From left: Patrick, Papa Beeson, and Eric Beeson

Something about this year made me extra excited for cyclocross season … the way I used to get excited for a new school year. But now instead of looking forward to the smells of crisp paper and bookbags, I’m eager for the smell of wet grass, hearing cow bells and heckling.

And now my brother-in-law is sticking his little toe into the action as a Cat 4. He and my father-in-law made it out to races this weekend.

Patrick and I had decided, just this morning, that we needed to buy a canopy tent so he could train pre-race, regardless of the weather. We all stood under that tent for a little while to watch one of the early races. It was drizzling. There was a camping chair, cameras out, heckling.

When Eric got out on the course, I heckled the hell out of him. “No more resting! You can rest in twenty minutes!” “HAVE FUN! WHY AREN’T YOU HAVING FUN!?!!?”

And Patrick … he got the Spanish treatment. Cheers that he’d know were for him. “¡Vamos vamos vamos!” “¡DÁLE DURO, MOSTRO! ¡DÁLE DÁLE DÁLE!”

El Monstro.

He had a rough race today, but so did everyone. It was nasty and rainy and mud everywhere. There were crashes in every race I saw. Cow bells going crazy. Hecklers getting drunk.

This, of course, makes me more excited for the rest of the season. The plan is to buy a couple more of those camping chairs. To bring a cooler full of Patrick-brewed beer and good food. Maybe I could figure out a way to serve up spicy hot chocolate.

Breath in the cold air, deep. It’s good for the spirit.