Rick Perner said:

I raced yesterday. It was my first cross race. Cyclocross is absolutely fucking amazing. I can't remember the last time I had this much fun. I am hooked. 

Welcome to the Club Within the Club Rick...

1. How to freak my wife out. Go down in spectacular tidal wave crush of metal, flesh, grass, gravel and rubber as I get crashed out of contention in the opening 20 meters of the race. My "duck and cover" experience from years of ice hockey helped me avoid personal injury. My bike, however was not so lucky. After the coast was clear, I "uncover," get up and see that both cantilever break arms are wedged underneath my rim in between my rear wheel spokes. Let's consider the physics of this philosophical conundrum.
   
   I think it was Confucius (or Encyclopedia Brown---WHAT!!!! Youth mystery fiction from the 1980s reference in the house!) once said, "A bike cannot fall on two sides." And so that means that not only was there enough force during my contact with the ground to get one side of the brakes jammed but that there must have been enough force from the stampede of riders who went over me on the other cantilever to give me the double sided F-u. So literally minutes later, the field long gone, I muscle the breaks free. Okay, time to ride?
   
   Nope. How about a side helping of derailleur in my spokes too? Okay, I'll take one of those. Awesome. Fortunately one of the course marshals was able to bend my hanger out enough so that I could pedal. So I hop on and with dreams of landing on the podium literally long gone, I just go out to hammer and see if I could a) not get lapped b) catch anyone. My sense of time is skewed, but Sarah who is watching the freak show from about 10 meters away tells me that I'm out of action for 5 minutes or so. So now officially on the course I start to drill it and I'm feeling frustrated, but good physically.
   
   1/2 a lap later, I drop into the pit to see if SRAM neutral support can further fix my hanger/shifting issues (won't hold but a few gears). He doesn't do much, and with another minute or so lost, I continue on my way. In the end, I managed to catch up to and pass a few folks. 67th place.
   
   Silver lining. Physically, technically, I felt good. I feel like I really belong on a cross bike. I didn't nail every corner the way I wanted, but you know, 90% of the time I was taking some pretty fast and smooth lines that helped me do as well as I could have done on the day.
   
   
2. Don't ALSO race the track on THE SAME DAY. Full of adrenaline from missed opportunities on the grassy knolls of T-Town's backyard, I put my track rig together, went around to the front door to check in for the final day of "Masters and Rookies" track racing of the season. Joshua Caesar. joined me in this mad exercise in foolish excess. I was not terrible, but didn't have the legs to compete with and/or score points against a field that included several regulars to the Friday night ProAm racing. Double frustration there to end the day.

Fortunately, hanging out with my family, my teammates and BEERCOVERY afterwords makes everything a-okay.

1. Leaping on and off the bike with the skill and dexterity of my 13 month-year-old makes cross racing very hard.
   
   I woke early Sunday morning with a severe case of vertigo (dizziness, characterized by "room spinning" sensation). Having experienced this multiple times in the last few years, I wasn't immediately concerned. Because sometimes it happens once or twice with abrupt changes in position and then goes away. Unfortunately this was not one of those days. Driving to the course, every dip on the rural Pennsylvania roads sent my head spinning and my stomach on the verge of automatic anti-gravitational emptying. Get dressed, slowly, keeping my head as still as possible (side to side glances also very bad), I get on the bike.
   
   Okay, good, I can ride in a straight-ish line. Do a warm up lap and a half. Legs feel good, despite yesterday's "double" day of racing. But during the sweeping turns I realize I'm in trouble. And when I get to the dismounting sections? Forget about it. I'm a wreck. Get to the staging area, rest some more. Keep the fingers crossed that "this too will pass." Nope. Fully prepared to DNF myself if I'm a danger to myself or others, I take to the start line where I get a 2nd row call-up due to early pre-registration. (c'mon MAC series...get with the crossresults call-up program, this time of registration order is not only stupid, but dangerous). At the start, I avoid pile-ups, but cannot crank or corner as aggressively as normal, gotta keep me and my rig steady as possible because "extraneous" movement sends my head spinning. Hitting the corners was a mental exercise in ignoring how my body was feeling and knowing empirically that my bike and body could physically hold this line, speed, etc. It was like I was racing a PlayStation version of myself--drunk. I'm a terrible video game player.
   
   Fortunately, everything starts pretty cleanly and I'm in the mix. Sarah tells me I was as high as 11th place, but I loose major spots on the dismounting sections. One time up the dirt, over the felled tree I tried to jump on my bike 3 times before I landed on the saddle. It was pathetic. Passed by 3 guys in that one moment alone.
   
   In the end, I hang onto 16th place and despite "disappointing" crossresults.com race predictor, I felt okay about what I did given the circumstances. I'll be visiting my doctor later this week to get checked out. Since Peter came along, my wife is increasingly and understandably intolerant of my stereotypical nurse-like self-neglect of my own health.
   

Silver lining: Despite the balance issues, I feel like I'm on the verge of some very good results at big races.