Ready Or Not

Well, I’m back.  After lots of planning, our long vacation was over before I knew it.  I hate when that happens.  I guess that’s why you should stop to enjoy what you’re actually doing every once in a while.  It started with a race, some driving, some sightseeing, moar driving, some riding…

Well, you get it.

Since I mentioned a race (and I have lots to talk about), I’ll start there.

The 2016 Southern Classic Series kicked off down near Sumter, SC the Sunday before last, and conveniently it was on our way to Florida.  I worried the day before about which bike to bring (geared or single speed.)  I would pull one bike down, look at it, put it up, get another one down, and repeat.  Having never ridden anything down there, I couldn’t make up my mind.  I eventually said, “Who gives a shit” and decided to race Darth Maul, my rigid single speed.  I heard that it was sorta flat down there with a few climbs.  I needed to suffer to start the season right, so I knew I made the right decision. 

Because we were leaving for an extended vacation, we had to get up extra early to load everything up in my truck.  It was along drive so early in the morning, but I made it with plenty of time to pick up my race number and get warmed up.

When everyone started lining up, I got the familiar pre race jitters.  I tried to calm myself down, saying that I was just there to ride (sorta fast) and see what happens.  I was the only one in my class with just one gear, so I told myself that I wouldn’t take off fast to get up front.

I’m so full of shit.

When the race started, everyone took off (it was a big class too.)  I had trouble clipping in my left foot, but I got in as the group started picking up speed.  I started spinning fast, and before I knew it I was in second place right on the leader’s wheel.  I felt pretty good, so I kept that pace.  We starting putting a big gap on the rest of the group.  “Holy shit.  Maybe I’m in better shape than I thought” I said to myself.

The trail was wide open for the most part, but pretty flat.  All that fast spinning was getting to me though, and about a third of the way into the first lap I started slowing down.  One guy caught up and passed me.  Then another.  Eventually I was down to sixth place.  I took it easy, and with no one in sight behind me I decided to try to recover to see if I could catch back up. 

The course was two twelve mile laps.  At full speed (and spinning) it was tiring.  There were a few climbs here and there, and they gave me momentum.  One climb in particular was really steep, but I powered through it pretty well.  It was towards the end of lap one, so I started getting myself ready for the big comeback.  I passed through the start/finish line, neglected to grab a full bottle of Nuun from Little Miss Sunshine, and sped through the beginning of the second lap to catch the lead group.  Soon after entering the woods, I started catching up to and passing people.  A few were in my class.  After counting those that had started in my group, I realized that I had worked my way back into third place.  “Hmm, podium chance” I thought. 

But all that damn spinning was wearing me out again.  Instead of putting a gap on everyone behind me on the climbs this time, my legs were too tired to mash properly.  I pushed harder, but that only made it worse.  When it flattened out, one guy passed me again.  This time, for good.

Fourth place.  Not bad I guess.  Except that I still had a long way to go and I was out of water.  I was able to keep a decent pace on the flat stuff again but I was slowing down on the climbs.  No one was behind me though, and I saw third and second place up ahead when the trail got all twisty.

And then that big ass hill showed up again.

There was a crowd at the bottom doing a little heckling, and although they were doing a fine job (and helped tremendously on the first lap) I was struggling.  I got about three quarters of the way up and my legs locked up.  I was in excruciating pain and I couldn’t move.  Not sitting, no walking the rest of the way, no nothing.  I watched as two more guys passed by.  There was nothing I could do.

As the pain slowly started to subside, I shuffled my feet (still couldn’t bend my legs) to get moving towards the top.  I managed to grab my leg to get off of the bike, and slowly started stretching.  Once I got loose enough to bend my knees, I hopped back on my bike before my body knew what I was doing.  The last part was relatively flat, so I spun like crazy to get that shit over with.  I crossed a small bridge, and got behind a guy that had just passed me.

“Go ahead”, he said.   

I obliged, even though he could’ve easily outpedaled me to the finish with his many gears.  I crossed the line in 5^th place I think, but more importantly, I wasn’t last, didn’t die, etc.

And I looked pretty damn good.

 No team kit because no team wants me, so I’m still my own team. Who gives a shit.

Our friends from the Lowcountry showed up to ride after the race, so we shot the shit with them for a while so I could “recover.”  I damn sure wasn’t ready for the season to start, but I was ready for a vacation. 

A few hours (and miles) later, the little lady and I ended up in Saint Augustine, having some good food and beer at a local watering hole. 

If you’re ever down there, check out the Sunset Grille.  It’s so awesome.

We spent the rest of the evening relaxing and planning our next move.  It was gonna be a long week and we were ready.

Are you?  Good, because I haz lots more tomorrow.

One For The Road

Lunchbox and I are currently on vacation.

That kid sure can eat.

