For Better Or Worse

I was off again.

The first climb in after sitting for a while got to me a little.  It sorta made me wonder what the hell I’d gotten myself into.  I was pretty wonky, having trouble controlling my bike even on the easy parts.  Once I got through the first tech section and back to the flat, twisty stuff, I settled in and spun away.  I’d already surpassed my lap total from last year, so my mind was feeling good.

And I was still having lots of fun.

Photo cred:  Nancy Bregg

The flat stuff was fun too but it got a little monotonous.  I would often find myself daydreaming (and even hallucinating some), and at one point I was startled when I heard a rider approach me from behind.  I soon realized that it was Dicky (as soon as he passed me), and after saying hello I looked down at the trail and saw that I was barely moving. 

I gotta get my head right again.

I started getting my mojo back eventually.  Normally I ride with some sort of music playing device, but this time I didn’t.  I wanted to see if I could suffer without any outside help, and after that one episode I got back to business.  Once I got back to the next tech section in the Vortex, I worked hard.  I still had climbing legs (surprisingly), even though it took a bunch of work to mash up the steep stuff.

Photo cred:  Christie Burnett

A little more tech, one more steep climb (after a sweet wooden berm), and a few small ups and down later I was on the home stretch of that lap.  The last twisty and fast section was very much welcomed, and before too long I came screaming through the pit row.  The crew from Jacksonville had a little jump ramp set up along the trail, and I’d been hitting it all day long.  I wasn’t about to stop, and after their cheers and I jumped it and headed for the Niner tents.

I didn’t want to stop after this lap but the sun was starting to go down.  I walked over to grab my lights, mounted them up, and headed back out for more.  With my legs feeling a little looser, I hit the climby tech stuff again and did a little better this time around.  It wasn’t dark enough to turn my lights on yet (or so I thought), so I rode as long as I could without them to see what I could do.  I honestly don’t remember much about that lap other than noticing that I didn’t find a lot of the trail familiar. 

That’s pretty odd considering I’d been riding it since 10:00 a.m.

I don’t recall that lap time, but I do know that it was over before I knew it.  One more flight off the kicker ramp in pit row and I was feeling good.  I stopped to refill my bottles and grab a snack, all while getting tons of encouragement from my friends in the pit.  It was full on dark outside now, and I took off for my first ever night ride in Florida.

Weird, I know.  But, I wasn’t into night riding when I lived down there.  Daytime was enough of a challenge back then.

I was tired at this point.  My legs were doing okay I guess, but I was really sleepy.  Like, "I’d been on a bike all damn day" sleepy.  My mind was playing tricks on my and I nearly went off a bridge in the first tech section.  Down a rocky as hell descent I noticed that my handlebar light had moved a little.  I stopped to secure it and quickly went on my way.  I climbed up a steep, rocky section and got ready for what had become one of my favorite descents down there.  Just as I started though, the light on my handlebar rotated backwards, shining a 1200 lumen beam right into my eyeballs.  I panicked, grabbed a handful of brake lever, and started to tumble over.  Luckily, my foot landed on solid ground to keep me from toppling over, but my knee made a very unpleasant popping sound. 

“That didn’t sound too good.”

I fixed my light (again) and walked up the next climb.  My knee was hurting and had already begun to swell.  I kept tell myself that all I had to do was get to the flat stuff so I could spin it out.  Eventually I made it, and commenced to spinning away.

Except that spinning didn’t really help much.

I was able to ride at a decent speed though, and before I knew it I was on to the next tech section.  My knee was hurting like hell, and so was my wrist from still having too much air pressure in my front tire.  I ended up walking a lot of the climbs (and yes, there are several) taking solace in the fact that there were a lot of folks out there still suffering along with me.  I chatted with several riders here and there, and most of them had agreed that this was the last lap.  I kept telling myself that if I got back in time I would go out again, but as soon as I got to the last easy section my Garmin had died.  I had no idea what time it was, and no idea how long that lap had taken. 

