Although I’d
already signed up for the 12 Hours of Santos
well in advance, it quickly turned into an escape from the lovely weather we’ve
had here in Charlotte .
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Lots of other folks
had the same idea, so when I finally got down near Ocala ,
FL
It felt good to be
back “home” in the place I grew up with people from my current home. And it was good to be warm too until the next
morning.
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I can’t recall ever
having to scrape ice off of any vehicles I’ve owned, but I do remember it
getting cold enough to freeze. It was 32
when I woke up Saturday morning, but once the sun came up over the trees we
started to get warm again. I was ready
to see what I could do this year.
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Last year, I came
in with a horrible attitude and bailed after three laps (and wondering if I’d
ever race again.) This year, I planned
to race, or at least give it everything I had.
After a quick rider meeting, I dropped my bike at the neutral zone and
headed down in the Vortex pit to get ready to “run” for the start. I don’t run anymore, and I thought for sure I
would just casually stroll to get my bike.
When the race started though, I took off running just like most everyone
else. I grabbed my bike and ended up
somewhere in the middle I guess. I was
supposed to take it easy, but I found myself “racing” and riding hard to pass
people.
I felt fine, so why
not?
After the “parade”
lap (which was quite long and for some reason still didn’t spread everyone out)
I started to settle in. I still passed a
few people here and there, and some of the faster riders started passing me. I found a good pace that wouldn’t kill me and
I was feeling mighty fine. The short,
yet technical and steep climbs were hammered, and I sailed through the flat
stuff spinning at a comfortable pace.
Photo credit: GoneRiding.com
There was no
quitting this time I figured. I paid
attention to my fluid intake and made sure to eat whenever I could. After three laps my bottles were empty (as
planned), so I stopped for a refill.
Niner Mike was more than helpful, especially since I mentioned to him
that my front tire probably had too much air in it.
“This place is
beating the shit outta me.”
Mike: “How much air
do you normally run in the front?”
“I dunno. 25 p.s.i. I guess?”
You see, I’d
refilled my tire sealant a few days before and pumped up my tires ridiculously
high to help it seal and forgot to check the pressure before I started the
race. During the first couple of laps I
stopped real quick (a few times actually) to let some air out when traffic on
the trail caused me to have to dismount. I thought maybe I was close to the ideal
pressure up front after so many attempts. When Mike checked my tire and told me it had
30 p.s.i. in it I was shocked.
No wonder the rocky
stuff hurt so much. He dropped it down
to 25, which I realized later was still too much for running a rigid fork, even
at my weight. It was noticeably better
though, so the next two laps were a little more comfortable. I never did check the rear…
Stupid.
Anyway, five laps
in I was out of water again (all according to plan.) This time, Mike refilled my bottles and I
told him that I was gonna take a little bit longer break this time to make sure
I could last the entire race. I texted
the little lady really quick to let her know I wasn’t dead, ate some food, and
walked back over towards the pit area so I could stretch. I got a lot of encouragement from the
TotalCyclist team, as well as the rest of the crew in our
area to keep pushing. It was definitely
appreciated.
I wasn’t about to
stop riding, even though I’d already beaten my lap total from last year. I had a horrible headache, my back and neck
were killing me, and my left wrist was in pain (FROM A RIGID FORK AND TOO MUCH
STUPID AIR PRESSURE.) My legs (and my
mind) felt good though, so I hopped back on my bike to finish it out.
More tomorrow…
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