Anyway, I figured since yesterday was race day that I should at least post one update. So here I am.  You know that.  But yesterday I was at The Sizzler in Greensboro, the last race in the 2015 Southern Classic Series.  The kid and I left the house early and headed north.  I figured that since I sorta had 1st place overall locked up that I didn't need to work that hard in the last race.  While we all gathered around waiting to start though, they started doing call ups.  That's something I've never expereienced so it made me have good feelz.  When they called me up as the leader of the series, I thought that maybe I should put in a little effort.  A few minutes later, we took off.

Photo credit: Lunchbox

I resisted the urge to take off fast at first.  The pace wasn't blistering, so I stayed up front and hit the trail in 2nd place.  Then, the climbing started.  Not being on my bike since my trip to Mulberry Gap last weekend really hurt my fitness and I immediately began to suffer.  I let one guy by and dug in, hoping that I had enough to finish the race.  I pushed as hard as my tired body would let me and kept 1st and 2nd place in sight.  We stayed together for a while but I just couldn't keep it up. I was hurting, and wondered how many more places I would lose before the day was over. Towards the end of the first lap I dropped one of my water bottles.  I was in trouble.  Eventually I came through the start/finish line and notified Lunchbox that I lost one of my bottles.  I passed through and headed back out for more.

Photo cred:  Mike Long

Lap two and I was feeling a little better.  I was attacking on the climbs, and giving it everything on the flat stuff.  I knew for sure that I would catch up to the leaders.  I was moving fast, but I didn't see anyone ahead of me.  I kept thinking about that damn water bottle (that I would no doubt need later) and it was screwing with my head.  Just then, one particular section seemed familiar to me so I started looking for it.  Magically, it was sitting upright on the side of the trail.  I stopped to pick it up, knowing that it would hurt my chances to catch anyone ahead of me.

Who gives a shit.

I passed through the start/finish line and tried to make up for lost time on the third and final lap. I was moving quickly, hanging on to the hope that the two guys up front were wearing down.  That lap went by much quicker, and when I hit the grassy field I gunned it towards the finish line.

I held on to third place.

I wore a kilt.  My shirt says, "Who gives a shit."  That means I don't care if you think it's a skirt.

That podium spot definitely secured my place in the series lead.  Right after that photo, I got called up again...

to stand on the top step.

Podium shots photo cred:  Lunchbox

It was a good day.  I had a blast racing the whole series, and actually I'm excited to do it again next year.  Srsly.  I worked hard and had fun, and with a little luck had some success this year.  I guess I should start looking at some other events to do before the year is over.

Now if you will excuse me, I'm off to my vacation.

See y'all next week sometime.

Almost Finished

With two races to go in the Southern Classic Series, I’m sorta relived that it’s almost over.  I’m still having fun though, so in a weird way I don’t want it to end. Good people, good race venues, and pushing myself to get good results.  It’s been rewarding for sure.

This race almost didn’t happen for me.  I haven’t slept worth a damn in over a week.  I forgot to mention it earlier, but I was in a car accident about a week and a half ago while I was driving at work (in their vehicle.)  I was rear ended while I was at a red light, and while I didn’t think it was too serious at the time I’ve had a sore neck and a headache since it happened.  I finally went to the doctor on Friday, and after a quick visit I walked away with some meds and a note to take plenty of breaks at work and no heavy lifting.  Cycling is okay as long as I “take it easy.”

I’m not sure how to do that during a race.

I arrived early at Dark Mountain, shot the shit with some fellow racers, and got myself warmed up. I was as ready as I could be.

We took off, and as usual I sprinted to the front.  It wasn’t part of any strategy though.  I just wanted to hit the first little rock garden thingy without being behind anyone.  I did, and after that I let one guy get by me.  A short while later, I let another by.  I was taking it easy.  I climbed, descended, and kept the rest of the field behind me as best I could.  I felt okay I guess, but the roots were beating the shit out of me and making my head throb.  I just told myself, “Just hang in there for the final downhill.” 

Before I knew it, I was flying down the last section of the course.  I rounded one blind corner and suddenly spotted a racer from a later class climbing UP the downhill.  He jumped out of the way at the last minute, likely sparing himself certain death if my 230 pound ass had hit him.  He was lucky.  I was spooked.

I breezed through the start finish line and hit the climbs again.  I felt stronger this lap, and climbed a lot better because of it. About halfway in though, the muggy air in the woods was starting to get to me and I hit the wall.  I thought for sure I was making good time to catch the leaders, but my pace was slowing.  I felt like shit and wondered if I had enough left to make it out of there.

I hit a short downhill and cooled off a little.  I suddenly felt better and put the hammer back down.  I momentarily forgot about my head hurting and gave it all I had to finish the race.  When I hit the final downhill I let it go again.  This time though, I kept a lookout for rouge climbers going the wrong way.  I made it out without incident and rolled through the finish line in 3^rd place.

