Skool of Hard Nox 50 Miler

August in Mississippi is arguably pretty miserable. It's hot, humid, and not very breezy. I don't really suggests planning any family summer vacations in South Mississippi.
However, if you find yourself in Mississippi and you happen to have a mountain bike, you need to find your way over to the Tombigbee National Forest and ride the Noxubee trail system. If it happens to be during the summer, you at least have lake access to squelch the fire on your head.

To further this point - if you happen to be in the area at the end of the August, be sure to sign up for the Skool of Hard Nox endurance MTB race. It's 50 miles of what has to be the best trail system in MS. Over 4800 feet of climbing in 50 miles, and the climbs were all composed of 25 foot kickers that seem easy at first and later start to take their toll.

The race started at a very reasonable 8am but was delayed to 8:30 due to a somewhat slow registration process. At 8:30 we were lined up and ready to....run? Yup, LeMans style start - not every racer's favorite, but a good way to break up the group early and avoid congestion at the start.

The race started out with a pretty hot tempo once we got off the asphalt and on to the gravel leading us toward the singletrack. I entered the singletrack in 4th place, but that would soon turn to 3rd as the leader pulled off and let a few of us around since we were moving faster. It didn't take long before the lead group had whittled down to Scott Kuppersmith and Kevin Connerly (locals), myself, and Tracy Martin from Louisiana.
After about 45 minutes of what seemed to be XC pace, I let Scott and Kevin ride ahead as I wanted to maintain a consistent pace from start to finish. Around the 1.5 hour mark Tracy and I caught up to Kevin and we all rode the remainder of lap 1 together. Once through the pit, Tracy fell off and Kevin and I hammered away in hopes of chasing down the leader.
We rode together through all the tight, twisty, turns and over hundreds of exposed roots for a good bit of time before I tried to make a couple attacks that ended up costing me. Kevin was falling off my wheel a bit on the steep climbs, so I thought it would be best to hammer those short hills and try to distance myself from him. It was difficult to do, though. After each kicker, Kevin would be back on my wheel in just a few seconds. Then, after about 5 or 6 attacks, I started feeling weak. I looked at my clock and realized I had missed a feed while I was focused on attacking.
I felt a bonk coming right away. I quickly shoved a Honey Stinger Gel down my throat, but it was too late.
I heard those painful words that nobody wants to hear when racing "let me get around you when you have a spot" It's a polite way of saying "Ge the hell out of my way!"
It took about 15 minutes before I started to get my legs churning back at race pace, but that was the last I would see of Kevin.
I hoofed it around the rest of the course not knowing how far behind 4th place was. With 4800ft of punchy climbing on the 50 miles, I was working pretty hard to maintain a steady pace in the nearly 100 degree heat. Turns out it was a pretty big gap, but better safe than sorry, right?

Lessons learned: mind your calories, and don't mistake a smarter riding style for a weaker riding style. Attacking is not always the answer.

All in all, it was a great race. Well supported and well managed. The only thing that could make this trail system better is some cooler temps and lower humidity. A great place to escape to during winter months. I'll find myself back in the Tombigbee National Forest again, but it might not be in August...

2012 Syllamo 125k

The Syllamo NUE 125k started the same way that most other mountain bike races seem to start. Wake up in a crummy motel and frantically get everything together for the day’s journey. No matter how much time you give yourself to get things ready, it always seems to be a little less than necessary.

We got to Blanchard with just enough time to throw on my race kit and get a short warm up while Sarah dropped my aid station bags for me. I only got about 10-15 minutes of warm-up before getting to the start line just in time to snag a spot near the front.

Little did I know that I was about to embark on what would be the most grueling, painful ride I have ever completed.

The race starts with a steep 1100 foot climb that immediately turns to technical single-track. Being in a good position at the top of the climb is critical for having a good run through the first 20 something miles of single-track.

I entered the single-track near the end of the lead group, roughly 10 riders. I was exactly where I wanted to be. I didn’t kill myself on the climb, but got in a good enough position that I wouldn’t have to worry about getting clogged when someone eventually bobbled some of the technical sections near the beginning of the trail.

Everything was going well until we hit the 2^nd aid station; we flew through aid station 1 without stopping. When we arrived at aid 2, I expected to have 2 bottles of fuel waiting for me. Instead, after waiting for 2-3 minutes as the aid station crew dug through a mountain of 1 gallon Ziploc bags with race numbers scrawled on them, I was told that I did not have an aid bag at this stop. Crap.

