Etiquette and CX Racing

A busy race weekend. Since I came into the season with the mindset that I'd be chasing the MAC series and this was a double PACX weekend with Town Hall on Saturday and Quaker City on Sunday, I went from not being sure if I'd race at all to doing three races in two days. Coming off a rolled tubular, a long run, and horrible points on the second day of Nittany, I was eager to exorcise some demons, clear the mind, and test the legs.

Saturday: Town Hall Cross

Photo: Tom Burrows

Town Hall Cross, which I'd only done once before in 2014, is almost infamous for its seemingly unending switchbacks up the large hill which makes up the most challenging part of the course. This year, though, the switchbacks were, for the most part, gone, only to be replaced by a section that seemed to be pretty darn close to straight up.  After this biggest climb of the course there was a brief downhill which was really just a tease, because it was followed by a steep grassy pitch up across which two rows of small landscape timbers had been placed. The timbers were mostly rideable; just a bit of an energy suck.

As I found myself in 2014, I had no PACX points from last year and so started third row. I got off to a good start and quickly found myself in the top ten. From there, I went to work gradually make the cut into a group of 4 or 5 that included Bob Reuther, Kelly Cline, and Glenn Turner. At one point, lap 3, I believe, Kelly made a vicious acceleration and I thought, "This is going to suck!" We matched his tempo and hung on his wheel. Then, I believe it was the same lap -- tough to remember when you're on the rivet -- eventual race winner Kevin Malloy took off on that longest climb of the course. I like to think that it was because he was a bit of an unknown and we all assumed that his acceleration would fade and we would quickly reabsorb him into the group that we let him go, but it is perhaps more likely that we just didn't have the legs. As things started to settle into a rhythm, Bob and I rode away from the others in the pack. Even though we were racing hard, several times I thought we could pick up the pace even a bit more and chase the leader a bit harder. However, I still see myself as relatively new to the sport and often defer to Mr. Reuther's experience, strength and wiley racing skills. I didn't know -- and still don't know -- what the etiquette is on passing a teammate, pushing the pace, etc. In fact, at one point, Bob took a wide line just before the drop into the woods and I passed him thinking he wanted me to take the lead for a while. This was not his intention and he (relatively) kindly let me know. After that, I sat on his wheel thinking he'd let me know if and when he wanted me to take a turn at the front. Given it wasn't that windy and there were few long sections of steady pedaling, I didn't think this an unfair burden on him. However, after much deliberation and soul-searching -- as a racer, I probably need to work on this, at least during the race -- I attacked the final time up the hill, passed Bob and held on for second place.

I'm not sure the time difference to the winner, but I wonder what might have been had I pushed harder in those spaces where I was riding Reuther's wheel. I may have blown up and been passed by Reuther, Kelly, Glenn and more. I may have caught Malloy. Who knows? Also fresh in my mind is a conversation I had with a racer after a race the previous weekend. Despite the fact that I race hard and fairly aggressively, I usually err on the side of caution when making passes or taking corners, so I was a bit taken aback by this rider's accusations of over-aggressive riding. I think this also played a role in my relatively relaxed tactics.

All this to say, (again) I'm relatively new to this, especially at this level. I will continue to race hard and fast, but if you see me doing something that is less than sportsmanlike, or worse, dangerous, please do not hesitate to let me know. Feedback when given generously and kindly is a gift. Also, if you have advice on racing with/against teammates, I'll gladly hear that as well.

Sunday: Quaker City Cross

Photo: Tom Burrows

I had never done this race before and had no idea what to expect. This race was so close to home, I almost didn't know what to do. In fact, I actually arrived later than I wanted because I wasted so much time thinking I had so much time. Seeing Gamble upon arrival, we went for a pre-ride, he warned me well before hitting the course that it was crazy bumpy. He was spot on. Except for a very short section of somewhat manicured grass before hitting the woods, the entirety of the race was either in the woods (~10%) or in a rolling meadow (~89%). The meadow section was cut in very short with a mower, but not tracked in at all, and was, therefore, very clumpy. On pre-ride, the bumps just seemed to suck the momentum from your wheels.

