I Do Dumb Stuff Sometimes

Like racing when I probably shouldn't. I headed out for lap three, full of confidence and knowing that I would catch up to Good Guy Greg. My legs felt really strong, and my bike handling had returned to somewhat normal. I'd even forgot that my shoulder hurt...


until I did something stupid.


Somewhere in the middle of the lap, I was hauling ass on a downhill with my crabon fork bouncing off every single root and rock on the trail. I was running ridiculously high pressure because I was afraid of burping the tire like I did in Minnesota, and it was starting to wear on me. I flew around a corner too fast and clipped a tree with my shoulder, aggravating my previous injury. I stopped for a minute and assessed the situation.


“I'm fine”, I told myself.


Except that I wasn't.

My shoulder started to swell a little bit, and coupled with too much air pressure (and a rigid fork) my right arm started going a little numb. I tried not to let it bother me, but the pain was starting to take over. It affected me the most when I had to stand up to climb, which was most of the time.


Single speed problems.


Plus, there was another issue. My bike was creaking like crazy and it felt a little loose in the front end. I wasn't sure what it was, and like you should do for any other problem I ignored it and hoped it would go away. I finally made it through that lap, and once again I rolled through the pit area without stopping. I wasn't about to lose any more ground.




I had plenty of water and food, and my legs were still as fresh as they were when I started. Lap four had begun, and at my current pace I was on schedule to complete six before time was up. I powered up the climbs trying to ignore the increasing pain in my shoulder, but my bike handing demons had returned. Fearful of crashing and concentrating on that horrible sound coming from the front end, I once again found myself taking it easy on the descents. It was deja vu all over again.



Somewhere in the middle of that lap, I was climbing up a hill when my shoulder really started to hurt. I couldn't pull up on the handlebars with any force on one side but I tried anyway. About halfway up I had to get off my bike. I grabbed a tree to try stretching it out to see if that would help. Just then, the MadSS came barreling by on a big, geared squishy bike. He asked if I was okay, and I said something that I can't remember right now. Big Crom rolled up moments later, and he actually stopped to see if I was okay. He said he was hurting pretty bad and he took a few moments to hang out with me. Eventually he got back on the bike.

Just before I headed back out I checked to see what was making that creaking noise and found that my headset had worked itself loose. Shit.




With about five miles to go, I babied my bike and my shoulder with the plan to address both in the pit area. I finally made it through the start/finish line and grabbed some tools to get to work.

It took me forever to get it right for some reason, and once I did I decided to sit down for a minute to see if the pain would go away. I popped a couple of ibuprofen and after sitting there for a few minutes I realized that I probably shouldn't continue. I didn't want to stop, but I kept hearing Lunchbox's voice in my head:


“Don't mess yourself up even worse out there.”


So just like that, I took the walk of shame up to the scoring table and pulled the plug on my race. Even though you can't really DNF a race like that, I felt like shit for calling it quits. I guess I did the right thing, but I decided to drown my sorrows anyway.

I hung out for a while taking it easy, and as the race came to a close I waited at the start/finish line for Good Guy Greg to finish. He was hurting, but finished the day with six laps.

I gave him a beer handup as he crossed the line. He earned that shit. I finished fifth that day, and I felt pretty shitty for even trying to get out there in the first place. This race was part of a three race series though, and when it as all said and done I found out that I was tied for third overall. However, since I bowed out early that meant Good Guy Greg got the tiebreaker.




So I had to settle for fourth overall.

Meh.


I got a pretty good prize out of it, and after a few beers my shoulder pain didn't bother me anymore. I figured that after six weeks I would be good to go but that wasn't the case. I'll give it two more weeks, because I have another race to attend.

Two weeks. Plenty of time.

Two Knives To A Gunfight

2013 6 Hour Grind on the Greenway. Six weeks to the day since my accident in Minnesota and for some reason I thought it would be a good idea to go out and “race” a rigid single speed for six hours. I'd ridden a total of three times off road since I got hurt, and that was good enough. Honestly, ready or not I just wanted to get back to as normal as possible before I went crazy. Sensing that I might have an issue riding on a rigid crabon fork for multiple rooty laps, I brought both of my single speeds.

