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.
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
Friday, October 28, 2011
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!!
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!!
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
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.
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.
Monday, September 19, 2011
NWA Mudfest 2011
As I arrived at Devil's Den State Park it had already been raining for a few hours. The rain continued to fall as I got suited up in the car to get a pre-ride of the race course before nightfall. I jumped on my Orbea Alma 29'r and after making it about 10 minutes down the trail, I flatted my 2.2 Race King and decided to fix it and turn around instead of getting lost in the woods at night. Generally I am all about getting lost in the woods at night, but not in the pouring rain, not tonight.
As I got back to the car, I decided it was a good idea to change my tires for something that would handle the amount of slippery mud and rock and roots that were going to be on the course the next day. I was slipping and sliding all over the place with my current set-up, even spinning out on uphills while seated. At the time I felt a little silly standing in the dark, getting rained on and trying to air up a UST set-up with no compressor while most other racers were huddled around a campfire eating and drinking the finest of camp brews.
After cleaning the mud off my ride, and getting a set of suitable tires on the wheels, I decided to curl up in a sleeping bag in the back of my V.W. wagon and get a good nights sleep while the trails got nice and soggy for race day.
The next morning, the gods seemed to smile upon us and grace the CAT 3, CAT 2, and single speeders with some semblance of nice weather and decent trail conditions.
Then all hell broke loose.....again.
The Cat 1 race got pushed back until 2pm due to all the rainfall, and ended up getting started in the rain anyway. The race was shortened to 3 laps instead of 4. Not that the bill at the bike shop is going to be any lower, that much mud still ruins every single moving part of a mountain bike. As I stood in a growing puddle of dirty water, under a slightly waterproof canopy, with a bunch of other cold, wet dudes, I started to calculate how much I could possibly win and how much the race was definitely going to cost me. I should have bought lottery tickets....my odds would have been better. However, I am familiar with "math" so I don't buy lottery tickets.
As the race started, I immediately took to the front. The sooner this was over, the sooner I could be warm again. It's amazing how many times I race faster because I know what going to happen afterwards.
I consider myself a pretty skilled technical rider, and I didn't want to find myself involved in any wrecks that I wasn't directly responsible for. This strategy seemed to play out pretty well for me, as there was a good bit of carnage happening.
Zane Jeffers and I hammered out 3 full speed laps without much regard to how dangerous the trail was when moving that quickly on wet rocks and roots. Our first 5.6 mile lap was right at 24 minutes. Faster than the SS crew that got to ride the trail before it was soupy and nasty. NICE.
I was having a flawless technical day on the trail. Everything I did just seemed to turn out for the best. I rode as if the trail were bone dry and the bike moved in a very sketchy sideways manner through just about every corner. I can't tell you how many times I braced for impact and managed to pull through and keep the rubber side down. There is no better/scarier feeling than going airborne off of a ledge, landing on muddy, rocky trail and sliding through trees while holding on for dear life. All the while feeling, somehow, in control. I guess all that training in crap weather is finally starting to pay off.
I was jamming on the flats, and railing the descents, so I was putting pretty good time on the rest of the field. By the time we hit Racer's Hill each lap, I would always see Zane start creeping up on me. I knew I had to keep pushing the technical areas in order to stay ahead. I wasn't feeling my strongest, but I was riding really well, picking solid lines, and reacting to the trail as close to perfect as possible.
Know what you are doing well, and work with it. That's racing.
I finished up with a first place finish, and a load of work to do on my bike. It was a much needed finish, as the rest of this year has been more full of "lessons learned" than great races executed.
As I got back to the car, I decided it was a good idea to change my tires for something that would handle the amount of slippery mud and rock and roots that were going to be on the course the next day. I was slipping and sliding all over the place with my current set-up, even spinning out on uphills while seated. At the time I felt a little silly standing in the dark, getting rained on and trying to air up a UST set-up with no compressor while most other racers were huddled around a campfire eating and drinking the finest of camp brews.