Good enough for a spot on the box.

Photo cred: Jack Hobby

And more importantly, I’m pretty sure I secured my 1^st overall in the series with one race to go.  I guess we’ll find out for sure in two weeks.

In the meantime, I spent the rest of the day sitting around enjoying a beer or two to make the pain go away.

It was a pretty good day.  Racing is fun.  Even if it hurts.

Now I just gotta get my head right if that's possible.

Just Peachy

Well. Another weekend of racing. I had family in town the three days prior to yesterday, and we stayed so busy that it wore me out. Beer drinking, wine tasting, and walking all over the place does not a good race make.

Of course I felt tired and sluggish when I woke up and started down the road to Spartanburg, SC...

But on the way I started to feel peachy.  Ha.

I left a little later than I wanted, which gave me little time to sign in and warm up  (and of course shoot the shit with everyone I saw.)  We lined up, and before we took of we were laughing and joking around. My plan was to take it easy and see how I felt. When we started I did just that. 

I ended up in third and we weren't setting a fast pace. The group stayed together for a while, until the three of us started pulling away. About two miles later, first and second pulled away.  I kept my pace to control my heart rate, and tried my best not to lose a spot.  

The trail wast fast, and with only a few roots and no features I was just zooming along. The first lap was pretty uneventful until I came out on the road heading for the start/finish line...

I spotted second place heading out for lap two.  Now I had a reason to pick up the pace.  I sprinted to get back out on the course but he was long gone.  I no longer felt tired at least and was able to keep my effort high.  About three miles later I ran up on him but he didn't try to get away.  That was good except that I didn't have it in me to pass.

I was getting tired of slowing down and made a plan to pass.  I was taking the climbs better so the plan was to pass him on the next one.  Just as I made my move, he fell over. I slowed in the middle of the climb and asked if was okay.

He was.  That was good because I wouldn't feel right passing him if he was hurt. 

I pushed hard, trying to build a big gap.  He would disappear and reappear, trying hard to keep my pace.  I pushed harder when my legs and lungs would let me. When I saw a familiar sight  (the last section) I gunned it. It was longer than I remembered. I started fading and wondered if I would even make it out of the woods. 

Just then I popped out on the fire road and put the hammer down one last time. 

I finished second. 

Photo cred: Meghan K.

It was a hard effort, and a tough race. I left it all out there and came away with a spot on the box.  I was happy.

And yeah, I actually had fun too.  

Second Part Of…

That race I did Sunday.  I was on lap two and figured that I had plenty of time to move up.  It was hot but I was plenty hydrated.  I felt good (legs and lungs anyway), but mentally I knew I had some work to do.  The only thing on my mind though was the fact that I had to do two more laps on a not so fun trail.

Well, I guess it was fun but my state of mind was wrong.  Suddenly, I remember what my friend told me about making sure to have fun when I raced and I realized that I could.  I started hitting every little jump and bump to catch some air, and taking the turns as fast as I could. 

I even got all Enduro™…

 I don’t know who took this photo.  I found it on The Internets.  Sorry, but thanks to whomever it was.

Anyway, I was having fun, and stopped worrying about whether or not I caught anyone else.  I passed a guy (not in my class) and got passed by a few (also not in my class.)  I was working hard, but no longer feeling like racing was a chore.  Lap three was more of the same.

I finally finished, and felt good about myself.  I think I was in 8^th place or something like that, which is okay considering the wheel issue I guess.  As far as the overall standings go, I might still be good.  I finished ahead of one guy who’s ahead of me overall, and with a few races left I have time to make some upward movement.

The main thing is, I really did have fun.  The course was actually pretty good, and the event was well organized.  I really can’t complain, even if I wanted to.

With a long “season” and series, it’s easy to get down.  I can’t be on my “A” game every time I hop on my bike and I’ve learned to accept that.  When it’s all said and done, maybe I’ll finish in the top three overall.  If not, hopefully I’ll at least come away feeling like I had a great time.

Only time will tell…

Battle Of The Bikes

I kinda got screwed.

After a good week of riding/training/talking to a friend about getting burned out, I was ready to jump back into the Southern Classic Series and give it all I had.  After a couple of wrong turns yesterday morning, I arrived at Country Park in Greensboro ready to race.  When I lined up at the start, I noticed a couple of Cat1 guys in my class, no doubt taking the easy way out so they could get on the podium. It discouraged me a little so I lined up in the second row of a pretty big field.  The plan was to ride my own pace…

But plans change.

Photo credit: Mike Long

When the race started, the “ringers” took off.  I got a little mad about it, and transferred that anger to my pedals.  I put the hammer down and dropped the whole field.  I knew I couldn’t keep that pace up the entire race, but I wanted to make them work to catch me.  I had a huge gap before we hit the singletrack…

Then I noticed that something wasn’t quite right.

