Pip-addiction

Pip Gregson drops by the Crankset again with another entry. With my arm in a sling for most of the fall season, I've been living vicariously through the actions of others. Our such person is my friend Pip, whose introductory season into cyclocross has made me feel as if I haven't missed a beat [kind of like riding without all the pain].

Addiction is a Good Thing
This past weekend I solidified a new addiction. I knew if I took the step it would happen. I knew if I took all that I learned from 1 event it would happen. I am addicted to cyclocross.

Friday night Spencer, Ethan and I were on the rollers at the shop. I sometimes, ok most of the time I hate rollers. I get bored and then I look down and make sure my bike is shifting ok (in my head I hope there is a problem so I can stop. Out of nowhere I turned to Ethan and said, “ I am going to drive to Hendersonville tonight.”

Hendersonville is about 2.5 hours away from Charlotte and the NC Grand Prix was this weekend. Ethan talked me out of leaving that night. I woke up at 4 a.m. got all of my gear together and was on the road by 4:30. It was actually pretty fun driving by myself I listened to loud music and sang even louder (I swear my car has great acoustics). Then the usual road camaraderie took place. You know what I mean, when you let a car in and by doing this when they switch lanes you follow. I befriended a white truck from Texas and 2 band tour buses. It is so odd how these faceless people become a traveling partner. It is always kind of sad when they turn off, they give the light flash and they vanish into the darkness. They break up with you, “what do you mean you're leaving, I thought we had something?” No note, no call, no final driving side by side... just a blinker.

As I began to get closer to the foothills I watched the temp go from 34 to 28. Thank god I was distracted by the sunrise. It is kinda cool how the sun gives a grand entrance. It lets you know what’s about to happen, as the sky turns all sorts of amazing reds, pinks and purples. Then the sun shows itself; a big ole’ ball of orange. At night as it fades the big orange ball sinks back to the ground but the glow remains. It reminds me of certain people, we all have friends who bring an energy to the table that remains even when they are gone.

As the sun finished rising I took the exit for the Grand Prix and stopped to get dressed in an Exxon. While I was changing I had the thought of, "what in the hell am I doing, I have only tried this once, what if I get hurt I am by myself, what if it is too over my head and what if I come in last.” Then I thought of the following, after a few years of letting others decide when and how I do things it was my turn to decide. I am here because I needed to remind myself that people can attempt to take away all that brings you joy, all your confidence and belief in other, but they can not take away our “inner bad ass-ness." We all have it! The little voice that tells us to fight, destroy and then create. My inner bad ass needed to be brought out- the bad ass would arise by minutes (on my bike) of busting my ass and only caring about finishing.


When I drove up all I could see was a vast sea of grass and a maze of yellow tape. The two main things I noticed, 1) the temp is now 25 and there is frost on the ground, and 2) I am the first one there. Being the first one there is like sitting in the eye of a hurricane. There is a silence that is settling but it is tarnished by the eeriness that seems to follow. Another car rolls up. We sit side by side, both beanies, jackets and anything warm on. Both have the heat cranked in the car. Both turn to look at each other and...it was Alan (he is from Charlotte).

Now I know one person at the event. We chat and start to get our bikes put together, more cars arrive and the trainers come out (note to self bring trainer next race). As I rode the course I felt pretty good. As I kept riding I realized I couldn't’t feel my hands or feet and have no clue how to shift if my hands are numb. As I kept riding I came up to the sand pit I made it through. I felt like I should try it again. This time I made it through but as I came up to the wood beam to get out-my front wheel was drawn to it like some sort of tractor beam. I know guys get racked often in wrecks and I don’t know what you call it when a girl hits the top tube…but it hurt like mofo and of course people rode up as it happened. I hopped back on my bike (not too smart after the top tube) and finished riding.

I noticed some faces from the last race and at the moment it happened. At that moment I felt like I fit in. I felt like the “lobster hands family” who discovered they could live a carny lifestyle. I grabbed my phone had 4 different pep talks from around the country and then it was time to ride. At the start I was in the back and I was cool with it. I just wanted to finish my 30 minutes of physical hell. As we all took off in a pack, the loud "I can’t get enough O2" breathing started and it wasn’t me. The attempts of air began to grow the more we began to ride. I LOVE THIS SPORT! I love that no matter what level you are there is a shortage of air.

The pack thinned out and I was in the far back and I had zero thoughts..no second-guessing myself, no being ashamed because I am behind and no feeling bad for myself. Just the song, Damn it feels good to be a Gangsta kept playing in the background. As the run up grew closer and the cowbells louder, I realized I have to get this bike up to the top with people yelling and watching. But, the odd cross phenom happened, you know when everyone is cheering and loud and then you hit the run up and you get nothing but crickets. It is like you were running up the hill naked and they just can’t believe it. This happened the next lap and on the third lap I needed some love so as I dragged myself up I yelled,” a little cowbell please.” Life is good when you have the guts to ask for a little love.

As I was starting my 4th lap there were 3 girls standing at the first turn and they said we could stop “we think?” So, I stopped. Then we all worried that we really were going to see DNF next to our names. After we checked, I learned I was not last but 26/28. I will take it, and I was not lapped! The rest of the day I shot photos and enjoyed being around people who were really cool and excited for those of us who were new to the sport. After watching the pro race I had to decide whether to drive back to Charlotte and leave again @ 4 a.m. or stay. I stayed. It was nice to have a little solo downtime and bask in the fact that I did something that made feel proud of myself.

The next morning it was warmer and the course was muddier. I was a different rider; I trusted myself and knew my limits a bit better. I started at the front (the start was on a track) as the whistle blew I did a TT start and motored past people. "Oh my god I am up front...I am up front!” As we made our way through the downhill I was still doing well. As we hit the road portion, something felt off. I look down and my tubular had rolled off the rim. Are you kidding me!!!! So I had a moment of doubt, sucked it up, rolled it back on and finished the race. I am pretty sure I was last, but I finished. I would like to mention [that] this time on the run up there was cowbell fest and yelling of my name. I chatted with folks for a bit and climbed back into my car and drove home. I felt awesome! I felt like I had found my calling. I felt like…like I was really tired. I arrived in Charlotte put my kit back on and took an easy spin.

My name is Pip and I am a cross-aholic.

Originally published on the Pip Files, November 20th.

Pip Gregson is co-owner of Black Sheep Cycles, as well as a yoga teacher in Charlotte, NC. You can read all about Pip's cycling exploits and adventures and so much more on her blog, the Pip Files.