I figured that I would just go to the finish line and check the time.  I skipped the Jax Jump (the only time I did) and rolled past our pit.  When I saw the time I knew my day was over.  I told myself that maybe if my knee hadn’t been getting worse I’d go out again.  But that wasn’t it.  It was everything.  I was tired, sore, and making dumb mistakes.  I’d really given it all I had, and there was no way in hell I would’ve make it back in time for the lap to count. 

I was satisfied with my effort.

I walked back over to the pit and called it a day (night.)  I cleaned up, grabbed a beer (that I had to talk myself into for some reason), and hobbled back over to our pit.  I’d put in a solid day in the saddle on a rigid single speed, more than doubling my effort from a year before.  When it was over I was mentally drained, but in a very happy mood.  I realized that I do actually enjoy this racing stuff, mostly because I have no idea whether or not I can get through it sometimes.

That was good enough for me.

Tomorrow, thoughts and junk.

Before, After, And In Between

Saturday was a full day.  Maybe not full enough to have three blog posts about it, but I don’t give a shit.  What I forgot to mention was that I got talked into going out to dinner on Friday night, something I don’t like to do unless it involves riding my bike first.  The little lady suggested a Cajun-type restaurant we’ve been to before, and I agreed.  After finding out the beer selection sucked, I ordered some high octane, fruity shit.

Peach something.  Lots of alcohol, and it wasn’t too bad.

I’m not sure if it was the girlie drink, the fried swamp critters, or something else I ate earlier, but by the time we made it home I was feeling quite shitty.  I mean, literally.  I ended up on the toilet a couple of times, and at one point I thought my insides were coming out.  I managed to get to sleep somehow, and woke up the next morning to the same ol’ shit (pun intended.)  

I wasn’t about to let that get in the way of a good time in the hills, so once I felt like I could ride down the highway without having an accident, we hit the road.  I thought that my stomach troubles were behind me but when we got to the parking lot at Lake James State Park I had to tear up the porta potty.

Whew.  That was a close call.

Our ride was fine, and afterwards I started feeling much better.  Since we were nearby, we headed into Morganton to Fonta Flora Brewery.  The little lady had never been there.  She was really impressed with this little place.

We grabbed some beer and sat outside, enjoying a nice day after a good ride.

My stomach issues seemed to be completely gone, which was good because I was trying to tear it up with beer.

Did you notice my new shirt from Pedal Pushers Club?  You like it, don’t you?  If you don’t then you just might be a roadie.

With my stomach emptied of its poisonous contents from the night before (and getting full of beer), we headed up the road to what has become the “after riding that part of the hills standard Mexican restaurant.”

I ordered the slop.

And Little Miss Sunshine got a little ass.

Another good day in the hills.  Some of it was painful though (not the riding part for once), but we capped it off by leaving there to pickup Carl, our new dog.

Watch out.  I think I’m actually starting to enjoy myself again.

Getting Through It

Where was I? Oh yeah, dragging out another race report. When I left off yesterday, I was having second thoughts about going out for my second lap. It was so shitty the first time, that I was less than happy about. In fact, I was madder than a three legged cat trying to bury a turd on an icy lake. I went out though, hoping for the best.


You know what? The trail was totally different. I was if the muddy conditions never existed. I was shocked, but more than happy to have a trail to ride that wouldn't throw me off of it like the first lap. I had crashed four times on lap one, and my battered, broken body was happy to be able to just ride along. I picked up the pace, and I was actually having fun this time.


Photo credit: Lunchbox


Seeing my kid out on the trail snapping photos helped a little too. He saw the look of disgust on my face when I headed out for lap two, but he knew this one would be better. I was able to ride at a good pace, but I had lost so much time on that first lap that it didn’t matter anymore. I would never gain any significant ground, but at least I was enjoying myself. In fact, I even got to ride with my Bike29 teammate, Dicky. Huh?