After a proper warm up (for once) I felt good physically but had an issue with my bike.  As I tried to shift into a different gear something made a crunching sound.  I looked down to see my chain all crooked and junk.  Then all of a sudden the whole field went by me.  Shit.

I stopped for a moment to see what it was and couldn’t find the problem.  I rode a little further and felt like I was dragging an anvil behind my bike.  I stopped this time and found that my rear skewer was askew.  I straightened everything out, tightened it, and took off again.  I was hurting bad from such a sudden stop, but I knew I could catch back up if I worked hard enough at it.  I pushed and pushed, and eventually came up on one guy in my class.  I hesitated to pass him since I was so tired from my effort to catch back up, but eventually he told me to go by.  I worked hard to put a gap on him, and with my new-found confidence I started looking for the rest of the pack.

The trail was sorta fun, but it was typical cross country stuff and very roadie friendly.  I think maybe I rolled over one log pile, hit a few roots, and maybe even saw a rock or two.  This did not bode well for me, since would have to work extra hard to even catch a glimpse of the rest of the field.  I kept working but I was getting bored.  I was on lap one of three so I had plenty of time, but I didn’t know if I could survive the boredom.

I made it through one lap, where Mike was once again waiting with a camera.

One down, two to go.  Could I keep going?

Tune in tomorrow…

Or don’t.

My Struggle

I know, it’s a shitty title considering…

Anyway, this could be called a race report.  I woke up yesterday morning with a strong desire to stay home.  I had such a shitty day the last time I raced that I wondered if I had it in me again.  Plus, I wasn’t really recovered from two laps in the heat with nothing to drink.  I know, who gives a shit. 

I left the house and started thinking about my strategy on the ride up to Hobby Park in Winston-Salem.  There were a few “fast” guys in a bigger than normal field. I figured that when I lined up I’d get my shit together.  My heart wasn’t in it at first, and that continued when we started the race.  I didn’t do my normal “sprint like hell and take the lead”, but I did get up somewhere near the front…

Until we hit that big ass hill.

That hurt, and I suddenly realized that I wasn’t really ready for back to back weekends of racing.  As I hit the trail, the leaders sprinted away and I was left trying to find my legs and lungs.  We hit a downhill section and I recovered a bit, just in time to see a few people climbing the next hill fast.  I think I was sitting in sixth place but I was fading quickly.  One guy went buy on a climb and it turned into survival for me.  That’s no way to race.

The trail went up, down, up down.  I was getting bored and questioning my will to even keep it going. I didn’t mean for that race; I meant the entire rest of the season.  I had this internal struggle that I couldn’t explain.  All of a sudden though, I started feeling good.  I pushed it hard up a few climbs and recovered quickly.  Then we hit the technical section…

I’m not sure about the double black diamond designation, but it was nice to have something different.  Luckily I got a peek at this section pre-race (shout out to Jack H.) and I knew what to expect.  There were lots of rocks, which was a nice change from your run of the mill XC singletrack.

I breezed through it, cause I got skills (or luck.)  After that section I spotted a guy in my class, which was the carrot I needed to get my mojo back.  I made it my misson to catch him, no matter how long it took me.

I hit the last little section, passed through the start/finish line, and saw him up ahead.  After another trip up Derby Hill (with much less fatigue this time) I hit the singletrack with newfound energy.  I used less gears and stood up on the climbs, and after a few downhills I found myself nearly running over the guy I was trying to catch.  Rather than make my move then, I decided to ride behind him a while to wear him down. 

It worked, because on the next set of big climbs I mashed away while he struggled.  I passed him and did my best to put a huge gap between us.  Suddenly I was racing again, and actually felt like I belonged out there.  It was too late to catch up the the Cat 1 guys, but I gave it everything I had and felt much better about myself.  I cleared the “Little Pisgah” section again without incident and, knowing that I was getting close to the end, gave it everything I had left.  I crossed the finish line nowhere near the podium, but feeling good about the effort I gave.

It’s not supposed to be easy.  But, it’s supposed to be fun.  I didn’t think I would be able to do this entire series again and have fun.  That happened in the past.

I won’t let it happen again.

Home Field Advantage

I don't really believe in that sort of thing, even though the title of today's post might make you think otherwise.  Maybe it works for sportsball, but in mountain biking it doesn't amount to much.  Sure, I might have a few more people around that I know cheering (or in my case heckling), but in the grand scheme of things it's just another race.  

Yesterday's race at the whitewater park (part of the Southern Classic Series and a fundraiser for our local club the Tarheel Trailblazers) was a rough one for me.  I know the trails pretty well, and being close to the house is an added bonus.  After taking a bunch of time off the bike from my trip down to the Lowcountry I thought my legs would feel fresh.  I was wrong.  They felt like shit so I warmed up thoroughly and felt much better.  I also opted to carry only one water bottle instead of my normal two, since there are very few places that would afford the opportunity to grab a drink.  This would bite me in the ass later.

