A Walk in the Woods, a Day at the Races

It felt like one of those dream states where worlds collide and everything is mixed together. 80 degree heat in October. A supposedly obscure bicycle race with ball game-sized crowds. Roads closed, cheering heard from a mile away. But most disorienting was the warped sense of time and place. It was Saturday morning, and I was walking through the woods where I'd spent practically all my free time as a teenager many years ago. I had not set foot there in over a decade, but my rote memory remained intact. My feet did the walking along the still-familiar trails until finally I found myself in a clearing, facing that wacky neoclassical structure that now served as the podium for the Providence Cyclocross Festival. No matter how much I tried to incorporate this fact into my narrative of "the woods" of my teenage years, it just did not compute. Worlds, past and present, were colliding.

They say that when you visit places from your younger years everything is smaller than you remembered, but the opposite was the case here. The clearing was more spacious than I recalled. The trees looked taller. The race course was enormous and complicated. They told me Cross Vegas was a bigger deal than any other race I was likely to see, but as a spectator I disagree. This was huge. There was more going on. And in the daylight I could see it all a lot better.

Part of the course followed the lake, with the riders backlit picturesquely as they cycled along the shimmering water.

Another part wound its way through a pine grove, beautiful trees and tight turns everywhere.

The requisite bridge.

The stretch of paved road leading up to the start/finish.

And of course the exciting parts with the obstacles and the steep hills.

But aside from the race course itself, there were many pockets of public space where spectators and racers could stroll around, socialise, eat, watch.

A bouncy-house was set up for kids.

There were multiple food vendors.

And the beer tent offered some of the best seats in the house (though they wouldn't serve me as I didn't have my driver's license!).

Finally, there were tents with handmade bicycles from local builders on display, as well as a tent selling interesting vintage bikes.

It was easy to see why the Festival was attractive for so many: It simply offered a nice way to spend a day in the park, around nature and bikes. There was no charge for admission, and food and drink were reasonably priced. The turnout was impressive, and with the sun out people stuck around all day - some watching the races, others simply walking around, talking, picnicking. I never expected to see a bicycling event in the US with such a large public turnout, let alone in my former neck of the woods. 

In her book Mud, Snow, and Cyclocross (available at the Ride Studio Cafe to purchase or read inhouse), Molly Hurford contrasts cyclocross spectator culture in Europe with that in the US. The main difference is that at American races, until very recently spectators were largely made up of participants. Amateurs would race, then stick around for the elite races that would take place later. Elite racers would show up early and watch the amateurs. And while friends and families would come and watch as well, the events have nonetheless been mostly insular, with no expectation of engaging the general public. In Europe, on the other hand, cyclocross has for some time been a spectator sport on a grand scale, much like baseball or football in the US. At that level, it would be ridiculous to suggest that one has to be a participant or know one personally in order to enjoy watching the event. It is entertainment. Hurford points out that at the moment, cyclocross in the US seems to be on the cusp of potentially transitioning to the type of status it holds in Europe. The audience I saw in Providence on Saturday certainly supported this possibility. 

Listening to some of the conversations around me, it was clear that a substantial chunk of the public had no direct connection to cyclocross. They stopped by because they read about the event in the local paper's weekend listings. Or else their neighbour or co-worker was going and they tagged along. Probably because I had a big camera, I was approached on multiple occasions and asked questions about the event by spectators who were there for the first time and weren't sure what they were looking at. But despite not understanding what was going on around them, these visitors were obviously having a good time. They were sticking around. They were supporting the vendors. They were looking at all the bike and equipment manufacturers' names with interest. And they were saying "good job" to the racers. I wonder how many of them had a good enough time that they will seek out other races after this one. I can see it happening. 

With attendance high and not limited to cyclocross inner circles, sponsors enjoy greater visibility. And if you look at the sponsors whose names are displayed on the team kits, many of them are outside the bicycle industry: real estate agencies, lawyers, dentists, grocery stores, landscaping firms. Greater attendance by the general public directly benefits these businesses, which makes it worth their while to continue - and hopefully expand - their sponsorship programs. It will also make other businesses consider cycling sponsorship as a viable form of local advertising. 