Before I get started, I have to mention that Lunchbox didn't accompany me to the race. He was busy doing teenager stuff, so I don't have any “action shots.” You'll have to rely on my words.


Lucky you.


My morning started off with a proper breakfast. Well, most of a bag a Krispy Kreme doughnuts anyway.

They were juniors, so it was okay that I ate almost a whole bag.


I usually eat Pop Tarts before a race, but for some reason I decided to switch it up. It worked, because when I lined up at the start I felt pretty damn awesome. So, I made a plan. Line up at the front of the group, spin my ass of on my 32X20, and ride until I can't ride anymore. I was sure it would work.


We started, and after riding around a bit in a vain attempt to spread us out I passed through the start/finish line. Three minutes in, and my legs already hurt. Without any hard efforts on a bike in weeks I thought maybe I was in for a long day of suffering.


Turns out that would be the least of my worries. We hit the singletrack and I got my breathing under control and my legs started to come around. Sitting solidly in 3^rd place and feeling like I could ride all day, I didn't have a care in the world until the trail started getting a little technical. All of a sudden it was like I'd never been on a bicycle in the woods before. I was scared to death that I would crash and re-injure my shoulder, and with my confidence shot I was barely moving. Even on the downhill sections.


Before I knew it, Big Crom rolled right on by, and rather than try to chase him I decided that I could deal with fourth place. My skills and confidence would come back, I figured, but it wouldn't be soon enough. Moments later Good Guy Greg came up behind me and I let him by. I stayed with him for a while, even passing him again in a rock garden after he stopped to check his bike. He went by again, and I was left wondering why the hell I was even out there in the first place.


I rode the rest of the lap at a cautious pace, slowly starting to feel like I knew how to ride a bike again. A few people passed me here and there and I passed a few as well. With a short distance back to the finish line (and only half of a water bottle consumed), I made the decision to blow right by my tent and keep this party going. My legs still felt awesome, and my confidence was slowly coming back.


Good Guy Greg didn't stop either so I knew I was chasing him down. I had a lot more control on lap number two so I went much faster this time. As a bonus, my shoulder didn't really hurt, aside from a dull ache that was there before I started. I mashed up climbs, powered over roots, and at one point I felt like the baddest mountain biker on the planet.


Just me, my crabon fork, and one fucking gear.


I didn't see too many people on that lap, and with my new-found confidence and still strong legs I decided to bypass my pit once again. I'd only gone through one bottle at that point, and I had plenty of stuff from Honey Stinger to eat.

I was out on lap three and making good time. No pain, legs felt good, and my bike practically steered itself down the trail. Things couldn't get any better.


They could get worse though.


Tomorrow, part two.

Halfway Through Hell

Out on lap three, I started thinking about how the MadSS had been taking care of me.  Making sure I ate, drank plenty of fluids, and took it easy when my body told me to.  He said I should rest on the climbs, which I couldn’t figure out how to do on a single speed.  Still, I was trying to heed his advice, especially the drinking plenty of fluids part.  I was, and after barely a mile in, I had to pee.

Bad.

I pulled off the side of the trail, did my business, and got on my way.  My legs didn’t feel too bad, and I was making sure not to exert too much effort on the climbs.  I even walked a few of the steeper ones just to be sure.  I wasn’t moving at a fast pace anymore, but at least I was moving…

Until I had to pee again.

Starting a race dehydrated and then trying to rehydrate took its toll on me, and now my bladder was protesting.  I ended up stopping to relieve myself three more times (for a total of five potty breaks if you're counting.)  I’m sure I would’ve made decent time if I didn’t have to piss so much.  There was nothing I could do about that, and at least I wasn’t dehydrated anymore. 

And I didn’t have to resort to extreme measures.

Eventually the lap was coming to a close, and I saw my kid again waiting for me.

 Photo cred:  Lunchbox

The leg cramps had returned full on this time, and as I made the climb up the hill to the start/finish line I couldn’t wait to get off of my bike.  Unfortunately, I had to just stand there in front of my tent again until my legs allowed me to dismount. 