We lined up at the bottom of the hill, seven deep in my class.  My only strategy was to get in the woods first to make everyone work to pass me.  

Photo cred:  Mike Long

I sprinted up the hill (nearly busting my ass on the loose gravel in the process), and hit the woods in first place.  I was wearing my sunglasses and the trail was really dark so I couldn't see where I was going at all.  A guy went by me  and just like that I was second place but feeling good.

On a sorta flat section I took my glasses off and put them in my pocket, immediately improving my vision.  We hit the first "technical" trail, The Carpet, and I started climbing on the wheel of first place.  As the trail pointed downhill, I gunned it and bounced around from my failure to check my tire pressure.  My (only) water bottle ejected and landed on the trail somewhere.  

Shit.

I kept pushing, knowing that I wouldn't be able to make up the time if I stopped.  The trail leveled out again and I put the hammer down.  In the back of my mind though was the thought of me trying to ride two laps in the heat with no water.  Another guy passed me and I was solidly in third place.  We finished that trail, hit a few flat sections and headed towards Goat Hill.  As the trail went up, I stood up to mash, slipped on something, and immediately hit the ground.  Another guy went by.  I was having quite the shitty day so far and not even three miles in.

At this point I would've had about a third of my water consumed, and that kept messing with me.  Another guy passed me when I was thinking about that, but I saw the leaders not far ahead and came up with a plan...

just hang in there until the second lap.

I was riding pretty well I guess (other than having too much air pressure in my tires) and before I knew it lap one was over.  My legs felt good so I decided to start looking for my bottle when I got back to that spot.  I climbed a bit, and on the descent I looked around and didn't see it.  I stopped, got off my bike, and looked around.  Still nothing.  Another guy passed me, and another.  Who gives a shit.  I knew that I needed something to drink if I had any hope of finishing that lap.  I gave up, hopped back on my bike and decided to tough it out.  

It sorta worked.  Eventually I passed one guy in my class as he stopped on the side of the trail for a break.  This would be a recurring theme for a while, with him even offering me a drink at one point.  Eventually he passed me back for good as I went into survival mode.  I was cramping, and crashed two more times somewhere along the way ( one was on the Carpet trail, the other I don't exactly remember.)  I was in a daze, hallucinating, dizzy, and thought for sure I would pass out.  I was determined to get out of there and finish the race, and luckily I was on autopilot.  After a while I spotted a crowd on the side of the trail and "yelled" to them, "How much further?"

All I heard was laughter, which was appropriate since I was only a few hundred yards from the finish line.  Dumbass.  I crossed the finish line and pulled over off the course.  I wanted to get something to drink from my truck but couldn't remember where I parked.  I faintly heard someone calling out my name and when I turned around it was...

Tom F., Texas Ranger.

He talked to me some more but I didn't really hear him.  He suddenly disappeared, returning quickly with a cold bottle of a popular sports drink.  He saved the day, and after a few minutes I started feeling sorta human again.

Then I remembered that I crashed a bunch and it kinda hurt.

My knee was swollen, I was bleeding and dirty, but for some reason when it was all over I actually had fun.  Even though I had a shitty day results-wise I was glad to be out there.  Racing is sometimes about results, but for me it's about pushing myself when I otherwise wouldn't.

And I wouldn't trade that experience for anything.  

Over The Hills

Sure, yesterday was race day for me.  It was also driving day since I headed over the mountains to the state of Tennessee.

Kingsport, TN to be exact.  I’d never heard of it, but I knew it was far.  Almost four hours away far.  I really didn’t know anything about the trails out there and I wasn’t sure if I was ready to race in the mountains. 

 

I warmed up a little and lined up at the start.  We took off up a gravel road and the sprint was on.  As usual, I took off as fast as I could and got out front.  I hit the trail in first and picked up the pace.  We were really moving and I felt pretty good.  The train was right behind me though.  I kept pushing but my stomach hurt like hell which made me back off a bit and let two guys by me.  There I was again, sitting in third place and fading fast.

Third place is a shitty place to be.  Still on the box, but far enough back that one wrong move could jeopardize the whole thing.  I was worried, especially since fourth place guy was gaining fast.  That pissed me off, which in turn made me forget about my stomach pain (or perhaps it just went away.)  I put the hammer down and sped off.  We hit a climbing section and I spotted the leaders up ahead.  That kept me motivated and in great spirits. 

We hit the gravel road and I gave it all I had.  The leaders must have too, because they were out of sight.  I took a moment to look back though, and fourth place guy was nowhere to be found.  Awesome.  I hit lap two and rode like hell.  The trail was familiar since I was just there but I don’t really remember much of it.  I was pushing hard trying to catch the leaders and keep anyone else from knocking me off the box.  I hit the fire road again and I was almost  there. 

