Chiba Cyclocross

I’ve been wanting to do a cyclocross for a couple of years since hearing about the Shonan Cyclocross series which takes place over the winter months. It seemed like a good chance to race close to home in the triathlon off-season. My interest increased exponentially after discovering that GCN+ covers all the major races in Belgium and Holland where cyclocross is huge. It is hard not to get addicted to these races with epic duals between the top riders batting it out on 3-kilometre courses full of mud, sand, ice, snow, brutal slopes, slippery steps, and other devious obstacles. Cycling meets Jeux sans frontières.

Start and finish area

The only thing holding me back was the bike, or my lack of one. I needed a road bike which takes 33 mm tyres, which is the maximum allowed for cyclocross. I failed to find something secondhand, but finally discovered the entry-level Canyon Endurace. This is not a cyclocross bike, but rather designed for long, comfortable road rides. It would be good for bike packing, long rides, and commuting, and with clearance for 35 mm tyres, it would get me started with cyclocross. I opted for the aluminium Endurace 7 with Shimano 105 which, at ¥199,000 is exceptional value. It was also the only vaguely suitable bike in stock.

The race is on the edge of Chiba Port Park, overlooking Tokyo Bay

I was also lucky that friend Kimm, who lives nearby, had recently got into cyclocross and he gave me a lot of advice. He suggested I enter the lowest rank of men’s elite, ME4, as he thought the over 60s masters’ category, MM60, wouldn’t challenge me. He also gave me lots of advice for race day, including arriving early, making full use of course practice time, and gear choice. Most important was tyre pressure. With 33 mm tyres, I would expect to run them at 4-5 bar (58-73 psi) on smooth roads, but cyclocross is very different. Pros run tubular tyres lower than 20 psi which means they are almost riding on the rims. They also have pit crews ready with spare wheels when they get a puncture. For my tubeless tyres, Kimm recommended 1.7 or 1.8 bar (25-26 psi) which seems incredibly soft on a road bike, but it means the tyres spread out and give you more grip.

Chiba Port Tower

In a normal world, I would have practised cyclocross before my first race. However, I didn’t convert my new bike from clinchers to tubeless until a few days before the race, and by then it was too late to find somewhere for practice. I also had problems setting up the tubeless tyres. I had mistakenly ordered tubeless rim tape with the same width as the inner rim width. I tried installing this but tyres were leaky. I then discovered you are supposed to order rim tape 2 or 3 mm wider than the rims, so I had to order some more tape. With lots of sealant in the tyres, I managed to get them to hold pressure for a while, so I went out for a ride in my neighbourhood. Two ks from home, I hit some glass and tore a long gash in the brand new rear tyre. I walked home and ordered a new tyre. All this meant that I arrived at Chiba Cyclocross having never ridden my new bike off road. The practice lap would be important.

Our base camp under the trees

I arrived at the race venue, Chiba Port Park, and joined the one-kilometre queue waiting for the car park to open at 6 a.m. I managed to get in before the barrier was closed, and immediately met Kimm who was setting up his two bikes. He races ME1 with the pros, so having a spare bike in the pits was essential. I had taken an old mountain bike to put in the pits, as you can use any bike in ME4. We set up our gear next to the course, registered, and got ourselves ready for the practice period.

My Garmin map data

The course winds around the edge of the marine park, taking in a small hillock, some woods, and most important, a sandy grass area and beach. There was a heavy frost which made the many sharp twists and turns feel treacherous, but that didn’t stop the better riders (nearly everyone) flying past me as I gingerly picked my way around the course. The sand sections were much easier than I had expected, probably due to my mountain biking experience. You just need to let the bike go where it wants to go and push out steady power. I ended up doing three laps which was only one less than I would do in the race.