Eventually I could walk around, so I had another beer, ate some more food, and refilled my water bottles.  I decided to have a sit and take it easy for a little while.  Although I couldn’t foresee completing six laps that day, I knew I could at least get five in if I rested for a bit.  When I finally got back on the bike, I had enough time to ride for two more laps before the cutoff.

Or so I thought.

Heading out for lap four I was tired, mentally and physically.  My leg cramps were gone again though, so I focused on getting through the lap without any issues.  A few of the climbs didn’t seem so bad, but the longer ones were starting to wear on me.  Of course I walked a couple of the steeper ones, but things were different this time.  When I would get to the top, I had a hard time getting back on the bike again.  Eventually I would get going, but my legs felt like bricks.  The cramps had come back too, and I was getting a little dizzy.

I started to wonder if I would even make it out of there.

The trail looked totally different this time too.  Even though I am very familiar with that trail, I felt like I was riding it for the first time.  I was flailing all over the place on the downhill, and although I never crashed I sure felt like I would at any time.  Shit was getting real crazy, but I had to go on.  Plus, all the weird food combinations I’d been eating had given me a case of the riding farts.  It’s probably a good thing that no one was behind me for any length of time.

At the top of one of the climbs (I walked again), I tried to get back on my bike and my legs wouldn’t move.  Even though I commanded my left leg to throw itself over my top tube, it didn’t listen.  The next thing I knew I was leaning on a tree, holding on to my bike, and I swear I saw Bigfoot out there laughing his ass off at me.  After waiting out there for what felt like hours, I started to realize that I need to somehow get my ass moving again.

I did, and I still don’t know how. 

I looked down at the clock on my bike computer, and realized that I’d been out there too long to make it back in time for another lap.  Yeah, that was still on my mind even though I was struggling through this one.  I had recovered enough to ride a little bit, but the legs cramps were still there.  Eventually the trail starting looking familiar again, and I knew I didn’t have far to go.  I saw a few other people out there hurting like I was, but I wasn’t about to stay out there and die on the side of the trail with them.  I used every little bit of energy I had left, and mashed the hell outta there with all my might.  I was pissed about such a shitty race performance, and I took it out on the trail.

Eventually I mashed my way up the last climb to the finish line.  I grabbed another beer and thought about what I had just done.  Four laps (and four beers) in a little under six hours, and I felt like shit.  I finished last (but still in the top ten because there were only nine of us), but I didn’t expect to do anything spectacular out there anyway.

We spent the rest of the day hanging out and finishing off the beer, and I might have even redeemed myself as "The Dicky Handler" since I got him home all safe and shit.

Maybe tomorrow I can recap this recap.

Or something like that.

Pickles And Beer

Does not a make a good race strategy.

The 6 Hour Grind On The Greenway kicked off Saturday morning, and I was as ready as I thought I should be.  I haven’t been on the bike much, but I wasn’t worried about that.  These kinds of races are mostly mental anyway, and mentally I was prepared to ride for six hours on my single speed.

We got there with plenty of time to spare (thanks to Dicky making me pick him up at 7:52 a.m.)  The MadSS saved a spot for us, although he wasn’t racing.  He was there to support his wife, and it turns out that he would support me as well.  He’s all into that training stuff, and he has a lot of good info that I should probably listen to.  After picking up my race number, shooting the shit with the other racers, and getting my stuff ready, it was time to line up.

I forgot to eat breakfast before I left the house, so I wolfed down a cereal bar and a Honey Stinger waffle before I rushed over to the mass start.  We rolled out, and I tried to heed the advice from the MadSS to not get caught up in the sprint for the woods.  I couldn’t really keep up with most of the geared riders in the beginning anyway, but once we hit the course I was pushing hard.

I got in a group, and we were making good time. My legs (and lungs) felt good in the chilly morning air, and I was riding a lot harder than I normally would for an endurance race.  Riding in a group was frustrating though, because everyone kept riding their brakes on the downhills.  Knowing I needed momentum to carry me up the climbs with only one gear, I took off and passed everyone in the group on a climb.  I tried to put in a gap on them so they wouldn’t have to pass me again, and the result was a super fast pace.

