Memphis CX Championship

There is something about early morning that makes the familiar seem different. I’m sure it’s the light, but it could just as well be the overall stillness of the moment just before daybreak. I made doubly sure I was up before the sun so I could be at my race with plenty of time to register, warm up, and get myself situated. As I turned onto the highway, I could see a line of clouds peering above the horizon. They looked like purple mountains in the distance, and this instantly transported me to a far away place. “It has to be the light,” I think to myself. My drive to Memphis was peaceful.

I walk to the registration tent with a cold wind slapping my face and the tips of my fingers rapidly becoming numb. With each step, I calculate what I should wear under my team kit.

“Which race do you want to do?” asked a shivering woman behind the table.

“I’m not sure. What’s the difference between CX4 and the Masters 4 group?”

“Are you chasing TBRA points?”

“No.”

“Well, you can race either one, but since you are a Master, let’s just put you in the Master 4 group.”

With that, I get my number and go back to my car to get ready. After much trepidation, I decide to wear a red long sleeve jersey and arm warmers under my team jersey. The hard part was trying to decide between tights or regular leg warmers. The leg warmers won out in the end because changing into tights in a crowed parking lot was just not going to happen. Besides, I wore my team shorts to Memphis.

When the call came for the B group to line up, I made my way down to the staging area, making sure to be as close to the front as possible. With everyone being in a tight bunch, it was a little hard for me to tell the exact breakdown of each class, so just I decided to race against everybody.

It sounded like a hundred guns cocking when the whistle blew as everyone clipped in and started hammering. The stampede of bikes stayed tight and hectic with one rider after another fighting for position as the group rounded the first corner and up a small hill. Halfway into the first lap, the group started to sting out a little, making it easier to negotiate the course. By the second lap, I thought my lungs were going to catch on fire and billow smoke through my nose like an old train. Did I really pay someone so I can hurt like this? I could hear my own breathing and feel my heart punching the inside of my chest. “Easy“, I think to myself. “Find a rhythm and grind it out.” The course developed a few soft spots in places as bike after bike cut into the wet ground with each painful lap. By the third lap, I found a good, quick, pace and set my sights on catching riders in front of me. One by one, I closed gaps with riders and small groups in front of me, mostly on climbs and a windy back straightaway. “Breathe! Keep the pace. It will all be over soon,” I keep saying to myself.


With three laps to go, I find myself about ten bike lengths behind two riders and wonder if I can catch them before the finish. Slowly, painfully, the gap narrows and I catch a wheel on the back straightaway just before crossing the finish line. Now with only two laps left in the race, I know it will probably come down to a sprint unless someone attacks. I look back to see if anyone is sneaking up from behind and don’t see any threats. I decide to hang on the back until one of the riders in front makes a move. We remain in the same positions going into the last lap. Things are about to get serious. As we roll off the top of the levee and turn to go back up a very steep climb, I throw caution to the wind and attack from behind on the climb, moving into the front position. I have a small gap at the top of the levee, drop the hammer, and go down the levee again into a flat section. One of the two behind me falls off the back and appears to be out of it. The other guy is about a bike length behind, but still in the hunt. Deciding it wouldn’t be smart to go all out with over a mile to the line, I sit up, let him pass, and latch onto his wheel. We go up and down the levee three more times, each almost as painful as the one before. There’s a run up on steps and a hill with barriers at the base. The last trip up the levee is a climb not requiring a dismount. We make our way down this hill for the final turn to the line when he attacks and opens a small gap on me. I go after him, through the last turn and still slightly behind. The last set of barriers is just ahead, three large logs, and I’m starting to eat into his lead. I get his wheel roughly 150 meters from the line and my heart rate is well above maximum. I think I’m going to die before this thing is over. He starts his sprint around 100 meters out, and I make my move for the line right behind him. My face is twisted with unbelievable pain as I put my head down and move my front wheel past his with less than 50 meters to go. I can’t feel the cold anymore. I can’t feel the wind. I focus on the line and can only hear the clank of cowbells as the finish gets closer and closer. I have the gap and take the line by a few bike lengths. It’s over. I roll off the course and find a place to collapse. It’s over.

I finish my day with first in the 4-Master division. Oddly enough, I realize after the race that I didn’t have to sprint that guy at the finish because he was in a different division. I should have known that during the race because he looked about 10 to 15 years younger.

More photos can be seen here here and here.

Congratulations to Ryan on finishing third in the CX 3 division and to Andrea for winning the women's single speed division