Missed Connection- Single and Rigid

The date started out innocently enough.  I obeyed the speed limit within your boundaries as Tim and made our way to your event.  We made it a point to drive past your mountain laurels as they were particularly beautiful before we would find a place to rest the car. We tried to tread lightly while parking in your semi-wet grass from the previous days soaking. Thank you for the use of your pine trees to help me change, I wasn’t feeling the magic towel. The day seemed beautiful and I guess I just wonder where we went wrong?

I didn’t mean any disrespect riding single and rigid. Honest. It wasn’t an insult to your terrain or a condescending gesture towards the course you had laid ahead. If anything, your mud and rocks were derailleur hungry that fateful morning. Ready to cause massive chain suck and break countless hangers. I humbly respected you.

At first we got along wonderfully. Straight from the word go I found myself gliding over you as if it were familiar territory. Up the dirt road and back down the other side. I didn’t get upset when the geared riders clicked down and took advantage of the descent and free speed. I just tucked and hoped as Scott Root tried to draft me for a second before realizing that I don’t make a big pocket. I followed him into the woods before we would pick off a few. Your soil was moist with a few patches of mud. Nothing major. Yet. After passing Scott, which was probably a mistake in the first two miles of a 24-mile expert race, I found myself alone with you. Finally. Finally we could get to know each other properly. I rode and smiled the entire four miles we were alone. Down your fast descents and though your tunnel like single track, I though we were really hitting it off. You threw me out for a second and I crossed the road to where you were waiting for me. I flew into your creek, which was a little too deep at three feet. Stop. Sailing over the bicycle and onto the opposite bank before scrambling to my feet. Is this anyway to treat a boy on your first date? Is that Tim up ahead? This is where the fun would begin.

You even had the warning sign: “2-mile climb begins here” Of all the parts of you, that climb would prove to be my favorite. The perfect grade to sit or stand, I would catch up to Tim and make small talk. I remember going up you and hoping that we would get another go around on lap two. Would the hill be a part of the second lap? I didn’t read the map; I wanted you to surprise me. After passing Tim I rode alone for a couple of miles, taking a few turns and looking for my next carrot. I flew down a very rocky and technical decline before hitting a bridge. After negotiating that, you threw me across another road. Or did you?

The road looked awfully familiar. Almost identical to the one I crossed 4 miles ago. I turned around and it was confirmed by coming face to face with a three-foot deep creek crossing. You dirty bitch. Somehow you managed to throw me off the course. A course marked with orange streamers. A course following trails marked with orange paint on trees. Eventually I was just following painted trees before realizing that all of your trails are marked with orange paint. You crafty whore.

In retrospect I should have charged back up your hill after the sport racers came through. I would have finished near dead last, but your filthy ways would not have gotten the best of me. But I didn’t and you did best me. I quit your race and it’s still really bothering me. Never again though if I can help it. Thank you for the humility. You broke my heart and I still wonder why? I promise to learn this lesson. I’ll be back next year, if not before. I’ll bring flowers. We can work it out.

Maybe Not.

Maybe crush, kill, destroy is a little bit of an overstatement. Now take that previous sentence, delete the word “maybe”, and you have the absolute truth.

I rolled into camp Friday afternoon around 4:30.  Don and Jimmy Ripper were out on a ride so I staked my area and constructed my tent.  The same tent that a mere month ago took two college-educated boys 20 minutes to construct now took one college-educated boy 5 minutes to assemble in 92 degrees with the occasional gust of wind that would almost surely pull him into the stratosphere. Tent up and everything is as organized as the heat would allow. Don and Jimmy rolled in and mentioned that there was some mud laying on the course. Did they think it was going to dry out in time for tomorrow? In a perfect world maybe, but in reality it was probably going to be a pretty muddy 24 hours. Oh well, this is a mountain bike race after all. 

Hung out and waited for Chrissy and Aaron to roll in.  In a van that could double as a condo, Chrissy showed up and unpacked. We made some food and sat around talking about nothing important. Aaron came around 10:30 and it was soon time for bed. The weather really cooled down and the tent was pretty much the perfect temperature all night. The wind on the hand was sporadic and would rattle the tent in a way that it would wake me and have me wonder if it was actually raining. 

Up at 7am and couldn't wait to get this thing going. I slept well and wasn't sure what I was going to do with myself for the next 5 hours. Jeremy and Shannon were supposed to be there around 10, so I spent some time waiting in line for coffee and riding around talking to random people. We still hadn't really decided on an order until Chrissy piped up and said she actually wanted to run. My neck still hurts after twisting it to so far to the side in response to this. 

Readysetgo.  We're off and Chrissy comes in around 1:35. A good lap time considering the run and the traffic surely didn't quicken the pace at all. Don's off and rolls through the 2.5-mile mark at the top of the climb quicker than the previous fifteen or so riders that passed through. He would eventually roll in with a time at 1.18:53.  This would become the fastest lap in the five-person co-ed class. 

So I took off and rode around in the woods for a bit. The course had some bad spots, but it was all rideable if you picked a half decent line. My heart rate was pretty pegged the entire time, but I didn't really feel the temperatures in the 90's. I came in at 1.19.56. This would become the third fastest lap in the class.

Now we're going to switch gears and stop talking about specifics as much. I'm not motivated to type them and they can't be all that interesting to read. We had some issues, yes. Jimmy had shifting problems and Chrissy would not only get a flat, but would have to come back to camp to get another co2 and her lights after her initial go at it malfunctioned. So at one point we dropped down to fifth or something. We didn't come up with a strategy, just tried to chip away at the lead. And that's what we did. I wouldn't say we got lucky, but in the same breath we were not unlucky at all. We won. We were happy and tired, muddy but smiling. It felt good.