I’ll take a second here to interject a small factoid into this story. I have the stomach of a sickly child. I have to be very careful about what I put in my stomach as I race or I will quickly end up with a twisty, gassy, bloated belly. It ain’t fun.

After 4-5 minutes had passed, I decided to fill my existing bottle from the coolers that contained HEED. This way, I was hoping to at least have some calories in my system as I rode. I knew that it was going to be a struggle to ride strong on fewer calories than I need, but I didn’t have any other choice. It turned out that the cooler didn’t really have HEED in it. It was so watered down that calling it HEED is just wrong. It was more like water with a scant amount of HEED mixture added in to it. Each bottle may have had 50 calories and I require just short of 300 calories per hour.

Around the 3.5 hour mark I started to slow down. I could tell that I was starting to bonk and I needed to take in some calories. I knew I would be coming up on an aid station soon and they should have some of my fuel. Plus, I was finishing the most technical part of the trail; the rest of the race was comprised of primarily smooth rolling single-track.

By the time I got to the aid station, I was pretty wiped out. I wasn’t just in calorie deficit, but I was also super low on electrolytes. I grabbed my aid bag, put my fuel on the bike, and popped some caffeine and ibuprofen. I started to feel a lot better. A LOT better. I went from Granny gear to big ring in about 15 minutes. I was really far back from the leaders at this time, but I thought I might still be able to pull off a good race. After hammering around the fastest section of trail and catching several folks, I pulled back into the aid station to grab my last bottle of fuel. Only 25 miles left. This would require 2 bottles, but I am okay finishing a race on a bottle of something other than my mix as long as it isn’t anything too funky. HEED is generally okay. I took off still feeling tired and rundown, but I was able to push gears. Then, the wall hit me. I think my last bottle of fuel went sour as it sat in direct sunlight for several hours at the aid station. My stomach shut down and nothing would process. Back to granny ring, whole body cramps, nauseous, foggy headed, tired, painful breathing, locked up back, barely able to hold my body off the handlebars. I crashed several times, not sure where or how many, but I have the bruises and scrapes to prove it. I’ve never wanted to NOT be riding a bike so badly. I proceeded to ride the slowest 25 miles I have ever ridden on a bike occasionally having to get off and just sit to lower my body temperature. I didn’t have my HR monitor. I seemed to have left it on because it was dead before the start of the race. My HR had to be through the roof because my core temp felt like it was 100 degrees. I felt so hot, like I was in an oven. I honestly don’t know how I finished. I almost passed out a couple times while riding. I was in bad shape. When I finally made it to the finish, I was over 2 hours behind my time from last year, I had lost 13 pounds of body weight (that’s almost 10% of me), and I was told I looked a bit like a skeleton. I was still light headed, still nauseous, back still tweaked, and it still hurt to breath. We left soon after and I think I made it roughly 30-45 minutes in the car before losing what little was in my stomach. After getting rid of the spoiled drink mix, I felt about 50% better. Today, the day after, I feel okay. I hurt, I’m sore, but I’m not wishing for a bullet like I was 24 hours ago.

Lessons to be learned.

Always be prepared, in every aspect. I carry enough tools to be completely self sufficient in just about any mechanical situation, but somehow I have always just trusted that my drop bag will be there and I will have the nutrition I need to continue the race. I won’t make that mistake again. Also, give yourself more time than you would ever think you need to prepare for a big race. You’ll use it all, I promise.

Why 29" wheels aren't for everybody, and a dig at 2x10' drivetrains

I know, I know, this topic has been beaten to death many times over. But, I think it still needs a good, swift kick in it's lifeless ass. So, if anybody cares to read one more potentially useless, opinionated commentary that probably has more holes in it than Stan's could seal up, read on fellow opinion-holder. Read on.

First, let me introduce myself as a lover of all wheels, regardless of size, race, creed or religion. I attend the Universalist Church of wheel sizes. Everybody is welcome here. I will try to keep this sermon as short as possible, and to use as little industry jargon as I can. If you hear me talk about "an increased angle of attack" or anything fancy like that, please slap me and bring me back to the normal world. I apologize, but sometimes I black out and just start rambling about anything cycling that comes to mind.

Now, on to the argument at hand. 29" wheels have some distinct advantages over 26" wheels. They keep rolling with less effort than a 26" wheel, they roll over obstacles easier than a 26" wheel, and for taller riders, they simply make the bike fit better. However, they also have disadvantages that are directly proportional to their advantages. Before logging off and dismissing me as a "hater", hear me out. You can still call me a hater, but you have to listen to me rant before you do so.

