Category: race recap

I deliberately left the “race” out of the title, because, well, I don’t think what I did should be considered racing.

Drove up to VT on Saturday with my family. (The hotel had a pool, so the kids were happy.)

Saturday night and Sunday morning was a torrential downpour.

At the race, I could tell my head wasn’t in this. I didn’t stay for the results but I think I was DFL.

The race venue was a farmers field that didn’t drain well – it quickly turned into a slop fest. With temperatures in the 50s, everyone was scambling to dig up more base layers, and limb warmers.

The race promoters were giving out sweatshirts to all in attendance – an incredibly generous and thoughtful gesture.

I was freezing during registration, so I packed on every last stitch of warm gear I could find – base layer, rain coat, under helmet hat & fleece leg warmers on top of my normal race clothing.

The heavy rain turned the entire course into thick peanut butter. These less than perfect conditions led to a sizable increase in lap times, so the promoter cut us from 3 to 2.

With the pouring rain, I skipped my usual warm up and huddled under a tent until it was time to stage.

I had a decent start, and slotted into the top 5. The first lap was insanely greasy. The rear of my bike was pitching out 45 degress across the trail while my front wheel pointed onward. With the back wheel sliding around, along with the pedal strokes that spin out in the mud caused my lower back to flair up severely.

Halfway through the first lap the sun came out and I realized just how over dressed I was. The wet gear felt heavy and climbing was painfully sluggish. I know the girls who’s teeth were chattering on the start line were probably feeling just perfect right about now.

Girls passed me on the fireroads, I was stretching my back out and they were cranking.

 

The first lap was pretty slow, I wasn’t used to the bike slipping out,  I didn’t know the trails and my back was screaming.

I was worried about my family being stuck in the car for hours while I was on the trails – there is a good chance my kids are unhappy with the situation.

As I came through the lap, my family was there cheering for me. They all looked relatively happy, so I stopped worrying about them.

The second lap I started to get some speed up and started feeling the flow. The mud had tacked up a bit as well, so the mud wasn’t quite so thick and greasy. I started hanging onto guys wheels as they passed and I realized I was babying my bike, my back and this whole performance. The trails here are constant single track. Lots of smooth rollers, plenty of twists and punchy boulder climbs that would be easy in dry conditions, but were too slick to even walk up today. I’d love to check these trails out in dry conditions.

It took me an entire, painfully slow, lap to finally get my head into the race. I was too far behind at this point to make any impact on my place. Clearly, lap two is not the time to start racing but at least I had a chance to work on handling my bike in wet conditions. Aside from that, this race was an utter embarrassment.

Next up is Bear Creek!

 

 

Sugar Hill – Day Before The Race.

Rich & the guys at Bicycle Tech are putting together my new race bike – a Jamis Dakar XCR Team, SRAM xx1 drivetrain, Shimano XTR brakes, Stan’s Crest wheels. Except for a bit of a snafu with the bottom bracket, the chances of getting this baby rolling for Sugar Hill is looking sweet. Sugar Hill is a very hilly course, and this 24 lbs. dream bike would be perfect for the course.

At the 11th hour, Rich pulls a few strings and acquires the correctly fitting bottom  bracket. I’m not sure I can disclose the details, but let’s just say his efforts to get this bike rolling were far above and beyond the call of duty. We eyeball the seat & set the suspension up to recommended settings. Although it’s later than I had hoped to start driving, I’m on the road by 9 pm headed to a hotel in Maryland for Saturday’s 8:30 am start.

Traffic on the highways is a bear, so my GPS routes me through PA. With each turn I’m driving deeper and deeper into the boonies on narrow country roads, in pitch blackness, with few houses -an axe murder’s paradise. After twenty minuets of endless turns on these roads I’m starting to wonder where I am and where the hell the highways are.

I consult my GPS which promptly crashes.

I pull over to launch the app only to find I have no signal. Of course.

What can I do at this point except keep driving? I continue on, and thankfully, the signal returns after only a few miles and I’m headed towards a highway.

