FLCC> Buck Hill Race Report (partial) or Why Matt Crashed

[Matthew DeLisa]

Buck Hill Race Report (partial) or Why Matt Crashed

Summary:  for those of you who don't like having to read all the 
long-winded details of never-ending race reports just to hear a 
marginally interesting punch line, here's the cliff-note version of what 
happened yesterday:  I crashed in the wood chips at yesterday's CX race 
and was cut just below my left eye by my M-frame sunglasses - a wound 
that resulted in some serious bleeding and 17 stitches to close.  Other 
than my Frankenstein-like appearance, I'm doing fine and hope to be 
racing again this weekend at the Swandrome.

Before I begin the report, I'd like to thank everyone who looked after 
me following the accident or called/emailed to make sure I survived.  
Specifically, I'd like thank Amanda S. and Sandy F. for taking care of 
me following the incident up until the time I left for the ER, a 
blond-haired guy (whose name I didn't get) who provided some make-shift 
medical attention to keep the wound clean, Peter Ozolins for gathering 
up my bike and Nick and Meghan Robertson for carting me to the ER and 
hanging around while the doctor sewed me back together.  I learned 
yesterday that our cycling community is not just comprised of a great 
network of racers in the Ithaca area who push each other to great 
heights (see previous write-ups by Ernie Bayles and Joe Bailey for 
details), but more importantly, it is a great network of friends and 
acquaintances who constantly look out for each other and give of 
themselves when someone else is in need. I'd also like to thank Jeremy 
Gardner and all the numerous volunteers who made such a great event 
possible. Kudos!

-------

Now, here's the long winded details presented in the form of a 
never-ending race report that ends with a marginally interesting punch line

As some of you may know, yesterday was the official start to the local 
cyclocross (CX) season.  As some of you may also know, it's a time of 
the year that I really look forward to as the technical aspects of CX 
are well suited to my background in MTB racing and provide a sort of 
leveling of the playing field such that I find myself (somewhat) 
competitive with the likes of former Pink Slipper champion Glenn Swan, 
reigning Pink Slipper champion Ernie Bayles and many other guys and 
girls who repeatedly abuse me on the road. It's also worth mentioning 
that coming into this CX season, I found myself carrying some of the 
best fitness I've had in recent memory.  So with CX season upon us and 
inspiring road race reports such as Trevor's green mountain report fresh 
in my mind, I was optimistic that I would finally have a chance to 
retell my own racing sagas - detailing all the thrilling exploits, mind 
games and strategies that contributed to my latest podium or near-podium 
finish. What you are about to read is not what I had in mind.

Nearly 100 riders converged yesterday on the Buck Hill CX course held at 
the sprawling Mecklenberg estates of FLCC'ers Amanda, Mark and Emmanual. 
With large fields of riders, beautiful weather and the typical 
well-oiled race organization that has become synonymous with the FLCC, 
great excitement filled the air and I was anxious to get racing. After 
completing the usual pre-race ritual of registration, number pinning, 
tire pressure checks, etc., I hopped onto my bike for some warm-up laps 
to familiarize myself with the Ozolins-Gardner designed Buck Hill 
course.  After just a single lap of the course, I realized a few 
important things.  First, the dry weather combined with the long 
stretches of road/driveway would make for a very fast course that would 
favor those who had raced on the road all summer and would effectively 
neutralize my technical strengths. Second, there was a man-made obstacle 
- a pile of wood chips that presented riders with a sort of woop-de-doo 
section - that might be tricky, especially at high speeds.  In fact, 
during my first lap, it was all I could do to keep from going over the 
handlebars as the first "woop" provided just enough of a ramp to cause 
the back end of the bike to launch skywards.  Note to self:  take it 
easy over the first hump.

Just before the start of the race, I made a quick visit to the race 
support vehicle (a.k.a. Nick Robertson's Toyota Corrolla) for a final 
hit of EPO, errrr, I mean powergel.  While I was refueling, I noticed my 
"teammates", Nick R. and the Don (a.k.a. Donal Fitterer), exchanging a 
$100 bill.  When I approached the unsuspecting "teammates", they both 
became suspiciously quiet.  Finally, Nick admitted that the $100 was 
part of an arrangement between he and the Don to see that I have a bad 
day on the course. Hmmmm?