29" wheels take more effort to move. Period. It is a bigger, heavier wheel and it has more inertia than a 26" wheel. This is good when you are moving and a bad thing when you are stalled or trying to increase your speed. Also, remember that fit thing I said earlier? Yeah, it goes both ways. I know that some companies have made 14"-15" frames that work with 29" wheels and can fit underneath a 5'2" female frame. I acknowledge this point and I don't think this is a terrible thing for some (read: a very select few) men and women, but I do think it's terrible for a lot of shorter men and, in particular, women out there.

Very, very, very rarely will you see me on a 26" wheel. I have ridden 29" wheels way before they were popular or mainstream. They work well for me. I like them. But, here's why. I am 5'10", an XC/endurance racer, and I like to think of myself as a stronger-than-average rider. 29" wheels fit under me with no problem, they cover more ground on each revolution than a 26" wheel does, which I like as a racer, and I don't seem to have a problem getting them started again if I stall on a technical climb......most of the time. Oh, I also don't think it's crazy when a wheel set cost $1000 or more, which means I ride pretty nice, lightweight stuff.

Now, before you go and say "Didn't you see Emily Batty tear it up on her 29'er, she's just 5'2"? ", hear me out. I am a big fan of miss Emily Batty, for more reasons than one. But, with all due respect, she's no ordinary rider and she doesn't ride ordinary equipment either. I'm here to discuss the everyday rider, the first time mountain biker, the weekend warrior.

My opinion is thus. If you are shorter than 5'6"-5"7 you should really think twice about hopping on the 29" bandwagon before considering everything that goes into it. If you are going to spend $5000-$10,000 in order to get a bike as fast and light as Emily's, disregard what I'm saying and go enjoy riding the hell out of that bike. However, if you are just getting started, or only looking to spend $2000 or less on a mountain bike, be aware that for every upside to a wheel size, there is a downside. Please consider the following:

1. Are you strong enough to push a heavier wheel up those steep climbs? An entry level 29" wheel set with tires can weigh close to 50% more than a 26" pair. Plus, read my rant on gears below for more ...

2. Are you going to be walking if your bigger, heavier wheel comes to a stall on a technical hill, or are you going to be able push hard enough to start it rolling again? When 29" wheels stall, they stall. I don't mean "Oops, I stalled, let me get started again".  I'm talking old Buick in the turn lane to the freeway on-ramp kind of stall. Pop the hood, look aggravated, apologize to all the traffic your holding up.....You just got some guy fired for being 5 minutes late to his first big meeting about advertising or the stock market or something. Can your conscience handle this?

3. Can you stand comfortably over the top-tube of your bike? You really need a couple inches or so of clearance, not just the ability to physically clear the top tube when standing over it. I don't know for certain, but I have heard from trustworthy sources that it still hurts when your crotch hits a top-tube even if you don't have balls there to cushion the blow.

4. Do you have enough upper body strength to control the bigger wheel? The 29" wheels certainly seem to track better in my opinion, but if they get off-course, it definitely takes more strength to get them back on track.

Don't get me started on 2x10 drivetrains... Just because it works for the professionals, doesn't mean it's right for everybody. I remember when there was no shame in a new rider dropping down to that 22tooth ring, shifting into the 34t cassette cog, and giving a 26" wheel hell up some steep climbs. Now we force them to ride a 26t small ring with a 36t cog on a 29" wheel. Here's a link to a gear inch calculator if you want to see exactly how much harder that is.  Hint-- it's a lot. Bigger hint, it's roughly 20% harder. Wow....

No wonder I see so many people walking their bikes on the trail. This industry is trying to kill it's newcomers!

So, when your friend asks what bike they should buy to get into mountain biking, please take a moment to consider all the options out there and the impact they have on the rider. Don't just point them to the newest, trendiest bikes out there, and don't assume that what works well for you will invariable work well for others. Not all of us are as strong and fit as Emily Batty, and not all of us can afford to ride the same equipment as she does. Also, hot. Not many of us are as hot as Emily. Don't know if that helps her much, but it sure as hell can't hurt.

