What an event. Hard to describe it all, so I’ll leave it to the pictures.
My races didn’t go as well as I’d hoped, but there is plenty to enjoy outside of the races. I short track was a blast and I look forward to giving these races (Enduro, XC & Short Track) another go next year. In the meantime, here’s a sampling of what happens at Sea Otter.
XC & Short track fly-over.
Watching the Dual Slalom
Truck Shuttles.
Everyone has to wash their kits.
Newark airport: 5:30am.
I had heard about the fire at Newark Terminal B, but I hadn’t anticipated the overload of travelers that would clog the other terminals. The line to get to security lapped the terminal twice. No kidding. Despite the United staff assuring me there was no way I’d make my 7am flight, I waited anxiously in line and passed quickly through security at approximately 6:55. I resurrected my high school track days and laid out an 800m PR to reach the gate moments before the door was sealed.
A smooth flight and an overpriced rental car later, I settled into my hotel room. Ever since the bullet-proof check-in cubicle at the hotel for the Sugar Hill, MD race last year, I’m a bit skeptical approaching hotels booked randomly near a race venue. I was pleased to find my home for the next few days is NICER than expected.
The weather was a pleasant 63 degrees with a solid drizzle. The hotel rooms surround a center courtyard with a pool, hot tub and hundreds of rose bushes. Very nice.
At this point, I’m antsy to get pedaling, but I have to wait a few hours before the shop has my bikes put together. Having strangers work on my babies is beyond nerve wracking – flashback to the 2015 Boston Rebellion blown-out hub ordeal. Soon enough 4:30 rolls around and my bikes arrive – assembled and delivered right to my door for the incredibly low price of $0. Thank you Coates Cycles!
Still plenty of daylight for a quick ride, and the rain let up. Bonus. According to the map, I can ride to Bonelli Park right from my hotel, so I decide to venture out for a few hours. I ride on a lot of hard packed double track with punchy climb after punchy climb.
Deeper into the park I happen upon some single track, which is also incredibly hard packs with sweeping turns. My initial impression is that the ground feels like a pump track. Maybe it’s usually more sandy and the drizzle today packed it down, but it’s almost asphalt.
I make my way back to the hotel, wash up and run a few errands. There’s a Trader Joe’s around the corner, so I stock up on prepared butternut squash salad and swing by the nearby bike shop to buy a bike lock. I just can’t handle leaving my bikes unsecured in the hotel room when I’m not there. Am I being overly paranoid? Probably.
I’m thrilled to discover that the course has a few rough, rocky descends and other sections of gouged and rutted up trail. There are also 2 man-made features that are essentially rampped-up log-overs which are reasonably high, steep and quite close together, so the second one (made out of rocks) is a tad tricky. With very few flat sections, your either riding up or down, so it’s going to be a pain fest. I’m not looking forward to the long road section at the start.
The drizzle continued most of the day and it was raining steadily by the end of my second lap. The dirt here seems to be clay-like, as such it turns into grease as the water soaks in. The dirt also packs into the tire treads turning a lovely ride into a 100lbs ice skating session.
My nerves are running high as I roll through the venue, which has a festival atmosphere. There are tons of team tents setup, and I recognize a number of top ranked riders from Specialized, Trek and the Luna Chix teams.
After washing my bike off, I carefully pack the bike into the rental. It’s a nice cadillac SUV with less than 5,000 miles on it, and I’m insanely paranoid the rental company is going to charge me for every scuff. I tear open all the Trader Joe’s paper grocery bags and line the bed of vehicle.
Back at the hotel room, I spend the evening eating those TJ salads, catching up on work, stretching and watching a little boob-tube.
My nerves are on fire, I wake up way to early and scarf down a complimentary omelet, only to find I have a few hours before I need to head to the race. I try to kill time by watching T.V., but I’m not able to concentrate on anything and I’m beyond anxious to get to the race. I pack up and head over. I try to take my time getting ready, checking and double checking my bike, hitting the bathroom.The toilette paper situation is a little over the top.
I pedal around to warm up, meet a few fellow racers. The closer the start time gets, the heavier the rain falls. By the time staging starts it’s really coming down.
I expected approximately 40 girls, so I’m pretty surprised to see closer to 60. I’m nervous, but I’m amped and feeling really positive.
I get a last call up and take my spot among the 8 nicely spaced rows. With 1 min to the start, the officials step out of the staging area and all 60 riders compress down, each girl squeezing as close as possible between one another, so that there are 4 misshapen rows. Handle bars are jabbed into my hips, elbows collide and wheels rub. This is the sort of thing that can’t be practiced anywhere else. The potential for disaster is huge. It would only take a small wobble to take down another rider and create a massive pile up.
The start is uneventful, I clipped in smoothly and maneuvered through some women to mix in with the main group. As soon as we hit the first descent the traffic backs up. No room to get around. I could walk faster than this! Argh! The pack stretches out and the front half is long gone. A couple rollers later the trail opens up and I get around a few women. I bomb the first descent that is clear of traffic, only to miss the turn! I’m tangled up in the bushes while a train of women fly’s past me. The good news is that I didn’t land in a cactus.
Some climbs felt awesome and I could powered up them, some I was just slugging away. I go back and forth with 2 other gals for a bit. Traffic backs up on the rocky climbs with wheels spinning out and people walking. We spread out and I’m riding alone for a while, just trying to find my rhythm. Midway through the 2nd lap I’m pushing just a little too hard and slide out around a sweeping turn- dirt is absolute grease! No biggie. 3rd lap I’m finally settled into the pace I can ride cleanly, I’m staring to really hone the lines, I feel good on more climbs than I feel bad… Heading through the start/finish I’m starting to drill the open road section, feeling good.. And I get pulled. Bummer! I know I wasn’t dead last, but somewhere back there. Was a really fun course and now I know, I know what it’s like to line up with the best of the best. I have a lot to work on, but the first step has been taken. That makes me smile.
Time to hit up The taco truck And heckle the men’s race.
Tomorrow I’ll be giving the short track a shot. Hoping to hang on for a longer % of the race than today.