Around 1:30 am I pull into the hotel parking lot. I’m surprised to see the place is quite busy at this hour, with a line of people checking in. Then I see the receptionist – in a bullet-proof cubicle. Great.

After checking in, I head to my hotel room, on the second floor which is conveniently sandwiched between the stairs and the 20 or so people drinking on the walkway/balcony. ‘Doof doof’ music pumps out of one of the rooms. As I head up to the stairs with my bag and my bike, I politely interrupt the couple with matching spider web neck tattoos who are tonguing in the stairwell and ask them to move so I can bring what I suddenly realize is a ridiculously expensive bike to my room.

They go lean against my car and pick up fondling where they left off.

In my room, I’m very happy to see how clean everything is. Not much space, but the locks on the door look functional and solid. I crank on the a/c to drown out the party noise and settle in for a few hours sleep. Its after  2 am at this point and my alarm is set for 6:30.

Sugar Hill – Race Day

Morning race prep routine goes smoothly and I’m at the course by 7:30. Other than a bit of grogginess I’m very excited to try the new bike.

Finally, I’m at the start line. The announcer starts us off and we all bust down the road at mach speed.  A quick rise and the course juts left into a steep, loose rocky climb. I catch Florida, the girl who had the whole shot, and zip past with Laura right on my wheel. The course basically climbs and climbs. Laura passes me and I stick to her wheel for a bit. My lower back starts to ache and I realize I’m pitched on the very front of the saddle. I’m having a hard time getting the “spin in circles” feel to my pedal stroke.

Laura starts pulling away. The course is super smooth and Laura is flying. My bike feels light and agile. Florida is right behind me. I lose sight of Laura and try to put some distance on Florida on a loose, rocky descent. I’m drilling the descent at top speed. The front of the bike is jarring off the rocks and the handlebar slips out from under my hands and I go flying face first over the bars. I tuck and roll, but its a hard hit, there’s blood. I’m worried about the bike – I inspect it in detail, and seeing no obvious issue hop back on and start pedaling.

I approach a log and compress the suspension before hopping over and realize that I can’t compress it more than a few millimeters. Hmm. The suspension needs some major adjustments, factory recommendations are not my style. Nothing I can do about it now, so I reassess my goals for the race. I really just need to get to know this bike!

Second lap I focus on cornering – I’m shocked to feel how the bike reacts to counter steering. It’s brilliant. The slightest pull to the outside handlebar and the bike zips through the turn, lightning fast. Aww, that’s really fun. The climbs are okay but I can’t seem to settle into a good rhythm, or get a good spin going. I’m shifting all over the seat. I keep finding myself perching on the very front of the saddle. My wrists are fatiguing and my back is aching.

The few rock gardens are great, and the bike just floats over the gnar. So light, so easy to lift.

By the third lap, I can see Florida a few rollers behind. I’m fatiguing and starting to feel the aches from my endo. Also, I don’t know where the finish line split is. I sense that Florida is gaining. At some point on the trail a guy yells out, “This is it! Head down the hill now! Unfortunately he’s not standing at the trail split when he says this and the finish direction isn’t marked, only the race course is marked, so of course I head along the marked trail. A woman pre-riding yells, “You’re going the wrong way! Go back! Go back!”

I turn around to see Florida fly down the hill. Damn it.

I floor it.

It’s a gravel road with a sweeping right turn. I’m cranking. Florida hits the pavement and throws a glance back at me. She starts sprinting. I’m at least 5 seconds behind her. The finish is just over a paved roller, maybe 150 yards away.

I hit the pavement and sprint. Max red-line.

I’m gaining, gaining fast. The finish is rapidly approaching. I keep sprinting.

We crest the roller and I’m so close, just a few feet away from her. We hit the bottom of the roller, the finish is just a few more feet away. I’m overlapping her back wheel. I keep throwing power into the pedals. I’m side by side with her. She suddenly realizes I’m accelerating past and my front wheel crosses the finish line less than a wheel length ahead of hers!

