Naked guy in the woods... Spooky Cross.

Ooh, spooky, racing bikes in the woods of the Living History Farms of Des Moines Iowa.
First impressions were made early as the road into the race was actually a sort of single track mud course for automobiles, right up through a farming field.

You could run but you couldn't hide from having a good time at this race. As tricks and treats awaited riders around nearly every corner.

MUD - What was this strange phenomenon that was strewn about the course? I have raced quite a few cyclocross races, and never had to contend with mud, which was a welcomed challenge. Specifically, there was a long stretch of mud next to a bean field that was extremely awkward to pedal through. The lines in the dirt seemed to direct the bike at its will. As a reward for making it through the field a huge ditch puddle awaited. One guy flipped over his handle bars on the first lap on Saturday, oops.

Then riders tore through the living history farm area, right past some sort of native american village. I asked one of the inhabitants if he minded if I called him an 'indian', instead of native american. After exhaling from his peace pipe, he obliged, and dutifully cheered me on during subsequent laps.

Perhaps I shouldn't have imbibed with my new Indian friend, because no sooner had I made my way through the village I began to hallucinate... Though it had to be a delusion, I swore I came straight into the path of George W. Bush! He was naked and had money dangling from his g-string.

That was too much to handle. I was glad that it was a wet course, this concealed the mess I made in my shorts as a result of this visual. After slipping a George W into the wedge of his fault line, I resolved to take the edge off of my herbal buzz, and was gracious to have been offered a jello shot as I made it to the top of the steep incline.

Great, now I am drunk, somewhat stoned and exhausted trying to keep up with the grueling pace of this Cat 3/4 race. Could it get any 'spookier'?

Sure did, my delusions kicked in again, as I was positive that I saw a devil on the course. Now, it was trippy enough to merely SEE lucifer, but the demon had a voice as well. Lap after lap he pleaded with me to 'lay down my bike' at the top of the hill. He fervently suggested that 'greg' would want me to. I suppose he was talking about Greg Harper, fellow Muscatine racer, but how did Satan know of Greg? Perhaps cliche, but this seems to suggest that a 'pact with the devil' had transpired at an earlier time in his racing career.

Ok, on with the race. If psyclofest in Bettendorf is one of the 'fastest' cross courses in Iowa, then this had to be one of the slowest. There was always some sort of obstacle that reduced the speed. A lot of this had to do with the recent rains, but the venue lent itself well to making this a momentum stealing course.

I must have sweated out my toxins, because the rest of the course on Saturday was free from hallucinations. I put the hammer down the entire race, and ended up in 7th, out of a large field of 37 riders. I'll take it, considering there seemed to be some really good talent that lined up.

After I hosed down my bike, I watched the rest of the races. Kegs were strategically positioned to increase 'audience participation'. There was a lot of participating going on.

Spent the night in a hotel. The hot tub was set way hotter than what was probably safe, oh well. I noticed a bus load of female soccer players checking in earlier, so I planned on staying in the hot tub as long as I could stand, hoping to meet some of them....

5 minutes later I went back to my room... Oh well. The tub was too hot so that is all the longer I could soak. In the morning I realized that the bus of female soccer players was actually a load of elderly tourists. Old people really do get into their breakfast. I grabbed some hard boiled eggs and got the heck out dodge, as their crabbing about the buffet was starting to become a buzz kill.

Buzz kill? Yes, you guessed it... that Indian guy ended up checking into the hotel room next to mine. I guess they don't actually sleep on the living history farm, rather return to modern civilization each night. After a 'wake and bake' I headed back to the course for Sunday's race.

WIND - Ok, the mud had dried a bit, but the wind was treacherous and cold. Less than ideal, but just added to the challenge.

Sunday's course was different than Saturday, and seemed to favor some of my strengths while exposing other of my weaknesses. I was aiming at try and re-coup some of my travel expenses by placing in the money (top 5), so I lined up in the front row and put the hammer down.

Great, more delusions. First, I thought that I saw a girl in our race. I looked around to make sure I hadn't entered the wrong event, nope I was good. Maybe my Indian friend had hooked her up as well, or perhaps I was just seeing things again. Whatever the case, she was pretty fast.

It took me a couple of laps to get up the nerve to ask for her digits. That went over like a fart in church, as she dropped back to avoid the awkwardness of racing side by side next to a guy she just shot down. (She ended up finishing 9th in the men's race and then won the women's open, despite my unwanted advances, great job).

I was able to stay within sight of everyone but the leader most of the race, so today was intense. Usually, you end up in some sort of solo ZEN zone, but today there was always opportunity to advance my placing just seconds up the road. I kept my eye on the fifth spot and vowed to do everything I could not to lose contact.

Ok, was this guy real? Not sure, so I picked up my cadence, as he began to run after me, suggesting that I should have bought a Rav 4 instead of a Honda.

Towards the end of the race I was just behind Pete Basso and carl buchanan of Rasmussen's Death Squad. I actually traded places with Carl a couple of times and was breathing right down Pete's neck. I was fast on the road, and turtle time slow on the hills. Turtle time? Well, I better move on, I will figure out what that even means in a later blog.

There was a head wind section that reduced the racers to a virtual crawl, however a good portion of the race was in the woods, so wind was a non-factor in many portions.

Instead of going up George W.'s squirrel hill, sunday went across a bridge and headed up past a 1900's historical village. It looked a little something like this:

M. Night Shyamalan was there working on his sequel to 'The Village'.


This was quite a coincidence, considering some guy named 'Shrek' was already on the course and several spots ahead of me.

I gave the bell a couple of gongs and then tore off down a super speedy tailwind section of hard surface. I always made up ground on the road, and then relinquised it on the uphills. I don't ride my cyclocross bike except at races, and haven't done any mountain biking since loud thunder is closed, so I guess this isn't really a surprising physical weakness.

I finished 7th again today, against another strong field. Carl Buchanan was able to slip just ahead of me towards the end, and Pete and Geoff Perril were just up ahead of him , so potentially could have placed as high as 4th if I would have had just a little bit better fitness.

I would highly recommend this race, as it was well put on, a great course, and good audience support. The best in the region showed up to race making for a great contest. Results at http://www.spookycross.org/.

(NOTE: Certain portions of the above report may or may not be true.)