Dub-Nine, One Gear, and Two Wheels

To Hell and Back: Mohican 100

2015-06-22T10:18:00.002-07:00

The good news is that I have waited sufficiently long to write this blog, so my memory of the event has been dulled. For you that means a shorter post.

We departed early Friday. The gang was the Cohutta Crew plus one. We were a few minutes ahead of schedule, so after hitting the highway, we circled back to get Brain's phone. The drive down was uneventful, other than a quick pit stop for a turnpike whopper.

We drove straight to the trail for a bit of a pre-ride of the finishing singletrack. Kenny on rides for 30 minutes the day before any race, so after 15 minutes and seeing roughly 1.012 miles of the course, he turned around. Brain on the other hand manned up and rode the whole 4 mile loop.

The it was off to packet pickup. Things were pretty organized here, we got out numbers and built our drop bags. Then we went to the drop off area and found spots for stations 3, 4, and 5. However, the race propaganda stated drops were at 2, 3, and 4. After asking around for a bit, we discovered nobody was in charge. One lady took it upon herself to change the 5 to a 2. We waited to confirm with some organizer that it was correct. After showing her the race website, she confirmed the change and we headed for the hotel. Then it was dinner, a luke-warm soak in a highly chlorinated hot tub, and bed.

Up before down and back to the finish. The morning was relaxed, the weather was nice and anticipation was high, even if spirits were not. 1.5 miles to downtown was the warm-up. We packed the middle of the street with hundred of our closest 63 and 100 mile friends, and shortly after we were off.

A frenzy was unleashed down the road through town. I spun my legs off as I slowly work my way backwards. Soon we hit the first climb and traffic slowed. I worked my way back upstream through the slowly churning crowd. At the top things were thinning out and it was just some paved riding towards the trail. There was some tire rubbing, and a crash close by buy I made it through safe. It was (over?) 30 minutes before we touched dirt.

Mohican singletrack is nice. It is a handful though, and finding time to eat was a challenge. I think my first chance was the covered bridge 10 miles in, or probably close to 90 minutes of racing. This part of the trail I had seen before, so i was prepped for the climbing and swoopy descents.

As I was approaching Aid 1, I tried to hang up my Camelback hose when my front wheel caught something and threw me to the floor. A face full, some hilarious commenting by the crowd (note the sarcasm), a forgotten bottle and I was rolling again.

Sometime after here was the transition from MTB to horse trail, with a near-vertical hike which made me wish somebody had recommended crampons before the race.

Finally off the trail, we hit some roads and I made my way to station 2. With only 1 bottle, I added my Half-Evil pack to refill and gave it to the aid worker for water. Topped off the Camelback and I was rolling again. This next section continued to pummel me with rock, roots, and more walking than I anticipated. To top things off, my gut wasn't feeling all that well. [Hindsight: After the race I realized that the aid worked added Heed to my Carborocket bottle, so I was pulling on this 500 calorie gut bomb until the next station]

Miles rattled along, I felt like crap, legs flat, and at mile 40 we turned into some mere "singletrack torture" and hiking. I hit Aid 3 about 5 hours in, and for the first time really considered not finishing. after a couple LJ100's and a Cohutta, I wasn't expecting the kick to the head that is Mohican. As the metric folks headed out to the left, I made the turn to the right.

Some more roads, some more trail, some gravel climb where I got passed by a tractor, it all became a blur of dead quads, hiking, and spinning. I think around mile 60 was a 8 mile, false flat rail trail. I merged with a couple geared guys and another SS. The gearries pulled for a while, then we started rotating through. After my second pull the group fell apart and I was alone again. Rain was threatening, and it began to sprinkle, cooling things down a bit.

I connected with the back of 2 more geared guys and sat on their wheel as the pulled me through to Aid 4. Another bottle (I got my own water this time), topped off my Camelhump and made a push to the end.

This last part is mostly a blur of mental misery. I could still spin on the flats, but had nothing to climb with, and some dude at the aid station was saying "$ big climbs left," one of which was a 12 minute walk.

Finally back to the Mohican singletrack, 8 miles to go. I finished this section on pure spite. Rolled across the line for my longest duration 100 miler, only to be greeted by chipper and showered Kenny and Brain. They were ready for dinner and I could not unbuckle my shoes.

As I gingerly sipped from my half full growler,it was then when I decided that I had enough Mohican, and I never needed to go back...

Cohutta 100: Rain and Shine

2015-05-13T11:33:00.001-07:00

There are some of you that have been waiting for this report. I think you might want to seek professional assistance. The rest of you are probably bored during lunch or sitting in the bathroom at work and want to kill a few minutes. This is for you.

The week leading up to my first Cohutta was not promising. Ever since the 10-day forecast was visible, there was 90-100% chance of rain. Being from Michigan, I held out hope for a few days knowing no forecast can be accurate that far out. As the day drew closer I began second guessing the sanity of the trip and considered skipping, saving on 18 hours of driving and hotel room fees.

In the end the conclusion was that I have more will than common sense, and we met at 5 am on the Friday before and made the trek south. It has been long enough that I don’t recall specifics, but it was blustery cold in the mitten when we left, and nice and warm upon our arrival at Ocoee Whitewater center. We made our way to the check in, got our race numbers, plus all the M&Ms/Moon Pies that we could carry.

Starting area. A lot green than home.

This would be my first race using drop bags, so I wasn’t sure how to plan. I tossed in a couple Honey Stinger gels, waffles and chews into each of the 3 bags, plus a single serve pouch of CarboRocket. Dropping the bags into the designated containers, I saw a whole gambit of preparation. One bag had 3 bottles of Gatorade, another contained only 2 tubes and 4 CO2s, a third had half a box of Girl Scout Cookies.

The start of the pre-ride.

Then it was time for a bit of a pre-ride. My partner did not want to ride up the opening hill, electing to conserve all energy for the next day. We drove to the parking area at the top of the hill, and entered the trail for an ever-so-brief 5-mile/30-minute cruise of some singletrack. It was warm, sunny, and dry. Terrific weather and I considered staying out all afternoon and skipping the event. This was the reason why I came 3 states away. [Hindsight says that we should have ridden from the start, up to the trail and back down just to see the second portion of singletrack]

Local entertainment.

Packed up we headed to Blue Ridge, Ga. (4^th sate) and checked into our hotel. This was the nicest place ever, with the desk clerk telling us “just wheel your bikes in right through the lobby here hun!” Never have I been invited to bring my bike in, but often told to leave it outside. We headed back to the quaint downtown for some dinner. And what pre-race prep isn’t complete without a couple/few cold beers out on the patio? Full, buzzed, and tired it was back to the room for a few hours of sleep before the race began. One last check of the weather, no reprieve in site, it was just some fitful sleep between me and 100 miles.

Morning radar.
The blue dot in the middle-right was our location.

We woke in the morning to a steady rain, and no matter how many different radars I checked, things didn’t look promising. I hit the hotel breakfast (open at 5:00 am!) and we loaded the car to head back to Ocoee. I think we got there approaching 6. It was grey, dark, and we were surrounded by cars full of riders huddled from the elements. Motivation was low as I pulled the bike off the rack and prepared it for the race. I noticed there was a puddle forming by our truck, and paid it no mind. Back inside I began to change. The thought was not wearing a ton of material as I didn’t want to become a sponge. I settled on the standard kit and a rain jacket. As I exited the car I stepped into the puddle which was not ankle deep. I had dry feet for 1.7 seconds total this race.

In my hesitation to avoid misery, I didn’t keep track of the time, only to realize it was 6:58 and everybody was lining up. I grabbed my bottles ad sloshed to the back of the line. It wasn’t a big deal; my first attempt was to finish, not to “win”. I did manage to leave my Rocklytes behind to remain warm and dry.

Without much fanfare we headed off. I stayed in the pack getting sprayed as we exited the Whitewater center. The rain jacket was smart thinking. Once onto the road I continued to pedal an easy pace, what my singlespeed gearing will do for me. I wasn’t attacking, but I wasn’t coasting. I passed a surprising amount of people, but there weren’t many behind me chasing for the front. I hit the singletrack in a medium sized group containing Danielle Musto and some of her cohorts.

This was not the singletrack we rode the previous day. The surface was now flowing with water, slick roots, sharp rocks and slimy mud. I just stayed in the pace line and focused on not spinning out. With 95+ miles to go, I didn’t need to risk any passing here. We hit a brief paved section and the group I was with splintered. At the other end I was pretty much alone with a few riders visible ahead. It has been a while, so I decided to try and eat. I pulled a sleeve of chews out and popped one in my mouth. Just then I hit a rough patch and grabbed back onto the bars. Unfortunately, the impact caused the rest of my food to launch into the air like a roman candle. At least there would be some energized squirrels now. And when I say “visible” I meant a fuzzy shape that could be a rider, or a bear, or just mud and fog on my glasses.

It was at this point we hit a massively rooty section. I wish I had pre-ridden this area to know if a viable line existed. Just then the rider in front of me went down; I adjusted to go around when my back tire spun on an angled root. Bzzzzt went Ralph and I hit the ground. Smacking my knee good, I took quick inventory, jumped up and ran to the top of the section. I remounted only to make it a short distance to a creek crossing. All the rain mad the flow pretty decent, and as I tried to pedal across the concrete slabs my back tire washed around until I was facing upstream. Off again and running through the water. The puddle this morning prepared me for this.

I babied the bike across the long, wet bridge signaling our exit from the start area and onto some more rough, wet rooty riding. After somewhere between 1:45 and 2 hours it was finally to the fire roads. It was then that I noticed it had stopped raining. I was grateful the all day rain was not coming, but I was still steadily getting sprayed from the wet roads. As I rolled past station 1 I realized I was deep into the race and barely touched a bottle, and had only one chomp. Not even 25% in and already in a nutritional debt.

Aid 2 I grabbed my first bag. Gulped some food, filled my one partially drained bottle and took back off. This section was full of rolling hills. It was climb and descent, repeat ad nauseam. I don’t recall any flat areas around. On every other climb I would take a swig of water, spitting half back out to clean my lenses. On the downhill they would fill back up with mud. No need to stop at aid 3, and headed onto the first loop. Here another single speeder passed me. The only one that did all day (that I recall). Red-headed fellow, pony-tail and a giant hub, like a Hive Chub or something. Determined to stay with him, he pulled away on the climbs here. I was already fading, losing energy. I took in more food and tried to maintain. I also notice my chain was sounding pretty rough; I planned to address that at the next station.

Finally to station 4. I took half my food, filled my bottles, and one of the workers cleaned my glasses. I also ditched the rain coat, as I wouldn’t need it on the next 35 mile leg. I spent this portion keeping the pace, listening to my chain grind, and continually doing math. If I reach 50 miles at 4 hours…. 66 miles in 6 hours… etc. I made it to station 5 in under 7 hours. 21 miles to go, easy peasy. I grabbed the last of my food, mixed my bottle of 333, threw on my jacket and took off.

The 10 miles to the next station about killed me. I had nothing left, and each little rise was a struggle. After way too long I got to station 6 (83 miles). I finally remembered to lube my chain and when I took off that was a bit better sounding. However, it was at the top of the next rise when I realized I was overheating, steaming like a salmon filet in my rain coat. I took this back off, then rolled it up and wrapped it around my waist beneath my jersey. This made things better, but the damage was done.

Bike left to drain and dry.

I weakly rode past the final aid stations, and into the singletrack for the final 10 miles. I don’t know if this section was particularly brutal, or if I had nothing remaining. I struggled through here for what felt like an hour. More wet roots, slick rocks and mud holes. I had no idea where I was, just wanted to be done. I was desperate to hear a truck on the road, or something to signal the end.

Finally I popped out behind a dam and crossed the concrete bridge. I was a bit confused to see another rider coming at me across the bridge in the opposite direction. However, I did not care because I wasn’t going back the other way. The final section of road seemed endless, and I just kept spinning, hoping not to be passed, but not caring if I did. Once across the line I was glad to be done. Muddy and soaked all I wanted was dry clothes.

Luckily much of the dirt dried and flaked off towards the end.

I took off my shoes and my insoles had silt filling the spaces between my toes and arches. I finished with custom orthotics. [Side note, I had not foot, toe, or any issues during the race. I should have kept the dirt perhaps]. I joined a slew of other racers down at the river, pole rinsing in the water, bunking bikes and beating clothes against the rocks.

The nice lady at the finish cleaned my glasses.

Slightly cleaner, I pulled out a chair, grabbed a beer, and ate my finisher turkey wrap while waiting for my companion. A couple beers later, he crossed the line after his first MTB hundie. I am sure this would remain extra memorable for him. I pushed him into the river, loaded the gear back up and we headed for Knoxville to complete the adventure.

Credit to Sara Kristen.

Shout out to Twin Six for the new kit, CarboRocket for the elixir of life, ESI Grips for keeping my hands connected all day, Tire Maniacs for the tread, Squirt Lube, and the rest of the folks that got me to and through this race.

Tree. Farm. Really?

2013-08-02T19:52:00.001-07:00

http://motor-club-6.blogspot.com/2013/07/2013-tree-farm-relay-battle-of-beards.html

Brighton. Wrecked.

2013-08-02T19:32:00.000-07:00

I just came to the realization that I never posted a report for the Brighton race. It feels like it was a lifetime ago. I guess I will keep it brief, since at my age, my memory ain't what it used to be.