Way too fast for my big ass.

I started catching (and passing) lots of riders on the first lap, which is unheard of for me in a six hour race.  I thought about backing off, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it.  I was feeling too good to slow down.  I was on schedule to finish the first lap in well under an hour, and just as I rode the last section of singletrack I saw Lunchbox hiding in the bushes.

I rolled into the pit area, and the MadSS asked me what I needed.  I told him I required a beer, and he grabbed a tasty IPA from the cooler and opened for me.  I chugged it down, and he noticed that I had barely touched my water bottles.  He told me I should drink more, and I said I would.  It was a mistake that would bite me in the ass later.  I ate a couple of pickles and rolled out to hit the course again, determined to slow down a bit so I could last all day. 

Doug (who finished the first lap right behind me and was also in the group I rode in), rolled out right behind me.  I told him that I couldn’t run that same pace again for the second lap.  I was full of shit though, because I pushed it even harder this time around.  My pace felt way too fast again, and about halfway through I felt my legs cramping a little bit.  I ate some Honey Stinger chews and another waffle, and made sure to drink both of my water bottles during the lap.  On the last climb out to the start/finish line, my leg cramps hit me full on.  I barely had enough power to make it up the small hill.

Shit.

Pulling up in front of my tent, I couldn’t even get off my bike because the leg cramps were so bad.  The MadSS told me I was overheating (it had warmed up a bit), and that I needed to cool down.  I pulled off my DeFeet arm and knee warmers, and drank another beer.  The MadSS put some ice in the center pocket of my jersey, and told me that it would cool off my ass crack.  Although that sounded like an odd thing to cool off, I didn’t argue.  He really knows what the hell he’s talking about.  I ate some more food (including another pickle), and drank some water and orange juice.  I rested a lot longer than normal after that lap, and I pretty much had to get kicked out of the pit to get back on the trail.  I was hurting far too early in the race, and I wondered how much more my body could take.

I eventually rolled out for lap number three, and my legs felt a little better…

At first.

Tomorrow:  Part two.

Not As Difficult As I Thought

We were nearing the end of the Grind On The Greenway, and I was feeling good. It was probably because I was sitting on my ass half of the time, but whatever. In fact, every time I saw the MadSS come through the start/finish line, I was kicked back eating and drinking. I’m sure he got a chuckle out of that. At least I didn’t bust open the beer until the end of the race I guess. I worked hard when I was out there, so I got to relax a bit when Little Miss Sunshine was doing all the work. It’s not like I was wrestling alligators out there on the trail or anything.



Before you ask, yes, that is a real alligator. I only photochopped the location to fit my ramblings. Anyway, after I came in from my lap, Little Miss Sunshine went back out (that’s how it works in a duo, you know.) She was feeling much better, and probably pretty excited that the trail was in better shape. I plopped down in my chair and drank some fluids, and ate my pic-a-nic lunch. Much faster this time, Little Miss Sunshine completed her lap. I was ready to go out for one more, but that would be the last one. I wouldn’t get back in time to make the “last lap” cutoff, so the plan was to take it easy and enjoy the extra miles.


The Dirty Party Cycle had come in from his third lap while I was waiting for the wife, and I told him if he was ready that he could ride with me. By the time I got ready to head back out, he was right on my wheel. We would finish this race together, and hopefully under six hours.


I took off as fast as I could down the gravel road to the singletrack, but I had left my pal the DPC. I slowed down a bit and apologized, and promised to keep a more “controlled” pace. We shot the shit along the way, and most of the time I had forgotten that we were racing. Well, that is until some of my super fast biker pals came flying by with about two miles to go. I picked up the pace, and told the DPC to come along. I told him that we could easily finish under six hours, but we’d have to push it a little. In my haste, I actually left him and didn’t realize it. Later he said he didn’t mind, but I still felt like an ass.


As I made my approach to the finish line, I mashed up the last climb. It was over. The DPC came in only a few minutes behind me, and we were both under six hours. Awesome. He completed his goal of four laps, and he didn’t look like he felt too bad about it. As for me and the wife, we got in a total of five laps in under six hours. It was good enough for fifth place. She did really well for her first ever endurance race, and I think she may have been bitten by the bug. In fact, she’s already planning on another one in the near future. I’ll bring that one up another time.


