Weekend Cyclocross
The prospect of heading down to Brighton on a wet and cold november morning to race cyclocross is not an idea which has me leaping out of bed on a sunday morning. So it is perhaps fortunate that I have a son made of sturdier stuff to remind me of my commitments and get me going.
Leaving home the cloud was breaking and we could almost fool ourselves into believing we might get away with it, but as we approached the South Downs the rain re-appeared and was to be our companion for the rest of the day.
It’s testament to the popularity of cyclocross racing these days that on such a day a field of 80 or so riders should be lining up for the senior event. This wasn’t a day for speed but for resilience as each rider fought their way through the gloopy mud for over an hour. As the race wore on the effect on man and machine became clear as riders stopped at the side of the trail to dig the mud away from brakes, derailleurs and wheels. Somehow my trusty IF Planet Cross survived and carried me over the line in my usual mid-field finishing position. The changing rooms had the unusual luxury of showers but by the time I trailed in these were full of fully clothed rellow riders hosing themselves down in the tepid water!
A spray car-wash on the way home proved a quick and easy way for Thomas and I to wash our bikes down, and re-lube, ready for the next weekend adventure.