Backwoods Racing

First weekend in January. It’s the time of year we load up the wagons and head down to suffer in the mountains of North Georgia. The Snake Creek Gap TT series has become a yearly tradition to break up the monotony of winter, get pounded by the Pinhoti trail, eat meat (checking off cows, bison and a small game hen this round) and drink a few Sweetwaters.

As a quick side-note, NWGA SORBA has some awesome volunteers. I mean these folks raise this race to a level other race promoters and clubs could only dream about. Peach cobbler cooked in cast iron pots over open fire, trucks drivin you and your bikes to the start line 30 minutes away, these people rock.

Generally being cold and/or wet with fitness teetering between “grandma on life support” and “newborn on a ventilator,” January is typically the slowest race. This year’s was anything but. Conditions at start were great with temps in the 50’s rising to low 60’s and the trail was tacky in some places, tiny bit slick in others, loamy to completely dry.

Fueled by the feast the night before at Ali Babba’s (haters, go eat your tacos) in Knoxville and strange food like substances resembling sausage, eggs, bagels and waffles from the hotel that morning, I was ready to ride. (btw, don’t mess with old folks at the free hotel breakfast. When each meal could be your last, it’s serious business.)

We got to the start early, giving us time to help unload some bikes, beat the line at the outhouse for that final fear-based evacuation and to roll over to be among the first to go off.

3, 2, 1 … I pushed it a bit to get the blood flowing on the rolling 1 mile dirt road, careful not to go too hard too early, crossing the thankfully low creek, and then into a comfortable rhythm on the long double-track climb. By the time the climb turns into tight single I had passed all those starting before me resulting in the next 20 or so miles of completely empty trail.

Awesome.

What I think of as the first section, (from the start to the gravel downhill), came in went in a flash. I figured it was cuz I was having fun and not suffering much, however, when I finally looked at my computer at the ½ way point, I realized I was about 7 minutes faster than any previous time. I refilled both my bottles, grabbed a couple gels and was off again.

I was having a blast. After swearing off hardtails more than a decade ago, I am lovin my 21 pound Giant XTC Composite 29er. I was able to make it fly up the climbs and was easy to flick around on the sketchy and rocky stuff. Any time I may have lost being a bit conservative on a downhill was more than made up for on, well, every other part of the course.

I only had two problems out there: I once again broke a Look pedal, and I totally misjudged my place on the course. On only the 4th or 5th ride on a “warranty” set, I’m done with those pieces of plastic trash Look calls mtb pedals – thanks to the best rep in the biz, some real pedals, Shimano XTR, are on their way. The other problem, well, I dunno, I kept thinking I had farther to go than I did. I could have looked down, but for fear that I would be disappointed at the time or distance left, I just didn’t want to look at my computer. Stupid? Probably. I can’t say I had much left in the tank by the finish, but enough to feel like I could have pushed harder and made up a couple more minutes. The end result was my first sub 3 hour time – 2:57:SOMETHING which was good enough for 3rd overall. I’ll just hope conditions and form continue to improve as the series rolls on.

Since the skies opened up that afternoon, Bill Crank and I skipped the usual Raccoon Mtn ride the next day instead stopping at Laurel Lake, KY for an easy 18 mile spin on a great stretch of the Sheltowee Trace trail system. All in all, a great weekend.

And finally …

Giving thanks to God for the ability, to Sarah for understanding my need for male bonding and masochism (I mean the racing you perv) and to Clarksville Schwinn, Giant Bikes, Shimano, and Progold, for a lean, clean, and mean race machine.

And thanks to my snazzy tightpants. The tightpants, after all, are the reason we ride.

On my ride yesterday I realized this will be my last year racing in the 30-39 age group. After resisting the temptation to just swerve right into oncoming traffic or the swiftly moving Ohio River, I decided I’m OK with it. After all, the old guys that smoke the young-uns are always the most impressive. Or pitifull. I’ll take either.