Jumping on the trainer for warm-up, my legs reminded me of the effort they'd endured the day before. I almost stopped the warm-up short for fear of zapping what little energy remained. I also reasoned that perhaps the short power spikes that I knew were coming in the protocol would wake the sleeping muscles. In the end, I decided to persevere and finish the scheduled warm-up. Starting second row, I was still relatively nervous about how the legs would react once the whistle blew.

I had another good start. (Thanks Kelly Cline and CrossSports.net) for suggesting an alternative to what I had been doing!) After a decent stretch of straight prologue section, the course took a 90 degree turn onto the course proper and the first decent uphill pitch of the race. The course twists and turns in that meadow for a bit before dumping us back out onto the prologue section in the opposite direction. After passing back through the start/finish area, the course made a left turn into the decent grass and then the woods. After a muddy 180 degree turn, we were greeted by super steep hill that, I believe, everyone except Mike Festa ran up. The run up was followed by a climb through the low back wrenching meadow. A fast, but bone-jarring descent took us back into another section of rooted woods where there were a set of barriers. Exiting the woods, a set of uphill switchbacks led to a power line descent and back to the point where we first hit the course proper. There was a double-sided pit here on the uphill section, and another entrance on the downhill just before the course turned back to the prologue section.

As early as the prologue and ensuing first climbs and twisting turns, my rear tire would make a "BRAAAP" sound around every corner. I believe by the end of the first lap, Reuther and I had opened a decent gap on the rest of the field. After we'd passed the pit that first time and were working our way through the turns, Bob asked what the noise was. I explained that I thought my rear tire pressure was low. He suggested I switch bikes the next time we go past the pit in the uphill direction. The consummate rider/coach/sportsman, he was even reminding me to recover (i.e. relax) in the downhill sections. As suggested, I took a bike the next time through. Bob soft pedaled until I got back on his wheel. We rode together, keeping the pack at bay until two laps to go. I would not forget Reuther's kindness, but still wanted to race him. I had in my mind that no matter where we were at the finishing straight, this was his race to win. We swapped spots a few times over the remaining laps, but there was never any question in my mind who would win that race. Reuther's sportsmanship earned my loyalty -- for a day anyway ;).

Photo: Tom Burrows

Despite the legs feeling heavy before the race, I felt really good after the race and was itching for more. Feeling a little conflicted about entering the 3/4 race -- I am technically a Cat 3 and don't have enough points for an upgrade to a Cat 2, but have been racing at a level slightly above my current category -- I consulted with Gamble and Reuther about whether or not it'd be sandbagging. They assured me it wasn't. I hurriedly checked to see if I could still register. A quick scribble on any entry form and I had another number. Since I'd already loaded the bikes on the car, I rushed to get them and get over to the pit and start. Upon reaching the start grid, everyone was already lined up. The official gave the one minute warning. I stumbled as I hurried with my bikes. The 30 second warning came. I joked with another official, "I guess I don't have time to get my pit bike to the pit, huh?" With that, the whistle blew. A woman standing near the grib said, "We'll get your bike to the pit." I was very appreciative and handed her the bike. I threw my water bottle toward the base of a tree and sprinted off to catch the disappearing pack. It took about two laps to work my way through the pack and get into second place. I gradually reeled in the first place rider and passed him. Lap after lap, I could not shake him. He would match every acceleration up the hills. Finally, I let him lead the second to last lap. I passed him on the final long straight uphill and given the tight turning nature of the remainder of the course, I assumed victory was mine as long as I didn't let off the gas too much. Wrong. On the final turns, an off-camber s-turn section, this whippersnapper pulled off a pass that I felt was a bit too dangerous, especially given the recent conversation I'd had at Nittany with another rider. After that, the race was his. I'd lost so much momentum avoiding him in the turn, I didn't even contest the sprint.

Again, still learning how much is too much. How little is too little. And, again, as always, open to advice/criticism/guidance kindly given.