As the riders began to assemble at the start line, we were informed by 
Central New York CX series director Stevie Moto that all ~100 riders 
will start together en masse.  Further complicating things was the fact 
that within 200 yards of the start, the course constricted to a narrow 
passage that was booby-trapped with two 18"-high barriers.  So I quickly 
formulated a strategy that would deal with this looming catastrophe and, 
at the same time, that would cater to my cycling strengths and 
neutralize any Fitterer-induced sabotage.  I decided to utilize my 
strong sprint to get the hole shot - this would ensure clear sailing for 
much of the first lap without having to negotiate crashes, 3-wide racing 
and other slower traffic.  I would then spend the rest of the race 
defending my position, trying to lose as few positions as possible as 
faster riders tried to make their way to the front. Following the 
command to start, I found myself accelerating towards the barriers with 
only 3 riders in front of me.  As we negotiated the barriers at 
break-neck speed, one of the riders in front of me tripped on the first 
barrier and caught his bike on the second (see Buck Hill photos - the 
4-shot series shows exactly what happened to this guy).  That could have 
spelled disaster for him and me, but instead I found myself in 3rd 
position!  We turned out of the driveway and onto the road and I managed 
to stay with the leading duo for the entire first lap.  Now, if I could 
just hang on for another 52 minutes, I'd be on the podium!

This wasn't meant to be as 2 riders including race director Jeremy 
Gardner came by me on lap 2.  I was eventually able to settle in with a 
group comprised of Glenn S., Peter O. and I rider I didn't know.  We 
rode for much of the second lap together but eventually Glenn found 
another gear (or another lung) and ripped our legs off.  On lap 3 or 4, 
Peter pulled off to the side of the course with a flat tire.  Too bad 
for Peter, but I was now one position closer to the front.  However, I 
noticed that a Cookies-clad rider seemed to be closing the gap with each 
passing lap.  It was none other than my "teammate" Nick R.  I spent the 
next lap going back and forth with a guy in a red jersey, trying 
desperately to keep the gap over Nick.  As we turned into the woods on 
lap 5, I came up to a pair of lapped Cookies racers that I recognized as 
the Prez and the Don.  Normally, this would not require much thought - 
just shout out "on your left" and cruise by.  But as I approached the 
Don, I recalled the $100 pre-race exchange.  I also recalled that the 
Don was clinically adept at using his shoulders to force passing riders 
into ditches and trees or using his hands to grab jersey pockets during 
town-line sprints.  Would he crash me so that Nick could catch up?  Not 
willing to risk it, I decided to pass cautiously at a point where the 
course became expanded so that I could give the Don a wide berth.  While 
this proved successful, the time I lost negotiating the Don allowed Nick 
to get uncomfortably close.  We turned onto the road at the start of lap 
6 (roughly 40 minutes into the race), and a red/orange blur screamed by 
on my right side. I knew immediately that Nick had caught up; I also 
realized that he was passing me with an incredible surge in order to 
demoralize me and prevent a response - a standard tactic used when 
passing a rider during a time trial.  The guy in red that I had been 
riding with did not respond.  So I jumped out of the saddle and closed 
onto Nick's rear wheel as we turned onto the dirt road driveway that 
would lead us into the woods.  I knew if I could stay close, I would 
have the advantage in the woods.  Indeed, as we navigated the twisting, 
rooted single-track sections, it was effortless to stay on Nick's 
wheel.  We exited the woods single-file and entered a large open field 
where riding in Nick's draft would be advantageous, especially with a 
fairly strong wind blowing across that part of the course.  As we 
approached the man-made wood chip woop-de-doos, I was nicely tucked in 
behind Nick's much larger frame which was allowing me to recover from 
the harder efforts I made earlier in the lap.

Now comes the problem.  After nearly 40 minutes of racing, the 
woop-de-doos had been significantly flattened by the continual passage 
of riders.  Thus, with each passing lap, I was able to clear this 
obstacle with more and more speed without concern for crashing.  
However, on this fateful lap in which I was tucked in behind Nick, I was 
blocked from seeing that the first hump of the woop-de-doos had 
undergone some mid-race re-sculpting.  Nick entered the wood chips hot 
and I saw his rear end kick high in the air.  Unable to respond to what 
I had just seen, I hit the first hump just as hot.  My rear end kicked 
high in the air just as my front wheel was hitting the frontside of the 
second hump.  I went hard over the bars and as I compressed, my helmet 
forced the underside of M-frame lens into my face and created a 2-inch 
laceration just below my eye.  Not sure if I was hurt or not, I reached 
my hands to my face, and when I pulled them away, they were covered in 
dark red blood.  Fortunately, Amanda S. and Sandy F. and others, got me 
out of the way of oncoming riders.  Being a die-hard (or is it 
blow-hard?) competitor, I immediately began bitching about the change to 
the course and how could somebody do something so stupid. Once my anger 
settled, I become immediately depressed that my hard-fought effort for 
what might have been a high finish (Nick would go on to finish in 8th 
place within 1 minute of the winner, even after his seat came loose on 
the last lap causing him to get passed by 3 guys), resulted instead in a 
trip to the ER and 17 stitches. Not exactly the kind of write-up I 
envisioned, but that's racing!  Or was it diabolical 
Fitterer-Robertson-induced sabotage?  You be the judge.  I'd bet $100 
bucks on the latter!

Matt

-- 
Assistant Professor
Chemical and Biomolecular Engineering
Cornell University
254 Olin Hall
Ithaca, NY 14853
Phone:  607-254-8560
Fax:  607-255-9166