After an extended off season, its back to training. By last July, I was starting to feel like a 100 year old stuntman during a cold, wet winter. So after the Waverly race on Labor Day weekend, the trainin bible was put on the shelf a bit earlier than usual and just cracked back open 3 weeks ago.

It was a productive off season; Sarah and I found a house (seeing as though houses are everywhere, finding one isn’t much to brag about, one for us to buy), bought my first hard-tail in 8 years, a got new team, and finally got some winter riding shoes.

The house – it has a basement and will be a great hindrance to finances and ride time, but, it’s ours and I’m pretty pumped.

The bike – Giant XTC Composite 29er a.k.a. the 21 pound missile. I can’t get over how well this thing rides. It is still a hard-tail and doesn’t do much to soak up the no-see-um’s in the trail or mis-timed landings, but just for pointing and shooting up, or down, the trail, this bike is scary fast.

The team – Sean Steele (with that name, he should have been a wrestler) emails one day about merging Backwoods Racing, who’s primary sponsor is Clarksville Schwinn, with Rapid Transit, Clarksville’s road team. That was a no brainer: More team-mates, more sponsorship, more exposure. Slam dunk, thanks Sean.

The training – first 3 week cycle in the books. November, being a weather crapshoot in Louisville, well, the crap was hit. Actually, it wasn’t all bad, it was pretty decent. Even though it rained every weekend, I was still able to get some good rides in on at least one of those days. I have finally got back in the gym to try to get some of my broken and weak parts strong again (most notably, the shoulder). All in all I’m feeling pretty decent for this time of year; lots of power, no fitness, always hungry. Literally, not some figurative “hungry for the prize” or such platitude, hungry for tacos, burgers, pie, whatever, just feed me.

The lube – after using Dumond Tech for the last __??? years, I was a bit hesitant to make a switch, but lemme tell ya, ProGold is the stuff. From the cleaners (spray and towels) and degreasers to the lube itself, it works like a champ. Great stuff.

The racing – Despite our new two story potential fitness-wrecker, I have some high hopes for this year starting with the Snake Creek Gap TT series (which will test the limits of the Shimano MW81’s), a couple of Nationals in California in the spring and who knows what else, may make another run at some 100 milers. Got some other things milling around, just have to see how things work out. It’s all supposed to fun, so outside of the early season goals, I’m going to keep the schedule pretty loose.

There you have it. More updates to come as boredom and frustration warrant.

Since the last post, We have had 3 weeks of short track racing and a DINO at Brown County. The short tracks have been bitter-sweet; one win and two big loses. Brown County was pretty much all sweet, and sweat.

Life has a tendency to not take bike racing as seriously as it should. Things like sick pets, work and many other miscellaneous tediums, annoyances and the so-called priorities of life take precedent over training as well as sap mental and physical energy that should be reserved for blowing people off your wheel on a Wednesday night race. And so it has gone for the last 2 short tracks. The days preceding have left me drained and as a result, left me 1 place back from where I prefer to wind up (if youre wondering, that’s 2nd place). I felt better this past week, but still, c’mon life, we are talking about local bragging rights, let the animals get sick in the off-season.

The DINO at Brown County was my first real XC race of the season (real defined as racing more than 1 other person and not crashing on my face 12 miles into the race), so I was pretty unsure how things would go. Further, this race starts out with a mean road climb and my ups have been less than stellar as of late. Just two days earlier I swapped the 4.5 pound Fox “XC” fork for a 3 pound Lefty, so at least I would feel lighter, maybe even faster.*

I wound up, sorta on purpose, sorta on accident, leading the pack up the road. I thought this is either a good sign, or I am just giving a buncha folks a nice lead-out. Turned out to be a good sign as I took the hole shot into the woods. There were a brief few moments when I was alone and had the delusion of “man, I am gonna walk away with this thing…” It was fleeting, but a nice delusion none-the-less. About 1/4 into lap 1, the lead pack of three was determined to be, Brad Nelson, Mitchell Kersting and, well, me.