Spa City 6 Hour Race

Bah... 2012 is starting off to look a whole lot like 2011, and I have got to do something to change that. I spent a good amount of time building trail karma in anticipation of the 2012 race season. It has to start kicking in soon.
Anyway, on to the title of this post. The 6 hour race was a race I had been looking forward to for a decent amount of time. It was a home course for me and it suits my riding style fairly well. It is a 10.something mile loop with roughly 1000 ft of climbing per lap and, while it isn't what I consider technical, it does take some handling skills to keep your momentum through all the corners.
The race started out with an abnormally long lemans style start which was pretty brutal on the ol' knees and ankles. I don't mean to complain, but I think I am...
The first lap was fast, and I came through the start/finish area about a minute or two behind the few guys like Byan Fawley and Tinker Juarez  that were really drilling it at the front. This was okay, it is where I wanted to be. I would much rather race to catch the few folks in front near the end of the race than be running too hot and burn out a few hours into an event. I firmly believe that endurance racing is won through intelligent pacing.
Lap two threw me for a loop. I don't think I have ever had a flat tire at Cedar Glades, and I usually run race tires. This time, I decided to run some heavier tires with reinforced sidewalls just to be on the safe side. Somehow, I still managed to get a flat tire. I'm not sure exactly what caused it.
I jumped off the bike and proceeded to begin fixing the issue. After getting a tube swapped in and hitting it with an instant inflator, I realized that the tube had pushed the tire over the sidewall in one area....Wah Wah.
This is when I start kicking myself in the ass. I always race with a hand-pump, but this time I opted for C02, and I only had one C02 device. I let some air out, enough to get the tire back on the rim, and put in the remaining air from my inflator.
This got the tire up to....oh, I don't know, 10 psi?
I decided to start cruising at whatever speed I could until I came up with a plan. About 5 minutes later I *happened to find* another c02 to use. -Thanks for wearing the jersey with loose pockets, Dave.
Now I was back up and ready to start reclaiming my position. The last half of lap 2 and all of lap 3 were pretty hot. I caught the majority of people who passed me during my last minor inconvenience.
This went on until the beginning of lap 4 when I realized that the rear end of my bike felt squishy. Not just a little soft.... Jello squishy. Warm, delicious, Jello squishy.
Crap.
At this point I began to baby the bike around the course in an effort to keep from making the rear wheel complete trash.
I failed.
When I came into pit after lap 4 my wheel had basically come untensioned. The nipples were just twisting loose on the spokes.
Double Crap.
It was starting to look like I was done for the day.
Then, I was lucky enough to be offered a bike from the one and only Todd Henne. Funny thing, it was the exact same bike that I competed on last time I did Spa City. I don't mean the same model, I mean the exact same bike....I sold it to him about a year ago.
The next two laps were fun. Painful, since I was on a single-speed, but fun nonetheless. I had pretty much given up on getting the result that I wanted, so at this point, I was just enjoying an absolutely perfect day to ride a mountain bike.
At the end of the day, after 60 something miles, I was smiling. I got to spend a perfect day riding a bike. Regardless of how well/terrible a race goes, its always another day on the bike, and that's something worth smiling about.
A quick shout out to Sarah Miller for being the best support person ever. Love ya.

2011 Comes to a Close....

The 2011 mountain bike race season has come as close to closed as the mountain biking season can get. The last local race went down in Hot Springs at the end of November, and the yearly state champions were crowned. Yes, there are good races going on in select parts of the country, and yes, some people are racing them.

However, most of us that have already spent way too much time training, racing, and traveling have decided that it is time to take a break for a little while and enjoy the "other" things in life. You know, spend some time with the loved ones, get reacquainted with the scores of friends that have been ignored and forgotten all year, eat some shameful foods, drink a little too much, all the things that normal people get to do on a regular basis. We get one month (if you're lucky) to squeeze all this stuff in. Truth be told, I don't know which is harder, the race season, or trying to accomplish 12 months worth of life in 4 weeks.

2011 was a tough season, a good season, but a tough one in all aspects: physically, mentally, and spiritually. I'm not getting into any religious speak here, don't worry, but at times, it can be tough to keep one's spirits up and stay happy and hopeful when things aren't going as expected. Now, don't get me wrong, this was a wonderful season with lots of new experiences, new things learned, new people, new places, and a happy ending; but that doesn't mean it was a fairy tale 100% of the time. There was a good deal of frustration, a touch of anger, and a whole lot of "why the hell am I doing this". That being said, I wouldn't change a thing if I had the chance. I learned from every bad experience, I gained patience every time I became frustrated, and every time I got angry, I realized exactly what first-world problems are.

My bike ride went poorly today....roof over my head, dinner on the table, running water, electricity, a great job, the internet in my pocket, reliable vehicle, people that love me. I can handle a bad bike race.