I had been riding Brighton a bit more frequently, as it is somewhat of a local trail for me now. I did not have aspirations of riding away, but I knew it was my last chance to keep B-Rad from walking away with a near sweep of the USAC series.

I arrived a bit before the race, and parked next to T-Payn, mostly because his sobbing calms my nerves. I checked out the start loop, and was somewhat relieved to see the grassy knoll was not included in the loop.

During my warm-up, I overheard that a technical rooty section was bypassed, making the lap a mile shorter, and pretty much an all out sprint for 4 laps.

Time to line up, and the mood was pretty jovial. Some of the usual folks were there, and others didn't make the trip.

Once the start approached, it was all business. When the gun went off, Brad took off like the finish line was 200 meters away. He practically blew through the first turn, which was the only reason I was able to catch back on. Not even onto the trail, and I was redlined.

It was easy to see Lako had 2 goals in mind. First was to wrap off this series with a tremendous showing off riding off the front for the entirety of the race. Second was to tear the legs off anybody that wanted to try to hang on.

After the first lap it remained Lako, Fedewa and myself in the lead group.

About a mile into the second lap, and Andy the Rhino washed out in a sandy corner, and I moved up to second directly behind Brad. I could tell he sensed my back there, and kept turning the screws. I thought my hart was going to explode, but I hung on.

Lap 3 and Brad was pulling away. Unfortunately, I washed out on the same corner the Andy went down in a lap before. At the point Brad was gone, and I never saw him again until the finish.

I tried to keep the onus, to hang on to second. But a bit later the Hooligan Neidlinger came by and I could not match his pace.

Lap 4 and I was struggling to keep third. I don't know how far Fedewa was behind me, but I wanted to hang on to one of the steps.

I faded badly and when the end came, I did manage third, around 1 minute ahead of the charging Rhino. But 3 minutes behind Brad and the winner Neidlinger.

So, with another 3rd place, I remained a solid second in the series. Brad was able to clinch his victor. Another dominating performance with 4 victories and this second place. My only hope is that I was able to make it a bit of a challenge for him, so it wasn't as easy as he made it seem.

Un.Bee.Leivable

2013-07-06T18:48:00.001-07:00

I was going to make this another Facebook rant, but as I thought about it, the more I felt it would make a better blog post. This should make T-Payn happy as it will contain no self-deprecating race analysis.

As several of you know, I put in a little bike ride after work on wednesday, and in the course of pedaling, a "bee" (bee, wasp, hornet, etc.) flew into my helmet vent and stung me above the left temple.

This wasn't the first time I was stung while riding, but the third time in the cranial area (the other was my ear during the first lap of the Boyne Marathon), and the first time in 2 years.

So today was the day when I had recovered enough emotionally and physically to try riding again. The swelling had gone down enough that my helmet fit, and the sobbing was only occasional.

I headed back out on a merry jaunt on my bicycle, although I was a bit gun shy. I had a couple insects enter into a helmet vent, but I was able to shack them out. About halfway through my last lap, I was just cruising along when I felt something enter a vent again.

For the second time in 2 rides, I again had some suicidal flying fuck penetrate my head and ejaculate venom into my skull. So I did what any normal person would do... I grabbed a handful of front brake and went flying over the handle bars. I figured the impact would dislodge whatever cranial rapist was taking advantage of my scalp.

After dusting myself off, I sprayed off my head with some cold water (which did nothing), and went to finish my ride. At this point there is a fine line of what kind of pace to maintain. Too fast and the poison circulates through my entire system, and I fall over and die. Too slow and I collapse and die right there.

So, as I ride out at a moderate pace, my mind is left to analyze the situation. Am I breathing harder than normal? Is my tongue swelling? What does fluid in your lungs feel like? Is my nose running, or is that a brain hemorrhage?

I made it back to my car, and safely home. I tried to disinfect the area with some Pert Plus (wash and go!), but my head still hurts. Fortunately it is the opposite side from last time.

My plan is to lock myself inside for the next 48 hours. I do not want to end up going to work on Monday looking any more like Rocky Dennis.

I will take the time to reassess my riding practices.
1) No more rosewater dabbed behind my ears. Although smelling nice is important, I think it may be doing more harm than good.

2) Retire my highly vented helmet for something less cool (in more ways than one).

3) Continue with my mega-dose of beer, taken internally.

4) Cancel my botox appointment before I end up looking like the cat lady.

They say that all the bees are dying, I say, not fast enough....

Bloomer. Park. Wilted.

2013-07-01T19:18:00.002-07:00

I don't know how long this will be, so bear with me.

Bloomer Park isn't one of my favorite race courses. It isn't that I don't like the race, or the trail, just that the terrain doesn't work well with my hack style of riding. So the week leading in, I wasn't feeling terribly confident or excited.

Of course, the constant onslaught of rain all week did not bode well for my training leading in, add to that my lack of motivation to ride the sit-and-spin, and is a recipe for flat legs. The only ride I was able to squeeze in was a short 3 hours the day before. Was this the smartest idea? Probably not. But with my history of this race in mind, I went with it.

I arrived at the park as the gates were opened. I was anxious to to a preview of some of the course to determine how the reroutes affected the course. It seemed it was a mile shorter than usual, with some climbing removed. I was able to notice the branch left as the trail crosses the road near the finish. I think several riders did not.

Time to line up for the start, and like usual, nobody wanted to stand next to Lako, so I stood there so it looked like he had friends. Soon things filled up with Pongo, Osgood and Anthony. The standard collection.

When the race started, we all took off up the short grassy climb, It was a bit of a match sprint. Nobody wanted to jump on the front, and it was becoming a slow speed stalemate. I eventually took the lead as I figured I wouldn't be surprised by any of the trail features, and my slow speed wouldn't allow me to get dropped.

I don't know how hard I was going. I just tried to get through the early sections a cleanly as possible. During the ups ans downs I noticed we were a bit spread out, but reasonably close, with Brad and Anthony on my wheel. Through the switchbacks relatively cleanly, and onto the first flats. I stayed right hoping somebody would pull through, but no joy. 180 degrees on the next flat and still no relief. I rode up on another ride just as we turned back onto the trail, and splashed straight through a puddle.

Unfortunately, we were supposed to turn right, as I quickly realized. I yelled out "We missed the turn" and jumped off the bike, ran through the creek and up the hill. Back on the course I could not put in an effort to put in any time on the others as I could not get clipped back in. Fortunately for me, nobody wanted to come around still, and I was back on the front. I pulled through until the cricket field, where I pulled up and Brad and Anthony came around.

I stuck to their wheels for the rest of the lap, and most of the second lap. They put in some space on the field again, and a bit more in the last section of singletrack before the start finish.

Lap three they continued to pull away. My lap times showed some consistency through this lap, but I was unable to close in on the two leaders.

Lap 4 and I think the previous days efforts were starting to show. Early on I still felt like I was working hard, but not getting anyplace fast. I had essentially resigned myself to trying to remain in 3rd place. Along one of the straights, I heard 2 riders coming up quickly, so I move to the right (off the good line) to let them by. As I did, one rider yelled "Right, right" as he was already passing. So I moved left to give some room when the other guy yelled "Left, left!"

My mind quickly formed the response of "Oh, I am so sorry gentlemen, I did not realize that there was an ongoing bicycle race and you two were the only participants. Please allow me to to clear the way to ease you in your travels" but unfortunately, all that came out was "Call your passes fuckers!" Not quite as eloquent, but it must have had an impact as the both turned around.

Finishing up the race, I heard the sprint finish of Lako and Anthony as I was turning in alongside the road to the final dirt before the finish. I rolled across solo. I continued back out back towards the cricket field to cheer on Brain and Aryn as the come in to finish.

Once we were all in, it was time to swap stories (2 missed turns at the water, and one missed left at the road), and have a beer.

Then it was the time for the awards. Brad was top step yet again, Anthony second, I had third, and it was good to have Johnny up front as well. Aryn moved up a bit in his result, and Brian put in a solid effort as well.

All in all it was a good day. A third place at a race I normally don't do well in, and course I didn't feel suited for. My only regret was not bringing more beer.

Thanks to Gail Osgood for taking some nice pictures in the absence of our team archivist.

Lumberjack 100. Shay.

2013-06-18T19:54:00.001-07:00

A while ago I decided to add Lumberjack 100 to my race list for the season. I haven't done the race before, but I like to add one endurance race to my schedule each year just to test myself.

Brian from the Motor club and I went up Friday before the race, and were settled into the cabin by early afternoon. A quick hour on the bike to wake up the legs, then dinner before turning in for the night, as it would be an early morning.

We were on the road before dawn, spotting several deer on the way to the trailhead. We arrived at 5:20, and began to set up camp. We were pretty well situated, although there were plenty more well-versed groups there with nice camp set-ups.

There was no reason (or motivation) to warm up, so a bit before 7 we hit the road to the starting point, about 1.5 miles away. As we left the camp area, it got cold! It felt like an Iceman start and I was rethinking that warm-up.

By the time we got to the starting line, a huge mass of people had formed. I took the first clear spot I could find, maybe halfway back. At 7 am, we were supposed to go. It seemed we were late getting going, but at 7:04 the surge in front of us began. Maybe it did start on time!

I was immediately separated from Brain worked my way through the crowd as much as possible without burning a match. It felt like I passed 100 people and made it to the end of a large group that was covering the whole road. So I settled in and prepared to turn into the dirt.

There was a bit of a bottleneck, but I didn't come to a complete stop. Onto the trail it was slow going. Conga lines as far as the eye could see. The trail had a lot of dead fall. A LOT of deadfall. I was working my way forward when I could, which usually meant the climbs. At mile 2 I got a nice large stick wrapped into my chain and rear derailleur. It was big enough I immediately pulled off, I didn't want my race to be done before 7:30.

With the stick removed, I had to try and get back on course. I lost every spot I had already gained, and then some. The long lines did give me the opportunity to practice riding my brakes on every downhill. This is a skill I have not worked on much. On the first two track section I laid down a decent effort to get by as many people as possible, and met up with Trevor for the first time. He is one badass singlespeeder and I knew if I hung with him I would have a great race.

Eventually we made t to the area I can only recall as "The pine trees with the blue dots" where I had to shift into the small ring just to keep the cranks turning. It was like 4 MPH and softpedalling for 20 minutes. We reached the aid station, and I pushed past to make up some positions.

Soon it was time for the first Firetower climb. Already riders were doing a death march trudge up the hill, so I threw my bike on my shoulder and ran up in my best CX effort. Making up ~10 more spots, I then blasted down the gravel road on the backside. It was nice for some speed, but the gravel was sketchy.

At the 2 right after, I met with Trev again. This time we hung together as traffic was clearing a bit (except on the climbs). It was around here that I saw Lako for the first time.

We were now through lap 1 of the race. I pulled into the pit for some food, and fresh bottles. I wasn't feeling bad, but knew it was a long way to go.

A few minutes later I head out for lap 2, and Erin, Trev's wife yells that he is 4 minutes up on me. I figured I could work a bit harder on this lap, and possible close the gap a bit. About 16 minutes in I saw Trev coming the other way. That would be the last time I saw hime racing that day.

A bit later I called a pass on a rider and he waved me through just as we were crossing one of the perpendicular road sections. My front got crossed up in the sand, and I flew off the bars into sand with a soft thud. The riders asked if I was Ok, and I told him "Yes, I'm fine. Just go on and I will pass again in a few minutes." I also took this time to make my one and only pee brake until later that evening.

I skipped the aid station again because I was once again caught behind a slower rider, and wanted to make up positions. Up the tower climb again (no running), back down and towards the finish. I think this is where I saw Brad again, and he was just moving his own pace.

Lap 2 was done, and I stopped for more food and a coke. Damn, I forgot to drink one on the first lap.
Heading back out Erin yelled "He is only 10 minutes ahead, you can catch him!" to which I could only laugh. Time for some math, I had to ride 9 more miles before 6 hours elapsed. 9 miles later and I was a couple minutes behind. Next was mid-point before 1:20 into the lap. I worked the best I could, but my body was starting to revolt.

My shoulder and wrists were sore (possible from the crash). I had taken my gloves off on lap 2 as they felt small that day. I pounded my first bottle 20 minutes in, and knew I needed a refill this lap.

I hit the aid station at 1:20, and knew if I could hang on, I could make it, but it would be close. More coke, a banana, and a bottle of water and I was on my way. The water bottle wash was a bonus, and I wished I just buried my face in the fritos bowl.

Things were starting to go downhill, and I was soon unable to drop into the small ring. This was gonna suck.
There were a few climbs left and I wasn't looking forward to the grunt. There was one climb I had to walk (middle of 3 successive I think, pretty steep). All of the other ones were spent shouting "Why won't you fucking shift you piece of shit. Just shift! Are you too good to shift? Do it!" It was no help.

The last sections before the final downhill, and I caught another rider. He wasn't willing to let my by, and the trail was tight. I just sat on his wheel and casually pedaled across the line. 7:57 and change.

My outward goal was 9 hours or less. My private goal was 8 hours. Could I have been faster, perhaps. I enjoyed my brief stops, got to see my wife, and never felt like I was going to break.

The Diesel Motor came through at 8:22. An excellent performance, considering he finished 200 km at Michigan Mountain Mayhem a week before.

After cleaning up a bit, it was time for a burrito, a couple IPAs, and some sitting. We packed up camp as the 11-ish hour riders were coming in, headed back to camp for a shower and more beer (and more food!).