I flew down the fire road as fast as I could and crossed the finish line, still in third place.  Because of the setup there though, I still wasn’t on the box.

Photo Credit:  Robert Marion

I really had fun.  The trail was fast and flowy, with a few rocks thrown in here and there to keep the dirt roadies in check.  I’m not sure if it’s worth the drive from here just to ride there, but if you’re ever in the area…

You know how that saying goes.

Anyway, Tennessee was good to me.  Except when I stopped for refreshments at a local watering hole.

They were closed.  No liquor sales on Sunday.  Bastards.

Still, I had a pretty cool day.  Lots of driving with a little racing thrown in. 

This season ain’t too bad so far.

Race To The River

From what I remembered about the trails Harbison State Forest, they were mostly flat with one section that had a few punchy climbs and rocks.  Since I didn’t have a big enough gear to run on my single speed, I borrowed my kid’s bike.

Okay, so it wasn’t like that.  You’ve all seen Lunchbox.  At 6’5” and 255 pounds, his bike is just my size.  More importantly, it has gears for the flat stuff I’d end up riding.  It sounded like a foolproof plan, especially since I had an issue with the flat stuff in my last race.  I was still nervous, but at least I knew I wouldn’t get dropped when the climbing stopped.

So, we all took off from the start line.  Down a fire road for a while, where I used all those gears to push the pace.

Photo cred:  Andrea T.

It worked for the most part, but I still ended up standing up and mashing.  I pushed hard, and when we entered the woods I was in second place.  My heart was pounding and I was out of breath.  I felt like I was dying, but the trail sorta leveled out and I was able to keep the leader in sight…

For a little while anyway.

Once the climbs started, I forgot I had gears and didn’t bother to downshift.  I tried to mash up a few steep sections and it was wearing on me.  Just then, I saw someone right behind me.  The way I felt I figured that it was the whole pack coming to get me.  Luckily, it was my old pal Jack.  We raced together a few years ago, and when he was ready to pass he said, “Just like old times.” 

Indeed.

I tried to keep his wheel but I was wearing out fast.  There were many more climbs than I remembered, and having all those gears didn’t help since I could never remember to shift.  I had a terrible pain in my stomach and honestly, I thought my race would be over soon.  At one point I could still see the two leaders, but I was hurting so bad that I just couldn’t catch them.  I tried not to give up, even though I really wanted to.

Suddenly the trail started going down again.  It was fast and swoopy, and other than the twitchy handling of an unfamiliar bike I was having fun.  More importantly, I was recovering.  When I reached the next climb, I spun up in a reasonable gear and didn’t get too winded.  When the trail went down, I recovered again.  It just kept repeating like that until a couple of long, flat sections where I shifted into the biggest gear I had and let it fly.  My confidence was up, but I had another problem…

I was going through my water bottles too fast.

It was hot down there in South Carolina.  Even though I though I started out properly hydrated I was still really thirsty.  I tried to ration my water but my mind kept coming back to the fact that I had a long way to go and no one to hand me anything when I came through the start/finish line.  Because of that nonsense, the rest of the lap went by without me remembering much of it.  I passed through the start/finish line, hot as hell and with really tired legs.  I really didn’t think I could make it through another lap, but I wasn’t about to quit.

I was all alone for the second lap for the most part.  My back was tight, my legs were tired, and my mind wanted me to just pull over and take a nap on the side of the trail.  I was daydreaming and just going through the motions for a while, at least until I heard some voices.  On a switchback climb I looked back and saw a guy in my class gaining on me.

“Where the hell did he come from?” I asked myself.

I didn’t think I had the energy, but I dug in and tried to lose him.  Just when I thought my legs couldn’t take anymore, I saw a familiar part of the trail.  I was almost at the end!

I dug in and gave it everything else I had on the final two miles, crossing the finish line with nothing left.  My head was spinning and I was really dehydrated, but I finished.  And, my effort was good enough to get on the box.

Photo cred:  Casey B.

I really didn’t expect to win, so third place made me happy.  With a goal of only one podium trip per “season”, I’ve gone above and beyond what I expected so far.

And I have another race coming up in two weeks.

Tomorrow, maybe I’ll get into some details about gears, the “loaner” bike, and the actual event.

Maybe.

Cut To The Chase

Continuing from yesterday...

Lap two.  I sorta felt okay I guess.  I mean, my legs no longer felt like bricks and I had a little climbing power.  The rolling hills in the beginning of the lap were helping me get my groove back, until I rounded a corner and spotted someone behind me.  Shit.  I tried to read his number (without crashing) and assumed that it was someone from my class.  The switchback climbing was starting again, and I just said “Screw it” and pushed as hard as I could to lose him.  It worked I guess, and suddenly I was all alone.