Yes!

Now to scrub out the gravel, slather up with Bacitracin and race again tomorrow… Mooch Madness!

 

Short Track #3: Endless Sludge

My teammates suggested I try the Open Men category for this race, so I gave it a shot.

You’d think I’d learn by now, but I’m honestly shocked that every time I jump to a new tier, I expect to drown in a field of riders who are beyond my capabilities. The reality is these new categories aren’t nearly as different from my previous experience as I think they will be. Short Track #3 was no exception.

I had expected the men to execute any and all tech flawlessly, but the reality was that they ride just like everybody else. Sure the guys at the front of the pack are hitting the tech smoothly and fast, but the general population is way more average than I had thought.

For myself, however, I psyched myself out. I expected to be at the back of the pack, so it’s no surprise that I rode at the back of the pack.

Back to the actual race –

I had a smooth start with the guys and settled into the pack. To my surprise, the first bit of tech was bottle-necked with guys walking it.

The course was peanut butter at this point in the day and the endless sludge sapped my legs of power. I have found one of my biggest weaknesses is that I grind so hard I completely drain my legs of power, and the slower I feel I am going, the harder I grind the low cadence, further sapping my legs. Coach has had me working relentlessly on spinning a higher cadence. Unfortunately, I let the sludge take over and spent the entire race grinding through the muck.

I wasn’t even enjoying the tech. A course I should have felt confident on, I was nervous and tight –leading to crappy tech skills on the descents and rocks. I was thinking more about being in the other riders way than about riding my own race. Mind over matter.

But, I trudged on. I was nearly dead last – beating only the guys that gave up – however, I’m happy I did this category. Mentally, I have a solid appreciation that these guys are not nearly as special as I imagined them to be. I pushed outside of my comfort zone and I gave myself a wake up call about thinking negatively.

 

Short Track Race #4 – The Final Showdown

(photo courtesy of GTLuke)

It was a pretty cold day, but the sun was out and it’s always a great day when I get to pull the mountain bike out. I hopped on to grab a few warm up laps only to realize my brakes were completely blown out. Although I had wiped down the bike after Short Track #3’s sludge-fest, I hadn’t pulled the wheels off and cleaned out the brakes thoroughly. Not only were my brake pads “barely-there”, the bb7 mechanism was completely gummed up. Luckily, MTBNJ teamate ‘Woody’ keeps a bike shop worth of tools and parts in his trunk and he was kind enough to fixed up the brakes lickety-split. 20 mins later the back brake was working fully and I’d estimate I had 40% of the front brake. A sever improvement & a lesson learned.

My focus for the race was looking ahead and maintaining speed, I had a nice, steady start, and a solid first lap. Overall, the legs felt heavy, having come off of a hard week of training, but I keep pushing and cranking. I hit the descents at speed, but with only 40% of the front brake, I ended up with some fantastic rear wheel slides.

I was able to maintain a higher cadence up the climbs and hit the tech-sections well, honing in on better lines each lap. I settled into a rhythm and just kept at it. I knew the rider behind wasn’t far, and that helped me focus on pushing forward instead of thinking about heavy legs.

After the first lap, I started catching the back of the Sport Men’s class. Passing was a breeze compared to previous short tracks. Section by section I picked off riders, at the top of the lake a few spectators provided some really powerful cheering and seriously helped me push just a tad harder to get in front of riders before the road down.

As always, a fun atmosphere, lots of cheering from spectators and a shockingly-loud gong made for a great day.

 

It’s Saturday morning, 4:45 am, complete darkness. After fumbling around for food and coffee, I jump in the car and head to Cathedral Pines in Long Island for my first attempt at a 6 hour race.

Why would anyone sign up to race for 6 hours you ask? Let me explain.

