2019 Chollas Lake Park CX: Scorched
Family yelling encouragements, teammates clapping hands, raising arms in victory (any small, or large, victory will do), friends ringing bells, troubadours roving down trails playing a guitar, cloudless sky with hot sun overhead, wind blowing trees, clouds darkening the day, the rare elusive rain puddle, billowing clouds of dust, scorched earth, broken slabs of concrete, thorns and spiny branched flora, singing birds, or their absence, scent of tacos, aguas frescas, maybe some other quenching refreshment with a slightly different bite, a man letting his dog wander off-leash as the women's race starts that fast descent. Little dramas occur all around a race course, little scenarios, conditions that may contribute to a race outcome. Or not. Perhaps these things will have no bearing on the outcome at all. Maybe they are just part of the atmosphere surrounding, swirling around the competition part.
I have said it before, and I'll write it again (probably) there is more to a race than people riding around a set course trying to be the first to reach a finish line.
The weekend of 2 / 3 November, San Diego Cyclocross SDCX and SoCalCross brought the latest round of the SoCalCross Prestige Series to Chollas Lake Park. The venue overflowed from a bowl with a baseball field at the bottom, and upon which outfield the usual Celtic knot of yellow tape wove its sinuous maze, climbed a steep-sided rim of bluffs, and spilled out into a recently burned patch of earth, scorched black, scarred and scabrous with the diggings of heavy machinery.
It was into this disturbed world that riders seemed to be having the most fun, dropping to the ground in puffs of dust, with larger clouds of laughter rising all around them. Seriously though, those loose, twisty, off-camber (depending on how they were approached) turns were the trickiest part of Sunday's course, with the last two rises challenging everyone, faces set with teeth clenched in determination, even those who managed to ride rather than run up. Let someone make it with every last ounce of strength and will, and those watching the spectacle acknowledged the accomplishment with cheers of appreciation.
Because it was there, and to see what I could see, I climbed the bluffs at one point, the day's sole, solitary gust of breeze unsuccessfully attempting to steal my hat away. I looked a waaaay over yonder to the road the race would take to get to the same bluff top. That'll spread things out, I thought. Later, I was assured, the real killer climb, the one that had left riders broken and exhausted, had been thrown into the mix during Saturday's races. Sunday's climb was a piece of cake in comparison. Back down below, racers continued to occasionally ride, but mostly slip and slide their way through the burn zone. It was later in the day now, the women's 'A' race out looping the loop, with a very vocal cabal of spectators mysteriously gravitating toward this side of the course. For me, anyway, that was a good thing - that whole idea of "atmosphere" making a race "complete," I didn't even have go looking for it, it came to me.
Staging 35+ / 45+ / Men's B
And finally, the album of select photos from Sunday's races.
I have said it before, and I'll write it again (probably) there is more to a race than people riding around a set course trying to be the first to reach a finish line.
The weekend of 2 / 3 November, San Diego Cyclocross SDCX and SoCalCross brought the latest round of the SoCalCross Prestige Series to Chollas Lake Park. The venue overflowed from a bowl with a baseball field at the bottom, and upon which outfield the usual Celtic knot of yellow tape wove its sinuous maze, climbed a steep-sided rim of bluffs, and spilled out into a recently burned patch of earth, scorched black, scarred and scabrous with the diggings of heavy machinery.
It was into this disturbed world that riders seemed to be having the most fun, dropping to the ground in puffs of dust, with larger clouds of laughter rising all around them. Seriously though, those loose, twisty, off-camber (depending on how they were approached) turns were the trickiest part of Sunday's course, with the last two rises challenging everyone, faces set with teeth clenched in determination, even those who managed to ride rather than run up. Let someone make it with every last ounce of strength and will, and those watching the spectacle acknowledged the accomplishment with cheers of appreciation.
Because it was there, and to see what I could see, I climbed the bluffs at one point, the day's sole, solitary gust of breeze unsuccessfully attempting to steal my hat away. I looked a waaaay over yonder to the road the race would take to get to the same bluff top. That'll spread things out, I thought. Later, I was assured, the real killer climb, the one that had left riders broken and exhausted, had been thrown into the mix during Saturday's races. Sunday's climb was a piece of cake in comparison. Back down below, racers continued to occasionally ride, but mostly slip and slide their way through the burn zone. It was later in the day now, the women's 'A' race out looping the loop, with a very vocal cabal of spectators mysteriously gravitating toward this side of the course. For me, anyway, that was a good thing - that whole idea of "atmosphere" making a race "complete," I didn't even have go looking for it, it came to me.
Hmm. Likes dirt, likes bikes, thinks about bikes even when not riding (hence the helmet, just in case), there might be some CX in her future
roving troubadour
abundance of light
big picture
Andrew Lee (GS Adams Avenue Bicycles) 55+ (CX 1-5)
what it's all about
what it's all about
what it's all about
Men's A off and running
And finally, the album of select photos from Sunday's races.
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