I start the morning with another complimentary hotel omelet and coffee. I’m feeling pretty good and super hyped to give short track a go. I spend the morning trying to pack up the rental car with every item I have. I severely underestimated the space the 2 hard bike cases would take up.
Trying to squeeze both bikes and all the wheels into the vehicle, along with my luggage is a nightmare. I’m crazy paranoid about getting grease on the interior. I can’t get the dropper post to work on the Defcon and there is no way in hell that frame is going to fit without it compressed. I drive over the local bike shop and sit on the sidewalk, trying to suppress my panic, while I wait for the shop to open. I even email some of the other racers I know are heading to Sea Otter to see if they might have room in their vehicle. The shop re-cables the dropper post and I’m able to shove the frame all the way into the front seat and fit in the other frame too. Phew!
Despite the hours I spend packing up, I get to the venue early and start a gentle warm up. I give some sprints a try, practice some starts, leaning through corners, get a few laps in and keep spinning around. I’m surprised how simple the course is. It’s the road section from the day before, a single dirt road climb, a single descent with 50 feet of single track which opens into a sweeping grass turn, a couple wide turns in the grass and then right back onto the road. Hmmm. Seems kinds boring considering the awesome trails available.
Finally it’s time for staging. The group is smaller today -33 women gather around. Staging takes a while, as the announcer lists accolades for the top 25 or so riders – accomplishments including: Olympic medals, National Championships, World Cup Championships, Collegiate Championships, he goes on and on and on. It’s impressive. The women are surprisingly silent. I’m still hyped s. o I start clapping and cheering for everyone. These women are incredible – they all deserve cheers.
I feel excited but I’m calm. I know I’m here to just see what’s what. Get experience. Do the best I can. Keep working on improving my racing tactics and my skills. As long as I’m improving, I’m happy.
I have a solid start and immediately work my way into the pack. I’m on the back of the main group, I’m pleased I was able to hang on during the road section and not get dropped on the climb. The group bottlenecks into the single track and there is nothing we can do but hit our brakes and wait for an opening. The front of the pack takes off. I blast out of the descent and sweep wide through the turn, trying to not touch the brakes. I pass a girl. I hammer out of the corner and make another pass. Back on the road section I grab a wheel and stick with other girls.The pack regroups and the Luna riders slow the pack pace to slingshot one of their riders off the front. Road tactics in a mtb race?? I can’t help but laugh. This isn’t a test of who’s the best mountain biker, it’s something else, but I’m not sure what exactly.
The groups surges and stretches as the fastest riders chase her down and the rest of us struggle to stay together. I stand and drill the climb. Some girls fly past me, I pass others slugging away. Again I’m braking and waiting for the bottle neck to clear. Impatiently, I try a line through the shrubs, but the drag of the bushes costs me any lead I might have gained, so I’m back in the same spot out of the descent. I push the turn a little harder and make another outside pass. That’s really fun.
I know the leaders are long gone now, so it’s a ticking time bomb until I get pulled. I charge the road section and the climb every chance I can, I make passes but lose those passes on the road section. I don’t seem to be able to put the power out on the road the way I can when it’s dirt. Perhaps that’s mental, I don’t know. Definitely need to work on it. When I do finally get pulled, I’m please with my effort as I left everything on the course. Ended up in 26th place. A much better result than yesterday.
My brother-in-law was able to make it to the race and cheer me on. We watch the men’s race and then it’s time I head to Monterrey for the Sea Otter Classic!
(I made these ninja’s for the short track race #1 awards)
The weather this winter has been particularly mild in NJ, which means I’ve been able to get through my scheduled workouts with very little hassles. In late February I had found I wasn’t able to hit some of my target watts as prescribed. 4th workout in a row that I didn’t attain my mark and suddenly I’m losing motivation to complete the workout at all. This is not good at all. I just couldn’t ignore the fact that although it FELT like I was hitting the targets, my power meter said otherwise. Very dis-heartening. So I turned off the power meter display. It was still recording, but at least it wasn’t undermining my confidence.
Couple that with a severe calf contusion and a nasty cold and we have a recipe for disaster. It’s hard to know how a few missed workouts effect my overall progress. I chose to ignore the nagging self-doubt and focus on the next workout, the next target, the next race – which is, of course, short track!
I was a bit scattered brained heading into this race. As much as I enjoy working the registration table and chatting with everyone, I missed my warm up and barely squeezed 1 lap in. I’d never ridden here before, so I wasn’t sure what to expect. I helped to build the trail, but trail maintenance provides very little intel on how a trail will ride.
I had a strong start up the gravel road and dove into the single track full speed ahead. before the end of the lap I was already feeling the pain of racing. Soon I was catching the Sport Men’s group who had started ahead of the Women. There was more technical riding that I had expected and I quickly felt the fatigue building with each lap. By the last two laps I was making all sorts of silly mistakes – bobbling the rock gardens, smashing he pedals on rocks, clipping trees with the bar ends and even catching my foot under a branch. Just messy.
In the end, I held the lead for a 1st place finish, but I left this racing knowing I had a lot of ground to cover, and I’d better sort out my pre-race routine.
The race course was considerably more difficult with greasy mud tracking onto the rocks and roots. I held onto a more comfortable pace than the previous race, but I was still making too many errors, including two solid wipe-outs, one giving me a gashed knee and the other knocking the grip lock-on right off my handle bars. The peanut butter thick mud on the second section of single track wore on my legs with each lap. Despite all that, I kept a positive mindset and charged on, focusing on each rider, closing the gap and making a smooth pass.
I decided to go for the double header – racing both the 9am race with the Expert Men and the 10am race with the Women. Still trying to figure out my ideal race pace was my main priority – the hardest I can ride without dropping skills. The trails were dry and the weather was unseasonably warm.
When I tried racing with the men at last year’s short track, the weather was wet and the trails were a sloppy mess. The entire race completely undermined my confidence and set me back mentally. This fear tickled the back of my mind, but I’ve been training much harder this year so I decided to ignore that negativity and focus on my own personal goals – push as hard as I can while keeping my skills sharp.