The best part about these things is the people you met and the stories you accumulate. Running into Jason was definitely a highlight for me. It takes a special person ride one of these races solo. And it takes an extraordinary person to solo one of these races more than once. Jason didn't have an awesome race, but it sounds like he salvaged a good weekend. Hopefully in a few days he can regain his motivation and put this past race behind him. I don't doubt he has it in him and really hope he doesn't make any rash decisions before fully thinking it over. People like him are inspirational to so many others who need someone to look up to: a people's champion with whom they can relate. Someone with a wife, a little man, a job, and real responsibilities that are all being juggled while trying to live the dream; or at least a small slice of the dream. 

Crush. Kill. Destroy. 

Goals

Since I’m leaving in about 2 hours I figured now would be the time to lay out my goals and expectations for the next 48. As far as number of goals, I have about as many as the Penguins did during their final series.

1. Quick Laps. Of course, who doesn’t want to go fast? This is a no brainer, but I was struggling to find anything at all.

2. Consistent Laps. I don’t want much of a drop off between laps. I’d like my night laps to be very close to my day laps, which I know is very difficult. This isn’t to say I want consistently slow laps. See goal number 1; it takes precedence.

Now as far as expectations go, I have plenty of those.

1. It’s going to be hot and it may possibly thunderstorm. I’m strangely fine with both scenarios, but then again I’m typing this from a cushioned chair while sitting in an air conditioned room.

2. I will have a mechanical. I don’t know what, but I think I’m due for something to go wrong at the worst possible time. I’ve tried to take all precautions in tubeless tires and drivetrain maintenance, but I just have this feeling…

3. I will forget something. Thankfully though, a few people from home are coming down Saturday morning should I realize I need something. If I miss them, then I deserve to not have a helmet or whatever the case may be.

There are a few more floating around in my brain, but none of them are positive thoughts. I feel it better to not jinx myself by making these concerns public record. I’m not nervous at all though, I’m excited. I’m prepared for the worst possible scenarios to happen, but I can’t wait to get this thing rolling.

Preparing.

I’m spending the week resting and getting prepared for the Big Bear 24 Hour Race. Properly packing clothing and prepping bicycles for something like this is almost as draining as the training that goes into it. Add to that the possibility of thunderstorms all week prior and also during the event and the plan completely changes. I’m preparing as if it’s going to be an eco-nightmare. The way I look at it, the more terrible it is, the more I’ll remember. Seven Springs was a blur of sunny skies, broken teeth, no mechanicals, and celebration. I’d be foolish to think that this one will go as well.

After visiting the course this past weekend I’m even more excited than I was before, which is pretty unbelievable. I’m ready. I think I’m ready. I could be a little more ready, but I’m ready. I think. Wait…

Let's go.

Tick tick tick.

The Big Bear 24 Hour Race is less than two weeks away. I started “training” for it about a week and half ago. I pulled the road bike down from her vertical home hooked to the garage ceiling and hanging against the wall. I ran a towel along the tubes, paid the drivetrain some attention, and topped off the tires. I love the easiness of a road bicycle. I checked my road shoes for spiders as they haven’t seen my foot in about two months and I really hate spiders. Clipped in and off. The thing I love about road bikes is not only are they almost maintenance free, but the amount of power you’re able to put to the wheel compared to a mountain bike is incredible. The thing I hate about road bikes is that this feeling of over-whelming strength lasts about half a mile. Then you realize riding your 15, 16, 17, 18, whatever lb carbon fiber road bicycle is a terrible exercise in masochism. It doesn’t matter how light your wheels are, what groupo your riding, or what your frame is made out of: Road riding is hard, road racing is hell.

So I’ve been logging miles. Long, hard, fast miles that made my legs hurt so bad it was difficult to sleep at first. Other than Sunday, I haven’t been on a dirt bike in two weeks. That’s what we’re calling them now, dirt bikes. Well, at least for today.

Sunday I woke up and got ready to meet the team for a training ride at Bavington. This, amazingly, was to be my first time there after sleeping through the time trial race they held last year. What better way to experience it than to try and keep up with Dr. Don and Scotty Root? The entire team made it down and we pushed off. The first 8 miles were fast. Like real fast. Fast enough that I wasn’t sure I could keep this pace for another 20 miles. Thankfully things calmed down just a little and I was set for the rest of the trip. I felt really strong considering I rode 70 miles on the road the day before. We dropped a few gallons of water to fill up bottles when we hit. That was a lifesaver as I finished the ride with nothing left to drink. We hung out afterwards and enjoyed a few adult beverages while telling stories about injuries and losing wheels. It was nice to be back on the dirt bike. Don snapped this picture of me getting ready to pull out.

West Virginians are thirsty.

When signing up at the Big Bear race a few weeks ago, they gave out some really nice pint glasses. I was pretty surprised as I thought those were only for the big boys racing in the endurance type of events. Side note- I've determined that the type of racer has a direct correlation to their personal alcohol consumption. See Jason, Rich, and Buddy. All endurance "racers", all drinkers, all the kind of guys I would probably end up hanging out with at a large camp fire. Anyways, after finishing third, I was awarded with this gem:

Sweet.  I was really really excited.  I ran up and claimed my wonderfully handmade mug and was greeted with another surprise inside; a season pass to the trails.  Apparently you have to pay a few bucks to ride there. Kinda neat as it helps with the trail upkeep.  I think it's a good idea, but probably only cause I don't have to pay it now.  Had I not won the pass, I would probably call shenanigans on the whole thing.  This is probably the second best thing that they could have put in the mug.  Edit- This is probably the second best thing they could have put in the mug legally. As soon as I got home this guy was filled with red seedless grapes, the absolute best thing to put in a mug, let alone a sweet handmade one.