CYCLOCROSS by Raylyn Nuss

CYCLOCROSS

CYCLOCROSS PHOTOGRAPHY BY KENZA BARTON SCHLEE

CYCLOCROSS STEPHEN HYDE

I struggle to find ways to describe cyclocross to people. Even though I find myself easily slipping into metaphor in most conversations, I tend to shy away from comparing it to other things. It’s difficult when you know something so well, the ins and outs, and have lived and experienced it the way I have or the way people do when something becomes their everything. Sports in general can either be effortless or impossible to relate. You get it or you don’t. That’s why I cringe a bit when I hear descriptions of Cyclocross in general terms. Sure, it’s a lot like other disciplines. It’s basically… a bike race? Like any other I guess. It has a start line, a course and a finish line. It has a set length of time to be run and the first one across the line is the winner. Easy enough? Sure it is.

Let’s break it down a bit more. It’s the end of the summer, when all the road races are settled and riders are thinking about going home to rest for a few weeks or months. When everyone starts putting their bikes away in favor of running shoes, snowshoes or perhaps skis. When season long lift tickets are bought and sunny Caribbean Islands trips are booked. When the thought of the holidays looms with family, presents and more food than anyone wants to think about (maybe that’s just me). That's when the ‘cross bike comes out. Summer tans are replaced with leg warmers and jackets, thick gloves, MTB shoes and rain fenders. It’s not about preparing for the next season, it’s about gathering the courage to take on the elements and of course, the competition. CX (Cyclocross) at its core is a winter sport. What used to be a shoulder season taper is now its own beast. A full season of 30 or 40+ race days September to March, all through the worst weather one could imagine. What could only be described as a cross country mountain bike course, 3.5km long or so with terrain that our purpose-built bikes can hardly handle. Leaving the rider scrambling, bike in, hand up, down or through deep mud, sand or any combination of winter affected ground. Punctuated by pavement and surrounded by fans, some equally covered in what mother nature has chosen for the day's menu. It’s easy to compare to the likes of Steeplechase, Tough Mudders or “grass crits”. None of those do justice to the brutality inflicted on the rider or perhaps, by the rider. What should be finished well within sixty minutes is slowed ever so by the suffering endured and the punishment dealt by the hand of the racer themselves. After all, we make the choice to inflict this on ourselves. The race doesn’t do it to us, we do. Again, I won’t waste your time with a description of events that would be much better served with a quick Youtube search. My introduction was the same as yours… I saw it in a picture. I was curious and watched a video or two. I made the decision to try a CX bike and ultimately, lined up for my first race. I never once looked back. I couldn’t reasonably speak to WHY this sport creeps into one's life and leaves the mark it does, but I can tell you from experience that it does. I couldn't tell you what the mechanism by which pain is turned to pleasure is, hell I don't even want to know. Yet I hope you get to experience it from your own perspective or perhaps through the courage of the athletes who call this sport their homes and their passions.

WATERLOO

ct 10 2021. World Cup Waterloo. 51:54 minutes of racing. The first World Cup since 2019 that Stephen or myself would toe the start line for. The course nuz-

zled in the northern part of the Midwest in a small town just East of Madison, WI. A part of the country that certainly has an extreme love for the sport of cyclocross as hungry fans, and amateur athletes, poured into the venue to bring to life the race day buzz. As Stephen and I sipped our race morning coffee with our game day porridge on the deck of our Airbnb, the clouds and winds started to whirl. It’s almost as if Mother Nature were throwing our bottled emotions into the sky as we headed to the race venue. The team angel, Trudi Rebsamen - widow of Steve Tilford - had made the trip from her home in Cable, WI to be there in support and add a sense of ease to our environment. I wiggled my way into my skinsuit and rushed for one last minute bathroom break as I would try to pee out my nerves. The sky held back from shedding its tears as my race roared off. My race would remain dry, fast, and punchy. As if not satisfied with the lack of drama the day had buzzing, as the men corralled for the start line, rain began to spit down from the sky. Corners would get slick as the race rolled on.

FAYETTEVILLE

ELLIVETTEYAF

ct 13 2021. World Cup Fayetteville. 57:27 minutes of racing. After a less than ideal travel scenario of packing the circus up on a Sunday afternoon only

to make the 10+ hour haul down to Fayetteville for the Wednesday world cup. Mercury remained in retrograde. Tornadoes and severe weather would hinder and delay travel for everyone. Adding to the drama. Tuesday’s pre ride would be something of a road race - dry and extremely fast conditions. Not so fast, mother nature shouted from the sky, as one hour before race time the sky dumped everything out onto the course as if to wring out a towel of emotions. As pride and trans flags waved throughout the venue, and local spectators came to show support for the quickly evolving Northwest Arkansas cycling scene, we would weave around the course very slowly as the soft ground sucked every ounce of energy from our tired legs.