The start was stuttered, being in the middle of the pack. But I settled into a solid pace and focused on executing clean lines. I couldn’t have asked for a better effort – I had very few mistakes and I pushed hard at every opportunity I could. Seeing the results after the race, I couldn’t believe I had really consistent lap times – something I’ve never been able to do. 4 of my 5 laps were within just a few seconds of one another. Awesome, I wanted to find that race-pace sweet spot an I did!
Immediately following the finish I jumped on the line for the Women’s race. We started behind the Sport Men, so there was a lot more passing involved, but I figured this is a skill i would need for the UCI races when I’m starting with a huge group of 30+ women, so this is good practice. I stayed with that sweet-spot effort I’d tapped into and was able to focus on drilling the lines and driving the bike through the trails. I just loved the way the back lollipop section rode in this direction. I really looked forward to it each lap.
By the end of the race, my legs were sapped but I felt great. Accomplished my goal and enjoyed the trails.
(Having fun is important for enduring a long race season!)
Jumped into the Expert Men’s race again. I wasn’t feeling so hot – legs sluggish, back hurtin’, head cold and a major cough, but I went for it anyways. I was surprised to find that I was riding the technical sections smoothly with only a single dab the entire race, and my effort was steady, despite feeling like crap. Right back on the line for the Women’s race and I was feeling considerably better. I powered through the prologue and settled into a decent effort. I focused on working the lines, remembering to stand and sprint the road sections and out of corners, and passing quickly and efficiently. I’m very pleased with the race today and also my progress through the series.
I’m glad I didn’t fall into a negative mindset – a week of workouts without the power meter undermining my confidence really helped get my motivation back on track. I honed mental and physical skills at short track, really making the most of those races. The more I thought about the races in Cali, the harder I trained. I added extra climbs to my endurance rides, my warm ups and cool downs – just tacking on a bit more elevation when ever a workout allowed.
My training feels like it’s back on point and the short rack series is over. Now it’s time to nail down all the travel details to race out West. Rental car, shipping the bikes, checked baggage fees, hotels, race venue layouts, drug testing, hotel check-out times, race start times, pre-ride windows, weather, UCI rules, washing kits between rides, arranging my children’s schedules, so many details!
More Pro XCT races! More enduro races! More downhilling, more indoor bike parks, more pump tracks, more skate parks and more AIR time! I sound like a kid in a candy store.
Specifically, I have 29 races planned, starting February 28 and running clear into October. I plan to attend each race of the Kenda Cup Series and I’m hoping to crack the top 4. I’m heading to California in April for Bonelli Park #2 and the Sea Otter Classic to see what West Coast racing is all about.
But also, more balance. Last year, I found that the moments of singular intensity always caused waves of discontent in other areas of my life. So the mantra for this year is balance, balance, balance.
Make “Bloomfield Bike Fest” a reality – this is going to be a bicycle festival held in Watsessing Park (Bloomfield, NJ) and will include kids races (cx style), mountain bike skills sessions, bicycle safety clinics (presented by the Bloomfield Police Dept), an obstacle course, an antique bicycle display & presentation, food and more. Save the date – April 30 – pending park approval. Want to help? Let me know, I need all the help I can get.
Work up SOMETHING to be worthy of doing during the next Joe Tiseo Jam – this photo doesn’t do any justice to the talented athletes in this picture. The tricks these athletes were landing was absurd. You’ll notice there are ZERO females on bikes. ZERO. I want to change that statistic.
Pick up garbage while walking my kids to or from school. I have been meaning to do this for the past few years and somehow I have not managed to find the time. Now, I keep a pile of grocery bags stocked by the front door along with my work gloves so it’s all easy to grab as I head out. So far I’ve managed a bag a day with less than 3 additional minutes added to the walk each way.
Break ground on the re-landscape project at Watsessing Elementary. This is an immense project our Home & School Association is undertaking and we’ve already made strides. The first phase of the project will be installing gardens, benches and little free libraries in the front of the school. Then we will tackle the black top in the back. We’ve already met with a group from Rutgers that will be helping develop a plan to turn the endless asphalt into a learning landscape recess wonderland (at least I hope they will).
And lets not forget the MTBNJ group ride series. I only made it to 1 in 2015. It’s tough to make these rides with such an intense racing and training schedule, but balance, balance, balance. Community and socializing is good for the soul, so certainly I can make a few more of these this year.
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again – 2015 was an amazing year. Training, racing & skills work were the focus for the first half of the year, then I started venturing into new territories – single speeed, enduro and bmx making huge impressions in my cycling world.
28 races resulted in 19 top-5 finishes, 5 first place finishes, and 2 DNF’s.
Won the NJ State Championships!
Made it into one of dirtwire.tv’s awesome videos – Barn Burner short track highlights, and this Bloomfield Life article (Bloomfield Life Article), and GTLuke’s Short Track pic made it onto Bike Rumor!
(Yes, MTBNJ snow-blowed a short track course! Yes, it was as awesome as it looks.)
Tried my first enduro.
First time visiting Cranx Bike Park – Dirt Rock ‘n’ Root‘s women’s clinic opened my eyes to this gem. The foam pit deserves its own mention.
[photomosaic link=”none” size=”medium” ids=”576,577,585″]
Introduced my son to Cranx and he loved it even more than me. This falls under the ‘firsts’ category because it’s the first time his enthusiasm for biking exceeded my own.
I scouted out skate parks around NJ and *finally* learned how to drop into a ramp.
Entered into my first Pro XCT, UCI sanctioned race (DNF’d), my first ProXCT Short Track, cracked the top 5 in the Kenda Cup and blew up a hub for the very first time – all in the same weekend.
I learned how to lean a motorcycle.
Tried cyclocross racing for the first time. Yes, I have done the odd CX race in years before but this was the first year I actually had a race mentality, a cyclocross bike and trained specifically for cross. (hmm. I love those gloves, but I guess they are starting to look a bit worn.)
Ok, maybe I didn’t take cx TOTALLY serious…
With all these firsts, I feel obligated to mention a few of the bumps and bruises – I landed in a tree on stage 5 of the Mountain Creek Enduro, finishing out the stage fishtailing a flat, I swear I broke a rib at Sugar Hill last spring, the skate parks pulverized my shins, and let’s just say there is a very painful learning curve to remounting a cx bike properly.