After cleaning the mud off my ride, and getting a set of suitable tires on the wheels, I decided to curl up in a sleeping bag in the back of my V.W. wagon and get a good nights sleep while the trails got nice and soggy for race day.
The next morning, the gods seemed to smile upon us and grace the CAT 3, CAT 2, and single speeders with some semblance of nice weather and decent trail conditions.
Then all hell broke loose.....again.
The Cat 1 race got pushed back until 2pm due to all the rainfall, and ended up getting started in the rain anyway. The race was shortened to 3 laps instead of 4. Not that the bill at the bike shop is going to be any lower, that much mud still ruins every single moving part of a mountain bike. As I stood in a growing puddle of dirty water, under a slightly waterproof canopy, with a bunch of other cold, wet dudes, I started to calculate how much I could possibly win and how much the race was definitely going to cost me. I should have bought lottery tickets....my odds would have been better. However, I am familiar with "math" so I don't buy lottery tickets.
As the race started, I immediately took to the front. The sooner this was over, the sooner I could be warm again. It's amazing how many times I race faster because I know what going to happen afterwards.
I consider myself a pretty skilled technical rider, and I didn't want to find myself involved in any wrecks that I wasn't directly responsible for. This strategy seemed to play out pretty well for me, as there was a good bit of carnage happening.
Zane Jeffers and I hammered out 3 full speed laps without much regard to how dangerous the trail was when moving that quickly on wet rocks and roots. Our first 5.6 mile lap was right at 24 minutes. Faster than the SS crew that got to ride the trail before it was soupy and nasty. NICE.
I was having a flawless technical day on the trail. Everything I did just seemed to turn out for the best. I rode as if the trail were bone dry and the bike moved in a very sketchy sideways manner through just about every corner. I can't tell you how many times I braced for impact and managed to pull through and keep the rubber side down. There is no better/scarier feeling than going airborne off of a ledge, landing on muddy, rocky trail and sliding through trees while holding on for dear life. All the while feeling, somehow, in control. I guess all that training in crap weather is finally starting to pay off.
I was jamming on the flats, and railing the descents, so I was putting pretty good time on the rest of the field. By the time we hit Racer's Hill each lap, I would always see Zane start creeping up on me. I knew I had to keep pushing the technical areas in order to stay ahead. I wasn't feeling my strongest, but I was riding really well, picking solid lines, and reacting to the trail as close to perfect as possible.
Know what you are doing well, and work with it. That's racing.
I finished up with a first place finish, and a load of work to do on my bike. It was a much needed finish, as the rest of this year has been more full of "lessons learned" than great races executed.
Monday, June 27, 2011
Hot and Dusty....and not in the sexy way.
Yesterday was the Three Legged Dawg XC event at Burns Park, right over in NLR. This is the only race I actually get to sleep in my own bed and sleep late. Nice.
3LD is known for being one of the hottest, roughest races in Arkansas, and this year was no exception. The Cat 1 field didn't actually get launched until around 11a.m, and I remember standing at the staging area, b.s.'ing with a few other racers and thinking " wow, its really hot, and I'm not even working yet".
I had no desire to lead this race from the get-go. Its a long XC race, dehydration always happens in 100 degree weather, and the third lap always ends up being a woozy-headed suffer-fest. I was going to avoid that this year.
As soon as we dove into the single-track, I knew that being 4th or 5th in line was a bad idea. I am still blowing dust boogers, and I think I have a rare case of brown-lung. The new trails were incredibly dusty with lots of rocks strewn about for good measure.
A few guys were really pounding away at the beginning of the race, and I didn't want anything to do with it, but I was kinda stuck in the middle of the pack. I raced on faith today(no computer), so I don't know any details:HR, speed, distance, that type stuff. Roughly 6-8 miles in, I lost my front tire on a loose section, and slid out.Nothing bad. Zane Jeffers with Bell & Co. proceeded to pass me at this point. (Congrats on an awesome race) This didn't help my mojo much, but it did allow me to start racing at my own pace for the day.
