Back in 2008 Singletrack Magazine published a Fish Out Of Water article on taking a mountain biker and putting him in the hands of a CX expert for a day of training and then a night of racing. The expert was long time CX legend John North. Sadly John is no longer with us after losing his battle with Parkinson’s Disease in 2013. We republish the article here for all our subscribers and dedicate it to the memory of John North.
Every issue we take a mountain biker and throw them into an alien world. This issue, Craig the “freeride light” rider goes cyclocross racing.
What am I doing here? Me, a staunch 26in fat tyre rider who has never ridden on a ‘cross bike in my life. I’ve never owned a road bike and I’d be surprised if I’ve ridden 10 hours in all my long years on drop bars. I did do a triathlon once; I thought to borrow my Dad’s old touring bike, but ended up riding on my old Gary Fisher with risers and skinny tyres on 26” wheels because I couldn’t handle the riding position. But I suppose this is a fish out of water article, eh?
One Friday lunchtime. I meet Ben and John North at a secret proving ground for my induction into this foreign world of cyclocross racing… Rumours of ‘Team Singletrack’ have rippled through the ‘cross community. Nick Craig has apparently got wind of our attendance, but we are giving nothing away. Especially not our secret weapon: John North. John is a legend in his own lifetime in the world of British cycling and he’s going to be my tutor for tonight’s race. Among his achievements, he has raced for the British cyclocross team, and raced (and won) the legendary Three Peaks ‘cross race several times. [See John’s interview in Singletrack issue 11 – Ed]
Lesson one is the dismount. ‘Cross racing is all about keeping going as fast as possible; a half a second advantage dismounting several times a lap over 10 or 20 laps soon turns into a decent lead. I have plenty of experience coming off mountain bikes, but usually with a view to slowing my fall, not keeping me (and the bike going). More of a ‘dismount – roll – look for the bike – try not to let it land on you’ procedure if you like. The ‘cross theory is simple: unclip the right leg and swing it behind the saddle to come in behind your left leg. Then – and here’s the tricky bit – step through with your right leg between the left leg (which is still clipped in) and the bike. Slow the bike to jogging speed and start running with your right leg. Remember to hold onto the bike. Despite a recent new hip, John makes it look ever so easy.
On the straight, with no obstacles and a 30 yard area to slow down in, it just takes a couple of goes and only one tyre mark down the back of my calf and I’ve pretty much got it dialed. But we are not really under race pressure yet, are we?
Lesson two is the carry. This involves slipping your arm through the front triangle, using your other arm to lift the bike onto your shoulder, nesting the down tube in the crook of your arm. Try it, stood still. Then try it as you run along pushing your bike. If you still think it’s easy, do it immediately following a high speed (controlled) dismount, leaping over a pit of burning coals, all while jostling for position with 50 other riders. OK, so I made the bit up about jostling for position. But the coals were real. It’s just that the pictures didn’t come out so good… ahem.
Lesson three is the mount. I had imagined it would involve leaving the cranks at precisely 98.4 degrees to the horizontal, leaping cat-like over the saddle to put pressure through the waiting cranks, already set to the perfect gear. In reality, one simply leaps onto the seat, ass first, hoping everything is tucked out of the way. Then you look for your pedals (while trying to control the direction of the bike which now seems suddenly to have mixed parentage with a shopping trolley), start spinning and clip in. It’s a real Clint Eastwood style mount. And not pleasant when done badly. Trust me.
By now having mastered the discrete arts, I’m a little cocky. So we decide to string the three together, adding a hill into the mix for flavour. As it’s not too steep, I can pedal up it, so an obstacle (a dead bike) is put down to force me to get off. John is right, amateurs always brake too late, resulting in an unexpected spoke interaction which sends me into a tumble into the brambles. Helpfully, Ben just laughs.
We set off for the race. Having discussed what the course might look like, and thanks to rumours from Ben, my imagination is in overdrive. For some reason I think there will be at least one 45 degree slope with a 2ft drop off on the other side, that I think I could ride on my own bike, but I’m not sure about on the ‘cross bike. And anyway, it’s there to make you get off, so I might as well play nicely. I figure there will be a nasty hill climb, where everyone will get off and run up the slope. This, of course, will obviously be followed by a particularly nadgery descent which only the most skilled of riders will be able to cope with. Here, after holding my position running up the hill, ‘cos I’ll be at least as fit as they are, I hope to come into my own. I guess there will be some flat bits, but all races have that, then some more technical bits and dismounts where I gain back some ground, and perhaps a water splash near the end for the spectators. There will of course be a pit stop area where Ben will hand me isotonic drinks in little paper cups.
The reality is a little different. As it’s the first night course, it’s not quite that taxing. In fact, 95% of the lap is on short cut grass shaped as a basic out and back, with a tight-ish U turn where the racing line did actually send you over some roots. Half way back there were two more dog legs added in which made you slow down and the get out of the saddle before taking you back to the paved start ‘arena’. Here there was a large mound of landscaped soil on top of which someone had put a wooden board, forcing you to dismount, run up the slope and throw your bike and self over the board. You could then remount at the top and ride down the slope and curb on the other side or carry your bike back to the tarmac if you didn’t fancy the wee drop at the bottom.