The year also saw sadness with the loss of my teammate, Christopher Schilling (#singlespeedforschilling). His untimely death was heart wrenching. The impact he had made on the NJ mountain bike community was beyond words. He is inspiring even now, and I think of him often.
CX taught me that I can race intensely, without being singularly minded on racing all day, every day. BALANCE.
An appreciation of the mountain biking community and the individuals and companies that are supporting me in my primary goal of racing. COMMUNITY.
Sports teams are a sort of family, but of all the sports I’ve experienced, nothing has the feeling of family extend so far past the game clock than mountain biking. Mountain biking IS a family.
People are just people – at all levels of racing. PERSPECTIVE.
I am but a child in the world of racing. There is so much more to learn.
I decided I’d dip my toes into the world of cyclocross racing this year. I’ll admit, riding on grass has never inspired much excitement for me, but I see some serious skill and fitness gaps in my racing, and I think cyclocross might help me target those weaknesses. So I bought a used bike and I’ve been riding it every chance I get.
As per everyone’s recommendations, the frame size is slightly smaller than my road bike, so it feels slightly awkward right off the bat. My first major observation is with cornering. I enjoy railing the corners on my mountain bike. But when I execute the same move on my cx bike – my wheel washes out, the tire rolls, my pedal clips the ground or a tiny obstacle bounces the wheel right out of the turn leaving me covered in grass and bruises. On more than one occasion, I’m baffled to see grass sticking out from between my rim & the rubber.
Then there are the remounts. People who can do this move make it look so easy and graceful. I feel like a lumbering elephant. Shouldering the bike is painful.
As frustrated as I am, I know I just need to keep at it. Keep working the drills, keep retraining my muscle memory. Yes, I’m coming in near dead last at the Wednesday World race heats, but it will come. It WILL come. In the meantime I remind myself that all the sprinting, the interval training and the race starts will ALL directly impact my MTB racing — at least, I hope it will…
I really like this course. Some sections run through the woods, there are a few tiny roots and rocks, a little wooden bridge section, lots of punchy climbs throughout, a couple sweeping off camber descents and turns. The atmosphere is great. Lots of people, lots of cheering, hecklers screaming on the toughest of the climbs. I had planned to pre-reg, but it closed the Wednesday before the race instead of Friday, as is typical of a mtn bike race. Start positions are based on registration order, so that puts me in the back row of over 50 women. For mountain bike races I arrive between 1 and 1.5 hours ahead of my race start, get through registration and then get my gear on. This formula, however, does not translate to cyclocross, so I’ve missed my chance for pre-riding the course.
Despite all these newbie mistakes, I’m excited to race. Fellow racers have given me the low down on the lines and I’m ready to roll. The best piece of advice – watch the other women for potential pile-up and bottle necks.
The official starts calling up the racers and I get increasingly anxious as more and more people pile into the starting blocks. I’m in the very last row. The whistle blows and the front charges off. A few moments later I’m able to start moving. The prologue is a long gravel road with grass on either side, so I move to the left edge and start weaving through the women, knifing my way towards the front. The last time I was in a peloton of this size, I ended up with a titanium elbow. My eyes are alert for anyone acting sketchy.
Into the first tree section, a squirrelly rider slips on a root and takes another rider down. The pack comes to a near stand still. I’m on the outside edge along the trees, and hold my position – slowing into a track stand. Women are putting feet down. The pack starts to open back up and as the other ladies start clipping back in, I push into the pedals and sneak around them. Teammates had said CX is about optimizing seconds here and there through the race. I see what they mean. That split second I saved not clipping out gave me the chance to pass another dozen women.
I focus on keeping a steady pace and no mistakes. Cornering feels slow, especially the off-cambers, I stay on the hoods for the descents and can feel myself babying my speed. There are a few steep climbs, I climb these standing. the heckle pit is great – people are screaming encouragement inches from my face. I don’t look at anyone, I don’t want to lose focus for even a second. The women who can’t make the climbs on their bikes are losing a lot of time. I won’t step off. No mistakes. Each woman I pass has more women in front. I hunt them down, but I have no idea who’s in my class and where I am positioned in my class. Doesn’t matter. I just keep pushing.
Finally I’m rounding the last corner, I push through it and sprint through the finish.
I spin down for a few minutes and head back to the team tents. I’m not prepared for the splitting headache that hits – apparently a common side effect of racing CX. The scoring is a disaster, I don’t see the results until 4 hours later. I finished 3rd! Awesome! Everyone tells me this course is not a typical CX course…. bummer, I really enjoyed it.
I arrive 2 hours early and am able to pre-ride the course a few times. The scene here is much bigger than last weekend. This course has a lot of long mainly flat grass sections, lots of turns and a huge mud pit. There is also a steep climb into a sharp turn followed by a log, which I think will cause a lot of people trouble.
Again I have a last row call-up having missed pre-registration. The field is huge, row after row get called ahead of me, and I’m really feeling anxious. I promise myself I won’t miss another pre-registration this season.
The light turns green and the pack starts to shift. It takes a seemingly long amount of time until I can actually start pedaling. The grass is slick from the gentle rain and the pack moves slowly. The girls who push the pace as slipping out and getting squirrely. The metal barriers limit any chance to work through the pack. Heading around the first turn the riders spread out and I can start weaving through the traffic. The mud pit is a disaster. I hop off and start running past riders. Out on the other side, the bike is clogged with mud, heavy, the brakes squeal as the mud rubs off.
So begins the long grass sections. Ugh. These suck the power right out of my legs. I push on. I pass women, women pass me. Cornering feels slow, the roll up is clogged with riders. It’s getting slick. I decide to run it, weave through the girls recovering from the failed ride up, hop the log and remount. There are few turns and then more long grass sections.
I try to ride through the mud pit on the next few laps. It’s the consistency of thick peanut butter. It’s slow and painful. Probably would have been smarter to run it. Each lap the grass sections feel longer and longer. I try to focus on picking good lines for cornering. I keep quiet making passes. There is a lot of back and forth with other riders. I maximize the little roll up. I’m happy to ride it cleanly each lap and make up a tiny bit of time.