I rode by myself pretty much all day. I rode conservatively and well paced. I was in third place, and I was hoping to catch the guys in front on the third lap. Somewhere near the end of the second lap, I caught the guy that beat me at Hobb's 2 week's ago when I had a gnarly crash. Nice, the plan is working. Now to just keep plugging along and make up ground on Zane. The heat was starting to take a toll on me, and I decided to just keep pacing. I still had a long day in the saddle coming up Monday.
Well, my plan never came to fruition. I rode well, and I'm happy with my performance at the race, but I never quite caught back up to Zane. About a mile from the end of the course, another racer started closing in on me. The last mile or so of the course is the roughest of the rough areas at Burns, and I was getting bounced and bobbled around on my hard-tail quite badly by this point in the day. He started getting closer, able to pedal through the rocky sections on a full-sus 29'er, but once it smoothed out, I floored it all the way to the finish and held on to second place.
Time for BBQ and Beers.
Oh, and if you are wondering about the socks..... my legs were a bit sore from a hard week of training, so I donned some Swiftwick 12" compression socks and rocked out. They really help keep your calves from shaking and getting sore when you have to stand on descents and techy areas.
3LD is known for being one of the hottest, roughest races in Arkansas, and this year was no exception. The Cat 1 field didn't actually get launched until around 11a.m, and I remember standing at the staging area, b.s.'ing with a few other racers and thinking " wow, its really hot, and I'm not even working yet".
I had no desire to lead this race from the get-go. Its a long XC race, dehydration always happens in 100 degree weather, and the third lap always ends up being a woozy-headed suffer-fest. I was going to avoid that this year.
As soon as we dove into the single-track, I knew that being 4th or 5th in line was a bad idea. I am still blowing dust boogers, and I think I have a rare case of brown-lung. The new trails were incredibly dusty with lots of rocks strewn about for good measure.
A few guys were really pounding away at the beginning of the race, and I didn't want anything to do with it, but I was kinda stuck in the middle of the pack. I raced on faith today(no computer), so I don't know any details:HR, speed, distance, that type stuff. Roughly 6-8 miles in, I lost my front tire on a loose section, and slid out.Nothing bad. Zane Jeffers with Bell & Co. proceeded to pass me at this point. (Congrats on an awesome race) This didn't help my mojo much, but it did allow me to start racing at my own pace for the day.
I rode by myself pretty much all day. I rode conservatively and well paced. I was in third place, and I was hoping to catch the guys in front on the third lap. Somewhere near the end of the second lap, I caught the guy that beat me at Hobb's 2 week's ago when I had a gnarly crash. Nice, the plan is working. Now to just keep plugging along and make up ground on Zane. The heat was starting to take a toll on me, and I decided to just keep pacing. I still had a long day in the saddle coming up Monday.
Well, my plan never came to fruition. I rode well, and I'm happy with my performance at the race, but I never quite caught back up to Zane. About a mile from the end of the course, another racer started closing in on me. The last mile or so of the course is the roughest of the rough areas at Burns, and I was getting bounced and bobbled around on my hard-tail quite badly by this point in the day. He started getting closer, able to pedal through the rocky sections on a full-sus 29'er, but once it smoothed out, I floored it all the way to the finish and held on to second place.
Time for BBQ and Beers.
Oh, and if you are wondering about the socks..... my legs were a bit sore from a hard week of training, so I donned some Swiftwick 12" compression socks and rocked out. They really help keep your calves from shaking and getting sore when you have to stand on descents and techy areas.
Monday, June 13, 2011
Hobb's XC Race Report
Oww.
Not in the way that races are supposed to hurt either. This one really, really, hurt.
That night was an interesting one. Sarah and I tried a double hammock for the first time. Hmmm. Not sure how that is supposed to work. We would have gotten a better go at it, but it started to drizzle and the three of us that rode up together all huddled back in my Passat wagon for a good nights......sleep?