In mtb racing, since drafting is not a huge advantage, you sit up front because you’re confident or scared. I was both. I didn’t want to give up the lead for fear that Mitchell may drill a climb or Brad would take some local knowledge and fly down the long downhill leaving me to take up what would have been a disheartened chase. I was confident I could keep the pace high enough to discourage any passing, for a while anyway. I was confident also if it came down to 3 of us at the end, I would scratch and claw, and maybe even bite, to take the W.

It wasn’t too hot that day, but a brief overnight shower left the woods a bit steamy. So while you never had that real hot sensation reminding you to drink, the humidity was making us all sweat buckets. On the last lap, I steadily upped the pace through the flat, said a short prayer, than began to really ramp it up on the longest climb on the course. I must of had some favor that day, because I managed to shake the other two, which was good as the effects of aforementioned sweating were beginning to manifest themselves be way of those small cramps that let you know “one wrong move buddy, and I’m gonna lock that muscle up tighter than Area 51″(where they keep all the cramping aliens).

The only real issue I had was lap traffic. All DINO’s seem to be plagued by this. And I am not “I am a Pro, my race is more important than yours.” What I am saying; I am faster and am racing at the front of a group for a top placing, you are being lapped. You are by yourself and therefore not in any danger of losing a place, so PULL IT OVER! (in the case of two or more, if you all pull it over at the same time, again, no places lost!) Don’t tell me to, “OK, just hang on a minute.” and especially don’t say “quit your bitching” after I have asked to get by 3 freakin times. I’m glad you’re having fun thinking you’re blasting the downhill or showing how much raw power you really have, the truth is, I don’t care, I am sure you are an excellent mountain biker, but I just blew 1000 calories (ie my whole wad) to distance myself from the other people who want to win as bad as I do and am not about to waste that effort because your tiny ego doesn’t want to let me around. I wish every promoter would briefly touch on proper passing etiquette as part of the start line instructions.

In the end, I managed to keep about 30 or more seconds on Mitchell and a minute or more on Brad who crashed and cramped, or cramped and crashed, either way, those two things happened to him. And we are set to do it all again this weekend at French Lick (who named that place?). Not sure how I am feeling, but if Wednesday’s race is any indication, it may be close. Lord, help me.

*29er update! Slathered with a full compliment of 2011 XTR parts, a Lefty fork and custom hoops laced by Brian at Clarksville Schwinn (finished with Maxxis Icons), the Anthem X 29er rides like a magic carpet. It does everything my 26″ Yeti did, only faster, and now, lighter. Having been a SRAM fan over the last 12 or so years, I was a bit reluctant about switching to Shimano 10 speed and triggers, but man, that drivetrain is like butter, only it won’t clog your arteries. The new XTR brakes are also some of the finest stoppers I’ve squeezed.

The cliff notes version; The weather has sucked, I have only done 3 races (not counting Rounds 1&2 of Snake Creek) - and it’s June; I have switched to a 29er, specifically a Giant Anthem X 29er outfitted with XTR Dyna-Sys and Maxxis Icons wrapped around Stan’s wheels. (Short review, the thing rips.)

After suffering a seizure prior to the start of the last round of the Snake Creek TT series, my driving privileges were revoked for 3 months (standard practice). Couple that with absurd amounts of rain, spotty forecasts for the far way races (raised to the power of absurdly high gas prices) and you get the makings of one bummer of a spring racing season. The highlight, and saving grace, being the new Anthem X 29er and XTR components. That bike is so much fun to ride, it feels trail-bike confident and XC fast – can’t ask for much more. The XTR 42-30 front rings with the 11-36 rear makes for an awesome setup.

The racing

The story above explains much of this year’s season. So you figure not racing much and so-so training, I would slide into a local XC race for the first test of the year. That would be far too sensible. Instead I traveled to Fruita, Colorado to race the Mountain States Cup. You know, Colorada (as pronounced in Missoura), home of 300 sunny days a year, high elevations and more MTB pro’s than Montana has people? Yeah, why not take my untested self out there to race on unfamiliar terrain.

Well, here’s why not; you’ll get your butt spanked and it’s an expensive spanking.