Coming Unglued

Party of Five
photo: Rebecca Joy Lewandowski

"Rolling a tubular". A phrase I'd heard many times before -- though not quite as often as "burping a [tubeless] tire"--, but always thought was something that wouldn't happen to me. Still relatively new to racing cyclocross at a relatively high level, tubulars are still pretty new to me. Respecting this newness, I've been very meticulous about gluing up my own or pretty particular in whom I'll have glue them up for me. Today, I rolled a tubular. It was second lap. I was rolling with the top 5 racers in the 45+ race and feeling good. A couple times on some of the faster corners I could hear that now familiar sound of the tire not quite folding, but rather complying and conforming to the shape of the earth, tearing the grass, digging in. Just last night, I had been telling a non-CX friend about tubulars and why many CX'ers prefer them, and was enjoying living out those reasons. And then I came unglued. Literally. And not literally the way every millennial and younger likes to misuse the word. I mean literally. The tire literally came unglued from the wheel. The resulting loss of traction and the fact that the displaced tire jammed between the fork and the tire caused me to hit floor pretty quick. Apparently, the rider behind me went down as well. Not sure if anyone else was taken out. This could have been a much worse safety issue. According to Strava, I was about 0.6 miles from the pit. I knew I was far, but wasn't sure how far. Knowing any shot at a podium was gone, I was at a crossroads; cut my loses and DNF, or use the experience as a great training exercise and see how many places I could fight back for. Fresh in my mind was the story I'd relayed to my son from yesterday's race about hearing the announcer mention that someone was running only 200-300 yards into that race. I'd said I wouldn't have blamed that guy for choosing to DNF. It was almost like deja vu. But, despite my frustration, I couldn't quit. I still don't know where I finished. I was so angry that I didn't stick around for the results to be posted on site. They still are not posted online. I only know I wasn't quite DFL.

Running with rolled front tubular
Photo: Tom Burrows

One of the things that makes the situation sting all the more is that I felt like I was making not only a physical breakthrough, but a mental one. Yesterday, I put in a good race. Not a great race, but a good one. And, I ended up sixth. It was a race in which there was a lead group of five, and I was a solo chaser in sixth. I would almost get to their wheels and then something would happen to create a gap. As I deconstructed the race on the drive home, I began to question why the gaps kept opening up. I started to wonder if I was sabotaging myself because I didn't really think I was strong enough to ride with these guys who've dominated this age group in this area for so long. Today was going to be the day that I was going to prove that I could ride with these guys. Maybe next time.

Note the smoothness of the
center strip of the rim bed

Back to rolling, or, more importantly, not rolling tires. In an effort to be even more educated, prepared and diligent, today's mechanical failure has led me to many questions. I invite you to share your thoughts and solutions in the comments section or by sending me an email or facebook message. Here they are:

• Do you glue your own tubulars, or have someone do it for you?
• If using someone else, whom do you use, i.e. a shop, friend, etc.?
• Do you use glue only, tape only, glue and tape?
• Why are tubular rim beds not more circular/arc shaped in cross-section? In the pics included in this post, you can see that the glue in the center well of the rim bed is essentially untouched and was never in contact with or adhered to the tire which is essentially round in cross-section.

Thanks in advance! Keep the rubber side down. 

Still SO much to learn

Photo: Rena Schild
http://www.renaschild.com

Despite losing a ton of fitness this summer due to our interstate move, I'd been feeling pretty good about my recent cx results and was starting to even consider putting Nationals back on the table. Heck, maybe the break was even good for me, giving me a rest when I'd otherwise have been pushing hard, possibly leaving me still fresh late in the season when others were starting to decline in motivation and fitness after a long combined road/mtb and cx campaign. I'd be going up when others were going down. However, after much consideration, in the end, I decided my USAC points - still a few decades above those of the contender - were simply too high to justify the trip.  Still, I'm working to finish the season strong and build toward a trip to Charlotte next year. As such, I traveled to Reston, VA on Sunday to test my meddle in the Capital 'Cross Classic. For several reasons, I entered the 1/2/3:

• long drive, so longer race makes it more worth the drive
• harder race, better training
• wife's work holiday party the night before, last race of the day more reasonable after late night
• no imbibing at party, was actually up early and able to make early church service before driving to Reston.