Life in the slow lane

Ours was the first race of the day. Due to the large number of riders, our category was divided into ME4A and ME4B. I was in ME4A which had 69 riders. My race number was 68 meaning I was right at the back of the start grid, which was 8 riders wide. As this was all a new experience, I was happy to be tucked safely at the back. Not for long. Within a few moments of the start, we were on the first steep climb which caused an immediate compression of the field. Then we were descending before turning into the second climb. I had no idea how much grip you get on narrow, spongy tyres, so I took the first lap carefully. Still, I had started to pass people, and inevitably the adrenaline was flowing thick and fast through my veins. I hit the sand determined to stay upright, as people fell left and right.

In cyclocross, there is a target time for each category, and the organisers decide the total number of laps after the fastest person had completed two laps. Our race was 30 minutes, which turned out to be just 4 laps. Those 30 minutes flashed by as I tried to improve my line on each bend and obstacle, and work out how fast I could go. It is important to carry speed through each turn as momentum is of course a cyclist’s best friend. Doing that without overcooking a corner is they key. Overall, I was very happy with my first race. Apart from the joy of riding around and around in circles on a grassy, sandy course, I had no problems and made no big mistakes. My first lap was inevitably the slowest, but after that I was very consistent:

Lap 1 – 7:13 / Lap 2 – 7:07 / Lap 3 – 7:01 / Lap 4 – 7:00

My main weakness is, well, weakness. I just don’t have the power needed to accelerate fast out of each bend or obstacle. Once I get up to speed, I can hold it, but that is not very useful in cyclocross which consists of repeated short efforts. I need to change my training and build explosive power. The good thing is I am still doing well for my age. I would have won the MM60 category, so Kimm was right that I should enter elite if I want a challenge. Next race, I will be further up the grid, and I will know more about what to expect.

Start of Men’s ME1 (category 1 elite)

Kimm’s ME1 race was not until 13:55, five hours after my race finished. I had a book and a beach chair, so I spent much of the time down by the sand section reading and watching the other races. At 13:55, fifty very fast looking riders lined up for the start. The front line was made up of pros; Kimm was a few rows back looking very focused. They started at about twice the speed of our race and kept it up for an hour. The winner, Hijiri Oda, was in a class of his own. He powered around the course in superman fashion. Kimm finished in an impressive 26th place.

Kimm in full flight

Cyclocross is really suited to Japan where race organisers have to battle against bureaucrat antipathy and general disinterest in cycle racing. Mountain bike races require mountain paths, which puts organisers up against hikers, multiple landowners, and local councils. Road races require police approval and a thousand petty permissions. Gravel races need long, connected stretches of flatish gravel roads which just don’t exist. All cyclocross needs is a small enclosed space and a single supportive owner or authority. As a result, it is a rather enclosed world. I barely knew there was a Japanese cyclocross scene, and I guess most people have not heard of it. Many people start off on the road, but after one or two falls on very hard asphalt, they find their way into cyclocross. Although falls are possible, the speeds are mostly low and the surface soft. My next task is to persuade other triathletes to put 33 mm tyres on a road bike and try this hidden sport.

Women’s elite

Race website Results Cyclocross Calendar

Kisarazu 3-Hour MTB Enduro

Mountain bike enduro is an officially sanctioned UCI race format with its own world series, the EWS. Each event consists of a series of timed downhills linked by non-timed uphill sections. There is a cut-off time for each uphill, so you have to pedal steadily, but only the downhill sections count towards your overall time. This video gives a taste of enduro racing.

In Japan, enduro means something completely different. You race around a circuit and the winner is the person who rides the furthest. Enduro, both on- and off-road, is popular as races can be held in a limited area without the need to close public roads. I’d never tried this format as it seemed boring to race around and around in circles; how wrong I was.

The only reason I entered the “Specialized Race Day in Kisarazu MTB Enduro” was because there are very few MTB races anywhere, and this one happened to be local. It was only a week after Shonan Marathon, from which my legs were still smarting, but I wanted to try out my relatively new Canyon Lux Trail in a long-distance MTB race. The Kisarazu race is a three-hour event on a 2.5 km course. Monotonous, surely, but it would be a chance to race on the Lux.