One of the biggest hurdles I had heading into the 2014 racing season, was the increase in mileage. My first race in 2014 at Hop Brook illustrated the situation perfectly: Cat 3 – 6 miles, Cat 2 – 12 miles, Cat 1 – 21 miles. The math just didn’t add up for me. As the season wore on, I acclimated to the longer distances, but even as the season closed, I still felt that distance was a mental barrier. Frustrated with that weakness, I decided to tackle it head on.

As I crossed the George Washington Bridge, the sun is just peeking over the horizon, creating a beautiful array of colors through the sky. Picturesque.

For those unfamiliar with the 6 hour race format – it goes like this – who ever can complete the most laps in the fastest time wins. So the hot shot who blasts out of the gate at lightning speed but blows up at 3 laps and drops off, loses to someone who maintains a slower pace for 4 laps. If 2 racers both complete 5 laps, the faster overall ride time wins. The other thing you need to understand is that if you roll through the lap line at 5 hours and 59 mins, you have to head out for another lap. So really, a 6 hour race involves AT LEAST 6 hours of race time, with racers finishing closer to 7 hours of riding. (Logistically that information is really important for fueling throughout the race.)

2 hours later I pull into Cathedral Pines and am directed to park my car along a gravel road so we can easily pit right out of our trunks. One of my teammates spots me and pulls his car up so I can park behind him. Excellent! Always good to have teammates nearby. Now that I have a pit location staked out, I spread out my food, drinks, bike tools, spare tubes and alternate riding gear in the trunk, easy to see and access quickly.

It’s time to gear up. What to wear? Right now it’s 29 degrees, but what temp will it be in the woods? At Noon? At 3pm? Starting out overdressed or under-dressed could mean a miserable first lap. I opt to layer up – thinking I’ll shed each lap if needed.

Registration is next. The folks at Something Wicked do a great job – the lines move quickly. And the race plate absolutely made my day.

The first real challenge is the start. It’s a mass start , but a little hairier than usual – there’s no staging, no start grid. All 300+ racers line up any which way,  jockeying for the best position and vying  for the hole shot.

It’s about a half mile of gradual uphill on a gravel road to the first single track entrance. You want the best possible position here, if you get caught up behind 100 people that have to now ride single file, you’ll be waiting and waiting to get into the woods. But everyone is thinking the same thing, that’s what makes this portion of the race so sketchy.

The gun goes off and 300 riders shoot up the road – adrenaline pumping, everyone is sprinting, powering, overtaking, bumping into one another,  some riders are all already dropping, chains are snapping, wheels are buzzing each other.

It’s a lot to take in. I’m on the inside of the first turn, with all the bustle I keep my focus on the clearest path ahead, using peripheral vision to keep tabs on the riders who pose the most danger to me. I always enjoy powering out of a start, but in this situation I’m limited to the speed and power of those surrounding me. As we ride along the first straight away, I maintain my spot and start snaking through the crowd, gaining spots whenever a opening appears. We round the last corner before the single track and things slow down to a track stand at the trail head.

Meanwhile, the spectators are cheering, ringing cow bells and honking car horns. It’s a great vibe.

Just into the trail head, there’s a pack of 8 guys staggered, track standing, on and around the trail, moving as little as possible, then one rider just in front of me loses his balance and tips over, blocking the trail. Can’t go forward, I’d better go around! I shoot through the leaves on the outside of the trail, zip around the downed rider and back onto the single track and settle into a steady pace, catching the group ahead of me.

At this point I’m in the middle of a train of 15 guys. We’re riding wheel to wheel. I haven’t pre-riden this course, so I’m not sure what to expect from the trail. I’m reading the wheels ahead of me, keeping an eye out for any squirrelly movements – a train this tight – one goes down, we all go down. I’m not full throttle, but we’re moving along at a fast enough pace. About halfway through the lap our overall speed bogs down a few notches. After another mile the heckling starts up. “We’re not here for a Sunday ride in the Park!”, “Get moving or get out of the way!” It seems there is a rider who won’t let us pass.

