I wanted to do this race. I really wanted to do this race. But it wasn’t on the schedule and I spent the better part of the day convincing myself that I wasn’t going to race. Though we have had a pretty full schedule of races since Labor Day, Alpenrose always represents the real kickoff of the Portland cross season. It attracts stupid big fields and is a circus. About 1:30 in the afternoon, I gave in to my base desires and got my crap ready and hopped in the car. Nothing like arriving at 2:30 for a 3:15 race, eh?
Benefits: Primo parking. No lines for registration. No obsessing over which lines to take since I didn’t get a pre-ride.
I spent virtually all my time before the race getting my son set up at the team tent, registering, and chatting. I think I rode around for 5-10 minutes to limber up. There were a few call ups for last season’s results and based on some early season races. Then it’s determined randomly by last digit of your race number. Mine was ’8′ which put me last — but hey, I won a six pack of beer before starting the race! I lined up about 15 feet behind 121 other racers. The start is wide pavement with two 90 degree right handers and then two 90 degree left handers. I planned on getting a flying start and going wide through the first two corners to get by as many people as possible.
The 94 B men went off first and about two minutes later they blew the whistle for the single speeders. As the field began to move, I clipped in and started rolling. As soon as the back of the field got in the pedals, I was flying up around the outside. Wham. Everyone was stopped. There was a single car parked with tape running around it on the left side that was pinching the field. So much for the flying start.
I did manage to pass a chunk of people on the first curves so I wasn’t last going into the south pasture. The congestion was wild as I picked my way through people. I powered the south side climb and put more people behind me. During the previous race, light rain started and turned the course slippery as snot and conditions turned challenging. As I negotiated the course, there was carnage everywhere and I stayed upright — getting off the bike every time I saw people slipping out.
By the end of the first lap, things started to string out but it always seemed like there was a group of three or five guys in front of me. And I always set out to get through them as fast as possible. I think my first three laps represented some of the strongest racing I’ve done in a long time. I raced hard and smart, keeping up the intensity. Somewhere on that third lap, my left brake lever started coming loose. While it never affected my braking, it was a nuisance (aside: I have new levers I installed last night. I was going to install them before the race but decided to stand by the advice never to mess with your setup the day before a race. Guess that kind of backfired).
I’ve been trying to make the second to last lap a priority to kick up the intensity but I just didn’t manage it this time. I worked hard after the bell but two guys managed to come by (both of whom I had passed that lap) just before the end. They negotiated a technical section better than I did and I wasn’t about to try to sprint them on the wet velodrome apron.
The only sphincter puckering moment came when I was going down the steep descent on the north side. It curved left at the top then went 90 degrees at the bottom to go back up the hill. The best line was to set up outside on top and then bend it inside. Well, some dude I had just passed went totally inside on me and we momentarily locked bars. I let off the brakes and gently disengaged his bars and we both stayed up. I was screwed at the bottom and about stalled out, but I passed him going up the hill.
So I finished 46th out of 122 starters. Since I was riding through the back end of the B field for the last few laps, I figure I must have passed about 100 guys.
I can live with that.







More photo’s from the Farmhouse: 