Yeah, of course he lapped me. When I let him by, I decided to speed up and get on his wheel. I stuck with him for a while, and I shouted out that I never get to ride with him and this was my chance. That was definitely not my “endurance race pace”, but it was fun to go that fast for a bit. When we got to a long climb though, he dropped me like a sack of dirty diapers. Since I probably outweigh him by 75 pounds or so, it was expected. Oh well, it was fun while it lasted.


I came in from that (much better) lap, and swapped out my bottles. I felt pretty good, aside from my crash injuries on lap one. I took a small break and headed back out for one more. I had told Lunchbox to meet me at the rock garden (near the end of the course), so I was working hard to get there as fast as I could. I was surprised at how good my legs felt, as I was able to climb with plenty of power still. All was not well though, because my knees were giving me problems. Also, my back had tightened up a lot, and that made it hard to sit and climb. I found myself counting down the miles to go, giving myself encouragement along the way. Once again Dicky passed me, and I rode with him (a lot less that time though.) When I finally got to mile 12, I knew I was almost there.


The funny thing about these mountain bike races is the amount of roadie types that show up. I don’t understand why someone would want to spend all that time on a trainer, riding on the road, and attending spin classes to to do well at mountain bike races. Sure, they train hard, have plenty of power and endurance, and can ride fast, but they have trouble on the technical stuff. I noticed this all over the trail, but it was really obvious in the rock gardens.


Photo altered to protect the innocent.

Okay, maybe that guy wasn’t one of those roadie-types, but you get the idea. I ride my mountain bike to train for mountain bike racing, and I actually have fun doing it. That’s what it’s all about anyway, isn’t it? I got through the wicked garden with no problems, by the way.


I got skills (sometimes.)

That was the home stretch. Lunchbox cut across the trail in a mad fury, just to get another photo of me racing to the finish.




I had plenty of energy left, even though my knees and my back were hampering my riding ability. I crossed the finish line, with no more time left. I only did three laps, but they were hard fought. Since they lengthened the course from last year, I actually surpassed my mileage from before. I was pleased, I guess. At least I stuck in there and didn’t quit like I wanted to on the first lap. I think I finished around 200 out of 300 and something, and 60 out of like 99 in my class. Yeah, it sucks, but it’s good enough for me. That is the furthest I’ve ridden this season so far, and definitely the longest (distance-wise.) I’ll be back next year for sure.


It was a long day, and I was beat up. I have bruises all over from my crashes, but at least my knees and back have recovered. I will live to ride another day. Lucky for you, because you still get to read all about it. Okay, maybe that’s not so lucky.


P.S. Don’t give me any shit about the roadie stuff (or you can, I don’t care.) I’m out there to have fun, but I think some of these guys take themselves way too seriously. I always try to do my best, but the main goal is to enjoy myself on the bike (even when I’m suffering.) If you’ve been around here for a while, then you already knew that about me. If not, then now you know. Don’t get your spandex in a wad, okay?

Where Was I?

Oh yeah, I was still talking about the Tree Shaker 12 Hour Mountain Bike Race. When I left off yesterday I had just gone out for lap number two and I was feeling mighty fine. I guess I was kind of chasing Doug, since he had left about 10 minutes before I did. I wasn’t competing against him or anything, but it was fun sharing the pain of that rooty trail with someone else during each lap.


I took off with a quickness, and I entered the trail at full speed. Although my legs felt great after the first 9 miles, I knew I had to start saving some energy if I wanted to make it through the entire 12 hours. I paid no attention to that nonsense though, and kept a pretty fast pace. I stood up and hammered on the climbs and even pedaled my ass off on the downhill sections. A little voice inside my head kept telling me to slow down, but I never listen to those voices (especially during a race.) I never caught up with Doug though. Lap 2 was pretty uneventful, and after 18 miles I approached the pit area.