I was also tired again. 

A little more climbing later, I spotted another guy in my class (for sure this time) coming down a descent.  I realized that I was about to hit that same downhill, so I mashed even harder.  I had something to chase right there in front of me, and it made me forget about how little energy I had.  I gunned it up the last few feet of climbing, and hit the downhill as fast as my rigid fork would let me.  Hint:  it was sloppy but pretty damn fast.

Up, down, climb, descend.  Every once in a while I would catch a glimpse of fourth place but I just didn’t have enough gear (or spinny legs) to catch up.  All hope was lost when I hit the final two miles of flat-ish stuff, but I spun like hell anyway.  With only a short bit of trail left I knew I could push until I had absolutely nothing left.

I ran out of time.  I crossed the start finish line in 5^th place.  Even though I felt much better on that second lap, my single speed (and my lack of proper gear planning) didn’t give me enough to catch anyone.  I told myself that I had a decent race after being sick, but I wondered if having gears would have helped on this one.  I guess I’ll never know. 

It doesn’t matter.  I had fun and got a little dirty.  Luckily they had a bike wash on site.

I had to wash myself too, even though my DeFeet socks were made for the dirt and mud.

Since I’m racing the full Southern Classic Series this year, finishing off the box shouldn’t matter a whole bunch for just this one race.  Mid pack isn’t gonna get me a damn thing when it’s all over, as long as I don’t do it every race from here on out.  I’ll chalk this one up to Death Virus 2015, lack of knowledge about the course (even though I’ve been there a few times before), and poor gear selection.  I’m not disappoint though.  It really was fun.

The race organizers did a good job.  Even though there were a few issues (just like any event), it was professional and overall a pretty good experience.  I’ve raced in Danville a total of four times now, and this particular event was the best so far.  The course was marked well too, which if you’ve ever been there is pretty important.  And, they even fed the racers afterwards.  I didn’t stick around too much though.

As a history buff, I had to check out the “Last Capital of the Confederacy.”

 

Pretty neat I guess.  I mean, I was in the area so it was worth it to stop by.

All in all, it was a good day.  I was on my bike, you know.  That’s always a good thing.

And racing is supposed to hurt.

Shootout

I missed Thursday and Friday.  Sorry about that.  I mean, Who Gives A Shit.  Anyway, I may or may not have mentioned that my cross country season resumed over the weekend in Danville, VA.  Friday morning I woke up feeling no more effects from Death Virus 2015, so I was hoping for a good day on the bike on Sunday.  I tried to relax and take it easy leading up to the race, but I had too much shit to do.  I’ll talk more about that later I guess.

Anyway, the forecast for Sunday in Danville featured a one hundred percent chance of rain.  I was looking forward to shitty weather actually, because mentally I like to think I can handle it better than a lot of folks.  The forecast model kept changing leading up to the weekend, but when I hit the road bright and early I was happy.

I’m not really happy about all the rain we’ve had around here lately (keeping our local trails closed), but I was happy about a potential “advantage” on race day.  But about an hour and forty five minutes into the drive everything changed.

As soon as I hit the Virginia state line it wasn’t raining anymore.

 

No worries.  I still wanted to race.  I got there with plenty of time to sign my waver and warm up, and soon after we lined up.  Once we started I had to spin like crazy on a long, flat section to try to get into the woods first.  It hurt like hell to spin that fast, but I got in second…

Right on the leader’s wheel.

The rolling hills in the beginning of the course were fun, and I felt pretty good.  My heart was still racing from spinning so much in the beginning, but I knew I would recover soon.  Once we started climbing up switchbacks though, I was getting frustrated.  Three of us were pulling away from the group, but the leader was spinning in a low gear and taking the climbs way too slow.  This caused extra effort on my part, and once we finished that section I was gassed.  I let one guy go by and kept pushing.

Suddenly, my legs felt like cement blocks.  I had no energy, most likely because my body hadn't fully recovered from my sickness (that's the official diagnosis from Little Miss Sunshine anyway.)  I let one guy go and then another, and sat solidly in 5^th place. I figured that I would still recover, but each climb hurt worse than the one before it.  They weren’t that bad (and my gearing was good for them), but I was just pooped.

I decided to hang on the best I could and maybe make my move on the second lap. 

The rest of that lap hurt until I came out on a long, flat-ish section (about two miles worth.)  At this point I realized that my gear choice sucked since I was spinning like crazy and couldn’t go as fast as I wanted.  I started thinking that the geared riders were dropping me here, and that I would never catch back up.  So much for recovering.

Suddenly, I came up on a rider.  He was from one of the groups that took off before me, and when I passed him I felt a little burst of energy.  Soon after we came out on a road, which meant more flat and more spinning.

Shit.