We had fun afterwards at the awards ceremony. Although we didn’t win anything, it didn’t matter. I was so proud of the wife for getting out there and riding her bike, so she’s a winner in my book. Even my racing pals would agree.



Starting left going clockwise, Eric, Rod, Terry, and the MadSS. Told y’all I’d make you famous on the Internets. Now you can just stand by and wait for the money to come rolling in. See ya tomorrow.

It Was Rough At First

Yesterday’s “race report” didn’t even get into the actual racing part. Anyway, when I left off I was off on the first lap. I went out really hard from the start/finish line, and I was still in a pretty big group. Once I got into the singletrack, I thought I could pick up the pace a little. That worked well for a few minutes, until I came up to yet another traffic jam. This time the culprit was a bridge that was barely wide enough to get across with a bicycle. In fact, my own handlebars were too wide to clear the posts on either side. That didn’t matter on lap one though, because by the time I got within sight of it we were all walking with our bikes. Someone had crashed pretty good, but I didn’t really get a good look at it. I just saw asses and elbows. Once I got past the bridge though, it was on.


I was flying through the wet, sloppy trail, pushing as hard as I could. As usual, it got the better of me and I had to back off. I was still passing a few people, but more were passing me. My goal was to get that first lap finished in around and hour, and I was starting to wonder if I could do it. The trail wasn’t too bad (mud-wise anyway), but the wet roots made it difficult to keep traction on the climbs and switchbacks. I didn’t crash, but I had to dab a few times to stay upright. I calmed down a bit and decided to pace myself.


I had told Little Miss Sunshine that I would be back in an hour, but there was a chance that the wet conditions could alter my plans. After my legs and lungs recovered though, I settled in and tried to avoid the slick stuff. I started getting into my groove, and I felt great. I guess it helped that I knew I would be able to rest after I hammered out a lap. I just hoped that the trail would dry up a little before the wife had to head out for her lap.


On one of the bigger climbs, I saw about ten people walking with their bikes. As I climbed by the hike-a-bikers, I said, “There are an awful lot of roadies out here today.” I don’t think anyone else found that to be funny, but I sure as hell did. Those fully-kitted roadie types don’t climb on the rocky rooty goodness so well, and I was getting a kick out of it. At least I had something going for me. Someone passed me by and asked if I brought beer, which had me laughing out loud. Yes, I was having a grand ol’ time.


There were mile markers all over the trail telling me how far I had gone. I kinda liked that, since I knew when I could turn it on to get the hell outta there. At the 8 mile mark, I picked up the pace and headed for the exit. After around 10 miles (including the little extra we did at the start), I approached to rendezvous point. Little Miss Sunshine was waiting, and we swapped out the timing chip. I told her to be careful of the wet roots, but to have fun and ride at her own pace. And just like that she was off.


When she left, I changed out of my jersey and put on a t-shirt. I plopped my ass into a chair in the pit area and ate a little bit. It felt weird to relax like that, but it was a nice change of pace. Shortly after I got situated, the Dirty Party Cycle came in from his first lap. He was feeling pretty good so far. He took a short break and headed back out on the trail. I resisted the urge to crack open a beer. Instead, I drank some Gatorade and propped up my feet on a stool.


After about an hour, I got ready to ride again. I had heard from another rider that Little Miss Sunshine had crashed, but it was nothing real serious. When she came back, I asked if she was okay. She said she was, so I hurried off for lap number three. We were doing fine time-wise, but more importantly we were still having a good time. I was well rested, so I pushed myself pretty hard to see if I could get in a better lap time.


Just like my adventure at Warrior Creek a few weeks ago, the trail down there had dried up considerably. It was getting pretty hot outside too, and I was loving it. My rest and relaxation time had served me well, and I was full of piss and vinegar. I had way better control this time, and I was going a lot faster for sure. It’s amazing what I could do after being able to rest so much between rides. I had plenty of energy to climb, and I rarely had to get out of the saddle. I hadn’t felt this good in a race in some time, so I was definitely enjoying it. I passed more people than usual on that lap, but I still got passed by much faster riders too. I was riding at a good pace (for me), and I didn’t want it to end. Before I knew it though, I saw the inevitable mile marker number 8. It was time for the home stretch.