Like the course, the reality of the race was a little different to how I was expecting it. Having no idea what was going on at the start, I found myself on the back row. I made up a few places as we set off, and settled in chasing down riders in front. The laps were only four or five minutes each, so I was quick to find the racing line around the course. The Salsa seemed to be offering me tighter lines than those around me; taking wider swings into the corners allowed me to get on the power earlier and keep on the tails of the riders in front. What I hadn’t counted on was the sheer pace of the
race. It was intense. Mountain biking, especially with my friends is very stopstarty (no criticism, it’s simply social riding). This was all go. I know I’m less fit now than I have been, but even then I’d have struggled. There were some really fast cookies out there. As the race progressed the leaders came by to lap me as if I’d just learnt how to ride. Their pace was incredible. I managed to stay with a pair of riders for several laps, clinging on their wheels all lap round, closing the gap on the final two corners, then out-braking and passing them on the soil hurdle. I’d then have 200 metres of rest as they caught me, then it was another four minutes of blistering lungs trying to keep up for the rest of the lap. Passing the start/finish I asked the time and someone (who shall remain nameless – they know who they are) told me ‘30 minutes to go’. Exhausted I slowed the pace a little. Four laps later it turned out there had actually been 15 minutes to go at the time as the bell rang as I crossed the line. Though really, it would have made little difference in the grand scheme of things.
I didn’t finish particularly highly [18 out of 26 – Ed]. I suppose I could say the course didn’t really suit me; it wasn’t technical or hilly enough. But the bottom line is, fit as I like to think I am, you’ve got to be really fit to race cyclocross well, and be ready to put up with a long period of anaerobic suffering. Or, if you just want to race, come with an appropriate bike and a smile. I think I’d like to have a go at a day race. One with some big hills and obstacles thrown in to boot, it’ll be fun. But I’m not trading the Heckler in just yet…
So, what’s different about ‘cross races?
There are several fundamental differences between cyclocross and mountain bike races. Most outwardlynoticeable, the bikes are very different. ‘Cross bikes run 700cc (about 28”) wheels, with skinny tyres, usually up to about 1.2”. They don’t have suspension, they invariably have drop bars and canti brakes. In some class of races, discs are banned.
One of the most surprising differences, having grown up in the 24 hour race scene is that the racers are fully supported. Pro ‘cross riders might turn up to a race with three bikes, in some cases swapping them every lap. You might pick up 10lbs of mud on a bad course,” says John, “the time it takes to come into the pits is far less than the effort to drag all that extra weight around”. Then a few laps later your friendly pit helper has cleaned your bike. It’s also acceptable to just swap a wheel over, or even borrow a teammate’s bike, mid lap. Often the courses are quite short to allow for this, and the races are usually 45 minutes or an hour plus the lap you are on.
The third difference is the course. Mountain bike courses come in varying degrees of difficulty, as do ‘cross races. The later however, often add man-made obstacles, purposely added to make you dismount. Be that a slope over logs with a drop off, (that is too high to jump), fences, ‘horse boxes’ or climbs that are simply too rough to be able to ride on fat wheels, let alone thin. Conversely, ‘cross races are likely to have fast open sections too, where you need to lay down the power for sustained periods. They are cheap to enter, though, which is good because you’re basically paying to try to hurt yourself.
How did he do?
We asked our expert, John North – a long time ‘cross racer and a former winner of the epic Three Peaks race to comment on his young protégé’s style. He did very well. Especially considering that I’d not told him one vital thing. I didn’t warn just how fast it was going to be from the start. So, considering he was in an alien environment in a race in the dark… Very good.
How well did Craig take to skinny cyclocross wheels? Was he a graceful picture of finesse?
He did extremely well. Not to start with he wasn’t, though. We practised and I told him to jump on and off the bike a few times so I could see his technique. He looked like a demented kangaroo.
And his ‘cross technique?
Trying to remount, he ran way too fast and realised he couldn’t do anything at that speed. His run-ups were very efficient. He didn’t hit himself in the face with the bars.
How well did he take instruction?
He took it very well. I think he realised it wasn’t something you could bluff or muscle your way through.
How did he do in the race?
He did very well, though he was up against it with the speed. I don’t think he could believe it. ‘Cross races are very fast at the start. Some of the UK’s top ten were there at the race. It was 45mins plus a lap and the top guys were lapping in three minutes. The floodlights for the start didn’t turn up, so the whole course was in the dark.
Tooled up with the Salsa Las Cruces
The biggest change on the salsa was the riding position – I was very stretched out along the top tube. Which was frighteningly close to my shorts when stood over it! I always had a real nervous feeling when going down anything steep. The steep head angle give the front of the bike a really twichy feel, if you want to be able to brake properly, you are right down in the drops, which leaves a chin -stem interaction as a real and scary possibility. Especially with stiff forks and unforgiving tyres. But it didn’t stop me having a go, just a little slower.
The Salsa weighed about nothing, specially compared to the combine harvester I usually ride. The disks stopped the bike all too well, it was easy to lock the front if you were sharp on the brakes. With a lowest gear of about 38:28 on big wheels it’s a pretty high ratio to start with, technical up hills were a bit of a struggle. But then it is light and designed to be carried. Riding singletrack was great, the back end really felt like it was going where you told it to. Nipping through gaps in rocks became a breeze. The tyres cut through mud very nicely and she leans beautifully into sweeping corners.
Once on the hard packed stuff the Salsa was away; while I’m gently spinning along, all those around me are red faced and puffing in an effort to keep up. While it’s certainly not the sort of bike I’d want to take on every ride, there are a surprising amount of trails I think I could ride a ‘cross bike on, and not just canal paths. It’s a bit scary pulling the front end up on big drops, but if you can avoid too many obstacles like that you’ll have a whale of a time.
Craig Woodhouse