I think about things like this, because quite a few of my friends and acquaintances race, and there is a lot of discontent about how difficult it is to attract sponsors. But the reality is that sponsorship is a form of advertising, not a charity or a merit scholarship. A business needs to believe that a cyclist will provide sufficient visibility for their brand to make it worth their while to sponsor them. And for that we need wider audiences and greater media attention - even if it's just grassroots media - people taking pictures of the riders in their kits, then posting them online and sharing via social media. 

Getting back to the idea of US cyclocross being in a place where it can potentially break out into the mainstream, one thing I noted in Molly Hurford's book is that by far not all of her interviewees wanted that. Some expressed disdain toward the fact that in Europe there are "fat guys smoking cigars" showing up to the races, as well as others who are not into the sport at a participant level. These critics would prefer that cyclocross in the US remain insular, "pure." It would be a valid point of view ...if those very same people then did not turn around and complain about lack of sponsorship opportunities. You can't have it both ways.

Why do I care about any of this, you might be asking yourself? Well, because as a spectator I am finding cyclocross immensely entertaining, and I appreciate that. Entertainment is a big deal. We need to sustain those who entertain us if we want the fun to continue.

Watching a cyclocross race in a place that I had filed away as belonging to a past life - separated from all this crazy bicycle stuff by at least a couple of other past lives - has challenged my tendency to compartmentalise things, to break up the past into distinct, locked memory boxes. Things do come around full circle sometimes. It's like following a trail in the woods, and eventually finding that you've walked around a lake. And now here you are, in the same spot where you first stood twenty years ago, straddling your rusty mountain bike in front of the Temple to Music. "You can totally race cross on a mountain bike," says a teenage girl to her friend behind me, as I stand there lost in thought.

Categories: bicycle events, bicycle industry, cyclocross, trails

Spectator Sport

"So I hear you are into cyclocross," said Martina from Clever Cycles as we chatted on the second day of Interbike. I responded with genuine amazement. "Me, into cyclocross? What makes you say that?" And then I remembered that I'd spent the previous evening live-posting a continuous stream of blurry snapshots from Cross Vegas - "the biggest cyclocross race in America." I gave up two other industry events to attend this thing. I guess it did seem like I was pretty into it! But as I was quick to explain, I am only interested in watching, not racing. In fact, of all the forms of cycling out there, cyclocross is the one I am least likely to actually take part in (it combines every aspect of cycling I am terrible at!). Moreover, I had never before been able to tolerate - let alone enjoy - watching sports of any kind. So what makes cyclocross so appealing?

As it happens, Molly Hurford has just written a book that seeks to answer that very question. It's called Mud, Snow, and Cyclocross: How Cross Took Over US Cycling. Having borrowed a copy from the Ride Studio Cafe library, I finished it just days before Interbike. Aside from providing historical context, Hurford's book helped me make sense of my own feelings toward this bizarre sport. As race promoters all over the country have discovered, cyclocross is in many ways the perfect spectator event. And so I thought it might be interesting to describe it from the point of view of someone who is purely a spectator - and a fairly clueless one at that.

To do this, I will backtrack to last year's Interbike, where it all started. I had zero interest in attending Cross Vegas, but tagged along with Chris Kostman, who insisted I should at least stop by ("Come on, you can't go to Interbike and not see this!"). We drove to a giant field on the outskirts of town filled with tipsy people and flooded with electric light. In the distance I could see a colourful blur of bicyclists making their way through an elaborate obstacle course. As the sounds of cowbells and screams filled my ears, I remember wondering: "What am I doing here?" Five minutes later I was leaning over a barrier, ringing a cowbell and having a shockingly great time. And that's pretty much your typical "my first time watching 'cross" story. No one intends to like it, but inevitably they do.

This year we arrived to the spectacle of Elvis performing on stage before the start of the elite races. 

Visitors wandered around purchasing water, beer and cowbells. 

Cyclists rode around the grass warming up. Bicycles were being adjusted.

Before the crowds became too dense, I got the chance to survey the empty course. Winding around the grassy field, it did not look too technical, though there were lots of tight turns and a couple of short steep hills.

And, of course, these. I still remember how stunned I was when I first saw the riders hop right over them without breaking stride. How is this possible?

And then the race began. First the women's elite race; the mens would be next. Watching the hoard of riders charge cross the start line, the excitement of it all came back to me. I got goosebumps.

The thing is that at a cyclocross race, you can stand so close that you feel the energy of the riders wash over you like a wave.

