RACE: Baarle, Het Laatste Nieuws

I did my first Belgian 'cross race on Sunday, it was an event in the Flanders CX Cup series. The series is sort of like the Cross Crusade series in Portland, numerous races throughout the day ending with the big boys race. Geography is the big difference - Portland may be cross mecca USA, but Flanders is cross Mecca. Period. This was an amateur event but you wouldn't know it looking at the pits; pit one had fifteen mechanics with wheels and bikes ready, pit two was twice that size.
I've been staying in Aarsele, a hamlet 15 miles from the site of the race. I woke up early, knowing I had a long day ahead of me. Looking out the window I knew the day wasn't going to get any shorter - it was raining streadily and puddles were forming in the garden.
I finished packing my small backpack and suited up for the rain. I set out, pedaling very light gears, saving my legs for the race. An hour later I parked my bike and went into the pub where race registration was being held. One year Flandrian racing licence: 5 euros. Deposit for rubber race number: 5 euros. Entry fee for 'cross race in Belgium: 3 euros! Thirty minutes in smoky pub: priceless, in a bad way.
The entry process was simple. You present your Wieler Bond Vlaander (Flandrian Racing Club) membership card to the registrar, registrar scans card, you are entered. There is no paper for, other than the sign in sheet. That's it.
Riders are provided changing rooms at all races here. In the case of Sunday's race they were the showers at the local football club. Since I was already in my rainsuit and riding gear I did a couple of laps on the course. Over half the the course was flat grass fields. Before the racing had begun the course was muddy and I knew once the lower categories had ridden it would be straight up nasty. I went back to the changing rooms and tried to get warm. I sat around for the next couple hours with my feet in hot water.
At the start the line up was smaller than I expected, probably thirty rider. The start was not too fast and I moved up to the front. My good position didn't matter though, as I was boxed in at the first corner and out the back in no time. I spent the next 45 minutes alone, chugging along through the mud, wishing I had a fresh bike in the pit and some 34mm tubulars instead of my Michelen clinchers. The biggest problem though was my bike getting completely bogged down with grass. When I got it washed after the race it looked like something dredged from the bottom of a lake. Sundays lesson: only race dry races or get a mechanic and a second bike, preferably the latter.