The back grass sections aren’t total torture and I latch onto other riders to help keep the motivation up. The corners get progressively chewed up and slipperier each time through. I’m mostly satisfied with my dismounts and remounts. They aren’t pretty, but they don’t disrupt my rhythm too much either.
I push a bit harder at the end of the last lap, happy with a smooth line and a kick through the finish. Final position is 14th of 49 finishers. Hmmm. OK.
I don’t have high expectations heading into this race. I spent saturday at the NJ motor sports race track, thunderbolt on my Kawasaki636. It was a long and intense day, physically and mentally demanding. I’m just looking for experience on the CX bike and to stay in that high intensity effort zone for as long as possible.
There are only 7 women in my field. My front roll call up is pretty useless, as there is only 1 row. Ha.
The whistle blows and I grab a 3rd position spot, hoping to stay here as long as possible. The course has plenty of long grass sections, some steep climbs and off camber turns. There is a head wind on the back side that really makes the flat grass torture.
As the first lap progresses, I lose a few places. I try to hang onto the other TEAM EE women, but I can’t seem to keep up on the long grass straight-aways. The gap widens. I try to make up time in the corners. I repeatedly clip my pedal and wash out my wheel. Ugh. I have to back off.
The laps repeat, I lose another place. I feel like I’m treading water. More laps. This race is LONG. My back starts to flare up. I realize standing and pedaling helps loosen it up. It also boosts my momentum. Into the finish, no one is around, but I sprint through the final turn and empty the tank anyways.
Final position: 5th of 7. Not pretty, but it’ll do.
The race course is compact, weaving tightly around itself. The start of the course s-turns gradually up a climb with two small step ups. The top is a series of U turns – going up and down the same hill, then a long descent, 2 barriers, lots of ruts, and plenty of dust.
I have a first row call up, but I don’t actually want to be in first row today. I want to sit on my teammates wheel – one that creamed me last weekend – but the official won’t allow it, so I put my wheel on the line. The whistle blows and everyone charges off the line. I settle into 2nd position.
As we progress up the first climb I lose a place but stay with the lead group. The pace was strong and steady. I decide to stand and grind each of the short uphills. Slowly the lead group stretches out and I bleed a few places. There is a long descent near the end of the lap that I focus on hitting faster and faster each time. I’m flying down it, dust flying up behind me, straight-lining the slight S bend near the bottom for optimum momentum.
I’m loving the turns along the hillside too. As each lap passes and I notice I was starting to maintain speed through the corners, railing as hard as I could before losing grip.
Finally. FINALLY! The CX skills are starting to come together. I finish in 4th place.Kristine Contento-Angell cornering at hippo cx
This course has a ton of variety – long stretches of sand, steps, rutty grass field climbs, rooty single track and a off camber u-turns along steep hills. Being the day after Halloween, costumes were encouraged.
My back blew out on the grassy rut section and I couldn’t get the pain under control. I was happy to simply finish out the race with a 6th place finish.
Possibly the strongest cross race I have all season. The course has some mountain-biker friendly sections of steep descents and loose climbs. I have a great start and a strong first lap. I’m railing the corners and powering through the flats. Finally, everything I’ve been practicing was coming together.
Heading into the second lap I’m still near the front of the pack, though the leaders are increasing gap, I decide to push the speed through the corners a little harder. I slide out on a wet s-turn, find my chain has dropped and bleed two spots while getting the bike rolling again.
I get right back into a strong rhythm. I’m standing frequently which keeps my lower back pain under control. I don’t make any further mistakes and the pace is one of the strongest I’ve held all season, but it’s not enough to gain back any time, so I finish in 5th.
I’m very pleased with entire day, it feels like one of the strongest races I’ve had so far, so I decide to call the CX season to a close on a positive note.
I know my legs are still fried from the Stewart 45. I know that I’m mentally and physically in need of recovery time after the final peak of the my season in Boston. I know this, I do, but I just can’t help racing the summer scramble – this course is just too fun to pass up. So, off season can start tomorrow. 🙂
Pre-ride with the MTBNJ boys.
This nice fellow let me borrow his pump. Thanks for helping me out!
Trying to hide in the shade while waiting for our starts.
Small field for today’s race. Man is that sun hot!
And we are off!
A few gruelling laps later I roll through in 3rd place!
Ok, I think the season is really over now.
Still feeling the high from the Stewart 45, I’m anxious to race again – even though my coach advised I take some time off. Sure enough, legs were feeling totally fried for this race,. I couldn’t get my bike up to speed and the bulk of the race I felt like a slug. As best I could, I tried to keep any momentum I could scrounge up rolling through this playground of a course. Lots of pumping, fast turns and one heck of a switchback in the Mexican Bow Tie brought a smile to my face. The day wasn’t a total loss – as I managed a 5th place finish. Ok, off season, here I come.
I hadn’t planned to race this event, but I put in enough volunteer time course marking on Saturday and MTBNJ had enough available team members to work the race on Sunday, that the team owner, Norm, encouraged me to race it. After mulling over whether or not this was a good idea — I had taken a mental and physical vacation from training the past week — I decided I had nothing to lose.
Sunday morning I worked the race registration table. 8:30-ish I put my gear on, put my make-shift cooler in the pit area and lined up. I skipped my usual warm-up (there would be plenty of warming up on lap 1).
Since I haven’t raced anything over 25miles all year, I wasn’t sure how my legs would handle the extra mileage. My plan was to keep a higher than usual cadence in an attempt to flush out the ongoing lactic acid buildup.
I was determined not to go too hard out the gate so when Norm called ‘Go’, I settled into 3rd position. Tina pulled us all down the prologue gravel road. Into the first single track Jane pulled ahead and I stuck to her wheel. Jane lead the first few miles and I tried to assess our pace, could I maintain this? Yeah, I think so.
We popped out onto the climb up to the aid station and Jane started to slow down. I assumed this was her way of telling me it’s my turn to lead, so I pulled around her and pressed on. I reminded myself not to push it, there is a lot of race left to go. Into the next section of single track the trail doubled back, so I had a view behind me . I realizedI was pedaling solo.
I was pretty satisfied with my pace, it felt like a decent tempo that I could maintain for a while, I had my music on and settled in for a while.
