Race Report: A Practice, HPCX, & A.. Nor’easter?
Bikes for me are a practice. Think yoga practice. I am not perfect, but I keep practicing and in a variety of ways. I, like so many other riders, suffer from a lifetime of habits and trauma that impact the way I move. I follow my practice to mend and improve this body I have. It’s a way to pass time, and to build a body for the longer term. I’ve found a lot of joy in my practice, and racing bikes is slowly coming to be a part of the practice.
I noticed the effect of the race on my practice a few years ago. I came back from a race, and after recovery day, I can feel my body moving a bit better. It’s an awareness of a little more strength in some areas that weren't there before. The race had forced me to adapt and the adaptation was good. The juice was worth the squeeze. I kept making myself sign up for more events and races.With each one,“the drip” to borrow a phrase from my strength coach, kept coming.
Fast forward to the first weekend in September 2025. I put 6 cross races on my calendar at the beginning of August when I knew it was time to start planning out the rest of the season. Bubble Cross was my first race of the season. I got destroyed by the field. But the day after rest day, “the drip” still came. And in different ways it seemed. Cross hits a little different. This is good. I need different right now. I need to push my upper body and the right side of my torso forward. They are the weak points to strengthen.
At Belltown, I felt it again. “Drip”. The sand pit run was so long. I could tell how I had managed to turn on my core after the race. My hip flexors turned on in seemingly a different way as I worked to get my legs up out of the sand, and then again on the run up. I continued to adapt. I'm improving. I'm growing. This is good.
I made new friends. Then there was positive peer pressure. My calendar grew by two races. I'm sorting out my plans for a new bike frame. I'm pushing myself out to go practice in my local park in some spare time. I can feel a little more with each effort. “Drip”.
All of a sudden, it’s my third race of the season. HPCX. I’m watching the forecast as is race week habit. Will it be good, or will a new element be added to the practice. I am doing my best all week not to stress. 20 MPH Winds plus varying amounts of rain from a Nor’easter. I probably won’t blow away. I’m too heavy. It’s coming up on the weekend, and the acting NJ Governor (how did I not know we had a sub right now??) has issued a State of Emergency in an abundance of caution. 30 MPH the wind forecast reads. Certainly they will cancel. But, I'm still preparing. I make my checklist and pre-pack what I can. I practice in the park. I get my bike a last minute service. I’m still checking the forecast.
Saturday rolls in, and the forecast is slowly pivoting. Seemingly the effects of our diminishing efforts as a country to do meteorological research. Can we even trust the weather? The race still isn’t canceled. My race time looks clear and no rain in the morning. I’m blessed once more.
My compatriot Karen and I are loaded up early. 6:20 in Secaucus. We have bagels in our hearts and plans of pre-ride on the brain. The womens/open 3/4/5 field is racing at 10:30 am. I won't have as many pre-ride opportunities, but I make due. A loop of the course with Lucia, and I mark out my pain points to session with what time I can. I decide the sand is a runner. I'm not confident about a hot entry and not bogging down towards the end, resulting in an awkward dismount and then run anyways. My legs worked well at Belltown. They may serve me well again. I hit the off camber corners a few times. I check the ones near the top of the hill at my buddy Frank’s suggestion. I decide to focus on the Belgian stairs. I feel my dismount on the slight uphill to run up is lacking. Ride. Unclip one foot. Slow in. Swing over. No good. Doesn't feel right. Again. Ride. Unclip different opposite food. Swing over. Twist my food out. Better. Repeat. I think we have a plan, so I make for the parking lot to get into team kit.
The next race wraps. I find myself doing a touch more pre-ride with Hannah. We’re riding the upper off camber section again. It’s just after the fast downhill, and we’re looking for the right entry speed to get through the off camber dip down into a little uphill and then another section. I feel like my tires need to go down a bit more, then maybe I’ll find the grip I want. I hit it again. Yes. This feels more right. The plan grows.
We circle the parking lot after. I've barely recovered from an improper number placement. My fancy race tape didn't save me from the number being askew on my back. I check my knuckles. “Slow Down” it reads. I heed my own reminder. And then we're lined up. It’s almost go time. I think I’m ready. The wind is still kicking, but it’s not unmanageable, and the course is fairly dry. I feel good.
