Bandit Cross #1

Flying the BKB colors solo in the first of three Bandit Cross races, I showed up to Garfield Park in Chicago and found myself amid broken glass, used condoms, angry geese, plywood barriers, and about ten other adventurous souls. The opposition was in various states of preparedness, from slick-tyre'd track bike riders fresh off the street to serious 'cross rigs and everything in between. Frank came along, giving cyclocross a try, and Brent also got talked into racing on his fixed with way-too-high gearing.

For the first lap I sat in about third, sizing up the competition. I recognized two riders as definite contenders, and many riders were unknown to me, so I was hoping to just hold onto some wheels for a while and see how things played out. Cale was apparently still trying to exorcise some demons from his lungs and wasn't feeling very well. Ben seemed to be softpedaling coming into lap number two, so I let my momentum carry me into the lead and I rode my own pace. I would find out later that he rolled his tubular off the rim multiple times, so was out of contention. The next time I looked back there was nobody in sight. I had visions of blowing up half way through the race and getting swarmed, but when the cycling gods grant you some luck you have to put your head down and go.

I had good legs and was flowing smoothly through the barriers and twisty sections, and before I knew it I was coming up behind people. Still not sure it was in the bag and not wanting to risk anything, I kept the cruise control on and avoided trying to grab dollar bills out of PBR cans. The laps ticked down and seemed shorter and shorter as I increasingly enjoyed being at the front end of the race. Riders steadily abandoned, often discouraged by their equipment and wondering why they got talked into this in the first place.

After I lapped the second-place rider and having seen most everybody else from behind on multiple occasions, I was fairly sure that this would be my day. I allowed myself a satisfying but hopefully humble looking double fist-pump as I crossed the line for the last time; honestly, how many times in the average rider's career do they cross the line with both arms in the air in any kind of race? I'll enjoy the morale boost when I can, whether by strength or fortunate circumstance.





Cale set, Julie set, link.

Edit: more pics.