The race is at You-Port airfield

The enduro is at a small airfield which seems to be in the process of being built. A few helicopters landed and took off, presumably bringing wealthy individuals with more money than environmental sense, to play golf at the many courses in the area. It seemed strange that we should be riding on the world’s most efficient vehicle, while the world’s most inefficient one circled above us.

The yellow line is the course

It is not a pretty place, but the organisers had done a great job of creating a safe but challenging course which was suited to all abilities. There was a non-technical course for elementary schoolkids, divided into grades 1 & 2, grades 3 & 4, and grades 5 & 6. They raced with unbridled passion. There were definitely some future elite riders. The full enduro course was a mix of wide gentle gravel, twisting single-track around the forest edge, a technical section through the trees, and a short, quad-burning uphill.

There were a series of kids and junior races
Pit area

At the end of each lap there was a large pit area which was divided up into small squares marked with rope. You simply put your stuff in a square, and when needing more nutrition, you could ride in and grab it. This also meant you didn’t have to carry spares on the bike.

There were a lot of serious-looking riders with huge thighs, so I placed myself near the back of the mass start. I was planning to just learn more about MTB enduro in Japan, rather than race seriously, so positioning didn’t seem that important. And as it was a three-hour race, the start wouldn’t make much difference. Wrong on all accounts. The start was much faster than I had expected. We set off up the wide gravel track, which suddenly was nowhere near wide enough for all the riders vying for position, and then down to the first steep climb into the technical section. The first few riders got through, but then a long queue formed as slower riders blocked faster ones. It was a rookie error which I won’t make again.

Lining up for the start; I was near the back

The other thing I was wrong about was that I wasn’t there just to learn about enduro. The moment the klaxon sounded I was in full race mode, and I stayed that way for the next three hours. Each lap, I tried to learn from the previous one and improve my line or my speed or my braking. Gradually I discovered where it was safe to overtake, where I needed to surge to avoid a bottleneck, or where I should ease off and get a few moments recovery. Far from being boring and repetitive, it was enthralling. I focused on pacing myself, saving energy for the sharp uphills, staying safe on descents, and keeping hydrated and fuelled. The pits meant a diversion and loss of time, so I limited myself to two stops. I drank about 2 litres of water with salts, and three gels. Despite three intense hours of racing on rough surfaces, I had absolutely no discomfort. The Lux lived up to its name.

My Canyon Lux Trail was perfect for this race
The short climb felt very sharp by the 35th time.

I enjoyed the race so much that just before the three-hour mark, I raced to the finish line and crossed it with seconds to go. This meant I could do one more lap, which I aimed to make my fastest. The winner completed 38 laps in 3:01:26. I completed 35 laps in 3:04:54 to put me in 12th place out of 58 in the solo category. There were also teams of two riders and three riders who took turns to do laps, as well as eMTB categories.

In some ways, it was a strange event. It was organised by Specialized, who had loads of bikes lined up next to their tents, but I didn’t see a single person looking at them. There didn’t seem to be any information on the bikes, or test rides available. There was no store, and no gear for sale. There were 300 people racing, but nothing for them to spend their money on, apart from a greasy burger truck and a crepe van. Despite this, there was a good atmosphere. People had set up tents, tables and chairs for picnics. There was music on the PA, and kids running and riding everywhere. The thing which distinguished it from triathlon for me was the lack of rules and officialdom. The race briefing was a few minutes before the start and consisted of the race director saying you should pass on the right or the left and you can call out if you want to. That seemed to cover all eventualities. The biggest difference was on the course. Although I was one of the faster riders, I was never held up at all. I didn’t once have to call out that I needed to pass; instead, everyone kept left and then when they heard me coming up, they pulled over. I did just the same for those faster than me. It was like we were in this all together. Which I guess we were.

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