And this wave is not some abstract poetic concept. It is very real, visceral. Even if you know nothing about race tactics and don't follow the background stories of any of the riders - just standing there and feeling so much human power and speed happening inches from your own body is a physical rush.

Watching track racing is more abstract in comparison, because the riders are further away. And with road racing you can only witness a small portion of the course at a time. But with cyclocross, all is laid out right in front of you in close proximity. The course winds around the spectators; it intertwines with them. There is a feeling that everything is happening everywhere, all at once.

Pressed against the barrier, I can see the riders' flushed faces, gritted teeth, twitching fingers, razor-burned legs. The physicality and rawness of it are overwhelming.

And then there are the technical parts that differentiate cyclocross from other forms of cycling. The obstacles, the vertical uphills, the dismounts and remounts, the bouts of running with the bike. No matter how graceful the rider, there is an intimate awkwardness to these struggles that makes us feel as if we are witnessing something private that perhaps we are not supposed to be witnessing.

Equally intriguing, is when a group of riders is so synchronised in their movements, that the dismounts and remounts appear to be done in choreographed unison - like a staged ballet.

And of course there are things like this - at which point it is the crowd's chorus of gasps that seems choreographed.

Watching first the women's, then the men's race, I noticed differences. The men stuck in larger, tighter clusters while the women were more strung out after the first lap. There were also difference in demeanor and body language - too subtle to describe, but nonetheless there. Watching the two races were separate experiences.

As the lead group of riders made its way through the course, spectators would rush to position themselves in different spots. This too was interesting to watch.

Through the elbows of others, I could see the anticipatory face of each rider as they crossed the finish line. 

What struck me was how much they seemed to be savouring the moment, rather than rushing through it. There was a performative, theatrical element to it.

Photographers were everywhere, capturing the action with impressive lenses and flash units. John Watson's Cross Vegas photos on Prolly is Not Probably are especially worth a look.

While my low-light snapshots are far from professional quality, they do reflect my experience of the event as a spectator: dark and chaotic, punctuated with bursts of light and blurs of colour. 

I am not sure whether any of this really explains what makes watching cyclocross fun. It is an evasive quality, but ultimately it is about entertainment - genuine entertainment. You don't even have to like sports or racing to enjoy it - though you might surprise yourself by developing a taste for beer and cowbells.

Accessible and awe-inspiring in equal measure, cyclocross strikes the perfect balance between a country fair, a bicycle race, and an alcohol-fueled block party. While the circus of Cross Vegas examplifies this more than typical races, it truly is the ultimate spectator sport.

Categories: bicycle events, bicycle industry, cyclocross, Interbike

Fun in the Sun at the Outdoor Demo

"It's going to be hot there you know..." warned the fellow next to me as I waited in line to sign the liability waiver. I had arrived in Las Vegas the day before Interbike, and there was still time to make it to the final hours of the Outdoor Demo. While attendees are not permitted to ride the display bicycles at Interbike, the Outdoor Demo provides an opportunity to do just that. Hastily, I attached my wristband and boarded the shuttle that delivered visitors to the remote location.

Set up 35 miles outside of Las Vegas in Bootleg Canyon, the Outdoor Demo resembled a tent city in the desert. An expanse of dirt and exotic shrubs dominated the landscape, in the fenced-off center of which stood hundreds of white, black and red booths. Colourfull flags announcing brand names protruded high into the air. A distant view of hazy mountains surrounded it all. The air was scorchingly hot and completely dry. I checked the temperature on my phone and saw it was 99° F. The sky looked very strange to me - hazy in one direction, with everything in the distance looking blurry and faded, yet crisp and bright-blue in the other direction. 

Starting just beyond the tent city was a paved loop road for test riding road and city bikes. The road was closed to motor vehicles during the event.

And extending toward the hills was a network of dirt trails for test riding mountain bikes.

A variety of bicycle, component and accessory manufacturers were represented, ready to demonstrate their new lines of products and loan out bikes. 

Interbike and the Outdoor Demo are industry trade shows. Attendees tend to be bicycle shop owners, purchasers, merchandise distributors, importers, event promoters, media, and the like. Many are there to test ride bikes and try components in order to decide whether their shop should carry a specific model, or just to get a feel for the new line. 