After more intense heckling and rising tempers, groups break past the slower rider. Eventually we all work our way past. Now I’m riding with a group of 3, one ahead and one behind. The guy ahead seems to know the course so I hang onto his wheel until we emerge from the woods and into the grassy section at the lap line. The guys busts past me while I battle the sludge feeling of riding through the grass and see the timer says :51. The announcer shouts “Here comes the third woman through!”

Holy crap! Really? Third overall? That’s freaking awesome!

Just after the lap line there is this incredibly weird twisty path through some pine trees. I don’t know what sort of after thought this mess was, but it was my least favorite part of the course. Luckily it was brief. Back into the grass and then onto the gravel road along the pit. My fueling plan was to eat every half hour for the first 4 hours. But the idea of chewing on a nut and dried fruit bar sounds like the worst possible idea right now. With the relentless twisting of the trail, I hadn’t even found a moment to take a sip from my camel back. I take in a long drag now and reason out that not eating at all is going to bite me in the butt in a few hours. So I fish a bit of bar out of my pocket and stuff it into my mouth. It’s dry and sticky feeling. I imagine I’ll be chewing this for miles. I wash it down with another long drag and head back into the trails.

Second lap goes much like the first. I pass some guys, some guys pass me. I consciously try to consume more salt-spiked sports drink. My pace feels decent, lungs are in check, legs feel good. I force myself to eat more of the bar through the pit area and continue trucking. I’m surprised at how quickly the laps seem to be passing.

Third lap starts out great. About half way through the shit starts hitting the fan. The ache in my lower back I had been ignoring is building further. My contacts are fogging up. Calves are hinting at cramps. I’m wheezing. I back off my pace and try and sort some of these issues out. Standing and stretching on the bike brings temporary relief to my back. Rubbing my eyes helps clear the fog, but riding one handed is not the best idea. To battle cramping, I make an effort to drain my camel back. A slew of girls and guys pass me at this point.

Passing through the pit area I stop a few minuets to refill my camel back, grab more food and chug some OJ. I see a few more girls go by.

Onto lap four. It’s just like lap three. The constant pedaling feels like being on the rollers. That makes me laugh. Alot. I’m probably dehydrating into delirium.

Seeing the timer as I end lap 4 and start lap 5 I realize I’m doing 1 hour laps now. Ouch. Not pretty.

Heading into lap 5 I’m wondering why I decided to do this race.

Why did I do this race? A 6 hour race? That’s crazy!

I did this race to get over my mental fear of mileage. I did this race because I wanted to improve my endurance and targeting an event gave my training a purpose. I did this race, just to see if I could. I’m contemplating bailing after 5 laps. 5 laps isn’t bad! That’s 50 miles! 50 miles! That’s a personal record right there.

A group catches up to me. The first guy behind asks to pass. I let him know a spot is coming and where I plan to go right. He buzzes by seamlessly. Hearing another rider back, I stay to the right but he’s a bit over-anxious, and doesn’t bother waiting for me to call out a clear spot. He tries to blast past me but runs straight into a tree, falls over and lands on me. Nice one.

After some fumbling, we start pedaling again. I hear a friendly voice pull up behind me. My teammate Alex! She’s zipping right along! She asks to pass and promises not to fall on me in the process. After she passes I decide to stick to her wheel for as long as I can hold on. Before I know it half the lap is over.

Out of the woods on the 5th lap, and the timer says 5:45. Lots of people are milling around the lap line in warm,comfortable looking clothes. Eating real food. Sooo tempting. I came this far, what’s one more lap?

One More Lap!

Heading into the 6th lap, I’m just laughing inside. Yes, everything hurts. Yes, I’m tired… and cold… and hungry. But I came here to do a 6 hour race today. Earlier this year I was standing on a start line, terrified of riding 21 miles. Today I rode 3o miles before I even blinked. I’m not just overcoming that mental barrier, I’m obliterating it. I won’t get a cool medal to take home, but I’m going to finish this thing. All the way. And somehow that speaks louder than all the complaints.