Crossing the Haugh

Three years ago I suffered my very first cyclocross race, at the inaugural Haughcross event above the Silver Sands of Aberdour. The race has now become something of a traditional season opener, celebrating its fourth running in that hinterland between the summer (such as it has been this year) and the more expected wintry cross conditions. And for this year gone was the standard format of mass starts, or categorised races. Instead riders were faced with the daunting prospect of have to race twice, with two heats taking place in the early afternoon, and the top and bottom half finishers then separated into early evening A and B finals.


Even with the races reduced to 40 minutes plus a lap (with the A final giving an extra 5 minutes of pain), this gave a feeling of trepidation to proceedings for some, not that you would have guessed it from the pace of those at the front, or even more particularly in danger of not making the split, in the heats.

(that's the beginnings of a race report for The Press Room on the racing, I was too lazy to rewrite anything)

Maybe in the heats I had the thoughts of a second race in the back of my mind too much, and despite liking the course, I was so so so slow. It was a bit disheartening,a s I thought I'd put in some decent training (for me), but I finished way down the field, and so was placed into the 'slow' final.

But whereas in the heat I'd got ten minutes in and thought my legs had nothing, in the final after the first twenty minutes, at the bottom of the course, I realised my legs were feeling great. I upped the pace a little (my next lap was my fastest of the day) and started wondering if I could catch the rider in front. As I got the bell for the last lap there was still I gap, but I went into 'now or never' mode, and halfway round caught and passed her at the hurdles (I'm decent enough at the technical stuff, and had been catching in the twists and turns, then nailed the dismount and remount). And then I noticed another rider only 40 yards or so ahead, buried myself in the climb, then sat on his wheel for the next couple of hundred until a steep ramped bridge that I knew I was quick on, passed him at the top, and hammered the last sweeping 180 degree bend, and slight uphill, getting over the line 3 seconds ahead. I was still way down the field, but I'd covered the same number of laps as the first race, in 4 minutes less time, and 0.7mph faster on average. Go figure. Felt good though.

Nice to have the company of George and Ken too (the night before appears to have been a little heavy on the alcohol front for Mel to have come over, but maybe for the next race, a whole month away, in Kirkcaldy).

(one of the extra photos is me riding up the couple of uphill steps that had been put in - in truth because I was too lazy / tired to dismount and remount....)