And just like that, it’s time to end today’s post. With the short attention span of my readers, I feel it’s best to finish this long-winded post tomorrow. See ya then.

I Had My Priorities Straight At Least

Yeah, that was the main item in my packing list for the Grind On The Greenway, a case of Loose Cannon. It wasn’t my first endurance race, so I knew to only pack the necessities. Little Miss Sunshine however, was doing her first one so she requested that we bring more stuff.



We had plenty of provisions, so no worries there. There was only one problem: the weather was not cooperating. It had rained pretty much all night, and it was even drizzling when I hit the road on Saturday morning.



Another race in the mud…fabulous. I wasn’t too worried about it for me, but Little Miss Sunshine might have a hard time in the sloppy mess. She was already nervous as shit anyway. When we got there, we set up our new home for the next six hours.



I was ready. Little Miss Sunshine was ready too, especially after much encouragement from all of her cycling friends out there. Did I mention that the Dirty Party Cycle was there doing his first solo race? Since all three of us were racing, there is a chance for a severe lack of photos (I’m just warning you.) Anyway, The DPC and I headed down to the starting point (some half a mile from the actual start/finish line.)


Little Miss Sunshine had plenty of time since I was going first, so she grabbed the camera. We took a modified route on our way to the start finish line, and it was supposed to spread us out. I fought my way up to the middle of the pack, but it didn’t do any good. We entered on section of singletrack before the start/finish line, and the whole pack came to a complete stop. After a minute or so, we got into the woods. I pushed and pushed, and made my way to the start/finish line to “officially” start the race.



I was pushing pretty hard at the start, but I was having fun. My plan was to haul ass on the first lap, to give Little Miss Sunshine the opportunity to go out on her lap and relax a little and enjoy the ride. After I posed for that photo, I put the hammer down to get to the woods.


Up next was the DPC, who wasn’t too far behind me in the pack. He was leading his group into the start/finish area.




Guess what? I’m cutting it off here. You knew I would do it, so don’t be surprised. I have to drag this shit out at least two days, so tomorrow should be the end of it. I guess that depends on how slow things are around here. I’m such a tease, but you know you like it.

Ride It Like It’s Hot

Yep, it’s time to do some riding. The six hour variety, in fact. As I’ve been telling you the last two weeks, I won’t be doing it alone either. Sure, I can ride my bike for six (or even twelve) hours, but I’ve decided to take on a partner. My first ever endurance race was part of a team, but after that I’ve been doing them all by my lonesome. Not because I’m some kind of bad ass on the mountain bike or anything, but because I just wanted to see what I was capable of doing. I already know that I can hang during these endurance events, but my partner has no idea. Who is it? Well, some of you may already know. If you had no idea, then here is your first clue.





Yup, my partner for the Grind On The Greenway is none other than Little Miss Sunshine. This will be her first endurance race, and she’s pretty excited about it. She initially wanted to team up with one of her girly friends, but that didn’t happen. She also briefly entertained the idea of joining Lunchbox on that adventure, but he won’t be back from Florida until late that evening. I offered up my expert services as an endurance racing partner, and she accepted. She has no idea what she’s in for.



Can we win? I have no freaking idea. The co-ed duo category is usually well represented, so we should have some fierce competition. The plan isn’t to win though, because we are just going out there to see what she can do. I told her I would go first, and do my best to put in as many hot laps as I can. That gives her the chance to go out there and ride at her own pace, and enjoy just being out there. If we get on the podium, then of course we would be happy. I’m not putting that kind of pressure on her though, because I don’t want to make her uncomfortable. My first-ever endurance race got me hooked on it, so I’m hoping that she will find the same joy I did. Who knows, maybe she will start doing them solo after this one.