Crossing the start/finish line, I soon entered the woods again for lap two.  I was hoping that my energy would come back somehow.  I had some time to make up.

Tomorrow:  the conclusion.  You know, because I always drag this shit out.

Third Time’s A Charm

I’ve mentioned before that I was “un” “retiring” from XC lap racing.  I wanted to give the Southern Classic Series another shot and see what could do.  Sure, I got burned out back in 2012 when I last raced in it, but maybe I wasn’t in a good place mentally or something.  Who knows.  With a lofty goal of doing the whole series (after missing the first race), I kicked off my “un” “retirement” yesterday at San Lee Park in Sanford, NC.

Up at six a.m. to feed the pets, I started having second thoughts.  After a stretch of warm weather here lately, I woke up to below freezing temps.  I really just wanted to crawl back in bed.  I didn’t though, and after loading up my stuff I hit the road.  It was cold.

 Brrrr

As I headed E/NE away from Charlotte, I saw the temps drop down to 22 degrees at one point.  Resiting the urge to turn around, I starting thinking about what I would wear during the race.  I knew that I would warm up quickly, and with a little over two hours of driving time I had plenty of time to go over everything.  As I got closer, I started to get nervous.  I hadn’t “competed” in XC in about three years, although I did race in one last year just for fun.  I told my nerves to shut up, and suddenly I was in the parking lot.

I walked up to the registration area, grabbed my number plate, and started getting dressed.  I ended up with a light DeFeet base payer, arm warmers, knee warmers, and my really cool new Trail Ninja socks…

I was pretty chilly, but spinning around the parking lot and up and down a big hill started warming me up pretty good.  Soon, it was time to line up.  That’s when the nerves really got to me.  I looked around at my competition and wondered why I was there.  I got that negative shit out of my head and started going over my plan…

“Don’t get caught up racing.  Put in a good first effort, settle in, and don’t worry about chasing anyone down.”

When it was our turn to start, we sprinted up a big, steep hill.  With only one gear, I had no choice but to fly up it until I could find a spinny pace.  While I was doing that, I realized that I was out in front.  Shit.  I didn’t mean to do it, but it worked out that way.  Suddenly, as the hill crested, one guy shifted into a bigger gear and flew by.”

“Don’t chase him down.  You can get him later.”

I didn’t listen to myself and immediately took off after him.  The road leveled out and I was spinning my ass off.  With my heart rate through the roof, I entered the woods first, with second place (and everyone else) right behind me.  I knew I was gonna blow up after that effort, so I kept pedaling and waited for the inevitable.  I was still working hard, and building a small gap. 

Suddenly, I felt really good.

My heart rate slowed down, my breathing evened out, and I felt like I had a ton of energy.  I put the hammer down, and after each switchback climb I could see that I was pulling away from the group.  Entering the first technical section, I cleaned it and added even more of a time cushion.

I knew that I couldn’t keep that effort up.  The crash was coming, and I started to worry about when it would.  So, I just pedaled harder, figuring that I would use what I had while I had it.  The funny thing was, the harder I worked, the quicker I recovered.  I cleaned a few more rocky sections, mashed up some climbs, and sprinted away on the flat, twisty sections.  I saw no one from my class, but I was passing others that started ahead of me.

Who the hell was I?  Why wasn’t I dying out there?  I was working hard, and feeling better as the day went on.  After finishing that first lap, I felt even better.  I concentrated on building a bigger gap, and trying to be careful as I rode my rigid bike over some of those nasty rocks.  About halfway through the second lap I started to worry.  Did I take a wrong turn?  Am I now in last place?  Why the hell am I feeling so good?

Who gives a shit.  Keep riding.

Up the last big set of climbs (Charlie’s Mountain I think) I was hammering knowing that I was almost done.  That leads to the Mega Jump section, which is like a cross between Warrior Creek and a big ass pump track.  I flew through there, hit the jumps and even doubling a few.  I was on the home stretch, and before I knew it I was at the finish line.  I was confused, so I asked the race officials where I placed.

“First.”

I was shocked.  Really.  I know I’ve been working a little bit on my fitness, but I didn’t really expect to win or even get on a podium this season.  But I did.

After a day of working hard and getting the shit beat outta me by rocks, I took home a pretty cool rock of my own.

And I won a Maxxis Ikon.  Rad.

This was my third race there.  The first two back in 2011 and 2012, I got third place (and smaller rocks.) It’s been a while since I’ve been on a podium, and honestly this one felt pretty damn good.  I worked hard, rode smart, and walked away feeling pretty good.  What a way to start the season.

I dunno.  Maybe it’s a fluke.  I got lucky.  Whatever.

Who gives shit.

I had a blast out there. The race organizers did a great job, the course was fun, and the people were pretty cool. It’s good to be back. I know it's not always gonna be this good, so I'm enjoying it while I can.