Woke up ready to ride some awesome trails that I hadn't seen in a roughly a year.
The race started off in the usual Arkansas Cat 1 fashion. Kinda fast tempo start, hit the single-track, and the group is immediately split apart. I was riding with a fast dude racing for BMC-Walmart for a little while. He was working the hills a bit harder than I was, but I was making the ground back up on some faster sections of trail. It was a pretty non-exciting race with me just yo-yo'ing any where from 10 feet to 10 seconds behind him. I was just waiting for him to peter out a little bit so I could pass him. I figured it was going to be around the 1h30min - 1h45min point. He was wearing a speed-suit, so I figured he was a short distance racer.
Then the race got realllly interesting. I was on lap two descending a long fast section of single-track at roughly 20mph when I accidentally caught my left Ergon bar-end on a small tree. Before I even knew what happened, I was lying on my back, bike on top of me, unable to move, and oh yeah, screaming. I laid on the ground for around 2-3 minutes before even starting to drag myself off the race course. I got to my knees, waited a couple minutes, and then started to stand. Wow, that hurts! Front-flip to back with rocks and roots for a landing zone. I chat with the ever-friendly Bob Ocken of Ocken Photography for a short bit and then get back on my bike to finish the race.
Once on my bike, the pain really wasn't so bad. I mean, it hurt really bad, but it was bearable. Pushing hard with the right leg however, not bearable. I rode conservatively, but still in a hurry. I thought that I had been passed by Drew Medlock of Competitive Cyclist, so I was trying to chase him back down and at least have a shot at 2nd place. When the race was over, it turns out that I did get 2nd place! Yay, now I can put that money towards replacing the helmet that I broke in the crash.
At least the Hobb's course was a great trail, and the atmosphere was great. I'll be back next year sans bar-ends for sure.
That is a baseball sized hematoma folks.
Not in the way that races are supposed to hurt either. This one really, really, hurt.
That night was an interesting one. Sarah and I tried a double hammock for the first time. Hmmm. Not sure how that is supposed to work. We would have gotten a better go at it, but it started to drizzle and the three of us that rode up together all huddled back in my Passat wagon for a good nights......sleep?
Woke up ready to ride some awesome trails that I hadn't seen in a roughly a year.
The race started off in the usual Arkansas Cat 1 fashion. Kinda fast tempo start, hit the single-track, and the group is immediately split apart. I was riding with a fast dude racing for BMC-Walmart for a little while. He was working the hills a bit harder than I was, but I was making the ground back up on some faster sections of trail. It was a pretty non-exciting race with me just yo-yo'ing any where from 10 feet to 10 seconds behind him. I was just waiting for him to peter out a little bit so I could pass him. I figured it was going to be around the 1h30min - 1h45min point. He was wearing a speed-suit, so I figured he was a short distance racer.
Then the race got realllly interesting. I was on lap two descending a long fast section of single-track at roughly 20mph when I accidentally caught my left Ergon bar-end on a small tree. Before I even knew what happened, I was lying on my back, bike on top of me, unable to move, and oh yeah, screaming. I laid on the ground for around 2-3 minutes before even starting to drag myself off the race course. I got to my knees, waited a couple minutes, and then started to stand. Wow, that hurts! Front-flip to back with rocks and roots for a landing zone. I chat with the ever-friendly Bob Ocken of Ocken Photography for a short bit and then get back on my bike to finish the race.
Once on my bike, the pain really wasn't so bad. I mean, it hurt really bad, but it was bearable. Pushing hard with the right leg however, not bearable. I rode conservatively, but still in a hurry. I thought that I had been passed by Drew Medlock of Competitive Cyclist, so I was trying to chase him back down and at least have a shot at 2nd place. When the race was over, it turns out that I did get 2nd place! Yay, now I can put that money towards replacing the helmet that I broke in the crash.
At least the Hobb's course was a great trail, and the atmosphere was great. I'll be back next year sans bar-ends for sure.
That is a baseball sized hematoma folks.
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