By Mike Berkenpas

On October 8^th, Jean Ann and I said goodbye to sunshine and warm weather, and hopped on a plane to Edmonton, to compete in the National Cross Championships and the Jim Horner Grand Prix. This would be my first time racing cross out of province, and I couldn’t wait to test myself against the best in Canada. Along the way I knew we would have many adventures, although some I would be unprepared for.

We had our first adventure getting from the airport to the city.  The taxi driver, who had offered us a “deal”, had to stop by the taxi depot on an errand and told us that if any one asked us why we where in the taxi to tell them that we were friends of his.  We got to sit in a seedy back parking lot in a black Lincoln, like something out of a mafia movie.

Pre-riding the National Championships course in Edmonton, Friday before the race, was one of the more exiting things I have done all year.  The snow and cold had all the makings of a memorable race.  It was thrilling to cut a fresh line though the snow while riding under the start/finish banner.  One of my favorite parts of pre riding is watching other riders trying new lines.  It’s the best way to get faster.  I find a section of the course I’m having trouble with and wait to see what the best riders are doing on that section.  Although I found that at Nationals this sometimes doesn’t work, since some riders seem to have a super human ability to keep their bikes upright.  For example, on one very steep climb with off camber switchbacks had me quite baffled.  It was so icy I had difficulty standing on the frozen slope.  While I was looking for hand holds, Geoff Kabush came by riding the hill and the switchbacks without ever spinning his tires.

Due to the extreme cold my pre ride time was limited.  Clothing choice was critical. My clothing was based on how many clothes I could pack in my suitcase for the flight from Vancouver.  For the race I was wearing almost everything I brought except for my dress shoes.  They would have looked out of place.

On the morning of the race, I got to spin out a quick practice lap with Jean Ann just before her race.  The conditions had become quite unpredictable with some corners getting gripper and others becoming very icy.  Kevin Calhoun was riding behind me.  “A hundred bucks if you can make it the around the course without dabbing”, he challenged.  Five corners later I hit the ground with no warning at all, going around what seemed to be an unassuming turn.

Jean Ann raced hard in a strong field and placed 6^th.  She also didn’t crash and was able to ride the switchbacks at the top of the steep hill, quite impressive.

At the start of my race I was apprehensive about my ability to give my best effort in the cold but very focused.  I started in a good position and managed to go around some early crashes.  Going into some of the more technical parts of the course, I was looking for places to pass, despite not being able feel my hands.  The numb hands lead to some poor regulation of the brakes, and I spun the bike around going down a icy slope.  It was not a good time to crash because I now had to run 50 meters of the course and a lot of people passed me.  This put me in 25^th and I basically held that position for the rest of the race.  I finished disappointed at the mistakes I had made early on, but eager for the next race.  Jean Ann and I were treated to an excellent spaghetti dinner by a very hospitable family we were staying with after the race.

The next day, we were both recovered and ready for the Jim Horner Grand Prix.  Jean Ann raced first and placed 6^th again. I cracked on the first lap of my race.  People rode around me in almost every part of the course.  I was lapped out of the race with two laps to go.  Later that evening I came down with the flu and was forced to bow out of Thanksgiving dinner with our host family.  I was somewhat worried that I wasn’t going to make it out of Edmonton.

Our ride back to airport looked about as promising as our ride to the airport.  A “friend” of Jean Ann’s was going to give us a ride to the airport.  He had a Dutch name, but was clearly Italian and often referred to his guns and breaking my legs.  We made it though and I was very glad to get back to Vancouver, where there isn’t such an air of desperation.