Photo: velogirl22
http://velogirl22.smugmug.com/

Given that it's the end of the season and I've decided not to go to Nats, and having recently read about new studies suggesting shorter warm-ups may be better, I was a little more lax with my pre-race prep. I pre-rode the course both an hour and two hours before my race as I usually do, but I did not do my usual trainer routine which I have been using from Carmichael's Time-Crunched Cyclist book. I did some hard efforts on the course and on the road during the race previous to mine. What I did NOT do, was spend enough time thinking about and/or playing with tire pressure. Big mistake. HUGE mistake. I pumped to about 27 psi front and rear. In pre-ride, I could steer well so never really thought about adjusting the pressure. I should have though. I should have recognized that I was spinning my rear tire while trying to power through the sticky mud which was so thick it seemed like it would give good purchase but just stuck to everything like Mastik One. I didn't think to lower my pressure until about halfway through the race after going backward relative to my competitors in every mud section. Literally, we would hit the mud together and I would practically stop. They seemed to go through it with relative easy. Now, it could simply be that I just didn't have the power. It could be that I didn't have the right tires -- though I can't handle the thought of buying yet another tubular wheelset. But I would like to think that this loss of time was because my tire would just spin in the mud. I tried adjusting cadence; faster vs. slower pedaling. I tried shifting my weight to favor the front or the rear. None of it worked. A couple of times I ran the longer sections, but the damage was done. I couldn't bridge up. At about the 40 minute mark, I started debating the merits of stopping to let some air out. In the end, I didn't because I was too afraid to give up any more time and I've had occasions in workouts where I've let out too much pressure and regretted it. I figured it'd be best to stay with where I was and just suffer through. When I got home I Googled "tire pressure sticky mud" and basically the consensus was to go as low as you can to enhance traction. Seems consistent with my experience. Now I just wish I could have another sticky mud race in which to test this out before shutting it down for the season.

So, as the title implies, I still have SO much to learn. I'd love to hear other people's thoughts on tire pressure in thick, sticky mud. How long can you go? How low do you go?

Sly Fox: the day all the tires died and the day my son saved my race

Winding around Sly Fox Brewery
Photo: Yehudah Perlowitz

Sly Fox was great, but it could have been awesome. Arriving early as I always do, I bumped into one of my new teammates. He said, "I hope you like mountain biking." Having never ridden mountain bikes with him but knowing that he prefers "grass crits" to more euro-style cross courses, I thought, "Yeah, yeah, I got this." Irony would soon reward my hubris with a bit of a karmic smackdown.

The Sly Fox CX race was held at the Sly Fox brewery in Pottstown, PA and, for the most part, the designers did a great job making use of the extremely limited footprint of land with which they had to work. A fast road start into some slow twisty sections in the grass behind the brewery, then some power sections on the macadam before ducking into the woods. The woods were legit mountain biking type terrain strewn with roots and rocks. The first 100 yards or so were flat, maybe slightly downhill, and fast before diving seemingly straight down into a valley and then quickly turning seemingly straight up. The trail here was about 15 feet wide with a set of log steps constructed across for most of their width. A mandatory run-up, though there was a small sneak line on the right but you still couldn't make the entire rise on the bike.

Mark Featherman on the Belgian steps
Photo: Yehudah Perlowitz

After this rise you found yourself back out on the grass. A hard right and then a 180 degree left took you past the first entrance to the double sided pit -- less than a tenth of a mile from the rocky downhill. Remember this, it becomes a factor. Curving past the pit in a sweeping right hand turn, racers come to another tight 180 degree left turn which leads back to the same gully. Again, super steep and rocky down and then steep and rocky back up. While there was no barrier on this up in pre-ride, the course designers decided to up the ante at some point and added a tall barrier about 2/3 of the way up the rise. After this, a tricky off-camber section led to some uneven double track and back out to the grass for some fun twists and turns which tested a driver's ability to power and to steer, and finally 3/10ths of a mile after encountering the second mtb-like section, you get to the second entrance to the pit. More foreshadowing. After the pit, a double barrier precedes a few more grass twists before depositing racers back out on the road. A tight grass dog leg pretty much dead smack middle in the road section kept things from getting very fast on the road. And that's a lap.

