Evo hanging on in the sand...
After a week of battling the cold my father left me as a reminder of his visit; I pinned on my number and jumped into the Cyclocross fray. If there is something fun about riding in sand, I can't tell you what it is.
We had about a hundred yards of pave' before we were flailing in the lakeside dunes. The first lap looked like a YouTube crash video with guys splaying out in all directions when we hit the loose stuff. Crashes in front of me meant a long run for Evo. The beach seemed to go on for miles, and as the race wore on the pace slowed. The survivors then had a single file climb that was essentially neutralized because not only couldn't you pass, but as soon as one maroon dismounted, everyone behind that person had a similar fate. The north end of the course was twisty and gave a chance for recovery. Then a series of down and ups and back to the cursed sand "pit of despair."
A series of steep climbs on the south end of the course likewise had only sparse passing opportunities. I don't know how far up my cassette I got, but my 11 and 12 tooth cogs looked pretty clean when I was done. The only place to get up to speed was as we crossed the finish line each lap. Of all the courses I have done, this one had the most dismounts per lap.
My tubies were as advertised, though my legs were sluggish from the lack of working out this week. I can't say I was pleased with my placing, but when I crossed the line, I was spent.