HAAS PARTY #10: I made it this far without bikes.
So let's talk about my favourite sport in the world.
Allow me to introduce you to Cyclocross.
If you know me — and if you’re reading this, you almost certainly do — then you might be as surprised as I am that we’ve made it nine whole newsletters without me writing about cycling or even mentioning the fact that I am Into Bikes™. Depending on how we know each other, this is either a good, bad, or confusing thing. So today I am going to talk about cycling. More specifically, I am going to talk about cyclocross.
Waits a few seconds for uninterested readers to close the tab.
What is cyclocross? To the uninitiated, it is likely a strange and confusing sport. An easy though not technically correct way of describing it would be “road cycling meets mountain biking.” No, you don’t race the length of the Tour de France on mountain bikes. A cyclocross race is roughly one hour of riding drop bar bikes (like you see in road racing) with knobby tires (like on mountain bikes, just not as big) as hard as you can through mud, dirt, grass, sand, and nearly any other kind of outdoor surface there is. And sometimes you have to get off your bike to run up stairs or jump over wooden barriers. Generally held in the fall and winter, every race is sixty-ish minutes of intense physical suffering with a pretty good chance of crashing.
It’s the best.
Perhaps it is better explained by four-time American National Cyclocross Champion Jeremy Powers:
Being a 37-year-old amateur, I race for fun and don’t take my results too seriously. (As badly as I would like to win the six-pack of beer a podium can get you.) But simply going to watch the race is more fun than watching most sports. Why? Because nobody there is taking it too seriously.
Sure, the pro races that happen in Europe are serious. (Belgians are practically taken from the womb and placed on a cyclocross bike.) But over there, as in North America, the crowds are raucous, rowdy, and a little drunk. There are several races throughout the day at any one event to cover all the different categories. The first race often starts early in the morning so spectators have a lot of time to drink. And if you finish your race by 10am, so do you. Though a mid-race beer hand up can be a fun time, I don’t want to make this sport out like it only revolves around drinking. The appeal of it is more that the vibe of every event is what I would call “competitive ridiculousness.” (Fuck you Rob Dyrdek, you don’t own that word.)
Did you notice the guy playing a plastic trombone in the top left of the photo at the start of this email? That gives a good idea of what I mean. While everyone generally takes their race pretty seriously, the intensity required tends to leave everyone feeling a little loose after they’re done. I have found this to be especially true in Ontario, where there aren’t as many major pro cyclocross races compared to the U.S. and especially compared to Europe.
There is a small but dedicated community of cyclocross racers in Toronto and the rest of Ontario, and the short cyclocross race season is the thing I look forward to most every year. (Despite the fact I spend far more time riding my road bike.) Covid-19 unsurprisingly prevented any races from happening last year, and this year’s season is TBD.
That’s largely why I’m writing this.
Until we can race again, I simply want to share this fun and ridiculous sport with more people. Not saying you need to hop on a cyclocross bike and sign up for a race, but if you ever hear of one happening near you (there is sometimes even races in the city of Toronto proper) I encourage you to go check it out. Admission is free, because the races are usually held in public parks or on the grounds of community centres or local sports complexes. Just be sure to bring a decent pair of rubber boots and don’t be afraid to heckle a little bit.
Here are a few more photos I’ve taken from races in the last few years to either convince or discourage you:
—‘Cross is Haas