When I rolled around to our tent, I found Doug taking a break. He was still feeling pretty good too, so I told him that the next lap we can ride together. I was happy with the pace I was keeping, even though it could have hurt my chances of completing my goal of 8 laps. At this point it had warmed up a bit, so I had to get rid of that damned kilt. I was fun to ride in it, but it was starting to get in the way. Plus, it weighs about 5 pounds, so loosing that extra weight would probably be a good thing. After a refilling my water bottles and eating some food, we headed back out on the trail for number 3. All I could think about was the fact that I had done 18 miles, and I hadn’t made a very big dent in my total expected mileage for the day.


Lap 3 was really fun. Doug and I flew down the trail at his 6 hour pace even though I was leading. His goal for the 6 hour race was 5 laps, and I wondered if we were going fast enough. He didn’t seem worried at all, and kept riding along. Keep in mind that I had no idea how to ride for 12 hours, and I had also set (what I thought was) an unrealistic goal of 72 miles. The harder we rode that lap, the more I thought about how I was gonna crash and burn if I didn’t pull back a bit. We came in from lap 3 and I had to make a decision.


I sat down in the pit area and had a sandwich. I also drank some Ensure (yeah, the old people milkshake stuff) and plenty of Gatorade. I hadn’t taken a whiz since I woke up that morning, so I started to worry that I was getting a little dehydrated. It was only a little after high noon, so I was doing well time-wise. I wasn’t super tired, but I knew I would be before too long. I decided that I would take a little longer break this time, just to make sure that I could last the whole 12 hours. Doug took off on lap 4, and I stayed behind. He was on his own this time.


While I rested, I talked to Lunchbox for a while. I told him that he should grab his bike and get out on the trail. The race course was well marked, so he would have a good time out there riding. I told him to take his time and snap some photos while he was out there too. I finally took off for lap 4, with Bob Marley singing to me that everything was gonna be alright.


Lunchbox did get out on his bike for a while, and got a few photos. Not what I expected, but here they are:







Here’s one of our racing pals, Josh, from the Skeleton Crew.



Lunchbox also got a shot of the MadSS, looking happy as a clam. He must have been on his 243rd lap by then.




While Lunchbox was out taking photos, I was poking along on lap 4. I had slowed down my pace considerably, and that was fine with me. I still made it all the climbs, and plowed through the roots and rocks with reckless abandon. When lap four was finished, I had done 36 miles on a mountain bike. I felt good, and I was halfway to my goal.


I didn’t see Doug when I got back. He had taken off for his 5th lap, and I sat down and rested again. I was approaching the halfway point of the race (time-wise), and I started to rethink my ridiculously unattainable goal of 8 laps. I figured that I wasn’t gonna get any faster, so it didn’t look like I would have time to do 4 more laps at my turtle-like pace. At this point I had decided that 7 laps would be just as acceptable, so I made that my new goal. After taking in some more calories and fluids, I reluctantly headed out for lap 5.


Wait, was I giving up? I had never done that kind of distance on any two-wheeled human-powered device before, so I guess it really wasn’t giving up. I just stopped believing in my ability to tough it out on the bike for that many miles, and I became okay with the fact that I was now shooting for only 7 laps. Suddenly though, something happened. I started to get some new energy flowing through my body, and I stepped up the pace a bit. About halfway through lap 5, I starting saying to myself “Do or die!” Yeah, I talked to myself a lot during the race, but that’s nothing new. “Fire Woman” by The Cult came on the ol’ mp3 player, and I took off. Even if I had to get carried out of there when it was over, I was doing 8 laps. I started singing along with the music blaring from my headphones, and I didn’t give a shit who was listening. I climbed the long gravel road back the the pit area, and just like that I was done with lap 5.


With 45 miles logged so far, I knew I could keep going. There was no doubt in my mind anymore. I was surprised that I felt so good, but it was a welcome surprise. I bumped into Doug who had finished his 5th lap (his 6 hour goal) and congratulated him. I rested a bit and got ready for my final 3 laps. I’ve gone on long enough for today, so I’ll give y’all the exciting conclusion tomorrow.



Or not. I’m posting it anyway.