The trails felt fast, there were a lot of punchy climbs that Utah had pointed out while course marking. I know these rather steep, albeit short, climbs were really add up if I took them slow, so I made every effort to charge into them, using my momentum to get up instead of powering up.
I know a number of the women in this field target these longer races, and would really shine on the last lap, when I’ll be dragging. Thinking about this helped keep my speeds maxed and my cadence high.
Swinging through the first lap, I took a moment to grab a banana and headed right back out. The temperature was climbing steadily and I really started feeling the heat.
Second lap the trails were much more populated. I started coming up on riders. Riders were charging past me. Some rides latched on to me, or I to them. Staying true to my strategy, I really tried to max out the descents, push on the flats and roll the climbs. In the back of my mind, I was just waiting for the other women to catch me, I didn’t want them to, but I knew they were coming. The aid station dumped cold water on me – with the temps nearing 100, it felt like heaven, if only for a few moments.
On a long false flat in the hot sun, under the powerlines a woman in my class chugged past. Damn. She was looking solid. I tried to stick to her wheel for a while, but I couldn’t hold on. I had consumed all of the 2 liters of water from my camel back and desperatly needed a refil from the feed zone. A few miles later I came through the lap and teamates helped me swap camel backs, peeled me another banana and got me rolling with minmimal time loss. The camel back was COLD, having been hidden in an iced cooler all morning and it was delicious. This 1.5 liter pack had sports drink in it. I figured it would last me the last 15 miles, but I had guzzled it dry before the aid station at mile 6 on the lap. My leg cramps were really starting to threaten complete lockout, I’ve no doubt the sports drink I just guzzled had been too concentrated.
I sufferredup the long road climb to the aid station, which was running low on water at this point, where they were able to scrounge up enough to refil my camel back. Life saver!
I can tell my pace has slowed considerably on any inclines and flats. I’m still trying to optimize my momentum to get up the punchy climbs, but it’s obvious I’m not rolling quite as far as the first two laps. The course is now littered with bikes and people lying on the side of the trail, legs up on trees, fighting off cramps, dehydration, dealing with mechanicsl and everything in between. It’s like a war zone.
Only a few miles left. I tell myself, the faster I ride, the faster I’ll be at the finish line.
I’ve lost all awareness of the women in my class. I’ve no idea how far behind first I am or how far third is behind me. It’s survival mode now. I’m exhausted – I know that this is the point when I start getting tunnel vision, which leads to mistakes and falls, so put all my mental prowress, which is minimal at this point, into staying aware with my eyes pointed way down the trail. I can’t believe I’ve run out of water again.
Finally, finally! I pop out of the last trail and am onto the road that leads to the finish.
What an insane weekend.
I was on the road by 6am to beat the traffic to the Boston Rebellion & Barn Burners Races in Walpole, MA. I was ready to ride the moment the course opened for the day.
As I cruised through the first pokey rock garden, my chain drops. I put it back on and continue riding. As soon as I start coasting the chain drops again. Upon closer inspection I can see that the chain is jumping off the cassette because the free hub won’t spin. Not good.
I hop off and run the bike back to the parking lot. The Cannondale demo mechanic kindly checks it out and recommends I get it to a shop STAT. I fight off the urge to panic as I leave my bike with complete strangers at the nearest bike shop.
I drive back to the course and borrow a demo bike to preview the course. It’s surprisingly flat. There are a few long steady inclines with no protection from the sun – one under a stretch of power lines, another along a grassy field and a third on a gravel road.
The beginning of the course has a few raw rock gardens with a variety of rocks spread apart and sticking up out of the ground. Then the trail is tight and twisty with roots, but very few rocks. At the very end of the course are the two most challenging features – a steep, loose, rooty climb that hangs a left and continues up at a steep angle followed by a dry stream crossing whose best line is a narrow diagonal across roots and 2 precarious looking rocks. As this is a natural line and not a built feature, the rocks on either side are wheel grabbers and will easily cause riders to endo.
A few hours later the shop calls. “One of the pawls broke off and was jammed into the hub. We had to use a chisel to dislodge the loose pawl. Your axle is scored a little but we filed down the grabby bits and have it running. It should last you tomorrow, but it needs to be replaced as soon as possible.” Great news! Then they say, “Oh, by the way, the rotor was misaligned and the wheel wouldn’t spin, so we adjusted your brakes.”
The brake comment seems odd, but I’m elated that the wheel is rideable. “Thanks guys!”
On the drive back to the course I debate saving the wheel for the race or heading out for a lap to see if it will hold up. I’d rather know sooner than later if this is going to blow up on me. Another lap it is.
I’m riding at a good clip, working out all the panic and stress from the day, when I come upon a rider for Giant. It’s Mike Romanowski! So nice to see a familiar face. My shifting starts to feel wanky as we ride along and I explain what happened with the hub. Amazingly, he happens to have that exact free hub in his trunk… and he’s willing to let me use it… and he knows how to install it! What LUCK!
Back at his car, he disassembles the wheel and quickly discovers that the axle wasn’t tightened down fully. Ah – so that’s why the rotor was mis-aligned at the shop. He swaps out the part, reassembles the bike and adjusts the brakes back to their original position. The bike feels brand new! Awesome.
Time to unwind and rest up for Saturday’s Race!
I arrive at the race venue around 11am to watch the men’s amateur short track and cheer on Nick & Mike. It’s hot today, and the short track is baked in the scorching sun.
1:45 is staging for the Women’s Pro XCT. I’m beyond thrilled to be here doing this race. I can’t wait to see what these seemingly super human women are like – are they really all that different from the girls I usually race against?
The support many of these gals have is amazing. A sprinter van full of spare bikes and parts, tents for shade, trainers for warming up & recovering, dedicated mechanics. It’s incredible.
The announcer calls staging and I roll over. It’s a ghost town. I’m grinning from ear to ear. I still can’t get over the fact that I’m even here, actually doing this. When I realize that first call means there is still 15mins before the race starts I pull off into the shade.
Finally they are starting the calls ups.
One of the top riders has forgotten her gloves. Another top rider asks her what glove size she is and then asks the announcers if she has time to run back to her tent quickly. He says yes, so she dashes off and grabs and extra set. Oh, I love that. Even at this level, the women are helping each other out.