Early in the race I recall thinking "This is great, I should do this every year!" Lap 2 was "I should possibly consider doing this again next year" and lap 3 became "Let's just wait and see".

Excellent event put on by great folks. I expected nothing less.Now I have to figure out just how many days I can sit on the couch before "recovery" just becomes laziness....

Addison Oaks. Splintered.

2013-06-11T18:38:00.000-07:00

Sometimes you are the hammer, sometimes you are the nail. Or is it bug and windshield. Whatever it is, last Saturday I wasn't.

I don't ever consider myself the Hammer, especially compared to how some folks are riding this season. The week coming in wasn't monumental, so I expected to be rested at least.

I got to the park fashionably late, per my usual. Motor Club was already set up, and I just grabbed a spot to prep. I went out for my warm up, and it didn't seem like my legs were responding. I didn't feel bad, but I wasn't firing on all cylinders.

A crowd was gathering at the start line, so I meandered my way to the front row. The course had a tour de grass for a bit in the beginning. I know there were some crashes in this area last year, so at the gun I didn't push to the front, but played conservative and safe through here.

As the course straightened out and headed towards the woods, I moved up to third wheel, with Lako leading and Andy the Rhino second, and Anthony, A-Gon and Osgood behind me. I didn't feel like the pace early was exceptionally fast, but man I felt like I was working hard.

Coming in through the first lap, Lako got caught up in the tape in a turn, so he fell behind. Heading out into the woods for lap two, Anthony jumped to the front, then the Rhino, me, and Alex. The first little climb at the begining of the trail Anthony put in a dig, and I jumped to second wheel. We put some space on the riders behind us, and I worked to hang on.

Halfway (two-thirds, 11/16ths?) through the lap Lako was back on my wheel, and brought Andy with him. Hitting the pavement at the end of the lap, Brad told me to hurry up and close, but I told him to go around. I also urged him to hit the tape barrier even harder this time. Andy went by on the grass loop and heading out for lap 3 I was now in fourth and trying to hang on.

I kept the trio in sight for most of the third lap, but I could not latch back on. Coming through the start finish they were on the way back out, probably 30 seconds up. The last lap I was mostly alone, not giving up, but certainly losing speed. Towards the end of the lap I saw the Rhino through the trees, and quietly hoped I could close in.

At the end, it turned out Lako but in a tremendous effort and split the group up, and crossed the line solo. I eventually crossed the finish, an maintained fourth place.

While I am not upset about reaching the (almost) podium again, I was left wondering what happened. I think I had my nutrition in place, didn't lose any bottles, but my RPE was high and my output was low.

Something like 3 weeks to figure it out. I will spend some time searching the bottom of a bottle, then maybe get on the bike and try to figure out how to not crack and splinter along the trail at Bloomer.

Congrats to Brad on commanding win, Agon, Anthony and Andy for nabbing the podium. Block and Soze of Motor Club getting 3rd and 4th in their races, Max for racing strong, and Brain for completing 200 km of Michigan Mountain Mayhem the week before his first LJ100.

Oh, and another sweet finish by fan favorite M. Ghirardelli!

Stony Creek. Marathon. Struggle.

2013-05-27T18:40:00.002-07:00

I was told that I had to writing this post without as much whining as usual. I will do my best.

Yesterday was the Stony Creek Marathon. 5 laps, ~50 miles of single and double track. This race is typically held in July, or at least it has been the last couple/few years when I have participated. This year it was moved to May, so the temperature wouldn't be 90+ degrees. I haven't done well at this event in the past, with my only DNF occurring here.

This race has been marked on my calendar for a while. Typically it was worth bonus points, but this year that was not the case. 4 hours and 50 miles is worth exactly the same as 80 minutes. Even so, I have never done well here, and wanted to put on my best effort.

We arrived shortly before 9 am, and the Motor Club was already set up. All I had to do was check-in, prep the bike, and change. So it was time to warm up, and I wanted to make sure the legs were spun out a bit, but not too much as I knew there was a long race ahead.

It was a small group at the start, 8 of us in the 30-39. The 3 usual suspects, Anthony, with special appearances from Cerget and Pongopantz. It appeared that a top 10 finish was in store, assuming that I finished.

Most of us lined up across the front row, and when it was time to go we lined up rather smoothly. We hit the first climb and when we made the left into the woods for the first time, I was 4th wheel behind Lako (obviously), Cerget, and Osgood. We stayed in this order through the first section of flats. On one of the early 2-track climbs I went around Osgood and was next to Cerget, but the bottom of the hill was a loose right-hander and I couldn't complete the pass on Cerget.

I just tried to keep up through the singletrack with the leaders, and close up when I could. Near the end of the lap we were mobbed by about 6 others from various groups, and things were kind of a mess going into the final climb, Three Gear Hill. At the top it was Lako, Myself and Anthony. [What happened over 5 laps is hard to recall, this may have been lap 2, I dunno.]

Lap 2 was more of the same. I think we were still mixed in with some other riders. At the top of a climb I went to the front due to the urging of Lako and put in a small effort leading into the singletrack. It must not have been fast enough, as Brad soon went around me and as I took a look around, it was just him, Anthony and I. [This could have been lap 3].

Assuming that the previous events were in lap 2, then lap 3 was non-monumental. I recall this is the lap that things started to break down for me. I could feel the fatigue creeping into my legs, and see the elastic begin to stretch out more.

Lap 4 and Lako relegated the lead to Anthony for a while. Those two began to pull away from me, and I began to do some damage control to retain my 3rd place standing. I caught Kenny at this point, shortly after the switchback climb. He said he wasn't feeling good, and was starting to cramp.
On the 2-track speed section heading to the finish, I came across Brad who was in the process of slowly dismounting his bike. I asked if he was OK, but received no response. I assumed it was cramps, like other riders I have seen pulled off. I have was experiencing some slight twinges in my hamstrings, but figured I only needed one more lap.

Coming through the Start/Finish area, I say Anthony ahead of me going across the line as I was coming off the loop. 10 miles to go, I was trying to close now. I finally made contact at the Rock Garden. We rode together again through the rest of the section. On the climb on the back side I went around and put in an effort on the downhill, but he hung on. I was starting to see how this was going to come down at the end.

Roger Anthony coming out of the woods.

I stayed ahead, then during a climb with a sandy switchback, I lost traction and had to dab. As soon as my toe toughed the ground my calf seized up and i couldn't clip back in. Anthony went back around, and once again I had to claw my way back on.

It was just the two of us coming out of the last singletrack, headed to the finish. He was in the lead, but losing steam. I didn't want to go in front, but I didn't want to play games and let the others catch up. So I went to the front, and he stayed right on my wheel. Based on my previous experience, I didn't want this to come down to a sprint. On the steepest part of the 3-gear climb I put in my last effort and accelerated up the hill, weaving around walkers and granny-gear spinners.

I had no idea where he was at this point, I was just trying to make it through the finish. Down the hill I hammered out into the open, looped around the pavement, hit the grassy 180 and was working to the finish chute. I didn't see Anthony around. I made it.

Powering through the finish.

As I crossed the Finish line, I was actually unsure if I was done. My lap counter had flipped to 5, but in my delirium, I wasn't sure if that was indicating the start or conclusion of the 5th lap. I soft-pedaled up the trail, waiting to see if anybody else was coming through. I then checked my mileage, and with 51 miles I concluded that I was done. I cooled down and pedaled back to camp.

Done, right? Thank Todd!

Brain and Ken were already back there relaxing. As soon as I got off the bike my calf cramped again, then my hamstring. It felt like my muscles were giving birth. A short while later Aryn came across the line.

A-Rod looking good!

Nom nom nom...

Brain coming through.

I turned out to be a decent day, my first win in Expert. I finished the race a full 40 minutes faster than last year;s time as well. Quite an improvement. Ken got to step on the podium with a 3rd place. Brian dropped due to a medical issue, but Aryn made it through unscathed and brought his family..

Top step, and no bunny ears!

Nice work Kenny!

Congrats to T-Payne for killing it in the SS division, Johnny Osgood for getting on the steps, Lako for rebounding and making podium, and Marc Ghirardelli for his Sport SS medal.

Everybody love Marc...

And I am also thankful for those men and women who gave all to protect our country, and provide me the opportunity to sit on the couch all day today and recover.

Stay Metal!

Bonk!

Island. Lake. Dry.

2013-05-12T18:53:00.003-07:00

This was the second race of the Tailwind USAC series, 2013. The announcer said this was the first (MTB) race at ILRA since 1996. I wasn't involved in the local scene then, so I can neither confirm nor deny. Actually, that year was probably the first or second year of my mountain biking period.

Coming off a decent showing at Mud, Sweat and Beers, I wasn't sure what to expect. The weather was cool, and I am getting tired of being cold changing into my kit. I haven't raced yet this year without needing arm warmers.

ILRA is close to the apartment, so once again I had a short commute. We arrived and parked next to Brain from the Motor Club once again. He is definitely the 'Early Bird' type of person.

After picking up my number, it was time to change and start warming up. I rode the opening hill and through the "new" singletrack, out to the road to see how things were laid out. It was the typical trail except the kept us pinned to the grass for a bit near the long road crossing over the bridge. I wanted to ride back to see what was happening at the downhill under the railroad bridge, but time was running short.

I got to the starting area and people were already lining up, so I moved in too to get a good spot. I jumped in the front row next to Lako and Alex. Soon Osgood showed up and wedged into a spot, then another rider on the outside. We were 6 riders wide at the start, with 1, maybe 2 good lines.

It seemed we stood around a bit longer than normal at the start. This gave me time to hand off my extra warm-up bottle,and give John Boy some good natured ribbing about his camelback. 40 some degrees, 2 laps, a generous supply of water was not needed.

Finally it was time to go and we shuffled to the line. At the start, I paused a half-second and immediately jumped onto Osgood's wheel. We took off over the hill and at the top I was in 4th wheel. The lead rider from TSB veered off to the left at one of the forks, and ended up in second behind Lako. Going into the new singletrack, it was Lako, TSB guy, Osgood and myself. Soon, Lako began to pull away, and Osgood made a pass before the switchback climb. At the top of the hill those two had made a small gap. I was able to get around TSB after the big 'dip' in the trail and begin closing the gap.

I was grouped back with the leaders by the time we reached the rutted downhill to the small bridge and first road crossing. As I reached the bottom of the hill to the left-hander, I felt something hit my left leg. It was my bottle ejecting from the cage, and I saw it settle next to the trail. [Numerous laps on the trail have never cause a bottle to pop out, including a descent during the warm-up.] Being up front, I decided I did not need a bottle, I would either get my warm-up bottle from my wife on the way through, or worst case, a cup of high quality H2O from the aid station.

So back to us three at the front, Lako was throwing down a good pace, but shortly before we reached the RR track, a Hooligan came around me and jumped onto Lako's wheel, making my 4th again. The quartet hung together throughout the rest of blue.

Right before making the left onto yellow the leaders from the 40+ group came by, damn those guys are fast. Through yellow we were doing well, but I was noticing that 1-2 were opening a small gap on Osgood and I. Before the wide bridge over the river I went around Osgood, and start working to close up the gap again. I was back on the wheel of the leaders. Not having any water, I just sat in for the rest of the lap. Lako was still setting the pace, but we kept his wheel.

As we came around for the lap, I was sitting up trying to locate my wife. She was there taking pictures, but had no bottle, as 48 minutes ago I assured her that I did not need it. That is fine, I will just take a water hand-up from the aid station. Wait.... where is the aid station? Not near the start line. Not at the finish. Not at the top of the hill. Shit, there wasn't one. I swallowed a mouthful of spit and hunkered down.

As we came through the rough downhill again, I saw my bottle nestled alongside the trail, mocking me. I thought about stopping to grab it, but still with the leaders, coming into traffic and crossing onto one of the fastest sections of the course, I skipped it.

Brad continued to lead until the second time we hit the straight along the RR tracks. The Hooligan took the lead and put in an effort, as we hit 24 MPH on the straight. I was starting to feel these efforts in my legs and I began thinking what I would do to hold on to third once things started shutting down.

Into yellow the second time, it was still the Hooligan leading, Brad right on his wheel and my yo-yo-ing off the back. If an incline or effort was needed, I would get unhitched, but work on the flats to close again. When we reached the trailhead parking lot for the last time, I knew it was going to come down to a sprint at the end. I was just hoping I would have enough left to be part of it.

It was a bit of cat and mouse for the final miles, but the writing was on the wall and we all knew it. When we turned onto the road leading to the finish climb, I was expecting a move right away. Thankfully it didn't happen. I was 3rd wheel just waiting for the move to happen.

When we hit the bottom of the climb Lako made his move and jumped to the right to pass. I immediately responded and went to the left. For a moment we were three wide coming up the hill. Soon it was Brad and I side by side, and I was digging with all I had left.

In the end, he crosses the line a wheel ahead of me, roughly 29", or 0.1 seconds. I screamed in frustration, but avoided profanity. I immediately congratulated Brad in a good race [In my own special way] and kept riding down the trail. I needed to get back to my bottle ASAP.

Back at the Jeep I continued to drink every liquid that I had brought along with me. Brain came along, he too was in a sprint to the line. He won his battle, but he wasn't sure about his placing.

Awards time came, and we had a full podium. Many familiar faces, most of which I am sure we will see again this season. I need to end up on the top step, Brad owes me some bunny ears.

And congrats to Mitch who put in a solid effort in the Elite race.