The Friday night immediately before the race I had the distinct pleasure of gluing up a new set of Challenge Chicanes that I had been sitting on for some time. I really do enjoy gluing them, it just takes so freaking long. Not really sure if I'd use them at the race, i.e. "Nothing new on race day!", I still brought them along thinking maybe I'd use them in the Elite race for which I'd also registered. With the Elite race being after the 45+ race, I had little riding on it and figured it'd be OK to try something new on race day there.

Pre-riding the course before the 45+ race, I puncture my front tire on the second sketchy section. I grab my pit bike from the pit and try to figure out a Plan B. The gash in the sidewall is easily 7mm and too long to even think about asking sealant to fix. My race bike is discs, my pit bike has canti's, so I couldn't just swap wheels -- something to think about when building your quiver. After trying to not panic and after weighing the pros and cons, I decided to put the new Chicane on the "race" bike and use that bike as the pit bike. Hurrying over to the start, I'm still second guessing my decision. As I go to put my race bike in the pit I notice the Chicane is ridiculously low on pressure. Having just glued them and then removing air to test the glue job, the tire is far too low to ride, much less race -- especially on this course. Luckily, I bump into my wife and kids who came out to their first race so far this season. Since I have no time to address the pressure issue without risking missing my call-up -- and there's no way I'm missing my hard-earned front row call-up -- I ask my son if he'll run to the car to get the pump and add some air to my pit/race bike. I head to the start not sure if he'll find the pump, find the bike, and/or be successful in adding an appropriate amount of air.

Squandering Front Row Call-up
Photo: Yehudah Perlowitz

Race time. I waste my front row start. Worst start all season (see pic) and I'm probably sitting tenth or so at the holeshot. No matter, though. I'm feeling strong and I've got 45 minutes to pick some people off. Not so fast. Second lap, I flat again on the second sketchy section. I'm forced to soft pedal the 3/10ths of mile from the puncture site to the pit. Just like at Crossasaurus, I giving away places like it's Christmas. I ghost ride my canti Crux to an imagined mechanic in the pit and grab my disc Crux from the rack. [I really should name these bikes.] Success! Shane did it! Maybe a little too much pressure, but hey, beggars can't be choosers. Getting back on the disc Crux, I'm struck by how much better I feel on this bicycle than the canti Crux. Later, my wife and kids will tell me they, too, noticed how awkward I looked on the canti Crux. They say to strike while the iron is hot; maybe now would be a good time to petition the Mrs. for a pit bike that is a duplicate of my race bike...

Back on Track -- Thanks Shane!
Photo: Yehudah Perlowitz

Luckily, I did not flat again, and I was able to gradually pick people off. I found that I made up huge amounts of time on the run ups. Eventually finishing in fourth place, just pipping Kelly Cline at the end as he, too, flatted on the second of the descents -- the one further from the pit -- and had to nurse his bike through the last section on  the last lap. Chatting with all the guys on the 5-man deep podium, everyone of us flatted during the race. Some were luckier than others in terms of timing and placement, i.e. closer to or further from the pit. Texting with Reuther today, I learned that he flatted on the section closer to the pit. Good for him. Bad for the rest of us. Obviously, Kelly's timing was probably the worst. Further spot from pit with NO time to make up for it.

I'd later learn that MANY, MANY others had flatted on this course. Mike Festa would go on to call it "the day all the tires died" and create the hashtag "#hundreddollarflats". Now, again, the promoters did a FANTASTIC job with this race in so many ways. I'm sure they spent significant time creating the "Belgian steps". I just wonder if they could have been a little more proactive in raking some of the sharp rocks out of the sketchy MTB sections. After all, we're (mostly) racing on tires that are 33mm wide and not as burly as a MTB tire, our courses should reflect and respect that. If the goal is to grow the sport and bring in more participants, there should not be such a significant percentage of racers paying a $100 tire "tax" on top of a $30 entry fee. Again, this is a very fixable issue, and otherwise the race was a fun course and a great vibe.

Reuther being Reuther
Photo: Yehudah Perlowitz

Since I'd already flatted two tires and couldn't bear the thought of puncturing yet another tubular, I decided to skip the Elite race and instead enjoy a beer and some pizza with the family. They had great stories and perspectives of the race that I can't see while racing, and it was fun to sit and relax and enjoy their company and the day. It also gave me the chance to thank Shane profusely for saving my race. It was the right choice.