The whistle blows and we are off. The long field and gravel road stretches the group out. I’m sitting around 6th. We turn into the first single track and am stuck behind a girl who seems to be hitting the rocks with full frontal force, instead of ridding over the tops. The lead pack is pulling away. Crap.
The next set of single track has a wide, gnarly rock garden. I bust to her right and accelerate. It’s not a pretty line or an elegant move, I slip and slide off the rocks, but it’s just a bit faster than her and I’m around her and off.
Fssst. Fssst.
Oh no. It will seal. It will seal. I’m glad I thought to have a few extra ounces of Stan’s added to that tire the previous day. It’s seems to be holding on the straightaways, but bleeding out air whenever I corner. A few minutes later, I take a sharp left and the tire rolls off the rim.
Game over.
I pull to the side and fumble with my CO2 to refill it. It reseals, but loses too much air in the process to be ridable.
Girls pass by one after the other.
I empty another CO2 canister into it and set the wheel so the Stans fluid puddles on the sidewall tear. A few shakes and spins later and it seems to be holding…
I continue on. It holds for a while, but I can hear it leaking when I corner. By the last mile of the course the rocks are banging the rim. I run all the rocks and roots, riding only when it’s straight and smooth.
The well-meaning fans offer sympathy, thinking that the course is what’s doing me in. Their eyes say “pity”. It’s painful to see and hard to ignore. While I run through the heckle pit, I hear, “This section is really tough,” and “It’s a hard course”.
Another spectator asks, “What’s wrong?” eyeing my bike as I jog across the empty creek bed. “A flat.” I say. He replies suspiciously with “It doesn’t LOOK flat.” I’m already insanely disappointed this happened. I’m already angry at how this weekend has played out so far and this comment boils under my skin. I fight the desire to release my emotions on him and keep my fury in check. “I’ve dumped all my CO2 into this wheel but it won’t hold. Trying to save the rim at this point.”
I ride the straight gravel road back to the feed zone and call out for neutral support. Someone puts a CO2 into the wheel, hands me a spare and I take off. By the time I’m turning into the first single track I’ve lost enough air to start bottoming out again.
It’s just not coming together today. I ride back and report my DNF.
I take a few minutes to unwind, trying to reel in my disappointment. The thing to do now is focus on tomorrow. Patching sounds like a bad idea, so I start calling around to local bike shops. All sold out. Everywhere. Ugh. I settle on a continental 2.0 from one of the vendors at the race and the fellows at the Shimano support tent pop it onto the rim. I spend the rest of the day rolling around to help it seal while watching the Men’s race.
I arrive at the course feeling both hopeful and skeptical.
The tire looks good, so I shake off the emotional drag from the last 2 days and focus on having a great race. Everything goes smoothly. I’m patient today, making safe passes instead of impatient ones. It’s a longer course than yesterday. The open stretches in the sun are brutal. Many sections of the course remind me of trails in NJ. The back side of the course is a lot like 6 mile, super twisty with punchy climbs, only much rootier. The last 1km is the tech, and I’m pleased to make the tricky climb every lap. I focus on keeping a steady pace through the turns. Legs feel good, lungs feel good. I know I’m having a good day when I pass a few Cat 1 girls on lap 2. The majority of the laps are uneventful. Just constant pedaling, reminding myself to stay loose and ride light. I trade places with 4th place a few times. On the last lap, she passes me on an open stretch. I seal my fate when I dab in the last rock garden frantically trying to gain ground on her.
5th place! I’ve been trying to break into the top five the entire series, so I’m thrilled with the result.
I try to cool off and stay loose. The Pro STXC short track staging starts shortly after the finish of the XC race. I don’t have high expectations going into this, but I’m excited to line up with this intimate group of strong riders.
The girls blast out of the gate. I’m at the back of the pack. One girl breaks a chain. I stay steady on the gas. The crowd is lively, cheering and shouting all along the course. The short rock garden becomes smoother with each lap while the gravel incline becomes more painful. I make a pass and press on. Before long the race is over and I sail through the finish in 4th. Nice!
I hang out for the final podium announcements, photos and customary champagne spraying. The atmosphere is buzzing. Repeatedly, I hear racers saying that this course and terrain are unlike the other Pro XCT races. I sincerely hope the series continues to use this venue for it’s location and uniqueness. It feels incredible to be able t o experience a race of this caliber, with such an intimate feel – it’s a rare opportunity, and one I won’t soon forget.
I was adamant that I get to the race venue bright and early to preview the enduro section of the course. So by 6am on Sunday, I was already on the road driving to Rhode Island.
3 hours and change later I was exiting the highway to see house after house with stone walls of varying styles. Good sign.
By 10am it was already in the high 70’s and I was on course checking out the abbreviated loop. The first climb from the start line is a gravel road that goes on and on, getting looser and rockier as we ascend. Nothing too steep, but the sheer length really wears down the legs. The single track is tight and flowy.The enduro segment is everything I’d hope it would be, beautiful berms, steep drops, gnarly rocks, punchy climbs, and the occasional log pyramid. It has a ton of obstacles and tech while allowing riders to maintain sick speeds. Tons of Fun. This race is going to test our upper bodies as much as our lower.
The end of the enduro section has a heckle pit setup with a beer hand off. Sweet. I hear someone shout “New Jersey in the House!” Nice!
I head back to the car and chill in the shade until the start time rolls around. I’m so ready for this.
My start is at 12:30, and the temperature just keeps climbing. It’s brutally hot, even with the shade from the trees. The dust is kicking up into everyone faces. Racers are finishing with what looks like black soot sticking to every drop of sweat.
I line up with a good size group of women, and we are off! I have a clean start and charge up the hill. I’m surprised to find I’m leading the group for a portion of the climb. Just before we turn into single track 2 girls sneak by me. The group is already strung out considerably. The plan is to ride my own ride and see what happens.
A quick section of single track and then more climbing. 2 more girls squeeze by. I’m sitting around fifth.
I chug along the lap and find I’m bobbling sections of descents that I had zero issues with on the pre-ride. What’s going on? I’m tense. I need to relax.