Mud. Sweat. Beers. Redemption

2013-05-05T18:43:00.001-07:00

This is the fourth time I have competed in this event. Since 2011 I have come out and raced my singlespeed in the hills of Traverse City.

2011 wasn't my best effort. I finished 5th, about 1o minutes behind the winner.
2012 wasn't much better. I bunch of riders missed a poorly marked turn, and I finished in 4th, 5 minutes behind the winner.

My brief research told me that the top riders were going to be back this year. In addition Trevor Smela, local speedy guy was going to be there as well.

Still some snow on the hill!

We arrived in TC the night before,had a good dinner and got some rest. The morning of the race, the short drive, and VIP Jeep parking made things really convenient.

My plan was to start at the front, and hang on as long as I could. I line up in the first row, that way I would not be caught up in any missed clips. To my right was TrevRev, and a few other speedy folks to my left.

We took off and I got a decent jump. I was third wheel heading up the hill. There was some incident to my left, I heard the announcer call out a crash. I am glad I avoided it.

We entered the woods and I was happy in 3rd letting the other 2 do the work. We reached the first climb, and we caught on to the previous group of geared riders. We made up 3 minutes in the first mile. The two in front lined up, and I went left to ensure I would not get caught in any unexpected dismounts. I ended up passing the bunch and now I was in the lead. I kept a decent pace, but didn't push too hard knowing Will Power (aka Heart Attack) Hill was ahead.

The climb was much better than years past, as the added gravel and graded it. Unfortunately the clear line was packed with geared spinners, and us SSers had to hit the more gravely part. We chugged up, with our back tired slipping on each pedal stroke.

I was back to second by the time we hit the paved subdivision. There were four of us now, and a DTE rider went to the front, with Trev, me and Anthony (remember him from Pontiac?) lined up behind. About halfway through the paved portion Trevor made a jump and the other two latched on. I did not make the jump, thinking with 20 miles left, I wasn't wanting to burn another match.

The three hit the singletrack ahead of me but still in sight. Much of the race consisted of getting caught behind geared riders on the singletrack, and passing where clear. This is incredibly similar to Iceman, but much warmer, and the conga lines aren't as long.

I passed the DTE rider, and was working to close on the other two. I would catch glimpses of the orange Niner of Trevor, so I would keep pushing. At one point I was behind 4 riders crossing a sandy powerline section. The front rider went down in the sand and laid there like dead fish. The other wo guys were waiting for him to remount, and I hopped off and ran around them all.

At one point a guy along the trail told me the leaders were 1 minute ahead, and 50 yards apart. I kicked it up another notch. By Timber Ridge I had closed on pair who had regrouped. I was within spitting distance of them, but couldn't close.

We hit Joy Ride on our return to the hill and I had closed on Trevor. I was on his wheel entering the subdivsion again. Once again he took off and I couldn't hold his wheel. He was flying! I bombed back down Will Power, made the correct turn between the padded trees, and muscled up the last climb.

Entering into the hill I didn't see the leaders, but the sandy off-camber held the majority of my attention. I didn't want to eat a face full of sand right at the finish. I rounded the last cut-back to the Specialized tire, and I heard the announcement of the sprint for the end.

Anthony on the right, Trevor right behind in the white helmet.

I pedaled on, bombed through the mud pit, and finished a close third.

After the reason, the weather turned around, and I spent 3 hours drinking beer and hanging out getting a sunburn. It was a good race, and I finally got my podium. I didn't even mind finishing behind Trevor (who ended up in second, with the same official time as the winner Anthony) because he is a badass workhourse.

Time to head home and see what is next on the agenda. Stay Metal!

Pontiac. Firebird.

2013-05-02T20:10:00.000-07:00

So, the season has arrived, I skipped 2 or three common season openers before arriving at Pontiac. It felt strange coming into my fist race so late in the season, but a minimal amount of time riding on dirt. Will skipping these warm-up races have a negative impact, or will I be springtime fresh?

I arrived at Pontiac Lake not quite as early as usual. It was good to have a shorter commute. Brain from The Motor Club was already set up, so I poached a seat under the canopy and chatted for a bit.

Soon enough it was time to get changed and start warming up. I spun around a bit and checked out the new Start/Finish loop around the field. I was a little tougher mentally, but nice for the folks not racing to see some of the action.

By the time that I finished warming, I saw the cattle being corralled for the start and worked my into the mass of carbon and metal. I found my group but had to settle for second row. I lined up next to Gus, while the big guns like Osgood and the KLM Power Duo of Lako and Gonzalez sat in front. We pushed our way forward awaiting our 10:04 start.

The seconds on the clock flipped to :00 and the surge was on. Once again the rider directly in front of me missed a clip and fumbled around. Fuck me, every race it seems I get caught in this. Strike one. I work around him as the train formed on the grass and headed to the dirt. Once onto the singletrack I was last wheel in the group and knew I had to start making up ground.

The troupe consisted of: Anthony, KLM:Power Duo, Osgood, Fedewa, Hemingway, and W9. (There may have been one other, but close enough). We stayed together surprisingly well, but soon the rope started to stretch with the 3 leaders pulling away. I made a pass on 2-mile climb to close on Osgood, but chose a sloppy line and ended up washing out. Strike 2. I quickly remounted and began the chase anew.

Before long we were down to a group of just 3 behind the leaders: Gus, Osgood and I chasing down Alex as he was left behind by Lako and Anthony. The 4 of us congealed and stuck together for a bit, with nobody making a move. After a short while, the leader from the next wave (Wissink) caught us and I waved him through on the left. As he began to pass the cluster of riders, it was my intention was to jump on his wheel and follow him through. Just as I pulled alongside the group, Osgood had the same idea and snatched my line. The passing window immediately closed, and I was now at the back of a group of 3, with Osgood pulling away. I missed my chance. Third strike. I stayed on the back of 3-pack for a bit longer, looking for a place to make a move and try to chase down Osgood.

Then it happened, we came to the mud hole on mile 8. All 5 of the riders immediately ahead of me went to left, so I thought “Screw it” and decided that I was going to go straight through the middle and see what happens. As I came to the mud I saw a log bridge/ladder on the far right side, and heard a commotion to my left. I hit those logs full tilt and came busting out the other side. I don’t know what happened on the left, but I was now directly behind Wissink and had a gap on Osgood and the others. Home fucking run! (OK, I know enough about baseball that it is highly difficult to get a home run after a third strike, so I guess one of the earlier strikes was actually a foul tip.)

I tried my best to stay on Wiss' wheel and increase the gap behind because I knew Ozzy wasn’t going to let me get away easy. I kept Wissink in sight almost the remainder of the lap. I didn’t see John, but I thought I heard his name as he came through the finish area.

Lap 2, the moment of truth (Ok, more than a moment, but less than an hour). The race was now a Time Trial like years past. I hit the singletrack solo and trying to maintain my speed. At the switchback on 2-mile climb I saw the Red/Black/White & Mavic Yellow charging up behind and I put in a dig. I wasn’t going to get caught, not this time. I continued to push my pace, and I think I may have passed a couple riders along the way.

On the straightaway leading to the final switchback climbs of the day, I saw two riders ahead. One was a wearing blue and white, which I thought could be a KLM jersey. I closed the gap on those two by the top of the climb. On the short descent to the 2-track KLM got a bit of a gap and by the time I hit the final flat I was at full steam to make the pass and close it. On the grass to the finish we were side-by-side and I realized it wasn’t Lako but kept up the effort across the line.

When the dust settled, I finished in 2^nd place, a tie for my best Expert finish ever, and probably my least miserable effort. I didn’t stay around long after the race, as the rain began and I am a sissy when it comes to the cold.

Terrific outings both fellow Twin Six reps Jorden Wakeley (1^st Elite, duh!) in the Metal kit and Brain (4^th Expert 40-49) and Ken (5^th Beginner 40-49) representing the Motor Club. It was Kenny’s first MTB race, and the conditions out there were less than ideal for the afternoon groups, but he fought through and got his METAL. Let’s hope he stays there.

Brain playing it cool

Going. Nowhere. Fast.

2013-04-30T18:45:00.001-07:00

I guess this update should have come out before the Pontiac XC race last weekend. I have been thinking about the content for a bit, but have been too busy/lazy to get it written. I may as well get it up before race reporting.

2012 was supposed to be my breakout year for racing. I don’t know if that was self-imposed or perhaps something that others felt as well. I wouldn’t call it a meteoric rise by any stretch of the imagination. 2010 was my first year racing; I rode singlespeed in the beginner age group with the geared guys. I trained a bit in the offseason, and 2011 came out in Sport Singlespeed category. I did well enough, moved up after a couple of races and finished the season winning the CPS Expert/Elite Singlespeed, and finished 4^th in the USAC sport age group on gears on the side. After some cajoling in that Fall, it was time to man up to Expert. I used this as an excuse to buy a new bike.

So, I trained hard over the winter of 2011, or at least I thought I did. I moved to a big name team, and planned on another big race season and kicked it off with some very mediocre performances. I got taken down at Barry-Roubaix, broke a chain at Yankee and again at Custer, missed a turn at Mud, Sweat and Beers, and overall just came out flat. I then moved to some road work, and had some fun in the Cat.5 group before catting up after a few races. Back onto the dirt and I continued my ways of self-destructing and finishing mid pack or worse.

By mid-summer, I was done and not even wanting to ride for fun. My training went to null. My racing were just going through the motions. The only high spot from June on was the Stony XC race. This was the first race I went in with not caring about finishes, team performances, or any expectations. The result was my best finish of the season.

Iceman was a bust, and finishing at the back of the Pro group did nothing for my waning desire. I had 5 months to figure out what it was that I am going to do this year. You can notice that there is no schedule in the right column, and that is because I don’t know. Each weekend is a coin flip to see if I am up for a race, or if I am going stay in bed.

This season will be going back to my roots, riding for Twin Six, no expectations, no cares and a Fuck You attitude. Let’s see how this plays out.

And, the Iceman Go-eth...

2013-03-27T04:39:00.001-07:00

Since everybody has been updating their blogs, I figure it would be time that I should do that as well. Back in November I promised an update on my Iceman ride. I think it has been sufficiently long that I forgot enough detail that this post can be relatively brief.

It was the Friday before, and on the way up we stopped at a Taco Bell for lunch. Upon entering I saw Osgood, a scary bearded guy who had to be Lako, and Alex Gonzalez. I felt better about my dining decision know that the guys who are routinely faster than I am were also sitting down to 4 Doritos Locos Tacos, Supreme, two Mexican pizzas, a Nacho Bell Grande and 164 oz. of Mountain Dew Baja Blast!

After lunch we continued on our way north to Kalkaska. I had read a lot about the new sections of the course and some re-routing action. I figured the only way to know what to expect would be a preliminary ride of the course the day before. I took off from the Kalkaska hospital and hit the trail near the start. I briefly thought about starting at the school, but was a bit worried about changing in the parking lot.

The new ‘road’ sections were definitely sandy, and deep. I knew things would be different after 300 racers go through. I would be taking off in the afternoon; I was a “Pro” after all. I finished up in about 2:20, damp and cold. I felt Ok for the race. It was just for fun, right?

Then it was off to GT Lodge to sign in and hit the expo. I waited in the long line to pick up my packet, and once I made it to the front I was told that the “Pro” riders needed to go over there (*points to the right*) where there were 2 workers and no line. Doh! One benefit wasted. Browsing through the expo, my excitement for mountain biking and cycling in general was waning, so I didn’t see much that interested me.

Time to check into the hotel, sneak my bike into the room and then go get some dinner. Instead of my traditional pre-Iceman meal, we met some friends at a different dining establishment. To continue my theme from earlier in the day, it was a wet burrito. Although the ‘wet’ tasted like spaghetti sauce and kinda ruined the experience for me.

Back to the hotel, it was time for bed. I awoke the next morning and went down for breakfast. It was nice not setting an alarm, although the 5, 6, and 7 am racers were plenty loud enough that an alarm would not have been necessary, even if I was wearing ear plugs and put a pillow over my head. Another issue that morning was a slight toothache that gradually increased in intensity throughout the morning until my moderate discomfort became annoying pain. I went to the drug store, loaded up on toothache medicine and pain relievers. It helped a bit, but I wasn’t in to mood to eat any lunch.

Time to race. I waited in traffic and dropped the wife off at Timber Ridge then continued to Kalkaska. It was super nice just driving up to the starting line and parking in the adjacent lot. “Pro” benefit #2 I guess. I got changed, rode around, chatted with Mr. Powers, and get ready for the race. I wasn’t feeling strong mentally or physically. Every time I took a cold drink it felt like somebody stabbed me in the face. Oh well, it wasn’t like I was gonna win this thing. There were some call ups for the fast people, whilst I lingered in the middle of the back half. Then the start, the slow crawl to the line, then tearing off down the street like a bat outta hell. Riders weaving in and out, cutting people off, sketchy as hell like they are going to win this thing. I get run off the road and across somebody’s front yard. Sorry, but I don’t want to touch the floor 42 seconds into the last race of the season.

Chaos continues until we get passed the elementary school and make the right onto the first section of this course that isn’t road. Flying still, pedaling down the 2-track, a left hander and…oh we’re stopped. Somebody crashed on the first turn on dirt. Really folks, we’re “Pros” remember? I don’t recall much during these middle sections of the course. I worked as hard as I felt I could, but I wasn’t racing. I made some passes; I probably got passed (but not much as I was already near the back). I saw Mitch ahead and tried to reel him in, but was never able to. I would close and he would pull away. The last time I saw him was the sandy road. It was actually ride-able thanks to the earlier traffic. Made it up the road climb to the cheering masses (who had thinned after the real fast guys came through) and was working until Anita’s hill. At the base of the wall the Pro women caught me, and zoomed by. I stood to climb and both of my thighs said “No, we are done for the day, thanks” and I was forced to sit down and spin the rest of the way.