PA State Cyclocross Championships

UPDATE: [11/4/14] Spoiler alert: Start reading at paragraph below if this is your first reading of this post. Go. Now. Seriously. Since the PA State Championships are awarded in 5 year increments and the winner of our 45+ race has a racing age of 51, apparently I am the 2014 PA State Cyclocross Champion in the 45-49 age group. Woot!

Photo credit: denS @ dennisbike.com

Yesterday, the PA State Cyclocross Championships were held in Adamstown, PA at the Stoudt's Brewery. It was one of my favorite courses thus far this season. While there were no Euro-style white-knuckle sand descents and no serious mud bogs, this was certainly not one of those "grass crits" that everyone lamenting 'cross going mainstream is complaining about. There were some seriously steep short ups, fast descents and fun twisty sections.

After a stressful interstate move that saw me logging a paltry 11 training hours in July and an even more disappointing 3 hours in August, my cyclocross season got off to a very slow start. Combining the lost fitness because of the reduced volume with the "interesting" call-up procedures in the Mid-Atlantic I was literally and figuratively not where I wanted to be. After working my way up the PACX standings and finally earning a front row call-up for Crossasuarus Awesome!, my performance at that race -- marked by getting a little too intimate with terra firma FOUR times -- relegated me back to a second row start at Stoudt's. No worries, though. I got a good start and was solidly top 10 going into the holeshot, probably sitting 7th wheel or so. I was feeling good, legs were strong, head was right. For the first time in a long time, things seemed to slow down -- in a good way. I didn't feel panicked. I felt ready.

The first time down the first descent, Charles Kline overcooked the turn a bit, sliding out and, I believe, taking another rider with him. I move up two spots. Then, going up Goat Hill on the second of the three sadistic ascents each lap someone stalled. Not sure if it was a gearing issue or what, but that bobble allowed me to pass that racer and Kelly Cline. Over the next half lap or so, I close the gap to Reuther and ride his wheel for another quarter lap at which point his bike starts to mis-shift and he needs to pit. As Reuther pits, I move into second and hold on for the rest of the race, which is another 4-5 laps. Craig Cozza, the race leader, just kept opening the gap between himself and me. At lap 3, the gap was 00:20, by the end of the race, it was over a minute. That guy is crazy FAST! On the plus side, during those last laps, I could see Blair Saunders trying to close the gap and was psyched to be able to hold him off.

photo credit: denS

As I go over the race in my head, it's hard to not feel like I got second place as a default or at the expense of some others' misfortune. Would I have not placed so well if Charles had not slid out, if Kelly had not been held up, if Reuther hadn't needed to pit? We'll never know. As a good friend said, "'Cross is a coulda, woulda, shoulda sport."  Paying homage to that thought is last week's performance at Crossasaurus. I had been flying, feeling really good and sitting second wheel behind Reuther for over a lap and a half until the "s" hit the fan and I started to give away places each of the four times I hit the floor. I found myself wondering there, where I would have ended up had I not been so hyper-focused on making up spots so quickly after being put into the tape on a questionable pass. In many ways, we make our own luck by being prepared, by being aware during a race, and by making good choices. At the end of the day, I'm really happy with the result -- a Silver (now) Gold Medal at the State Championships!

