Kneeling the Cross

 

I am converted!  Let me hear an AMEN!  That's right brothers and sisters.  I have had a conversion.  I will no longer grovel only at the mountain bike racing alter, I have seen the light!

I AM A CYCLOCROSS RACER!

Let me hear another AMEN.

Instead of looking for a new mountain bike I'm shopping for lighter wheels for my cross bike.  I find myself watching cyclocross videos from Europe.  In a language I don't even understand.  I have this strange urge to drink foreign beer.  Well, that's not really anything new.

It all started at the Tallycross race this past weekend.  The race was held on a private estate near Miccosukee.  I have to admit after riding the practice lap I was wishing for my mountain bike.  Blasphemy!  The course had some steep hills that I had to run up, plus some deep mud I also had to run across, but the rest was a blast to ride, not to mention pretty to look at.  I entered the Cat 4 class which is the beginner class.  After 30 minuets of pain I finished 5th.

 The Kid ran the Junior class and had a good race.  Unfortunately he was the only Junior in his age group.

 My conversion had begun.

 

Sunday.  The same course only the opposite direction.  This time I entered the 55+ class.  How perfect is that?  Cross has a class for old guys!  It was meant to be!  This time the race lasted 45 minutes so I planned to pace myself a little.  They ran us old guys with the 45+ and the Cat 3s, starting the 3s 30 seconds ahead of the rest of us.  Mr. Big Jim was in the 45+ class, sporting an ankle sock and a new excuse.  I could smell opportunity!

I started last, marking the only other 55+ rider and keeping him in sight.  At the first 180 degree turn my faith must have gotten weak.  The gravel under my front wheel rolled and I found myself on the ground.  I asked for forgiveness, jumped back on the bike, and tried to salvage something other than last place.  I did manage to pass a few of the 45+ riders, then it happened.  As I came around the pond a golden light shown through the trees, illuminating a rider standing beside the trail, I heard a heavenly chorus, it was JIM!  Not being a true believer, Jim had a flat tire.  He managed to beg forgiveness and a new wheel from neutral support but it was too late.  I was able to stay in front of him and catch and pass the other rider in my class.  Can you say HALLELUJAH?  Give me an AMEN!

As I approached the alter table after the race to collect the sacrament due me for my amazing performance, the light once again shown down.  There, on the ground, was my prize.  The holy grail of Cross, a six pack of foreign beer.

I plan to attend the service in Gainesville Fl. next month.  We will continue the self flagellation at Gator's practice track until then.

Go now, and may the peace of Cross go with you.