As you may know, as your friendly Ace Reporter, a by-product of
autocross, or at worst, a symptom (couples, please consider that your
future child COULD turn out like me, and take appropriate precautions),
I've been taking little steps here and there out in "normal" society,
trying new things, expanding my horizons. So, if you ONLY want to read
about autocross, stop reading now, and delete.
I am merely expressing a view of an autocrosser who only knows
autocrossing. Really. Lots of children spawned in cults suffer terrible
culture shock when immersed in the "real world." So far, though, I'm
eating up the world like my favorite chocolate. For example, so far, I'm
almost fluent in Russian, and as you may know, my parachuting attempt
last March was a success. Just baby steps into the normal world.
This is what normal people do, isn't it?
My latest foray into "normalcy" is the world of triathlons. My first
attempt was the Nike Women's Triathlon yesterday in Sacramento.
Strange, I've been to Sacramento so many times, and up until yesterday,
I thought it was just flat lands covered by dry grass and concrete. I
guess I'd heard there was a river there, and I recall some talk about an
"old town," but I'd never quite put it together. There are some really
nice parts of Sacramento, like a river, and even a MARINA, and a
downtown with its own street car that will take you all the way to
Mather Field.
This sprint triathlon (.5 mile swim, 12 mile bike ride, 3 mile run) was
everything that I hoped it would be, and a little bit more. And also a
little bit less. The course workers, as it turns out, didn't really know
where the course went, and sent us all in different directions, and a
lot of us ran a lot less than three miles.
Anyway, here's the most strange of course alterations: Someone on this
list recently wondered whatever happened to figure eight racing. Well,
let me tell you, it was alive and well yesterday.
The concept was that the bike course went clock-wise, so we'd ride on
the left hand side of the road. This plan might have worked on paper,
especially if the course designer did a lot of drugs. They'd send us
over to the right side of the road for the 180 degree pin turns, so we'd
be turning TO our left. Please accurately make this mental picture. This
is a recipe for disaster, in other words. We'd all be pedaling our
little hearts out, look up, and see a mob of cyclists coming exactly in
our direction, so we'd have to move over to the right, very quickly. The
same thing after the turn-around. Just imagine an autocross course with
a cross-over, and maybe twenty cars on course.
So, I wasn't sure if this was a terrible failing on the part of the
event workers or a feature, given the consistency of the turn-arounds
designed in that manner. It certainly got my adrenaline going. Made me
feel REALLY alive.
Someone said later on, though, that the bike portion was very wrong and
very dangerous, and not to worry. Whew. I was seriously wondering if I
really had what it takes to be a triathlete. Tossing a car between the
cones thrills me, and I fantasize about racing on a track, but this
triathlon bike racing scared the crap out of me.
There were other strange moments, like riding with cars. At least they
were flowing in the same direction we were and provided a nice draft,
but their stopping for red lights made things interesting. After awhile,
especially on the narrow bike path, complete with pedestrians and Sunday
riders going in the other direction, I had completely given up riding as
fast as I could have. Yet, I had no idea that cycling would indeed be my
most favorite part, despite the moving obstacles. And you thought orange
pylons were bad.
One girl on a mountain bike crashed into me on a turn. I was braking in
a straight line, wide so I could hit the apex and accelerate back out.
That seems to be what they do on the tube, agrees with everything that
I've read, and besides that, it's simple racing physics. I don't see why
it would be so different on a bike. Yet, so many riders took so many
different lines, things got really strange. Autocross should be a
prerequisite.
This poor girl's line was to turn in tight, but to go really fast, right
into my back wheel. I knew she was coming, because I could hear her
screaming, "Oh $#it, oh $#it, oh $#it," and the $#its were just getting
louder and louder, and then I felt her push my back wheel sideways. By
the way, I am not a fan of using expletives in writing, but there are
situations that give just cause, and crashing on a bike is one of them.
I hope that she's all right. I just kept on pedaling, another autocross
trick (spinning out teaches you a LOT), and saved myself from disaster
while I heard this terrible metallic thud mixed with some painful grunts
and moans. It really sucked to be her.
Many of the entrants were cancer survivors, and a significant portion of
the proceeds of this event, I believe, went to cancer research. The
announcer let us know each time a survivor crossed the finish line, and
it would get really emotional sometimes.
When it was all over, and most everyone had already hit the road home, I
was walking my bike from the transition area back to Lucy when I saw
these two women, both with silver hair, I'm guessing competitors in the
60+ age group, walking the other way. One was carrying a third-place
ribbon, and the other was a cancer survivor. I recall her jubilation as
she jumped so high through the finish, fists in the air.
"We did it!" yelled the one with the ribbon.
I have a feeling it was their first time, too.
Katie Kelly
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