Team Delphine

Amy Frykman raced cyclocross in Victor, ID last weekend. The following is her report of the weekend’s racing. In her second year of cyclocross, Amy just continues to improve. Way to go, Amy!

Thanks to Lisa Curry for the use of her photos.

Every cross race, it’s the same. I pre-ride of the course, and it feels hard – really hard. I feel slow and awkward. The technical sections seem impossible. The corners loose, off-camber, too tight, too steep, too bumpy…you get the idea.

And so it was with Moose Cross, a two-day race in beautiful Victor, Idaho, at the base of the Tetons. Brian and I pulled up to the race venue Saturday morning to a gorgeous sunny day. A dozen or so cars were parked in the lot and kids (or “grommets,” as described by the race announcers) were amassing for the kids’ race. I suited up and headed out for a pre-ride.

The first half of the course was straightforward: A few grassy corners through the trees and a long straightaway along the backside. I took a corner too fast and slid out, landing on my hip. My chain dropped. It took several seconds to get back upright and riding…I made a mental note to take that corner easy in the race.

After the grass, the course entered a rough incline, followed by a hard right in loose dirt. Then, a descent and hard left in loose dirt. Tough corners! A tabletop, followed by a low-banked hard right (again in loose dirt), then a straightaway leading to three barriers.

I approached the barriers at a much higher speed than I’m used to, which threw me off. It felt as though I were learning to do barriers all over again. I remounted and, after another long straightaway, entered a maze of tight loose corners. The course then dropped into a series of sweeping, high banked corners (the narrows), then doubled back on itself.

After several hundred meters of big ring hammering, the course swept left and bam, two barriers and a run-up. If the first barriers felt a little fast, the second set was terrifying. For those of you who’ve never done cross, most courses are designed to bleed off speed before the barriers (presumably to prevent carnage). Quite the opposite with Moose Cross. I came in hot, slammed on the brakes, fumbled off the bike too early going too fast, tripped over myself, awkwardly hopped the barriers and did the run up. Yikes!

I lined up on the start line with that memory in mind. I’d done my standard warm-up and scoped out the field. It would be a tough race. On the start line were several heavy hitters: Zephanie, a pro-mountain bike racer who rides for Kenda. Kris Walker, a masters national cyclocross champion who’d blown the competition out of the water in the first race I’d tried last year. Lisa Curry, also from Bozeman, fresh off of her first two pro/UCI elite races in Seattle and Las Vegas respectively. Intimidating!

The race started FAST. Curry got the hole shot and set a furious pace on the first lap. Kris Horner and Zephanie were fast on her heels. I was a few seconds back. I tried to calm myself and focus – and hammer where I could. During the last few races, I haven’t been anywhere near as fast as Lisa on the first and second laps. But, I’ve managed to catch up and was hoping I could do the same.

After the first lap, Lisa was off of the front. I was back about eight seconds and Zephanie and Kris were in between. I eventually caught up with and passed Zephanie. Then I caught up with Kris. We rode side-by-side for a while. We hit a long straightaway into the wind and I pushed ahead and got a few seconds on her. On the next long straightaway, I gave it everything I had and caught up to Lisa, pulled just ahead, moved as far left as possible so she wouldn’t be able to draft. I put my head down and hammered.

Through the next series of corners, I could see I’d created a small gap. For the next few laps, I focused on pedaling hard through the straightaways, resting in the corners and surviving the technical sections. The barriers were not pretty – I bled off too much speed, dismounted too early and generally made a clumsy showing of it. Spectators lined up at the barriers had to be incredulous that someone with such poor barrier technique could possibly be at the front of the race (the things you think about while suffering your way through a 45 minute race).

Graceful or no, I made it through and didn’t crash. By three laps to go, I had a 20-25 second lead. I couldn’t take the lead for granted however; at the Helena omnium, I was at the front for several laps, but Lisa caught up just before the finish and smoked me on the line. I didn’t want that to happen again.

Coming into the last few corners, I still couldn’t believe I was in front. Lining up at the start line 45 minutes before, winning seemed impossible. I wanted to hang, race well, finish respectably. But win? No way! It just goes to show you never know how things will turn out.

Lisa Curry came in second, followed by Kris Walker and Zephanie. The Moose Cross folks put on a great show that evening with an awards ceremony, a montage of video footage from the races, and plenty of beer and pizza.

Day 2 – Up Close and Personal with the Barriers
For day two, the women’s field had grown to 17. The race organizers changed the course, taking out the long straightaways and replacing them with twisty turns through a couple of athletic fields. We didn’t start out quite so fast. Lisa once again assumed the leader position. Kris Walker, Zephanie and I followed close behind. I found the course harder – a lot of starting and stopping and no long sections to build up a gap. It made the technical sections more important. 

On lap two or three – I can’t remember which – I came into the barriers and, remembering the hard effort I’d put in the last few laps trying to catch back onto Lisa’s wheel after the barriers, thought, “What the heck, I’ll try to do them fast.” I came in hot, botched the dismount, threw my bike into the barriers, tripped over my bike and the barriers, whacking my shin and knee in the process.

I could hear the announcer screaming “AMY FRYKMAN IS DOWN ON THE BARRIERS, AMY FRYKMAN IS DOWN!!!” I was mortified. I grabbed my bike, untangled it, jumped over the barriers and up the run-up. I remounted, clipped back in and turned the cranks. Everything seemed to be working. I came around the corner and almost ran into Zephanie, who’d taken a spill. I was rattled. It took me a half a lap to settle back in. I’d lost 15-20 seconds to Lisa. I was pushing as hard as I could, but the gap remained around 15 seconds for a couple of laps. With four laps to go, it was 13 seconds. Then 12. By two laps to go it was 11. The last lap was brutal. People lined up along the course were shouting out the splits, and I could see I was making progress, which meant I had to push harder. Ten seconds. Nine seconds. Eight seconds. We came up to the last section and I was seven seconds behind. When Lisa crossed the finish, I was six seconds back…progress, but not fast enough!

For day 2, Lisa took the well-deserved win. I took second. Zephanie came in third and Kris Walker fourth. All in all, two stout days of racing.

It’s always intimidating to line up for a race. I always think the other ladies will be stronger, faster and more skilled than me. I often wonder, “Why do I do this? This is hard! It’s going to hurt! Why do it!” But, once the announcer starts us off, the race floods through my mind and I’m in the thick of it – no more time to think and worry. The intensity and singular absorption of racing is part of what brings me back to the start line again and again. That, and you just never know when you’ll win.

– Amy Frykman