Around mile 8, Ain't dead yet!

The rest of the way was just getting to the finish. Climbing up Woodchip Hill some youngster acutely stated “It doesn’t look like he is going very fast!?!” which was a very keen observation and something I was definitely aware of. I think he was just in (the opposite of) awe when comparing me to the pros that came through 40 minutes before I did.

Race finished. Time 2:00:40. No sub-2 hr. tee-shirt. Oh well. I was an experience. I slogged back to camp, showered (Plenty of hot water available since everybody else finished hours earlier, Bonus #3), and ate some food. It is hard to say now if I was disappointed with my effort. I hadn’t experienced cramps like that before. All I could rely on was maybe next year.

And I got to look forward to a root canal to fix that toothache….

What I Did (or Didn’t Do) on My Summer Vacation

2012-11-06T08:32:00.000-08:00

Well, it is pretty obvious that I haven’t been updating my blog much this summer. I guess ‘at all’ would be a better description. I was practically begged by all of my fan (not a typo) to do an update, several times.

In light of the Iceman race last weekend, and the anticipated end of year race report, I figured I would throw together a brief montage of the events leading up to that day.

June:
Way back in June I finished up the Tour de Mount Pleasant with a couple of acceptable finishes, Cat.5 at least. Afterwards I applied for my Cat.4 upgrade and was approved. Some stated I should have remained in 5, other said I should have applied sooner. Either way it wouldn’t really matter.

So to backtrack just a bit, in early June I accepted a new job in Ann Arbor and was biding my time at my current position. The writing was on the wall there, I had not been happy for some time, began looking for a new position the previous summer. So my days were filled with apathy, and my “Give a shit” was reaching record lows.

On June 23 was the Festival of the Sun Criterium. This would be my first (and currently only) Cat.4 road race. I went in unprepared, beginning my downward slide in training. I rode a meek race, just hanging around the back of the pack, not sure I belonged and not feeling like I could hang. Finished 17 of 25.

The next day I got on a plane bound for Florida. A week off just basking in the sun, except Tropical Storm Debbie was in town, so it was pretty much a week spent inside.

July:
The first week of July was my last week at my old job. Time was spent going through files, clearing off desks, taking long lunches, and of course, a day off in the middle. I started my new job on the 9^th. I was now spending 10+ hours a week commuting to and from work. Basically all the hours I was spending on the bike I was now spending in the car.

Also we put our house up for sale, so the weekends were full of cleaning, decluttering, garage sales, and some home shopping (That is looking for new homes, not buying ugly sweaters off the TV). In an effort to maximize savings I cleared off my racing schedule. I kept the remaining USAC races as I had already paid, but many CPS and other races hit the chopping block. Some of my favorite end of season (is this still mid-season) races were removed. This made my schedule 17 races instead of the ~25 or so it would have been.

The 7^th was the Stony Marathon. In proper form it was a hot one. I showed up flat. Took off fast and crawled across the line. I couldn’t hang with Aryn as he caught and dropped me on lap 3. I was grateful just to finish.

The 28^th was the Tree Farm Relay. I tried to put in some bike time leading up to this. Not because I wanted to, but because I didn’t want to let down the team. Plus I really didn’t want to be the slowest guy out there. We had a decent showing, but some unavoidable issues left us off the podium.

I was able to return to my apathetic ways of non-training.

August:
In the midst of selling, then not selling, then selling our house, and buying, then not buying, then trying to buy, then buying, then not buying a house, August was a busy time.

We hit the road to Brighton on the 4^th. The course there is decent, the Murray Lake Loop. We hung yet again with the motor club. Again this was not my day. I started fast, and cracked just as fast. Coming out of the woods on my first lap, I saw Osgood and Lako headed back in. It was going to be a long day. I think Pongo caught me on lap 2 and drifted away. I hung back, jaggedly pedaling squares and wondering how much I could sell my bike for. I think on the final lap (maybe #3) I regained sight of Pongo in the start/finish area, and tried to put in a last effort to close the gap. Unfortunately, my lack of training meant that as my legs were pumping harder, by reflexes suffered. I went down in a corner and basically gave up after that, eventually limping across the line.

To wrap up the season, it was back to Stony one last time. I would have to say this could be the only place considered my home course, as this would be my third trip out, including one 12 hour race. I went in not caring how I did. What did it matter anymore? The plan was just to try to hang on with Aryn as long as I could. No rabbit starts! As I lined up on his wheel, the Tailwind folks did a call-up. I think I was currently 4^th in the series (due to a good showing at the stage race). SO I moved to the front, with no intention of staying there. We took off and stretched out early. The first climb I usually work hard to stay in the lead. This year I sat on Simon’s wheel and let people blow by. I moved around Simon sometime on the first lap, and just kept riding along. I would catch a glimpse of Aryn on occasion, and it would be enough to keep me working to stay ahead, but not enough to force things. Second lap (of 4 I believe) was pretty uneventful. I was still riding, passing some people, getting passed. Literally “just riding along” that day. I was actually feeling decent and glad to be on a bike. On lap three I started to see some yellow shoes ahead of me. Was I reeling in Osgood? He must be having an off day, it happens. I caught up to him and I don’t recall how long I sat on his wheel. I know there was a climb at the end, and I made an effort to get by and tried to gap him. I may have gotten a bit of distance, but he never let me go. It was a group of 4, slightly stung out; me, Osgood, and 2 other racers from 40+. I came through the pit area the last time and saw Aryn handing out bottles, a mechanical brought him down.

I really wanted to stay ahead of Johnny, and was kept checking to see if he was still back there. He was. JUST GIVE UP DAMMIT! I “allowed” the 40+ guys to get in front of my, and worked to stay with them. It worked well until the 2 track right before the finish. At the right hander going towards the parking lot I saw a KLM jersey ahead, it was Lako. One of the 40+ guys yelled “Look out Brad, here he comes.” I hadn’t anticipated closing that gap, but the guy yelling pissed me off and I made my move. I threw down all I had to catch, and then pass Brad. I had figured he would be right behind me through the finish and pushed across the line. I barely made it over to a picnic table to collapse upon, my heart pounding, my lungs burning. Probably the most intense effort of the year. I had no idea where I finished, but I beat Lako and Osgood, and that would be fantastic on any day. They were already joking around and I was still breathing like a hyperventilating asthmatic breathing through a snorkel. In the end I somehow managed a 2^nd place finish. My best MTB finish of the year. Probably due to the other guys winding down their seasons.

September:
Nothing much here, a couple of trips to poto after work is all.

At the end of the month was the Burchfield TT. This would be my actual home course. I lived about 7 miles away. I helped layout the initial course the previous year, but did more volunteering than racing then. Because I knew I was moving to Howell the next weekend, I wanted to do this race.

The Motor Club made the trip out, and I raced as an honorary member. We left the gates as numbers 3 through 5; I was bringing up the rear. Since I prerode the course that morning to fix markers, I knew what to expect. Stage 1: Tight and Twisty, this will favor Diesel. Stage 2: Flat and open, m only shot. Stage 3: Flow, Aryn will make a move. I just tried to manage my losses through the first section. Twisty and rooty is not my forte. Next I put it all down through the rough fields, trying to close on Aryn. I caught him before the bridge and was working hard to stay ahead. So hard I began a bit of dry-heaving. I never puked from a bike, but this was certainly close. Still trying to push the pace (and being pushed) I slid out in one section and my bike blocked the trail, effectively stopping both Aryn and myself. He got by me as I remounted, and I spent the rest of the course working to catch back up. We came ripping across the line together. Before results were posted, I was back out on course riding sweep for the MiSCA kids, but it ended being a Motor sweep of the podium. Diesel got first, me second and that other guy third. I was just second from getting the fasted time trophy, and if I didn’t wreck (on my home field) I would have.

October:
Some more Poto. No official training.

We made it to our luxurious apartment in Howell. Barely room to store the bikes, let alone ride. Season essentially over. Motivation practically nil.

I sold my Peak to Peak entry because I didn’t want to spend the money on the only available condo at Crystal. I guess I lucked out as conditions seemed pretty awful.

November:
And that takes us to November, Iceman, turkey, and perhaps a new start for 2013…

Forty-Seven Cats

2012-06-12T08:12:00.000-07:00

This last weekend was the Tour de Mount Pleasant. It was an omnium over three days, with three different road events race in, you guessed it, Mount Pleasant.

Day 1

I left work early on Friday to load up the truck and get to MP with plenty of time to spare prior to the first event, the time trial.

I checked into the dorm that my friends Kim and Dave had reserved. Upon entering the room, I noticed 2 twin beds, for the for of us. That seemed a bit too cozy. But this was easily straightened out, and I headed over towards the TT start to check in. It was a bit after 4 pm, the TT started at 5:30, and I was going out at 6:18.

I found the check-in area, although they weren't set-up yet. So I decided to preview the course, pedaling around in my cargo shorts and Sanuk's elicited some looks from those already kitted up and riding the course. It was just over 4 miles, and essentially flat. There were a couple spots where you faced a decent headwind, including the finishing stretch.

Back at check in, the volunteer had a bit of trouble finding my info for the road race on Sunday, but once figured out I received my numbers, and a decent swag bag with t-shirt, water bottle and the assorted flyers. A decent pack considering some races that cost $75 for 2 hours of riding with no swag.

Back to the room, I got changed for the race and headed out to warm up. I grabbed a bottle to drink before the race, but some ill-informed folks though I was racing with it and advised otherwise. I went back towards the start area and did some riding around. It wasn't hard to work up a sweat, but I think I would have preferred to have a trainer instead of doing hot laps around the lot. I thought about bringing mine along, but didn't think it would be worth the hassle.

Time to hit the ramp for my start. The two riders ahead of me were no-shows, so I didn't have a 30 second rabbit in front of me. In fact I didn't end up seeing any rider ahead of me for the whole race. I received my countdown and I was off. I was hammering as soon as I hit the road, and instantly my quads were burning and my HR was up. This was going to be a long 10 minutes. Head down I charged through as hard as I could manage, just trying to keep around 24 MPH, which I felt was podium worthy. Less than a mile in I turned into the wind and my mouth was parched. Perhaps if I had been able to close it a bit I would have been better off.

Around the course, no issues and chugging along the final slow grade headwind to the finish and I was giving it all I had. I finished in 10:20, for 3rd place, and an average heart rate of 193 BPM. I circled around a bit to cool off, got something to drink and chatted with some riders. I managed to completely forget my lil' sister was to meet me to borrow a helmet, so she ended up buying her own, which is probably better anyway.

It was then back to the dorm to change, and then some Lost Horse (roughly translated) for dinner.

Day 2

This was an early morning race. The crash5 riders were to go at 8 am, so I was up early for a quick bite before heading downtown to the race area. Come to find out, starting early was a blessing, as our 72 degree temps gave way to 85+ temperatures for the riders later in the day.

This was my first criterium, and my main goal was to stay in the front, and not crash. I ran in to Mitch and he and I warmed up by circling the short, .84 mile course numerous times. I had to pause briefly to move my number from the right to left side. [Side note: do not wrinkle your number, regardless of what Todd Wells says!]

It was time to line up for the race. I moved to the front row, and while we were waiting, I commented to another rider how it was my first time riding with "clippy shoes" and all of the sudden I had a little more room around me.

Once we were off, I was expecting a more frantic pace. I stayed towards the front and just looked for clean lines. I was getting a bit nervous as I heard pedal strikes coming from behind me on nearly every turn. On lap 3 or 4, Matt took off on the back straight to "stretch his legs" and the group accelerated after him. One of the riders giving chase directly behind him went into the corner too hot and skidded straight across the road in front of me, crashing over the curb. I remained upright, but there was some carnage behind. A couple other riders went down, and the first guy tacoed his wheel.

The rest of the race was just more group sitting together, with an occasional attack by myself, Matt, or another rider to string the group out. On the last lap we were again coming onto the back straight and for once somebody else made a move and I jumped on his wheel. Unfortunately that was the wrong move and 2 other riders came flying by. I came out to chase, but they had the jump and I could not close the gap in the 2 remaining turns. Ended up in third again (beaten by the same two that got first and second at the TT).

Day 3

The road race was the third ball of worms to top off a trying weekend of racing. The two previous intense workouts were starting to make my legs tired, and I was looking forward to a nice relaxing day on the saddle. Well, as relaxing as 85+ degree temps and open fields with WSW winds could be.

I was racing the 35+ group, so I wasn't competing against those whipper-snappers that beat me on the two previous days. I knew the strategy necessary to win the race: sit in for 53.9 miles and sprint at the end. This strategy bored me. From the start I took the pack out of town, pulling a decent pace and keeping things lined out. Ryan came around and did the same, but when he pulled off, the group compacted into a slow moving blob and was satisfied staying that way for the duration of the race. There were some times when somebody would come up and work, but it never lasted long.

Not to say that the ride was completely boring. There was one rider that kept everybody on their toes. It was interesting to see the other riders point him out to teammates with the words "watch out." I have to admit that he must have had decent bike handling skills, because I have never seen anybody jerk their bike across the road so much and yet stay upright. It was like he was being tased every 13 seconds (or is it tazed, or tasered perhaps?).

