When I posted last year’s video of the Ice Weasel’s cyclocross race on Laura’s facebook page, with a casual mention that it might be a fun race for her to try, I really didn’t think she’d go for it. Instead, she registered immediately and our plans began to take shape.
We met late Friday afternoon at the Riverpoint Cyclocross Park in West Warwick, RI for some low pressure course inspection. It was a windy 31 degrees, with the sun low in the sky and light fading we squeezed two laps in and got a decent preview of the course.
It was a pleasure to wake up 10 minutes from a cyclocross race. I slept in (7AM!), but was eager to get going in the morning. We were careful however to not arrive too early–the temps were even colder: 28 degrees with a 10 mph winds. Fires burned in the team tent area as well as on the handup hill where most of the crowds gathered to heckler and pass out treats and beer. The Singlespeed/Fat Tire Race means costumes. Really costumes are OK for everyone, but the Singlespeeders seem to dominate this category. Wicked fun crowd.
The race itself was awesome. So much fun-I got an excellent start and just tried to apply steady pressure the whole time. Preriding the day before was highly beneficial and I had a good idea of how I wanted to approach each section of the course. Ice Weasels is a party, but I still wanted to feel like I was racing my bike. I did, however, remember regretting not enjoying the moment last year. This year I willingly took whatever handup offered, including a White Russian, a chocolate donut hole, and a dollar bill (I lost the dollar). Taking handups meant screwing up my descent down the gnarliest hill on the course. I nailed it during preride but I clearly cannot consume liquor and sweets and ride my bike at the same time. No matter, I didn’t lose a place since everyone had the same healthy attitude about balancing racing and partaking. It was a blast. I came in 12 of 28. Finally a top 50% finish this season!
Laura faired well for her first time, placing 26/28. It’s worth noting there were approximately 36 women preregistered: the cold definitely kept some away. She took handups and generally enjoyed herself. I don’t think she was being polite either since she started texting me Monday night asking about tire widths and setting her Salsa up for another race.
After our race we watched the Singlespeed race and passed out mini chocolate cupcake handups and brownie bite handups. It was fun to participate in the handup & heckling and I find my thoughts keep drifting back to an outrageously fun weekend. It has me thinking of one more race (maybe just one!) next weekend…..no decisions yet but seriously considering March Farms Cyclocross race in Bethlehem. CT. Snow and rain are forecast, sound like the makings of a fun day!
At last, I’ve experienced the infamous Ice Weasels. Considered the end of the season party for the New England Cyclocross community, I have regrettably missed this party for the last 3 years. Now I see what all the fuss is about. This was a blast. A completely rad course, beer handups, White Russian handups, candy cane handups, silly costumes, a Star Wars theme, and a bike jump! What more could a girl ask for? Oh, the amazing #NECX community. So great. With ironically warm temperatures in the low 60’s, the Ice Weasels did not disappoint. Here are the highlights:
- the above photos collected from links from the crossresults.com site Thank you to the awesome #necx for sharing!
The race had some serious gnar. Crazy chutes and granite ladders, dual pump tracks through the woods, a deep sand section that hells yeah, I rode through nearly every time, and lots of on and off the bike action. I really loved this course–it was sick and twisted in all the best ways and the cheering from spectators was a frenzy of fun. I haven’t raced since Northampton last month and have had almost zero time on the bike. My fitness was marginal but none of this mattered: this race was all about the fun. But, you still are racing, you are still moving along at a good clip. So when I felt a pop in my left calf on my very first dismount, followed by searing pain, I knew things were not good.
At first I tested what I could do….riding the crazy downhills was so much fun, I loved it. I heard a couple loud crashes behind me as women lost it on the loose sand descent of some of the downhills. I played tug of war with a Cannondale rider. It was hard to assess what shape my calf was in while I was on the bike. I was in the moment.
Then I dismounted for the granite steps, and I felt more searing pain in the calf. I could pedal fine, but running off the bike, and worse, remounting, was agony. I limped through my runs off the bike. I slowed way down, babied it as much as possible, and at times, walked when I would have been running. I tried to push through it but to what end? This was the fun race, I reminded myself. When someone is sticking a solo cup in your face…..sometimes, sometimes you should just slow down and take it.
Next time, I will!
More photos for your enjoyment (these ones are mine):
Last Sunday I got to ride. After a leg stretching 18 miles in a balmy 40 degrees. I returned to my girlfriend’s place. As I was cleaning my bike up out front, an elderly woman approached. I greeted her and she said she was looking for her lost dog. After some prompting, I got a description of her little mostly white dog, Cookie, and offered to spin around the neighborhood looking for the little guy.
I rode around through the immediate neighborhood, and then hers. I stopped another older woman on her walk and asked if she had seen a little lost dog named Cookie. She asked where, and told her what road the woman lived on. The woman exclaimed, “My daughter lives there!” She agreed to talk to her daughter and I pedaled on, calling “Coooooookie! Cooooooookie!” I weaved down side streets and cruised slowly, scanning for little lost Cookie.
I turned back down the woman’s street and notice the walker I had stopped standing in the middle of the street, talking to a man and waved me toward her. I rode over and entered the discussion.
The man was the son of Cookie’s owner. I told him “I’m looking for a lost dog for a woman, it’s small and white and named Cookie.” He replied, “The woman is my mother, and that dog has been dead for years. I’m more concerned about where my mother is.”
Oh. Well I could still help. I knew where his mom was. He explained she gets a bit confused and occasionally wonders off her walking route. All was well that ended well. Mother was found, and I returned home shortly after.
This story didn’t turn out how I thought it would, but it felt good to help out in a small way. It’s sad that we age at all, and the results of aging for everyone varies, but no one choses how time will diminish us. That might sound strong–I don’t mean it to–but it captures my fear of aging. I want to remain as strong and sharp as I can for as long as possible. The march of time is without escape. Riding keeps me young–I feel like a kid when I’m on my bike. I’m counting on that to help me as I travel through the last half of my life.