I think everybody that knows me knows why I had a tough season, I don't think I did a single "big" race that ended, or even started, the way I would have liked it too. Major mechanical trouble seemed to follow me wherever I went. If it wasn't a broken chain it was a slashed tire. If it wasn't a slashed tire it was a blown fork. It was just the way it was going to be last year. I didn't get the results that I really wanted. In fact, my 2010 results were better than my 2011, and I was in no way a better rider in 2010.

But, just as we can not focus solely on one race without being sorely disappointed at some point, we also can not focus solely on one year of racing. It's just not smart, and not healthy. Even though my results were less that optimal this year, I am a better racer than I was a year ago. I'm fitter, I'm stronger, I'm smarter, I'm more patient, and most importantly, I'm more experienced. And in that experience, I have found that the races you dominate don't really make you a better racer. They may make your race resume look good, and they are good for the ego and the spirits, but honestly, it's the real shit races that make you a better athlete. The races that break you down, beat the crap outta you, make you cry, and force you to finish. They make you tougher, smarter, better; not just as an athlete, but as a person. I did a lot of growing this year as both an athlete and a person, and I don't think I would be in the same place if I were able to cruise, problem free, through this prior season.

2011 was an amazing year, I'm glad I was able to take part in it, and grow in the many various ways that I have. I ended the year with the following gains: better eating habits, a successful on-bike nutrition regimen, better fitness, higher wattage output, a smarter approach to racing, and a state XC championship.

Thank you's are officially in order to several people.
1. Sarah Miller - for everything, especially never letting me quit. Ever.
2. Shaun Taylor - for coaching/advising/teaching/encouraging
3.Family and friends - for allowing me to pretty much blow you off all year, and then being there when I need you.
4. Chainwheel - even though I am no longer with them, they played an integral part in my life the last decade, and allowed me to be where I am now.
5. Spokes - Great people, great place. Thanks for the support.
6. Orbea - Both supportive and encouraging. Thanks for the opportunity. Oh, and great bikes.


That being said, training for the 2012 season started about a week ago (only a few hours per week, the real training starts after the holiday) and things are looking up. So far, I have more going for me this year than any year previous, and it's not even officially 2012 yet. I don't want to spoil all the fun, but let's just say that both good things so far start with the word "pro".

You know what, screw it, one is a racing license and the other is a sponsorship. You'll get the details later.

Berryman Trail Epic

I had been eagerly awaiting the BT Epic this year, since I had a really good race here in 2010. The trail suits me well: not a lot of road, decent amount of climbing, lots of single-track, and some varied technical area keep the race ever-changing. Last year started off a little hot for my taste and I ended up paying the price for it near the end of the race. This year I was going to be smarter and try to stay out of the 180+ HR range. I am also a bit fitter/stronger than I was going into the race last year.

When the race kicked off, the pace was explosive. Its amazing how many people will throw away the possibility of doing well in the race just for a $75 prime (pronounced "preem" for those of you not in the know) for getting to the single-track first. But, it does make the start fun.

By the time we actually hit the single-track, the huge group of hammers had dropped down to about 15 people that managed to keep up for the roughly 4 miles of dirt road rollers. I was right in the middle, behind Garth Prosser who races for Cannondale, and whom I finished behind last year.

We cruised for about 10-15 minutes on single-track at a blazing pace and everybody behind me seemed to have disappeared. I was the trailing end of about 8 riders that were all pretty damn fast. This was exactly where I wanted to be. I could ride my own pace without getting pushed from behind, and I didn't have to worry too much about the riders in front of me bumbling any techy sections. This was going to be a good day.

Then, luck took over. The first technical decent had some pretty good sized, pretty loose rocks that covered the entire trail. So, at 26 minutes into the race, I was pulled over on the side of the road, booting my tire with duct-tape, removing a valve core, getting a tube to put in, and pumping the thing back up. I managed to do all of this in only 6 minutes. Unfortunately, 6 minutes this early into an endurance race is an eternity. I was passed by over 60 riders. Seems like this may be my curse....

At this moment, I knew that it was going to be a battle. What was going to be a fantastic, fun, competitive race was quickly turning into a frustratingly epic struggle and a it was going to be a true test of my endurance racing capabilities. I knew it was early on and I still had 4 hours of racing in front of me, so I needed to be careful about panicking, pushing too hard, and blowing myself up before the end of the race.