Speaking of racing, I missed out on the kickoff of the Summer Series, held at Colonel Francis Beatty Park. I didn’t even try to make it. I use to try to get to all of them, but now it’s a little more difficult to make it there on time after work on Wednesdays. There are fifteen races left in the series, so maybe I’ll get a chance to mix it up with the local crowd soon. If anything, it will get me at least one competitive ride during the week to stay on track for the Southern Classic Series. The plan is to do a few of these Summer Series races this year, as opposed to the whole series like I usually do. The Southern Classic Series is taking up a lot of my free time, so I had to cut something out. Maybe I’ll attend a few of the races just to be a cheerleader or something.


Even though tomorrow is a “holiday”, I’ll be here. It probably won’t be much, so be warned.

The Grind Continued (Just For The Sake Of Dragging It Out)

With lap three in the books, I was fairly pleased. I knew for sure I could get in two more laps, so I actually started thinking about going for a total of six. I stopped in the pit area for the usual exchange, and made sure I ate enough food for the long haul. During Warrior Creek, I didn’t eat nearly enough, so I was at least doing better in that aspect this time. I rested a little longer though, just to make sure I would have enough energy to continue. Total pit time after lap three: twelve minutes. I saw Doug cross the start/finish line, but he appeared to be heading for the bathroom or something. I took off again, and saw Lunchbox waiting with the camera:



Yep, I was really smiling. Three laps, twenty-eight and a half miles, and I felt good. I big-ringed it down the gravel road and got ready to tear it up for lap four. As soon as I got in the trail, I clipped another tree. Shit. This time it was my right leg, but it didn’t really faze me. I was worried that I was making dumb mistakes out there, and they would get worse. Luckily though, I didn’t hit anymore trees on that lap. I started to feel a little tired about halfway through, so I popped a couple gel shots and dug in. I still had plenty of time, so I backed off a bit to regain some of my focus.


When I finished lap number four, I actually felt like I had accomplished something. All I had to do was one more lap to meet my goal, but I had time to do two more if I planned it right. I headed for the pit area and sat down. After wiping my head with a cold towel and drinking some water, I loaded up my pockets with more food. I ate another sandwich and grabbed only water this time for the trail. I was starting to get a little sick of the Cytomax. You can only drink so much of that shit I guess. I headed back out for lap five feeling okay. It was around 3:30, so I had to hurry if I wanted to get in two more. Total pit time: sixteen minutes. Shit, too long.



Lap five would prove to be interesting. I managed to avoid cramping for the most part, but I knew it was coming. Every time I stood up for a climb, I felt a little fatigue in my legs. I shifted to a lower gear and tried my best to spin on the climbs for there on out. I bombed the downhills with reckless abandon, and at one point I nearly rode into the river. The stupid mistakes returned, capped off by another tree incident. Five laps so far, five trees touched by my extremities. It was so ridiculous that I had to laugh, even though a few of them hurt a little.


Lap five would prove to be too much for me. My slower climbing had pushed me over the edge as far as having enough time for six laps, but at least I would make my goal. At one point I even rode the wheel of one of the super fast guys for about two minutes. I don’t know where the hell that shit came from, but it was fun while it lasted.


When I heard the now familiar sounds of the crowd at the finish line, I fought my way through the fatigue and climbed out of the trail. I crossed the finish line at five hours, fifty-one minutes with a total of 47.5 miles. I met my goal, and I didn’t feel even close to as bad as I did when I finished Warrior Creek. By the way, Doug didn’t go out for a fifth lap, so I met my secondary goal as well. Maybe there is something to this whole 29er thing, or else I am actually getting better as the “season” goes on.


We tore down the pit area, enjoyed some fine frosty beverages, and headed home. Another endurance race in the books, and I really enjoyed it. I ended up in 22nd place out of 31 riders in my class, so there were a few people out there that sucked worse than me. My Awesome Strap held on tight, and luckily I didn’t have to dig into it for anything. No mechanicals, serious crashes, or even a flat tire. It was a fine day indeed. I think I’m really starting to like this endurance racing stuff.