The Cat 1 guys start passing. I’m really feeling the heat. I know I only have 18oz of sports drink for the race, so I’m carefully rationing it out.
Before long I’m headed into the second lap, and I seem to be moving at a snails pace. Legs just aren’t spinning the way they should be. After lumbering to the top of the climb, I focus on staying loose and relaxed on the descents. I ride these much cleaner this lap.
Somewhere around the end of the second lap a group of Cat 1’s ask to pass in a blueberry field. I’m hurting big time, so I pull to the side and wrap my arm around a 1.5 foot diameter tree trunk so I don’t have to un-clip. To my utter shock, the tree trunk starts to tip towards the trail, over the guys and me! ‘The tree is falling,’ I scream as I lean my weight into the tree to change the trajectory of it. It’s freaking heavy! ‘Holy shit!’ I hear a few guys shout out. I’ve altered the path of the tree enough that it falls almost parallel to the trail instead of across it. Wow, that would have sucked if it landed on someones head.
I get rolling again. My legs are nearly dead. I’m switch footing like crazy on the descents to keep my legs from completely crapping out. I stop trying to roll all the drops and let myself have some fun, manualing off of a few and getting a little air. That’s better.
Into the 3rd start line climb and I’m wondering why we do this to ourselves. I’ve completely bonked and my legs are just barely responding to my brain’s request to move. But I think, I came all this way, it’s a really fun course and I’ll be really disappointed with myself if I don’t finish. Come in dead last if I have to – just don’t give up.
I’m so hungry through this lap that my stomach feels like it’s going to flip out of my mouth. The taco truck in the parking lot is calling to me.
I round the lap line for the final time and I pretend there is no one around. I’m still in the middle of the woods with no ability to pull of. Just get up this climb the last time and then it’s all down hill, right? No not at all, but I have to tell myself something to keep going.
This final lap is tough. My legs are sapped, I’m struggling to get up the punchy climbs. My triceps and shoulders are shot. I’m shaking them out when I can. My liquids are gone.
I’m starting to feel dizzy. I forget which lap I’m on. I keep telling myself to relax. It’s beautiful in the woods.
I lose all awareness of time. I’m in survival mode. Occasionally I pass a rider or a rider passes me. I feel like a snail on any incline. The descents I try to roll as best I can and keep off the brakes.
At some point I pass a couple Cat 1 girls. I theorize that I must be almost done if I’m passing them. They look just like I feel. I offer some encouragement.
One last trip through the enduro segment and even though I’m completely wrecked, I’m loving every moment. Every muscle is fried but the flow and the speed is just such a blast. The heckle pit is a ghost town. I come through the finish and I’m trying to figure out if I’m supposed to stop or if I have another lap. The race promoter saves me by handing me the envelope for 6th place. Cash! NICE!!!
Gnar Weasels video highlights on Direwire.tv: https://youtu.be/PefLWewIIQY
There was a solid drizzle of rain all night and all morning. Having rode The Millstone Grind after torrential rains that made the trail a thick, greasy, peanut butter slop fest, I was full of confidence for riding wet trails.
I also knew this would be a disadvantage – as the course speed would be MUCH slower than I had originally anticipated. Stacey and Laura are both awesome climbers, and I was hoping to max out the descents to make up time, but with all the off camber roots on the downs – I’d have to be cautious and reel in my speed.
I pre-rode the course last wednesday. The trails were dry and I was FLYING. I haven’t raced the last couple weekends, so I’m really itching to GO.
It’s chilly and rainy, but I learned at Millstone that over dressing in the rain equals CERTAIN DEATH. So I keep to my usual race gear. I run through my usual warm up/ skills drills and I’m anxious to get this party started.
The drizzle lets up as we stage. The announcer starts us off. Jess jumps off the line and leads us up the gravel incline and through the creek. I’m sitting on her wheel, tight, too tight. Coming out of the creek her wheel slips and her bike pitches across my path. She comes to a complete stop to realign her bike and I have NO WHERE to go. I have to stop and let her move to the side. I hear Stacy giggle as she slips around us, along with a train of women.
No! No you don’t.
I jump back on and hit the gas, passing girls up the rooty climb.
I’m back in 2nd position, on Stacey’s wheel now. She’s powering up the climbs. I watch her inch further ahead with each rise. I keep calm and controlled, thinking I should be able to catch some ground on the descents. The first half of the lap is mostly climbing, and she slips from sight. I edge out of my comfort zone in the single track, but I’m making time, I can see her green helmet pop back into sight. Climbing and I lose her.
Suddenly Laura, who was missing from the start line, comes roaring by at mach speed. She catches me just before one of my favorite descents and I coast behind her, knowing there is little passing opportunities for a stretch. We hit the switchbacks at the bottom and her wheels wash out. She goes down (gently) and I slip by.
I trudge up the next climb and before long I’m in the twistys at the end of the lap. That was fast. I can see Stacy’s green helmet as the trail winds back on itself. I pass Art and he tells me she’s close!
The twisty’s are greasy, not much I can do here but keep it steady and upright.
Finally into the open gravel descent and I can let it go. I don’t see Stacey though. I pass the lap area and the spectators say she’s close.
I put some gas into it and head into lap 2.
As I start up the rooty climb I can feel my back starting to sieze up. The rear wheel slippage seems to inflame my lower back.
I don’t see Stacey and I’m starting to lose my drive when I pass my teammate Norm, who is having derailleur issues. He gets pedaling again as I pass and hangs onto my wheel for the remainder of the lap, giving me MUCH NEEDED encouragement and advice the entire way. I try to stretch out my back when I can, it’s so stiff already and I can’t generate my usual drive up the climbs.
We get to the end of the lap and he jumps in front to give me a draft. I grab his wheel, but the mud spraying off his wheel is pelting my eyes, covering my face. I can’t see. I have to drop his draft and slow way down to wipe my stinging eyes.
He pedals away.
I see him ahead and try to motivate myself to catch him. Half way through the lap I lose sight of him.
It’s just me and the bike for the rest of the race. The trail feels slipperier than the first lap – the mud now thicker, even though the drizzle has let up. I keep trucking and before I know it the race is over.
Last year Stacey beat me by 5 mins. This year it was 1:13. PROGRESS.