Call-up Inequities

After spending the 2012 and 2013 seasons racing cyclocross in New England, I've moved back to the Mid-Atlantic and was surprised at how differently things happen here as opposed to our northern neighbors. My biggest beef has to do with the way call-ups are handled in the Mid-Atlantic. Living in Southeastern PA, there are three race series that have races close enough to reasonably get to: PACX (Pennsylvania Cyclocross), NJCX (New Jersey Cyclocross), and MAC (Mid Atlantic Cyclocross). Each of these series uses an individual's standing in the previous year's final series standings to determine call-ups for the first race of the series, and then current year standings for subsequent races that season. For someone like me who's worked their tail off for the past two seasons to get first or second row call-ups in their category, and then moving to the area with no local credentials, that individual is relegated to the back of the pack for starts. Since in 'cross, by and large, "where you start is where you finish" or at the very least plays a significant role, this practice seems both exceedingly punitive and, frankly, bad business for promoters. By contrast, using current Crossresults (as is the practice in New England) or USAC points would allow both recent transplants as well as vacationing racers to be more equitably placed in the starting grid. I say bad business for the promoters because as a recent example, despite having the time and desire to enter two NJCX races, Caffeinated 'Cross and Cooper River Cyclocross, I opted not to because I didn't feel like starting at the back once again. Two lost entry fees for the NJCX series. I wonder how many other racers end up not racing on any particular weekend because of this practice. As alluded to previously, it seems feasible that racers from other regions who might be in town for business or visiting family would also be dissuaded from racing because of this practice. I see no downside of using either Crossresults or USAC points to order call-ups. The fact that many racers do race in multiple regions helps to normalize the results. Even if a non-local racer wins a race, they're not likely going to steal the show from the local riders over the length of the series. I really see no reason to continue this localism. Am I missing something?

UPDATE: More thoughts:

1. What about riders moving up or changing categories? The athlete who wins the Overall in the Cat 4/5 or the Cat 3 is likely going to be faster than most of the pack fodder in the Cat 3 or Elite races, respectively. So, the athlete's reward for winning the series -- besides a likely mandatory (and appropriate) upgrade -- is to start in the back of the pack in the next year's series because they won't have any points in their new category? This just doesn't seem right.
2. What about racers entering multiple categories? Especially with promoters encouraging racers to double up on race day, it makes little sense to make a rider start in the back twice. 

Like MTB Nats, I've lost 2015 CX Nats before they've even begun

Here I sit in a gorgeous little hamlet in the foothills of the Dolomites, surrounded by family who love and support me, and gorgeous views in every direction. I should be the happiest man on the face of the earth. And by and large I am, but I'd be lying if I tried to say I was not just a little bit bitter. I just conceded to the fact that I likely won't be competing at Cyclocross Nationals in January. Nothing seems to be going in the right direction right now. In the midst of an interstate move, we have had so many challenges in both selling our current home and in buying a new home. It was discovered that the home we are trying to sell had some issues of which we were not aware and it has required making the 6+ hour drive between Pennsylvania and Massachusetts several times with little to no notice. The construction to repair the problems will require several more over the next month or so. On the buy side, very little was available in the school district we were targeting and after looking at many homes in that district, we finally opened up our search to include another district. Finally finding a home in that district, a home inspection revealed that home has some stucco issues which could be significant. The decision to move forward or not has been stressful and if we do decide to move forward on it, it will require more visits, inspections and, ultimately, construction.

Here in Italy, I had hope to rent a bicycle and at least try to maintain some level of fitness during the 5 day portion of the trip in which we are in the Friuli region. US Airways thwarted that plan by allowing our baggage to miss the flight on which we were on. My luggage contained my cycling kit, helmet, pedals and shoes, and was an essential part of my plan to ride over here. Apparently, our bags were part of a larger group of bags that were sitting on a cart that was overlooked when loading the plane. Landing Friday morning in Venice, the woman at the lost luggage claim desk assured us that our bags would make the Saturday non-stop from PHL to VCE and our bags would be delivered to the house where we are staying on Saturday. They were not. Calling US Airways lost/delayed baggage department on Sunday morning, I was assured that the bags would be delivered by the end of the day on Sunday. They were not. Even as it was, the company through whom I've rented bicycles in the past was not able to get a bicycle to me until today, Monday. Still missing my checked bag -- and with little confidence that US Airways will actually deliver it today or any time soon -- I decided to cancel the rental. By the time I get home I will have not ridden for 17 days. Even before this stretch that will likely extend beyond the seventeen day, the training was spotty due to the aforementioned issues. My return to the States will require at least one more trip to MA, likely two. I will be required to over construction in two states. With kids in tow and my wife in another state and/or county, training will become extremely challenging. With Cyclocross season right around the corner, I have already fallen so far in terms of fitness and will likely fall even further before things start looking up again, that I have, with no small degree of bitterness, adjusted my 2014-15 cyclocross goals downward.