All in a day’s torture

“Are we riding bicycles or are we running?”

Local cyclist Dorothy Wong describes the basic confusion inherent in the mutant sport of cyclocross. “You’re getting on the bicycle, then getting off the bicycle, then getting on. You’re riding, then running and jumping.”

Confusion is a constant companion in the multi-tasking realm of cyclocross, which resembles a bike steeplechase race -- complete with hurdles you leap over with your bike -- except for the little matter of the hills. Often, riders are forced to negotiate slopes, sometimes carrying bikes on their backs because the incline is a steep wall of mud, the preferred track condition. It’s all in a day’s torture for cyclocrossers.

The event is finding a growing number of thigh-burning, lactic acid fans in the Southland, including Wong, the top female rider in the area.

“I was drawn to the absurdity of it,” says Wong, 38, an associate TV director. “It hurts, but you keep pushing as hard as you can to keep position.”

Cyclocross has its roots in Northern Europe, where it was hatched as a winter training routine for road-racing cyclists. It’s evolved into a competitive cycling discipline, with world, national and regional championships.

Hostile weather conditions are a key part of the crucible of the race, which includes natural and/or man-made barriers that force exhausted riders to dismount, hop over barriers and run or push wheels uphill. With the abrupt shifts from wheels to heels, it’s not uncommon to see a fatigued cyclocrosser fly face first into a puddle of mud after tripping over a barrier.

The sport is designed to work the rider’s entire body to develop bike handling skills and technique, strength and endurance. Wong draws on her inner taskmaster and the support of others to get through the punishing course. “You’re amazed at yourself after finishing,” she says.

This hard-core winter sport, fought in the rain, mud and frigid temperatures of ‘cross hubs such as Belgium has surprised some by taking root under forgiving local skies. But cyclocross is an intense blend of running, road cycling and off-road biking -- all prime Southern California outdoor activities.

The Southland has become a “hotbed” of cyclocross, says Andy Lee, director of communications for USA Cycling, the national governing body for cycling in the U.S., emerging alongside such traditional ‘cross strongholds such as the Pacific Northwest, Colorado and the Northeast.

Although the event lasts for only an hour, it’s intense and demanding. You can be soaked to the bone by freezing rain and slogging through 2 inches of mud while trying to hold or even improve your position. Already at your limit, you have to slam on the brakes at one of the nearly 2-foot-high wooden barriers that span the track, dismount, jump over the obstacle, throw your bike onto your shoulder and run up a 50-foot incline at full speed.

At the top, while still running, you hop on your bike, accelerate and tear for the next section of the course. Repeat this scenario a few more times and you have one lap of a cyclocross. Repeat it many more times and you have a race -- and a reason, some might think, for clinical observation.

A masochistic streak may be a helpful trait when it comes to cyclocross. “It’s not that bad,” chuckles Brent Prenzlow, a 35-year-old Web developer from Carlsbad who is the top elite rider in Southern California. “It is pretty intense ... like a time trial.” In other words, an all-out effort. Prenzlow puts in 15 to 20 hours per week of training throughout the year to keep himself primed for abuse.

Why? Don’t look for logic on a cyclocross track. “I was drawn to it because it was out of the ordinary. It wasn’t just getting on the bicycle and pedaling,” says Wong, whose cyclocross obsession may be the perfect calling card for her job at “Mad TV.”

Brian Starr is a freelance writer and cyclocross competitor based in Santa Maria.