Being held outdoors in the sun, it is perhaps not surprising that the atmosphere was more casual than at Interbike. In a way it was almost like a village carnival: all bike rides and flowing beer. 

The representatives at the booths were a lot more relaxed and casual than they typically are at Interbike, which made for easy-going conversations. Knowing that I didn't have the time to go around test riding everything, I decided to make my way through the demo and just get a feel for the overall event.

Felt Bicycles had an enormous presence and one of the largest selection of bikes. They organised their space like a library, with rows of bike racks lined up like book shelves, and a bike return area. I had a nice talk with the representative about their latest line of roadbikes, including the 7 women-specific road-racing models. I've had considerable positive feedback about Felt from female readers, and now I got a good vibe from interacting with them in person. Worth a look for those shopping for a new roadbike. 

Crankbrothers was another major presence, with small booths set up all over the Demo. 

I use Crankbrothers pedals on my own bikes and love them, so I was excited to see Interbike 2012 limited editions of all of their models. Visitors were lining up to buy them.

And I suppose that's worth mentioning as one of the perks of these shows - access to new models, prototypes and limited editions at special prices. There was a great deal of buying and selling going on.

The Chris King booth was experiencing a particularly brisk trade, with crowds of people swooning over the colourful headsets and hubs.

They do know how to present their products to maximise the deliciousness factor; the hub-kebabs looked particularly fetching. 

A few Cielo bikes (Chris King's partner brand) were on display and available for testing as well. I've shown pictures of a friend's Cyclocross model before; they are attractive and versatile bikes.

One of the more interesting displays was the Moots booth, with their charming crocodile logo.

Moots is a titanium bike manufacturer based in Colorado, specialising in road, mountain and cyclocross models. 

On occasion I get questions from readers about what I think of Moots compared to Seven, but until now I had never even seen a Moots up close, let alone ridden one enough to compare. Unfortunately, I was wearing a dress and did not bring my cycling shoes (I had not planned to attend the Outdoor Demo), so a test ride was not in the cards. But visually the bikes come across very differently to me, and I am surprised that some describe them as similar. 

Seven roadbikes have skinnier tubes than the Moots, the forks are completely different, and most notably different are the designs of the seat stays, chainstays and dropouts. I have no idea how any of it translates into ride characteristics, but aesthetically it's hard to mistake one brand for the other. 

Oh and that alligator! Apparently modeled after a pencil eraser the company's founder had as a child.

While I wasn't able to test ride any roadbikes, I did try a new step-through Tern folding bike model (a separate write-up of this coming up later) and found it pretty interesting.

I also very briefly tried a Surly Pugsley, on dirt (though not the Bionx version pictured here), and found it simultaneously amazing and completely un-bikelike. The tires are fatter than anything I've ridden before and it almost did not feel like being on two wheels. 

Later I met the representative of Urbana, which I've reviewed here before. 

They were offering the new Bionx e-assist versions of the bikes for test rides, but at this point I needed to head back into town and was also on the verge of heat stroke - despite having drank water non-stop and tried to duck inside shaded booths every chance I got. 

The intense desert heat was not to be messed around with. 

Cycling here must be pretty tough, and I am not entirely clear on how the locals are able to stay hydrated on long rides. I drank 3 bottles of water in the course of an hour and a half, and it barely felt like enough. Not all Interbike attendees come to the Outdoor Demo, and speaking to some of them about it later the heat was cited as the major factor. Some find it simply impossible to walk around the canyon for hours, let alone to test ride bikes in any meaningful way in 100° F temperatures. 

I am glad I was able to stop by the Outdoor Demo, if only to see the desert landscape and to get a sense for how the event is run. I would say the Demo is most useful for those who want to test ride and compare a variety of road or mountain bike models. Most of the mainstream manufacturers were represented, with a sprinkling of smaller ones. The Outdoor Demo is a two-day event held immediately before Interbike. For those interested in serious test rides I would suggest planning to be there for at least a full day, to bring cycling clothing and shoes if applicable, and to apply powerful sun screen. 

Observing the dynamics of the event, it seemed to be at least as much about the socialising as about the test rides themselves, which is probably just generally how these things are. Watching from the sidelines, it is fun to think that major purchasing decisions of bike shops across the country are based on deals struck over beery, sunburnt conversations in the desert. Of course it is not really that simple. 

Categories: bicycle events, Interbike, test rides, unpaved