Fweeeeeeet!!! The whistle goes off and so do we. With such few race results, I'm starting at the very back. I don’t take off hard, but let the space open up. The space clears and I smash. My 5 second peak power for the race pulls me towards the front, but not enough. I have a lot of ground to make up and know I won't be the first in the sand. I take the corners tight, and then into the long straight to the volleyball court that plays our sand pit for the day. I prep for my dismount, and then I'm running. Not the best control of my bike, but I don't lose my feet. Riders are passing, but I'm watching them bog down ahead. My plan feels conservative, but favorable. Out and around, then back through the easier side. I ride this one. I know I can get through. And then I’m clear, and down comes more power. I am making up ground as the course rises up.
I hit the smooth spot I noted around the bathroom. It keeps the speed up into the first off camber and then navigate the tight corner. More lightly uphill straight and more opportunity to put down power. I take the wide corners with as little brake as possible, then into the next off camber sections. I take this well, and make the turns to the set of barriers on course. My dismount is good, and I'm over them fairly quickly. I find a bit of momentum in my remount. In my previous races, I had no momentum or had to awkwardly clamber back on the pedals with both legs already over the bike. More turns. More managed braking. And then more uphill and the first run at the Belgian steps. I'm off mostly ok and do a good run. I know to get over the crest after the stairs before remounting, and I find that the remount goes ok. Uphill. Downhill. Off Camber. And then I'm into the woody turns that finish off the course. I've scoped out the last hard turn with loose sand in the apex as something of note, but clear it well, then I'm on pavement again. Watts go down, and more ground is made up.
The sand looms again. I go for the dismount, and I'm a little hot this time. I don't have control of the bike, and then it’s flying, catches the tape, and is crashing into me as it jerks back. I can feel the pain in my right knee and left shin. The bike got me good, but I don't investigate. I get the bike untangled and do my run. Something in the outside of my left shin is screaming a little, but I find a pace that keeps it low. It doesn't feel like pain to stop immediately over, and so I'm back on bike. I quickly can tell, my usual imbalance of over powering on the left wont work today. I force myself to adapt. “Drip”. My right side is making up for it and Im getting my core on a bit better in the process. I chase through the course again, continuing to make up ground.
By lap three, I've made most of the passes stick. The third sand run is uncomfortable, but I manage, and watch as riders again bog down. But one girl I passed previously passes me. We have a bit of a race. I catch her out of the second sand pit, compliment her sand riding, and then make to pass up the hill. I cant get it here, but I know there are more opportunities. She’s feisty and cuts me off as I make to dive the corner into the second set of off camber sections, and I acknowledge her call that she doesn't have to play it safe. Then we’re at the barriers and it’s a chain drop for me. I get across the barriers and make to fix it. The chain is not back on the first time. “Slow Down”. Get it right slow and then get going. It’s on enough and I chance the take off. I'm good, and I'm chasing again. Short work on the corners, and then I find my opponent on the next climb. I make the pass, but then drop my bike in the dismount. I apologize for my hot mess block, and we both scramble up the stairs. Then Im able to get the pass and start to make it stick. I'm riding the last off camber well at this point, and once I hit the straights after, I take advantage of my 2x setup, and make tracks. By the time I make the corner past the line and into my bell lap, I can see I've put a lot of ground between us. Just need to stay smooth, and I can keep this place. Just need to manage the discomfort and make that right side work for all it’s worth.
Through the sand one last time, and while my left leg isn't happy, I manage. I get out with time ahead, ride the next sand pit, and then have the space to put more time in up the hill. I'm looking ahead now as I'm confident about most of the rest of the course. I keep pressing and then the next rider is in my sights again. I am Jaws Theme Swimming. I clear the stairs and Holly feels so close. In my confidence I jeer across the field, “You better hurry Holly, I'm coming!” I put in all I can through the off camber and the big turns after. But I'm not getting much closer. I keep pressing into the woods, flowing the turns as best I can and trying to keep throwing down the power.
And then I know it’s not enough. I know what the last turns are, and I know I won't make them fast enough. I don't slow. I plan to blast the sprint as soon as I hit the pavement. Through the sandy corner, over the rolling hill, and on to the pavement I go. BAM! Power. I'm flying, but I already knew she’s to the line. I spin my legs as hard as I can to close up the gap as best I can. Done. I'm finished. I cruise to my teammates who had finished ahead, and we high five and hug. We made it through another one. Now time for the parking lot hangs, Thai food truck food, and heckling our friends and teammates from the side lines.
It’s Tuesday again. The start of the next taper to the next race. I'm starting my day at my standing desk, and I feel it. “Drip”. There is a little bit more. My shoulders are back like my mother would tell me to do. My core feels strong and my glutes are on. My knees are light. A new adaptation shows itself. The practice continues to spur growth.
