I did my best to get out in front, as fast as I could. Some girls ran with their bikes, some girls started by pedalling, some barely moved at all. I aimed for the hole shot....

The mud proved to be a great obstacle. It was deep and slippery, causing so many riders to fall, run and walk. Sludging through the mud was slow and energy sucking, but attempting to pedal sometimes was so slow that walking was more efficient.



There were sections of the course where mud hid wet tree roots, holes and dips. Countless people face planted into the mud. They would rise from the mud, half mud, half human.

More and more people attempted to avoid the muddiest sections by riding far to the left or far to the right of the course, but after a couple laps, these areas too were slippery. Tree branches at face level made it difficult to cut too far to the sides.

Two separate ditches in the course made excellent spectator locations. One ditch was ride-able if you picked the right line and kept your speed up, while the other ditch likely would have destroyed your front wheel.

Downhill, off-camber sections sucked you down, while uphill mudslides made the leg muscles scream. Each lap got more slow and more slow.

The barriers, which were strategically positioned in amongst the switchback muddy corners, were also a slippery mess. The mud on either side of the barrier made "jumping" the barriers difficult. Instead, as I sludged up to each barrier, I did my best to move one leg over them at a time, in fear that I'd be doing the splits and landing on some lady-bits that I honestly don't want to damage.

Photo by Jeannine Avelino

Each lap became more challenging than the previous. The mud ruts became deeper, the mud became more slippery and wet. More wet roots were exposed. Clipping into pedals became nearly impossible, as the gunk built up in the medals and cleats.

Running certain sections of the course was also ridiculously difficult. Each stride was taken carefully, again, trying not to slip.

With each lap, my bike became more and more entrenched with mud. It caked on. It fell off. It fell into delicate pieces. It smothered my shiny new bike...

Photo by Jeannine Avelino

I did my best to pass the other women in my category and each lap, one by one, I took more places. While I managed to keep my race clean with no real falls, other people were losing seconds and minutes each time they fell off their bike. Before long, I was at the lead of my category, though I wasn't aware.

Last lap bell was rung, and I was so happy to hear it! I tried my best to keep the last woman I passed behind me. I knew she was close and if I made a mistake that she would take me out. I kept pushing, trying to run sections that were now too slow to ride. As I neared the finish line, I heard a 'crack' and I suddenly had no ability to move my cranks. I couldn't pedal. I nearly fell right over as I tried to un-clip from my pedals.

My derailleur hanger had snapped off. Damn! I could see the finish line from where I stood. So, I picked up my bike, shouldered it, and began a slow and careful run to the finish line. My heart was pounding even faster, because I knew that the woman behind me could catch up at any moment.

I ran in the mud-sludge all the way to the finish line....I was in first place.



Post-race, my bike was barely recognizable with all the mud and muck on it. I was cold, and wanted a beer. I found solace in a communal portable heater...so many muddy lycra outfits all huddled under one roof, sharing the radiant heat. The mud-fest was over.

I took first place this day, and was happy with my performance. Sad that my bike decided to give up, but happy that it got me to the final lap.

Thank you to the sponsors and all involved in putting on such a great race!

Race results are here: http://vcxc.ca/results/queens-cx-2016-results/