It is said that madness is defined as repeating the same action but expecting a different result. The madness of cyclocross is, whether cathartic or deeply meditative, the pain that washes over the body—urging, willing, pleading for the end of the repetitive motions that make the sport. Pushing through obstacles. Dismounting. Shouldering. Sprinting. Mounting. Off-camber turns. Sand pits. Mud bogs. Pushing through all of it while the muscles scream until it's just noise and the mind clears. Then…clarity. And the vision appears: the fastest line; the blessing of a perfectly packed, bermed turn; coursing through the sand pit like it's walking on water. Time slows, movements are fluid and there is no sound—except for the distant clanging of the cowbell. It's a call to cease arms and relent. But that's the rub—the madness of it all. There's no satisfaction until the action repeats. Again and again.