IOWA IOWA

ct 17 2021. World Cup Iowa City. 57:13 minutes of racing. The circus cleaned up wet tents, and muddy bikes to make the next 10 hour drive to Iowa City

to set up in time for the iconic Friday night race under the lights. Jingle Cross may be one of the most established and exciting events on the U.S. Cyclocross calendar. ‘Mt. Krumpit’ would boast a DJ booth, and beer garden where the electricity of the fans would carry you up the steepest part of the course. The men would race first this time around. Angst and excitement would build as I watched their race from the team van. As Stephen and I shared a raw moment in the van, I would hold tears back as I headed out to warm up for my race. Adding even more fuel and motivation to leave it all out there for that one hour of racing. Fighting for placement every single lap.

PAN AMS

ec 04 2021. Pan American Championships. 52:44 minutes of racing. Myself and our team staff would make the trip south to Dallas. I had yet to win a UCI Cyclo-

cross race. For the past two weeks I had woken up every single day envisioning this race weekend. Each interval and training ride I would place myself mentally into the race as if my competitors were up ahead trying to clinch the title I so badly wanted to bring home for the team. The added pressure of going into the race weekend began to build - this was my race to lose. After a series of crashes and doubt trying to creep into my mind during pre-ride, race day came and the switch had flipped. A tunnel vision of execution of every single turn on that course had been activated. Crossing the finish line with my first victory in my career as a cyclocross athlete. The new Pan American Champion. The depth of this win went beyond the jersey - for all of the hard work my team staff, and support had given me. This win was more for them and the Foundation than it was for me. A symbol of resilience not only for myself, but for the team.

NATIONALS

ec 12 2021. U.S. National Championships. 50:58 minutes of racing. In the heart of the Midwest: DuPage County suburbs of Chicago, IL. Where an

explosive cyclocross scene would pour into the venue west of the city to watch the country’s top athletes battle it out for the coveted National Title. Beautiful golden grassy tones would poke throughout the muddy venue to add pops of color that would weave around throughout a golf course. Spectators would break out their muddy boots to fill around the tape-lined course to cheer on as Titles were claimed. An overwhelming abundance of emotions poured on throughout the weekend. This would in fact be Stephen Hyde’s last professional cyclocross race of his career - at the time, nobody knew it but the team. As we all ping-ponged around the course cheering and screaming every time he rode by tears would stream down our faces. To watch this man that had given so much to the sport of cyclocross parade around as if taking one last joy ride in our Steve Tilford Foundation kit - it was the perfect closure to the year’s chapter. All that had been sacrificed - for one hour of performance. Which would be Stephen’s last hour. A beautiful ending.

ONE HOUR RAYLYN NUSS W

hy do we sacrifice so much for that one hour of competition? Why do our team mechanics show up with a smile on their face to setup our race infrastructure only to clean muddy bikes, swap chainrings, glue tubulars, and be the staple of support for us with words of encouragement in the pits as the laps would count

down for one hour? On race day it would appear that all of the teams are off for battle. The mechanics march as they carry two bikes on their shoulders, spare wheelsets, and bags of tools over to the pit where they all gather and anxiously monitor the sky in case of sudden weather changes. They stay ready for anything and everything the race may throw at us athletes. One hour. We have one hour to give it absolute hell. One hour to make those around you proud who sacrifice their time and their weekend to come and show support for us and the team. One hour to scramble and search for that validation that all of the hard work we have put in to prepare ourselves for this moment. As athletes, are you ever truly satisfied? The very short moments of happiness that are fleeting, as you pack up and head off to the next event already hungry for what will be served up next. Being a part of this particular team - Steve Tilford Foundation Racing - has given me the satisfaction of doing all that we do for that one alluring hour. The staff camaraderie. The amount of care Stephen Hyde showed towards my personal progression. Racing for the Foundation and keeping the legacy of Steve Tilford very much alive.

o why do we sacrifice so much for that one hour? Why would spectators throw on their mud boots, puffy jackets, rain gear and beanies to go out and cheer as they stand in the cold mud? Why would the team mechanics spray off muddy bikes in sub 40F temperatures, and stand in the pits? Why would we show up every race

weekend for more? For the love of sport. For the love of cyclocross.

SSORCOLCYC

CYCLOCROSS