At about mile 15 Ryan went on a planned attack, and I jumped across the gap and we were out front working when about 5 other guys came across. This could be thr group that got away. We got into a rotation, but after about the third guy took a turn, the next was satisfied soft-pedaling again until it was gruppo-compacto.

There were various taunts and teases for the remainder of the course, but nothing serious. When I got to the front I would turn the screws a bit just to try and string out the pack a bit. This wasn't the winning strategy as outlined at the beginning of this section, but it wasn't like I was risking money.

Our group managed to (mostly) hold together as the pace and heat took its toll. We passed a handful of stopped/injured riders alongside the road receiving assistance and many more riders that were fractured from their respective groups ahead of us. Eventually we came to the 5k to go turn, and the pace picked up ever so slightly as the riders that have been waiting for the last 51 miles were getting antsy.

We reached the tunnel of trees, and entered around an ambulance blocking half the road. From my earlier recon, I recalled that after the trees there was only a downhill, a road crossing, past the cemetery, left turn, bridge, railroad tracks, uphill and finish. So, as the group exited the "tunnel" I was expecting the pace to pick up but it actually slowed, so I went for it. I figured get the jump, see what happens and the worst case Ryan could come around in the sprint.

I made it down the hill, across the road, and by the time I was at the cemetery, I had a decent gap and was giving it all I had. Man, that stretch in the cemetery got a lot longer since the recon ride. Unfortunately, after the left turn all I had was no more. I popped entering the final straight. I kept moving as the pack whizzed by. Just before the tracks, a rider in front of me came across from the right, leaned on another rider, pushing him into a third and they went down directly in front of me just before the crossing. At that point, I was defeated, spent, and satisfied with making it across the line upright.

I crossed the line in 16th out of 49 starters and 43 (eventual) finishers. Still in the top half, as if that is any consolation. I headed over to "Race Central" and got a bottle of water, half to drink and half over my head as I cooled down for a bit.

I am in a weird spot regarding right now. I don't enjoy sitting around for 2+ hours waiting until the end, but I don't typically race with enough team or horsepower to blow the race up and make it "exciting". I compared the race to a game of cat and mouse, with 47 cats and 2 mice. The good news is that I am back on dirt for the foreseeable future.

I applied for my upgrade and if it doesn't go I will have to decide how to do my one or 2 remaining races. do I try to make it "hard" and have a challenge, or just sit around and see what happens at the end. If it is approved, I guess the strategy will become "try to hang on'!

Surf and Turf

2012-06-05T12:23:00.001-07:00

This report will be somewhat short, as I did not have my photographer with me this weekend, so without pictures, I will try to limit the length

Saturday: West Branch Classic Road Race

This race was added to my schedule last minute. I was always planning on heading North for the Hanson Hills XC race, but was looking for something to fill in that Saturday, making the trip a two-for-one. I was mostly looking into the Boyne Grind, but I could not find a partner, and I was not feeling like riding up the mountain for 6 hours, I can do that in July. So, that left the West Branch Race.

5:30 in the morning was the departure time. Weekends like this make me thankful for the work work, where I can sleep in a little bit. It was misting a little bit, and cold, but I was hoping for the best. This was one of those mornings where the only reason I was heading out was due to the fact I had per-registered.

As I drove the 3 hours north towards West Branch (figure that one out), the weather only got rainier and colder. We arrived at the parking area with plenty of time to spare. My initial concern was to NOT have to park 2 miles away at the soccer complex. I went to registrations and they were still unloading, but I was able to get my number and head back to the warmth of the truck. Huddling in your car seemed to be the norm, as riders were trying to avoid the wind and the rain.

I did wander a bit, and chatted up some folks. That was when I spoke with a grizzled old veteran Cat.4 that told me to try something else that day. I had already won the previous week, so work on some other techniques. Who was I to argue with my elders?

Shortly before 10 am, I decided it was no longer worth delaying the inevitable, and exited the truck to begin to warm up. Really, there was no warming involved. It was more like "slowly pedal around to delay the convulsive shivering"

10:30, and it was out time to go. 50 cat.5 riders, standing in the cold waiting to ride in the mist. There were 3 Einstein Racing members in the pack, counting myself. We too off, and I could say the pace was anything but frantic. Riders were fanning out, trying to avoid the tire spray to no avail. The wind was blowing pretty good from the west, and we were headed north.

We made the first right turn and the pace picked up a little bit. That is picked up until we reached a downhill section then it was time to ride the brakes. I got into a slight tuck position and shot to the front. I figured it wasn't wasted energy if I lead the group simply by coasting without riding the brakes.

First turn South and our groups first encounter with some climbing. The first little rollers we slowly ground over, but at the first larger uphill, I broke off the front and put some space between myself and the group. I made it over the next two climbs before being reeled in. But once back together, the pace slowed again, basically eliminating any thinning of the group I may have caused.

About this time, Einstein Ben pulled off to the side, I thought it was a shifting issue, but later found out it was a flat. I wasn't sure whether to stay back with him and help him regroup, or stay with the pack. I chose the latter.

Headed west, and into the wind, we slowly ground through this stretch before turning right yet again and hitting "the climb" for the first time. The group strung out, and I spun up the right side making my way through the pack. At the top there again was a slowing of the pace, allowing a regroup. Maybe I should have gone here, but I didn't have the legs.

Right turn, headed East, I pulled alongside Ryan and asked how he was feeling. "Pretty good" was the response, so we quickly devised that I would apply some pressure where I could, and he would come around on the last climb to win. Seemed easy enough.

On the trip south, towards the second half, I once again went to the front. I wasn't trying to start anything, but pick up the pace a bit. I spun a good cadence up the final climb and made the right turn around the corner. I sat up to let the next guy pull through, but nothing. I looked back and had a ~20 second gap on the group. Now, running through my head was "7 miles left, 20 MPH headwind, and a ~1 mile climb" and I knew staying off the front was futile. Instead I pedaled along with a purpose, but not excessively hard. This made 3 Hagerty riders come to the front and chase me down. Once back in the group I rode in 5th position, with Ryan right behind me, and let Hagerty work into the wind.

We made the last turn and were on the flat to the finish. 2 of the Hagerty riders had popped, so I again went to the front and lifted the pace. Part of that reason was I though I saw Ben ahead, but it was actually a CFT rider. But this strung out the group again. When we hit the bottom of the climb, I tried to give it all, but was spent.

A Bissell guy game around me with Ryan on his tail. A few pedal strokes later and Ryan was around and in the lead. He charged up that hill fresh as a daisy, and I was working to just keep the pedals turning. I ended up finishing 7th, but was happy that Ryan got the win, his first, and another for Einstein. He definitely was the strongest rider that day.

After chatting a bit, I loaded up, and headed to Grayling for some lunch, a hot shower and dry clothes.

EDITED TO ADD: I don't mean to make it sound like Ryan couldn't have won without me.he was awesome out there and could have won that race with one crank tied behind his back.

Sunday: Hanson Hills XC

Sunday was the annual Hanson race. This would be my first year using gears here, and my first time riding multiple laps. The funny thing about that is the 2 guys who I battled with at Addison (Lako and Bonnell) were there to ride SS, and not gears. In addition, Bonnell stated after the West Branch race that he wasn't feeling like racing today, so there was a fair chance I could do well.

Staying in a nearby hotel, I was able to sleep in until about 7, and the drive to the trail was about 8 minutes. The weather was cool and cloudy, but at least no rain. It had stopped a couple hours before, and things were shaping up to be a decent day.

I rode a bit of the beginning trail during my warm-up, and felt like I had no power in my legs. Thank goodness for gears, as it would be a spinning day. Our start time was 10 am, and there were 17 riders in our group. This is a pretty decent size compared to previous years (last year there were 4 in my group).
As we shuffled forward to the line, I was in the second row at the start. We took off and a bunch of riders hammered to the front, and I was probably in 8 - 10th place going into the singletrack. There wasn't much shuffling going on, but our line of riders began to string out. I knew there were 2 Cross Country Cycle and one other rider off the front.

I made a couple of passes, and by halfway through the first lap I was at the back of the first chase group, but they had no sense of urgency, and passing was tight. The 40-49 leaders caught up to us, and as they were making their aggressive passes, I would jump on their wheel and go. The course was in fantastic shape after the rain, and there were areas that could be called "too fast" where you could easily get into trouble if you weren't paying attention.

I stayed amongst them for the remainder of the first lap. The next two laps were almost like time trials. I had no idea what position I was in, who was in front of me, or who was closing in. At this point, it was a race of attrition. I just kept whatever pace I could hold (read: decreasing) and reeled in riders when I could.

The third lap I was actually starting to feel better, but looking at the race data it was most likely do to my slowing pace and decreasing heart rate. I crossed the line tired, but not suffering. I raced with what I had, and finished.

When I crossed the line, the announcer stated I was in 4th place. That was better than I expected, and by other accounts was correct. I was sore, tired, and playing catch-up for a long time. After changing, I went to look at the posted results, which again showed me in 4th. The odd thing was that the times were off, like showing my total as 1h13m and 3rd as 1h8m, but I just assumed they were off by an hour for some reason.

I stayed around to cheer on the sport (and Expert SS riders) after their first lap, but intended on making the trip home as early as possible after a long weekend. The began awards and when they got to opur group, I heard my name called as 3rd. Totally surprised I sprinted (the best I could) across the parking area to the podium. Brent handed me $30 and asked for my autograph on some form. That was better than any medal.

In all it was a good weekend. I am looking forward to a good rest before Mount Pleasant this weekend, after which I intent to apply for my Cat.4 upgrade. I am not looking forward to tonight's TNR, as my legs still feel pretty dead. Hopefully I can just hang at the back.

The Not so Gran Fondo

2012-05-29T10:39:00.000-07:00

Just as a follow-up to the Tour de Frankemuth report, a short recap of Sundays Gran Fondo.

There were several options for distances when I signed up, something like 25, 65 and 130 miles. I chose the 65, as a metric century would be a good recovery ride, and get some hours in for training.

When I awoke Sunday, it had just started raining, with the faint rumble of thunder in the distance. I slowly ate breakfast, and kept waiting for the rain to break.

8 O'clock came, the time for the mass start, and the rain was coming down harder yet. I went back to the hotel room to check Facebook to see what the people were doing. Apparently the result was "wait".
Around 9 the rain stopped, although there was another storm entering the state from the NW. It was pretty much over Travers city when we took off.

From the 120 preregistered riders, and the anticipated 150 day-of registrants, we had about 30 riders at the start. A group of around 7 of us took off together, working at around a 22 MPH pace. There was some sprinkles, but it was OK for the most part. One rider rode off the front, and so did the guy in the enclosed recumbent thing.

About 6 of us hit the first rest stop, about 20 miles in. One guy had a loose crank so we stopped in order to stay together. After talking with the volunteers we found out that with the lack of numbers, each rider could get something like 2 apples, 4 bananas, a dozen cookies and over 2' of sub. I wasn't that hungry.

In the distance behind us, you could see the dark clouds rolling in. Three of us thought we could stay ahead of the storm for the 8 miles to the next station, which would also be the turn around point. As we headed out, a fierce wind came from the north, and the storm flanked us. The group of three were leaning hard to the left to stay upright, as the cloudy light turned night black. We continued to ride when the heavens opened up and began dumping rain in buckets.

Just then a van stopped, it was the organizer who informed us he was "calling it" and we should head back. His van was full, but he would come back for us shortly and we should head back to the previous station. We got around a half mile down the road when the sleet/hail started. At first I thought it was hard rain, then I felt the welts begin to form on my lips and face. We pulled off and to shelter in a ditch. We could barely see the road through the downpour. As we sat shivering in the ditch, the lightning began, and we all reconsidered the decisions we made. A state trooper drove by and slowed, but never stopped, never asked if we were OK or needed help. We figured he didn't want to get wet, and he would come back later, as it would be the same amount of paperwork.

Finally the storm let up a bit, and we got back on the bikes and went another 1/2 mile to a self-storage place and stood under an awning waiting for sag to pick us up. I think it was another 10 minutes or so. The lot had a couple cars parked there waiting out the rain. One guy in a truck notified us of a sever storm warning in effect. Thanks.

Finally, we got a ride back to town. I shivered my way back to the hotel and immediately into the hot tub. Once warm, I called it a weekend and loaded up the truck to head home. As I lifted my bike, I heard a slosh. I removed my seat post and drained ~20 oz. of water out of my seat tube. That can't be good. We'll see how it works tonight.

A Road Untravelled

2012-05-29T09:56:00.001-07:00

Last winter, I bought a road bike. The reason was two fold. First, the CX bike that I was using was a touch too large, so it had to go. Second was I was planing on upping my basement training hours, and a new bike is good motivation for that.

So, after some time on the bike, I began to consider partaking in the local Tuesday Night Ride. I had heard about this group a year or two before. In fact, I attended their Thursday TT spinoff a couple of times in 2010. That was a good introduction to how fast these guys are, without the fear of being dropped. I had been warned that TNR is a hammer fest.

I went to a few Tuesdays this spring, and this whole new aspect of riding added some much needed variation to my riding. I found I was able to hang with the group (most days) and even mix it up on the sprints once or twice (without winning). It is a great group, and taught me a lot about riding on the road.