It turned out that I didn't have that much control over the situation. For the next 2 hours, I battled a traffic-jammed race course that was really difficult to pass on, and just technical enough that I had to dismount a lot of sections where less experienced riders were walking. It's really hard mentally to know that you are off the bike, walking, for no real reason, and the guys in the front are just hammering along at twice my speed. You really start thinking "Why the hell am I even still racing, they are 5-10 minutes ahead, and they are moving faster than I am. How am I possibly going to catch any of them?" Nothing to do except keep moving on, taking any pass that I could get, hammering the short road sections and crushing the climbs. I was grasping for any seconds I could possibly put on the leaders.

When I hit the first checkpoint, I had moved from roughly 65-70th place up to about 40th.

Keep pushing

I hit the second checkpoint in 17th place. Now we're talking. At this point I had decided that instead of a top 3 finish that I was shooting for going into the race, I was now aiming to stay on the t-shirt.

 - side story: The guys and gals that run the BTEpic have a great idea of putting the top 10 finishers on the race t-shirt for the next year. I had just picked up the 2010 t-shirt the night before with my name in 6th place. - end side story.

The trails had cleared a bit now, so I could move at a much faster pace, but it was also taking a lot more time to catch riders. I was in No-man's land now. Between checkpoint 2 and 3, I passed 4 more riders. This meant I had roughly 1 hour to catch 3 really fast guys that had been riding in their comfort zone all day. It was going to be tough.

The first 2 racers came surprisingly quick. I was cranking as fast as I could, and I was screaming through the single-track. I somehow managed to stay upright all day which is not always the case when I am chasing on single-track that I don't know very well. I pinned it for what seemed like an eternity before coming across the last racer I need to swallow up in order to make the t-shirt.

As I came whizzing by, I saw a rider sprawled out on the ground next to his bike. Not injured, just beat. I stopped, asked him if he was okay, and then granted his request for food. I took a spare Clif Shot out of my back pocket, tossed it at him, and said something snarky like "Thanks" under my breath.

At this point, I was content with finishing here. I didn't stop hammering, I would have liked to get a little more payout money for my effort, plus, I couldn't risk getting passed.

I rode with a pegged HR of about 170bpm for the entire race, but I upped that to 175bpm to finish out the day on double-track and the most daunting 4 mile stretch of fire road that exists in Missouri.

Cruising into the finish line in a top 10, having no body issues (no stomach issues on an endurance event = success this year), and knowing that I raced extremely well, despite the tire issues, felt really good. I used Infinit nutrition, and it worked really well for me. I will be using it from here on out. 

Thanks for turning me on to Infinit, and everything else you have done,  coach!!

Springhill XC Race

Springhill is a great course that really caters to those that spend a lot of time of singletrack. If you can't carry your momentum through corners, and stay off your brakes, it can get a bit irritating and monotonous. However, if you can get in the rhythm of the course, it's a freakin' roller-coaster. A similar feeling to the Red trail at Syllamo, if you have ever been there. If you haven't.......go.

I managed to get in the rhythm pretty quickly. The start was a fast one, with one of the Bell & Co. riders going full-speed off the line and into the single-track. I stuck to his wheel until right before the single-track turned from easy passing to tight, windy, and loose in the corners. Then, I jumped him. I hit the woodsy single-track first, and immediately began pushing as hard as possible. I figured this race was going to come down to whomever could hold their speed best through the corners. The Orbea Alma has a lower bottom bracket than most other 29'r frames out there, and I was able to really rip through the loose, tight turns without feeling like the bike was going to run away from me. The more time I spend on this bike, the more I am loving it. Not to sound like I work for them or anything, but it is one hell of a ride; very possibly the best 29" hard-tail I have ridden.

I rode out front by myself the entire race, which is how I prefer it, so I'm not complaining. I kept pushing the pace, as it is hard for me to bonk on a sub 2 hour ride. I knew that someone would quickly be on my tail if I let up. A couple times throughout the race I would hear someone in the woods behind me, and I would look down to check my HR. It would be in the mid 150's.....oops. When I got my act together, and starting pushing again, the familiar sound of tires rolling and freehub whirring would fade back into the distance. With an average HR around 170bpm for the race duration and speeds up to 25mph, I know I was working. A lot of accelerating out of corners will really start to boost the HR and tax the legs, but sometimes it is unavoidable during races.
I was having a lot of fun through all the swoops and flowing single-track. It's a shame that Springhill Park is almost 3 hours away. It is a fantastic course, but I can get to the Womble or Syllamo in about the same amount of time. I don't think I need to explain that much further.

A big thanks to Mercy Cycling for putting on the event, I am already looking forward to next year's.