Musings on a long cyclocross season.
by Elisabeth Reinkordt
Two World Cups in the Midwest. I had to go to one of them. It was just too tempting to pass up, a homecoming and friend reunion of sorts, a great way to use some frequent flyer miles, a gracious offer of host housing, and the chance to both race against and then cheer for the top riders in the world. Sure, it would be brutally hot, my Achilles heel, but I couldn’t resist.
There is a perfect moment seared in my overcooked brain, a second that froze in time, as I looked across the course to see Sanne Cant’s rainbow stripes. “You are in a race with the World Champion right now. This is not a charity event. This is not a joke. This is really it. You’re doing this.”