So, after some successful outings on Tuesday, I considered trying out a road race. I had my Cat.5 license for just such an occasion. My first road race ever was chosen to be Das Tour de Frankemuth. It is a relatively flat jaunt around the countryside. Plus there was chicken dinner, and some shopping for the wife.

We headed up on Friday, as the race started at 8 am Saturday. Friday night I picked up my registration, we looked for a place to eat (Tiffany's was packed!) and then watched the balloon glow. I was disappointed there were no "elephant ear" vendors down there.

I had a decent week of training leading in, but stayed of the MTB. Saturday morning came, and I wandered down to breakfast. At 6 am on a random Saturday, there people at breakfast were all there to race. The weather outside was cool (~60 F) and wet. It had been raining on and off. I wasn't excited to have my first road race on slick roads, but oh well.

After a warm-up, and a bit of course preview with the CTF crew, I left the hotel parking area, my back in the room wife still warm in bed, and headed to the starting area as the rain began anew. I queued up amongst the other Cat.5 Men under 36, and looked around. There were quite a few shivering, defeated riders before the race even started.

Finally at the line, I lined up in the second row. I knew I didn't want to be at the front, but not too far back in case there is some commotion clipping in. We took off down the road at a casual pace, heading into the first turn of off main street. At the point, one rider began his surge for a solo break away. He got up the road a little ways, but the group followed intently, not to let him get too far.

Unfortunately, in the commotion, the whole pack of 50 went straight through the right turn by the golf course. Nobody realized it until the chase vehicle pulled in front and told us to turn around. Breakaway nullified. As we got back to the (now) left turn, the next group (Cat.5 37+) approached the intersection from the correct direction. We made the turn in front, but the 2 groups essentially merged into one. This was unfortunate, as the was to be "No mixing of fields".

The group plodded along, and to follow the rules, the back group tried to come around ours. Of course as one group tried to surge ahead and create a gap, the next group would chase, closing back up. There was no way, without official intervention, that these groups would separate. No rider is going to slow down to allow a gap to form.

So not this pack of Cat.5 riders is 70+ and surging down the road like a giant rubber band. Pedal pedal pedal, brake, pedal, pedal... At every intersection, we would slow for no apparent reason. I tried to remain near the front, and rotated through to pull for a bit.

The pace wasn't bad at all, it was kind of like riding in the most frustrating group ride ever. We came around for lap one, and I had slipped towards the back of the group as we headed back down Main St. towards the line. There was a decent crowd lining the street considering the weather.

I am at the far side, underneath the American flag.

Back out for lap 2, and I managed my way back towards the front. While some riders were fanning out a bit in a vain attempt to stay dry, I hugged that wheel in front of me. I was conserving energy, and could dry off later. This lap had a couple more attempts from riders trying to go off the front, but gaps never formed. The average speed was up a bit, but still the group was surging. There were some slower riders getting caught, and it seemed each time the pack would approach one of them, pull along side and slow.

Once back to Block Rd, we were on the final stretch to the finish. This road was probably in the worst shape of any on the route. It was narrow, and unpainted. The group spread to cover nearly the entire width, with riders shooing up the left. I moved to the right side, it was a bit rougher but more open. I was pretty far back in the pack, and trying again to move up.

Once we hit the smooth pavement on the final approach, everything went to hell. The pack was in a frenzy, riders passing across the yellow line to go to the front, rapid braking before the slight downhill, and I was caught in the middle. This was my first race, and I was not looking to make and risky moves in oder to move up.

As we approached the final left turn back onto Main St, the section inf front of the silos, the entire group moved over to the left to hug the line. This left the entire right side open, and I had a expressway to the front. I accelerated up the side and took the final turn on the outside. Dropped into my 11T and accelerated down the hill. Now there were only 2 riders ahead of me, and just a straight away with some brick crosswalks between me and the finish.

Are we there yet?

I learned my lesson at Barry-Roubaix about going too soon and just sat in. The lead rider popped way early and got passed. As we hit the final stretch I stood and kicked several strokes and overtook the new lead rider. I was pushing with all I had. This is the point where every Tuesday, I would be passed by a pack of riders. Not this time as I stood again, not knowing what kind of gap I had. Where in the hell is that finish line?

Finally across, your winner, number 548, from Einstein Racing, Jon Whatchamacallit. I didn't hear the last part, and couldn't really remember what my number was, so as I decelerated across the bridge I got congratulated by a couple of riders. I cooled down a bit and regrouped with 3 of the CTS riders in our pack (2 from the chase group). One of the riders (sorry, I don't recall your name) was the second to finish behind me, 1st place in the 37+ group, but later got relegated off of the podium due to the mixing of the groups. That was unfortunate, but I am not familiar enough with road cycling to know how common that is.

Photo courtesy of The Timing Guys, Inc.

At the award ceremony, I received the standard medal, and a growler of beer from Midland Brewing Company. I think that, along with a celebratory chicken dinner was a good reward. No I just need to figure out where I should race next...

The Stages of Retreat: Day 2

2012-05-29T07:00:00.002-07:00

I thought I started this post last week, but it must not have come back from the extended weekend.

Day 2 (Day 1 report here and here) of the Addision Retreat Stage Race would be my first chance to race XC with my bike "complete" as intended. Since we spent the night near Auburn Hills, the ride in was short, so I got a few extra minutes of needed sleep.

The day was shaping up to be a warm one. The course was set up to be the "normal" route, and there were no surprises. 4 laps, each about 7 miles.

Front row (L to R): Dub9, Gonzalez, Lako, Osgood

The group lined up to start, and the top 5 (overall) from the previous day were called up to the front. I was pretty happy to receive my first call to the front, and chose the inside spot. I did not intend on going for the hole shot, but just sit in and see how things panned out.

Headed out for lap 1

Right from the start, the 5 from the day before went out front. Lako was pushing a good pace, with Bonnell second, followed by Osgood, myself and Gonzalez. Shortly after we hit the single track, Bonnell was gone and Lako lead our group, with Osgood and I settling into a rhythm for the rest of the lap.

Lako still pulling

Coming around the grassy area, heading out for lap 2, Osgood made a move around Lako and put in a bit of a gap. A short bit onto the trail, I went around Lako and closed the gap to Ozzy's wheel, and stayed there. Big John continued to pull. On the first 2-track/road section I put in an effort to come around him and tried to put in a gap myself. He and Lako stayed right on me for the remainder of the lap. I came in a bit fast on one of the grassy corners and the back tire slid out. It was a somewhat fortunate mistake, as I moved back a place or 2 and wasn't doing the hard work any more.

Getting going again after untangling from the tape (you can see my handiwork in the background).

Lap 3 was mostly Osgood and myself. That guy is a machine and just kept chugging away at the miles, and I was working just to hang on. The best part of this lap was that my wife was there to do an unplanned bottle hand off. I didn't need the additional fluids, but since the bottle she had was ice cold, I quickly jettisoned what I had in preparation for the last lap.

It was a good thing too, because unbeknownst to me, Osgood planned on turning the screws on this final lap. Shortly after we got back onto the trail, Osgood got a gap on me. My only recourse was to keep my pace, and try not to blow up. I wanted to negotiate with him, let him know I wasn't trying to pass, and I would be happy with third if he would lighten up a bit. But this wasn't for a 2 day overall, and I was a bit of a threat, plus in the back of my mind, a second place would be nice.

A couple of times this lap (several perhaps), he got out of sight, put a rider between us. I seemed to be able to slowly reel him back in. Unfortunately, as soon as I did, he would look back at me, then take off. I had no recovery, and he played the strategy fantastically. All I wanted was a clean finish at that point.

I put in what effort I had remaining after the paved section, just to not get passed and pushed off the podium. I ended up third place, my first "expert" podium, and only 4 seconds behind Osgood (and ~3 minutes behind Bonnell!). My lap times were pretty consistent, although still losing 30 seconds each lap.

Tailwind had the results a bit speedier that day, and I was able to get me medal and make the trip back home at a decent hour. It was a full weekend of racing, and I learned a lot. I was still yearning for that entirely clean race, but I was getting an idea of what my abilities are/were. There is still plenty of time left in the year.

(Unofficial) 2-day Overall Results:

			Day 1	Day 2	Total
1	BONNELL, JIM	ACF OF PONTIAC	00:51:02	01:53:26	02:44:29
2	OSGOOD, JOHN	TEAM SANDBAG	00:51:26	01:56:17	02:47:43
3	WLODARCZAK, JON	EINSTEIN RACING	00:53:41	01:56:21	02:50:02
4	GONZALEZ, ALEX	TEAM SANDBAG	00:53:43	01:56:52	02:50:36
5	LAKO, BRAD	KLM/COLD STONE	00:53:29	01:59:20	02:52:49
6	MOORE JR, DAVID	CYCLETHERAPY/ SPECIALIZED RACING	00:54:53	02:04:58	02:59:51
7	MCINALLY, TODD	WATERFORD MI	00:55:54	02:08:22	03:04:16
8	GOERLICH, JIM	TEAM SANDBAG/ MACOMB BIKE	00:56:28	02:14:46	03:11:14
9	LUCIA, ROBERT	RBS CYCLING TEAM/RBS CYCLING	01:01:36	02:22:11	03:23:47
10	PROHASKA, CURTIS	TEAM FRASER	00:55:32	DNF	N/A

The Stages of Retreat: Day 1.2

2012-05-24T07:47:00.001-07:00

Continued from here.

After sitting around a bit to recover, and some mild whining and complaining to my wife about the TT, it was time to get ready to race again. This time on the short track, or STXC. Basically this is a CX race without barriers or sand. It is a curvy course through the grass, taking advantage of the minimal elevation changes around [Note: My Garmin recorded a total elevation gain of 7 feet]. As a matter of fact, a number of racers opted to race on their CX bikes. I locked out my fork and called it good enough.

Braaap!

I recalled from last year that this race seriously stresses your anaerobic system. The plan was initially to race "20 minutes + 2 laps" but was changed at the start to "follow the laps remaining sign" which eventually led to some confusion with the Elites and Experts on course at the same time. The sport racers later began with the instructions of "Count your own laps"!

I think I lined up in the second row, and at the start all Expert racers hit the course at the same time. Chaos ensued as this pack approached the first bend. Two riders became interwoven with each other and some stakes with ribbon. It was a crunch of plastic, metal, and man. I believe they got up and finished, but it was enough to put a bit of hesitation in your mind.

My goal for this race was to push hard, and finish without wrecking. I knew trying to keep up with the front guys (or in this case "catch up") would cause me to pop. I rode at a good consistent pace, picking off riders when I could, and looking for the leaders of my group, who were way out there.

Here you can see the "Jet intake" method of breathing control being used.

At about lap 3, a rider on a CX bike in front of me slid out on a turn, and I had to pause and get around. There wasn't much of an associated adrenaline rush there, as I was already redlining.

Around lap 5 (of 6) I caught up to the KLM rider from the earlier race, and pushed hard to try to put some space between us. I knew 30 seconds was a lot to manage in 1.5 laps, but every little bit would help.

I finished this race in about 24 minutes, 5 minutes less than the TT, but it sure felt much harder. I ended up in 3rd place in this race. I made back 18 seconds of the ~30 I lost crashing in the TT, but still lost another minute to the top 2 in the group.


My HR profile from the race.

After the second race, I was hot, tired an hungry. So I loaded up camp and headed to the pavilion for some complimentary Cold Stone ice cream while waiting for the results, which would be ready shortly. The ice cream was finished long before the results were. This was also the time when we found out, via the rumor mill, that there was not going to be an overall winner for the weekend, just "Day 1" and "Day 2" awards. After about 2 hours of waiting, we headed out for some (by that time) dinner and figured we could find out more tomorrow.

Day 1 results

The Stages of Retreat: Day 1.1

2012-05-24T06:36:00.001-07:00

Last year I participated in my first stage race in Brighton. It was two of the most dreary, miserable days I have spent on a bike.

This year, the race was moved to Addison Oaks. There were a couple of new twists, beyond the location. The temperature was turned way up from the previous year, and for some reason, there was NOT to be an overall winner declared. There was an overall day 1 classification, and a day 2 (XC) award, but nothing for the three combined events. Odd for sure. It really isn't a stage race any more, but I guess naming it the "A Couple of Races at Addison Oaks on the Same Weekend" doesn't have the same ring to it.

We arrived Saturday with only about an hour to spare. A little tighter than usual, but I had enough time to set up "camp" and get a brief warm up in before the first event, the TT. I wasn't sure how I would perform this weekend, with the 12 Hour race still a bit in my legs from the previous week.

We lined up for the start, which was an out-and-back loop through the grass before hitting the trails. Just enough to put some work into your legs before the dirt.

Two at a time start, and I was lined up next to a KLM rider. He took off from the gate, and I tried to hold his wheel across the lawn as he took off like a shot. We entered the trail in the same fashion and he was pulling strong. There was a bit of a misstep in the loose, twisty stuff at the top of the first climb, and I was able to get around him. I tried to make a gap, but was soon caught by the time we reached the end of the first rock piles, and passed soon after.

I again closed on his wheel and let him pick the pace, which was sufficiently hard for me, but the rider up knew the course well and was working good. Then the problems came (for me).

I heard there were some reroutes added "after the RC field" to make the course different than the next day's XC race. What that meant was that instead of making a normal turn on the singletrack, we stayed straight onto some hiking paths with more grass and worn grooves. I believe the second time we did this, I hit a rut and my front tire got crossed up, pitching me from my bike and tossing me a ways. Not only was I annoyed by the wreck, my bar spun around and scratched my frame, and I got a grass stain on my new Einstein Racing kit!