Grinding Away

So yeah, this past Saturday was the 6 Hour Grind On The Greenway in Fort Mill, South Carolina. I survived, obviously, since I’m here talking about it. It’s safe to say that my second solo endurance race went pretty well. My goal was to complete five laps on the nine and a half mile course, which I felt was a lofty one since I struggled mightily at the 6 Hours of Warrior Creek last month. I’m new to this whole endurance racing thing, but I kinda felt like I’ve learned a few things since the last one.


The day started out sort of early, with me packing up the usual crap. The Big O: check. Cooler full of food: check. Tools: check. Tent and chairs: check. Cooler full of tasty beer: double check. Can’t forget the beer, right? Anyway, I got everything set up, listened to the pre-race briefing, and I was ready to “race.” I had no idea if I could last six hours out there on the trail, but I was gonna give it my best. At eleven o’clock sharp, the race started. I took off with the pack, and settled in at my usual position near the middle.



It was pretty much a logjam most of the first lap, so I hung in there and kept up my speed. Even though I was trying to pace myself for five laps, once again I got caught up in the “racing” aspect of it all. Damn it. I felt fine though, so I kept it up. The trail was in great condition, and it was super fast. The fact that I was riding big wheels this time made it that much easier too, what with the abundance of roots and rocks on the trail. I did however, clip a tree with my shoulder on a descent, but it didn’t disrupt my flow too much.


When I completed the first lap, I wasn’t even breathing hard (a first for me.) I felt great actually, and my time wasn’t too bad either. I came in at just under an hour, so I headed over to my pit area for a water bottle exchange and quick chow down of food. My buddy Doug (from last year’s summer series battles) was sharing the pit with me, but he hadn’t made it back yet. I actually thought he was ahead of me, until Lunchbox told me the news. I grabbed a full bottle of Cytomax for the bike, and drank about half of a bottle of cold water. After shoveling in a sandwich and a couple of Fig Newtons, I was ready to go again. Total time in the pit: four minutes. Not too shabby.


I hit the fire road that led to the singletrack at full speed, hoping to get in a better lap time for round two. I felt so good that I didn’t even think about the trail as I rode it, instead relying mostly on my instincts and awesomeness to get me through. I was actually surprised at how fast I was going, especially since I was trying to pace myself. I would pass a few people here and there, and a few people would pass me. I kept up my speed, but once again I clipped a tree (with the opposite shoulder this time.) So far I had hit two trees. I was batting a thousand. I started to get a bad feeling, but I kept up my crazy (for me) pace.


When I came up to the start/finish line again, I still felt pretty awesome. Two laps for a total of nineteen miles. Another hour or so lap, and I was a third of the way finished. I decided that I would take a little bit longer break this time, just to make sure I could get in three more laps. I ate a shitload of food this time, and grabbed another bottle of Cytomax to go. Lunchbox told me that Doug had asked where I was, and he seemed hellbent on catching me. I was just about to hop back on my bike when I saw him come up to the tent. I said, “See ya later Doug,” and I left. Total pit time after lap two: nine minutes.


I took off at the usually blazing fast speed on the fireroad, since I wanted to make sure I got a good lead on Doug. Even though I was out there to see what I could do, I also made a new goal: to beat Doug. If anything, it would give me a reason to push harder. I knew I had enough time to complete my goal of five laps, but I had to keep my body fueled up to keep from cramping. This weighed heavily on me, but I kept up the pace.


Lap three was just as fun as the first two, but I was starting to get a little tired on some of the climbs. Also, I was afraid to push too hard since I could jeopardize my chances of being cramp-free and meeting my goal of five laps. Luckily, my big wheels kept me moving fast through the downhill and flat sections to make up for my slower climbs. I couldn’t let up though, since I thought that Doug would overtake me at any moment. I was a little careless though, and whacked yet another tree, this time with my forearm. Ouch. I didn’t crash, but it did force me stop for a moment. I gathered myself and continued. I could hear the music and crowd noises now, so I knew I was almost finished.


Three laps in the books, and I was having a great time. Would I meet my goal of five laps, or crash and burn as usual? Tune in tomorrow for the rest of the “race” report. There was just too much shit to talk about for one blog post. Besides, I wouldn’t want to bore you to death in one sitting. I’ll spread it out over two days to make the pain last that much longer.