So Casey has been getting on me for a while now, and now that he is moving back to DC to represent the great commonwealth of pennsysltuckey, I figure I better post some things. Here we go.

So I did the Iron Cross a couple of week-ends ago. For you uncool / uninitiated that’s the longest cyclocross race in the country at just over 62 miles. It was pretty brutal. It took me 5 hours 40 minutes 28.4 seconds. That put me in at 100 out of 145 men and a solid 110minutes behind the winner and just over 95 minutes ahead of the last finisher.

It started out at 28 degrees in the mountains of Michaux. It was a beautiful crisp day and after a quick loop through the decidedly twisty traditional cross course, over a few barriers, up a short run-up, through a beach volleyball sand-pit, and onto some nice woodsy double-track we were off. The pack spread out fairly well on the dirt with me taking a solid place in the first half of the pack. About five miles in the women’s leader passed me (she is an animal, and rides about as smooth as Magnus Backstedt on a 51cm track bike), I tried to latch on to her wheel to no avail. As she started to pull away we came around the corner to a patch of sand about 75 yards long and at least 8” deep. More than half the riders in front of me we stacked up getting off their bikes. So, I hauled ass into the sand and pedaled through it all, making motorcycle throttle/engine noises as I passed at least 20 riders. It was awesome, I passed so many people who were sooo much faster than me, and then waited as they all came back to pass me when we got back onto asphalt a mile later.

Next came miles of double track followed by miles of forest service road, all seemingly uphill. The views were awesome as the leaves had peaked for fall foliage. I was able to find a couple of guys to pull with as we all realized how much farther there was to go. About 20 miles in we came to some true Michaux singletrack, strewn with roots and lots of rocks. Here I picked off a couple more, and when I hit the singletrack downhill I was dropping ’em like they were going out of style. Hell, I passed 2 guys in the air flying over the bars. They were going too slow over some logs so I passed them off trail, and got a bit carried away. But I got back on the bike and never saw them again.

Then there was some road for a few miles, forest road for a couple, then a singletrack up to a power line and a heinous run-up. I had ridden it the week-end before so I knew what I was in for. I stopped, took a piss, ate a clif-shot, took off my helmet and started up the hill. 2 people passed me while I was getting ready, but I walked right by them seconds later. The hill has an elevation gain of 450 feet and for at least half of it, if you are standing up straight, you can stick your hand out straight and it will touch the ground. It’s pretty much a ’climb-up’. And when you get to the top everyone was excited. Except I knew that a mile away was another 200 foot run-up, so I left a bunch of folks there and pushed on. At the top of the second one we were 30 miles in and I stopped and ate some prosciutto and some stinky cheese and rehydrated a bit.

The next fifteen miles alternated between me dropping people on gravel downhills (what are they all afraid of) and slowly creeping up on folks on single and doubletrack. It was a very nice section, but I was getting tired and was very much focusing on riding to finish. At one point I dumped onto a forest road of some singletrack with a couple of guys on my wheel and there was a cuteish 20ish year old girl riding a comfort bike about 25 yards in front of us. We surged to catch her just cruising along, but after the five mile climb we just left, we couldn’t keep up and she inched away from us. It was funny and depressing all at once.

It seems that no one passed me after the run-ups only one guy caught back up. I stopped to take a piss and wait when I found myself alone on about 8 miles of open windy road and needed a little shelter from the wind. Then another fifteen miles of dirt road and singletrack climbs brought us within striking distance of the end. There was a creek about three feet deep that signaled less than five miles to go and I soaked my self in it passing a couple of pansies who didn’t want their feet to get cold. Hell, I just wanted a beer at that point. I didn’t give a damn about wet toes. Well I left everyone behind on a down hill and motored back to the cross course alone and a bit tired. I was thinking I was going to try and bunny hop the last two barriers until wisdom prevailed and I realized I couldn’t jump off a curb at this point if I had to.

So I finished, ate some BBQ provided by the promoter, got a pair of socks that say I finished, and got some hot chick that is sponsored by Slingshot bikes to give me some good hoppy beer. I even held my tongue and didn’t make fun of her silly bike so she would give me more beer.

All was well. A good close to six hours on the bike. The PA randonnée the next week-end would be fine. It was only going to be 58 miles right.

-cory