Back on the bike, I fought to close the gap on the rider I started with, and a Cycletherapy rider that passed me when I was down. I was able to get the KLM rider back into sight, but never catch back on. We ended up finished 3rd and 5th respectively, with about 30 seconds between us.

I was still hoping for that elusive "clean race" I have yet to have this year (not counting Stony), but it did not come here. It was time to hit the shade, eat a banana and wait 3 hours for the short track race.

672 Minutes, or 44,000 Revolutions

2012-05-21T08:52:00.001-07:00

I think this is the most timely I will have gotten a post up this year. I am typing it the Friday after the race, but it won't go "live" until probably Monday, so I can include some pictures.

The week leading up to 12 Hours of Stony Creek was a hectic one. There was some testing at work that was running behind, so I was working Midnight shift on Monday and Wednesday. My shift on Wednesday ended up being 20 hours, tying my #2 longest shift. That is OK, lack of sleep should help prepare for a 12 hour race on Saturday.

The morning of the race, we were on the road at 5 am, so up a little after 4. The 2 hour trip meant that there was a minimal amount of time to sign in, set up camp, change, and prep the bikes. I felt a little rushed as the countdown to the start began. My wonderful wife was snuggled cozily in the backseat of the truck, awaiting the sun to rise at the very least.

It was time to line up for the start. I sauntered up to the group of riders, no warm-up at all. I figured I had 12 hours to do so. I was amongst the Motor Club, and then I saw TrevRev from No Boundaries and Jacob in the mix as well. (Jake was the rider ahead of me at MSB). When the time came, we took off, rather fast if you ask me. We had 11 hours, 29 minutes to race and these guys were blasting through the gates. I accelerated a bit to get into the line for the singletrack, and settled in. Trev, Jake and I all pretty close.

Aryn and Brian were behind me a bit, but I figured they would close quickly. The initial plan was to cruise with each other during the race. Then Jake came up to me, and we began pushing a decent pace. I would do my geared duty on the wide-open areas and pull, and he would do the singlespeed thing and surge ahead on the climbs. He was good company, and I think we finished the first lap in about 46 minutes. Pretty fast, as the previous year's winner had 11 laps in the whole 12 hours.

During laps 2-3 we were pretty spread out now. Jake and I were just cruising along, feeling pretty decent still. We stopped after the 3rd lap for a bottle change. My wife had awoken from he slumber and was manning the tent, so to speak. Swapped some bottles, grabbed some food and back to it.

It was probably another 3 laps before we stopped again. I think we had 6 laps in the first 5 hours. The pace was starting to wear on me. A can of Coke really helped things along, so we left again, planning on coming around the next lap just as the 6 hour people started and let them pull us for a bit. We came through early, and started our lap ahead of them. We figured they would close fast, and the pan would still work.

When hour 7 began, the hardtail was wearing on me. Evey rock, bump and root made it feel like my kidneys had jarred loose. I rode the first half of the lap standing. I was seriously considering quitting, or at least stopping for an extended rest. All of my pit stops have been quick changes, no sitting. Everybody at camp kept saying "You look goo out there" but I was suffering.

Some dry gloves and a banana and then back to work!

Jake would not let me though, he motivated to keep pushing on, even as the rain began to switch from a mist to a sprinkle. I was fortunate I never removed my arm warmers, and just pulled them back up.

Another Coke and some Advil and I was back at it. Brian was at camp and checked the results for me, and I was in second, around a lap down. I wasn't sure how delayed those numbers were, but I was determined to put up a fight. At this point, with some consistent laps, we could end up with 14 total.

It was frustrating that our main experience with the 6 hour group riders is that they would sit on our wheel! We offered to let them pass, 8-9hours on our legs, and they politely declined.

Around hour 10, I was spent. I was barely able to keep my legs going around. I felt we could still get our 14 laps if we pushed, but lap 12 I dropped to the little ring up front, and couldn't shift back out. It wasn't a chain or derailleur issue, but a leg one. Jake was still hanging with me, but seemed fresh as a daisy. He kept handing my Honey Stinger chews and urging me on.

Starting lap 13, I just wanted to be done. I was soaked, sore, tired, mentally crumbling. I didn't know what place I was in, but at this point in the day, there was no reason to stop. We went out again, and the torture was much of the same.

We crossed the line together after that lap. We were ~20 seconds late to begin our 14th lap. For that, I was grateful. After 11:20+ on the bike, my hands were numb, my arms and shoulders could barely support my torso, my lower back was in knots, thighs powerless.

Jake technically beat me by one second, and I am OK with that, because had he not ridden with me, I would have stopped long ago, and he probably would have finished probably 2 more laps. All in all it was 13 laps, 136 miles. We completed more laps than most 2 and4 person teams, something to be happy about.

Jake and I after the race. Apparently I am a bit delirious!

I slowly helped close up the camp. The Motor guys packed up and left, and I waited for food and awards. There was about another hour shivering in the cold waiting for things to wrap up. Part of the delay was a rumored missing person on the course, but there was no information regarding if the person was a racer, or even existed.

I guess at this point I am leading the endurance series, but I still stand by the fact that I am not an endurance racer. I think one 12 hour race a year is enough for me. Maybe I could have a Lumberjack race in my legs someday, but not this year.

Crushed by the Stampede

2012-05-18T08:03:00.001-07:00

The day after Mud, Sweat and Beers, I headed out to Fort Custer to race in the annual fundraising Stampede XC.

This would be my debut XC race in the expert category. I wasn't sure what to expect. Coming off the previous day's disappointment, I was not really in the racing mood, but I had already registered, so why not.

Upon arrival, I got a parking spot close to the tent city. I guess racing expert has one benefit, I didn't have to park out in the back field for once. I set up camp, and lazily prepared for the race. I did a bit of spinning around to warm up. The weather was nicer than the previous day, so no arm/knee warmers were necessary.

The countdown completed, and it was our turn to go. The pack burst off the line pretty quickly, but as I was lined up in the second row, I settled into the middle of the pack by the time we hit the singletrack. We were all in a pretty tight group through the first sections, I could still see the leader from my position. The plan was to hang in until the trail widened and then try to move up.

A little ways into the lap, there was a somewhat loose climb that had a right turn at the top. As the group ascended the rider in front of me just kind of fell over. He was apologetic, and I was not concerned. It was still early in the race, so I move around him and gave chase back to the pack.

This was when I had my first blunder of the race. Remember back after Yankee when my chain broke? Well, my replacement had not yet arrived, so I was racing on a chain that was 2 links short. It worked fine at Pontiac, but I was not so fortunate at Custer. In my effort to stay on the back of the pack, I shifted too much in as we hit Grannies. It was a stupid mistake, but one that cost me. I immediately felt the chain start to bind, so I jumped off and move aside. I spent a bit of time working to get the chain shifted back down so I could pedal again.

Once back on the bike, I vowed to be extra careful, as long as the chain held out for the duration of the race. I have given up hope of a podium by that point, and just wanted to finish. The chain seemed OK, and I finished that lap in around 39 minutes. Slower than last year on the SS, but I had an extra lap to do.

Completing lap 1

Second lap was more of the same, riding my own race and trying not to screw up. Coming across the "roads" near the end of the course (before the trenches perhaps) I must have come off to hot or something, because at that point I dropped the chain. This seemed odd, as it was pretty short already, and wasn't a 1x10 or anything. It took me a few moments to get rolling again, but the race was shaping up to be non-spectacular. I hammered the flats, but still came through in a slower 41 minutes.

By the time the third lap cam around, I was just looking to finish. Shortly into the lap I realized I lost my bottle (turns out at the "incident" site the previous lap, I found it on lap 4). So, I am not sure what I need to do to modify these cages. The odd thing is I have the same type on my rigid SS, and on the Superfly 100 and never dropped one.


Completing lap 2

Third lap, cruising along, get to the top of the switchback climb, and I hear some clicking as I was pedaling along. That couldn't be good, and sure enough a short moment later I was pedaling in neutral. At least I had some practice at Yankee with my chain tool (which I still don't like and should replace) and took another couple of links out, and was back on my way.

My race goal at that point was to not walk out of the woods, so I was small ringing it the rest of the way. I ended up finishing that lap in 45 minutes. Overall, I came through 12 minutes behind the winner for an 11th place.

Sprint to the finish

Back at camp, I had a few minutes to eat something before heading out behind the kids race. Frosty and I had a sprint start to determine who would be the last one onto the trail. It was actually pretty close, since I was still in my small ring. A short ways in, we found a fallen teenager, and Frost stayed back to wait for help, and I continued behind the kids, collecting water bottles along the way.

Sprint for sweeper!

So, the weather was beautiful that day, my race, not so much. This was my 5th event this season, and I had yet to run a "clean" race. I am hoping my time would come. I guess what I don't get in quality wins, I will make up with the quantity of mid-pack finishes.

No Sleep 'Till....

2012-05-10T03:46:00.001-07:00

I thought the title was fitting, since I am not asleep, and the passing of MCA this week. [Aside: In elementary school, we lip synched this song in music class for some reason. That is lip-synching for some reason, the song was an obvious choice, since Licensed to Ill was recently released]

So, what do you do if you are at work at nearly 6 in the morning, and you have been there since 2 O'clock the previous afternoon? Why, update your blog of course!

So, I could make this a Two-fer post, as this weekend I did back-to-back races. However, I will separate them so it is easier for me to be lazy on my Metal blog.

Saturday was Mud, Sweat and Beers. Last year was an off year, and since I was coming of a crappy weekend, I vowed to not let it happen again.

We drove up to Travers City the morning before the race. Taking the whole day off made the 3 hour drive home the following afternoon more tolerable. Upon our arrival in Cherry-ville, we attempted to check into our hotel, but the room wasn't ready. (There mush have been a sell-out gathering the Thursday before?), so we the North Peak for some lunch. After that we had some more time to kill.

So I figured, what would be a bigger waste of time than to go visit my old pal Super Dave. What could be more exciting than to spend a vacation day watching somebody else work. It wasn't a complete waste of time, as I was informed by an employee that "Lansing is a really cool place," a statement which befuddles me to this day!

Wait, where was I, oh yeah, the race. I vowed it would not be a poor showing. I really wanted that podium, and big 'ol beer mug. We got to Mt. Holiday early enough we didn't have to park at the top of the hill, but no so early I needed a nap.

Game face...

I wanted to stay with the lead group (or try to) so after a decent warm-up, I got staged for the start. I was in the second row, far right side. Right behind a row of Expert ladies, seemed safe enough. But things aren't always what the seem. Right at the start one rider in the front row must have missed a clip or something, and kicked their bike 45 degrees and stood there. So, as the cattle flowed around the stopped rider, I jumped on the gas to try to make up some places. One method was to go to the inside of the first turn. Apparently a bit too far as my bar clipped one of those orange fiberglass to mark ski courses. Suffice to say, those are a lot sturdier than they seem.

Back on course, finally leaving the ski area, I tried to settle into a groove and make my way forward. However, at the fist semblance of a hill, the singlespeed was again brought to a halt. This time by a rider that decided to dismount and walk in the middle of the trail, and obviously felt that everybody behind him should do the same.

Finally, up Heart Attack Hill (or whatever the new name is) and through the subdivision. I was spinning away on the pavement, when a couple geared riders came by and told me to jump on. So I did, and picked up some much needed speed on the pavement. Just before the left turn onto the private singletrack there was another climb, so I pulled away from my temporary train.

I spent the next ~9 miles working as hard as I could. The trail was narrow at times, but I tried to make up ground whenever I could. I knew they too out the wall (and Jack Pines) but I wasn't really familiar enough to really know where to find it. At one point I was hammering down a wide trail, nobody in sight ahead or behind. I was slightly concerned with the lack of markings, but the tire tracks and guy cramping reassured me I was on the right path. Then I come around a sweeper and see 5 riders coming towards me. Shit, how did I get turned around?

As it turns out, they too missed the turn, and were notified by a trail marshal of such where the trails met again. He told them the must turn around (which is too bad, because I think dealing with The Wall was more work than the new singletrack). Apparently one of the earlier waves tore through the tape across the trail, and I missed the little arrow up a tree. However, with this group was a singlespeeder in a skinsuit. That is like a double helping of "Fast Guy" so I jumped on his wheel.

This guy was hammering to make up time, and I was following, trying to pass when I could, or at least taking a pull. It was a lot of work passing many of the people that I had already passed. It was quite the feeling of Deja Vu. When the opportunity to talk arose, the rider (Jacob) informed he was in 3rd when he missed the turn. We had no idea where we were now, but we were making up time fast.

Through Timber Ridge we caught the eventual Women's winner, and I was holding onto hope that we could pull off something awesome. Jake gapped me once we got back into the subdivision (must be the skin suit) and I worked to track to catch back as we entered back into the ski area. It ended up being a lost cause, as I splashed though the puddle and finished a scant 4 seconds behind.

I was pretty upset, and frustrated. I guess I should have paid closer attention to the markers. If I had made that turn, I would have been on the podium, and met my goal. However, the more I thought about it, the more I realized I rode a 4th place race. I was in 4th before I missed the turn, and had I made it I would have beaten Jacob, buy not because I was faster, but because I was lucky. I probably would not have caught him alone, so he was rightfully third, and I was a solid 4th. Maybe the time gap to the top two riders would have been smaller, but at that point, would it really matter?

Sunday would be a new day, a new race, and a new opportunity. Move on!