2011 Paris-Ancaster Race Report:

4:10am: Alarm goes off and I get up. Didn’t sleep much. I wasn’t really nervous about the race. I was nervous about the 210 mile drive, finding the packet-pickup spot, and ultimately getting to the starting line in time.

5:00am: Picked up my good buddy Mike Franko from his house. I had somehow convinced him that 7 hours in the car with me would be fun.

6:00am: We hit the border. Not Taco Bell.

7:55am: Arrive in Ancaster, Ontario. No problem finding the place. Sign a release form and grab my plate/transponder.

8:30am: Quick stop at Tim Hortons for some last minute carbs. I had a Blueberry Muffin and a old fashioned glazed donut. Mike had coffee. Mike says, “This is a large in Canada?” Clint says, “That’s why they make XL.”

9:00am: Arrive in Paris, ON. Tiny little farming community. Mike and I find a nice spot to park alongside the road where Mike can make an easy get-a-way once the race waves start. There will be three 10:15, 10:30, and 10:45.

9:20am: Get my Kuota Kross cyclocross bike all put together and everything seems good to go. I’m racing my typical cross set-up. Carbon tubular wheel-set with Challenge Cross tires. Mike and I ride the first three or so miles of the course. The first mile is a crazy sprint to get to a rail-trail where passing becomes nearly impossible for about 5 miles or so. First thing we notice is the wind. SUPER windy. Felt like sustained 30 MPH to me.

10:00am: After a pleasant trip to the deep wood facilities, I get myself to the start line. They have a special corral for the top 100 from the previous year. I was 8th last year and had to do it from the 2nd corral. I make a point of parking my butt right on the front line. Rodger Bowser from Ann Arbor has the same idea and we have a nice chat.

10:15am: Finally the race starts. I get up the first hill basically in the lead along with Erik Box (Barry-Roubaix champ this year). Right turn and a wave of 10 or so guys blast by. Next right turn I ride right thru a big long mud puddle and drench my lower half. Nice. Make it to the rail-trail in maybe 20th. Which means I am roughly 2 sec from the leaders.

5 or so miles of rail-trail pace line. Trail is meant for 2 rider wide. Of course, there are several heroes who think they have the skills to sneak their way up the field either in between the two lines or even worse on the side of trail. Lots of crying and complaining from the other racers. Everybody knows the race will break wide open on the first big right turn off this trail.

Big right turn. It’s a steep rocky uphill into a wide two track trail across a field. Sure enough there’s trouble in front of me and I’m forced off my bike. Oddly I actually pass people running with my bike shouldered. It levels off and I’m back on the bike and hitting the gas HARD as the lead pack is forming in front of me.

I get there. It’s about 20 guys. It appears there are 2 maybe 3 riders strung out in front of us. I’m just trilled at this point to have gotten through the commotion and made it into this group. I recognize Mike Simonson and Adam Myerson in our group.

The next hour or so is classic gravel road racing with lots of unique off road diversions. We go across at least 3 farms. A couple of times we road across cornfields into that 30 MPH wind. I was in my small ring / biggest cog and felt like I could have run faster. The next moment we would be blasting down a gravel road in a pace line with a 30 MPH tail wind. Big ring / small cog and spun out. I felt like we had to hit 40 MPH a few times.

Every time we hit a narrow spot or a tricky section of farm or single track the field would separate out and a hard sprint to get back into the pack would ensue. After a bit of this I found my self in a 4 rider pack. I think we were 6,7, 8 and 9. Myerson, Box and a few other Canadian studs had gotten away. Simonson had fallen victim to one one of the mid-race “sort-outs” and dropped back.

Late in the race, the course takes you under a fallen tree. You literally have to throw your bike under the tree and follow it on your hand and knees. A mile later, you try to ride down a long ditch/power line thingy with hub deep mud with brick sized rocks mixed in for your ankles. At this point a guy named Mogg had gotten away from us. I find myself with a 17 year old Canadian Junior. I get off my bike and try the running strategy. He blasts by still on his bike. I think to myself, “good for him.” 20 seconds later his front tire gets sucked into a foot deep mud sink hole and he goes ass-over-apple cart. I run by and say “alright?” He says says “ayy” and I notice he has a little chain issue to deal with.

Crash and chain issue don’t seem stop this kid from catching right back up with me once we are out of the mud chute. We hit the bottom of the final climb and I’m not convinced I can put this kid away as my quads and adductor muscles are starting to cramp up when I stand. The final hill is a killer. Very steep and very twisty. I know the finish line is somewhere at the top. I’ve got it in my granniest gear again. The young man next to me seems to be showing some weakness as I have a half a length on him now. Then suddenly he throws down tree quick pedal strokes and gaps me. We come around a tight turn and sure enough. There’s the finish line. The end. 7th.

I am so thankful when Mike finds me. That means I’ve got a warm truck nearby. The second I stop pedaling I realize how cold I am. I’m completely soaked and SNOW has started to blow in. We waste zero time. I strip in the parking lot and jump in the truck. It’s noon now and the award ceremony is at 3pm. Mike and I agree that there is no award worth staying around cold and wet for. Not to mention the 3.5hr driving ahead. We’re out!

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