So I line up in the Pro start with more guys than you’re likely to find in a local Expert and Sport field. No problem, seems as though they’re all sponsored by Yeti anyway, maybe it’ll just be a team ride. So here is what I discovered in the first 12 miles of this race; I am both a much better racer than I give myself credit for and at the same time, much worse than I realize.

Here’s how that works out.

Gun goes off, I take the hole-shot. This makes me nervous. I generally start pretty well, but that just seemed too easy. Plus, I am on their turf. I shouldn’t be leading this thing out. Not to mention it is wide open high desert where a bit of drafting comes into play. Not much, but enough. I move back 1 wheel to second. Here is where I am better than I think. I keep overtaking the first guy and putting gaps in the field behind. I hardly feel like I’m trying. About 4 or so miles of this goes by, then something tragic happened; the first decent climb.

And fade into Part II – Not as good as I think

Take one part altitude and 26 or so parts racers who regard these climbs at this distance above the sea laughable. Mix thoroughly with a me and you get dropped. Well, not entirely dropped. I faded back to maybe 1/4 or 1/3 of the way back into the field. I watched the leaders scamper off as the ensuing rollers strung the rest of us out into lone wolves looking for a pack.

After a bit of scratching and clawing (on all our parts), I ended up settling in with 2 other riders. The 3 amigos never felt very friendly though, it seemed one was riding over his head and 2 of us wanted to join another pack. But, as the course wound it’s way through rocky, thorny, brush (high desert version of single track), passing was tough and the one over his head was determined to lead this little train. One thing I have learned in my years of racing; if someone insists on breaking the wind for you, let them.

I should know better than to follow my own advice.

Because there is always the X factor. I this case, the X stands for a steep rocky drop-off, a scrubby tree and aforementioned guy riding a bit beyond his ability. The outcome; guy takes a corner, sees drop-off, panics, hard brakes, stacks it up and I’m left with no place to go and about .0000001th of a second to react, I clip the tree trying to avoid the 2nd rider and am on the ground face first. I hear cracking coming from the facial region. I taste blood. A lot of blood.

Common practice in MTB racing is as follows; Guy 1 crashes. Other rider shouts “You OK?” Guy 1, being a guy, always says “Yuhhhhh” (it would be “Yeah, but the lack of breathing ability makes it come out this way). Occasionally though, you know you’re hosed. This was one of those occasions. I yell back “NO!” Seemingly, most of the force of the blow was centered on my mouth and nose. Thankfully, it was square on enough to distribute the force fairly evenly and aside form a crack in my tooth (gold grill, here I come!), nothing is broken. But it hurts like hell. Hurts like if it wasn’t a necessity, sucking water out of my Hydra-pack would have been forgone. Both my nostrils are bleeding, my lip is split in two places and gushing. My face is so covered in dirt and blood I look like a zombie who just came off the brain buffet. At each aid station, the paramedics are waiting for me and ask if I want to continue. For some stupid reason, the answer is always yes.

The insult to this injury comes in the form of 3 flat tires. I finish on my rim 45 minutes behind first place. Good thing Sarah and I are taking the rest of the week to just chill in the Golden state. More riding would have been nice since I lugged my bike all the way there, but rest is good too.

Two weeks later…

Time to race again. All teeth (somewhat) firmly still in place and we are hosting the War in West Point, round 1 of the Kentucky state series at legendary Fort Duffield. Riders and racers tend to hate Duff. (Duff’s main population tends to be guys on 6” travel bikes that take smoke breaks before getting shuttled back to the top.) So why the hate? It’s hard. It is pretty much up or down. No to forget to mention, during an average lap, you will probably jump a good 20 or 30 logs. Big logs. Logs that make you go “Huuumphhhhh!” as you lift and launch over (in subsequent laps, lift and clumsily bounce over, eventually attempting to swear at the log hoping it will get of the way). What the elevation and logs do to you physically, the twisty nature of the trails do to you mentally. A couple hours of riding there leaves you weak and a bit dizzy. But I love it, there is no place like it. I mean, flowy west coast style trails are great, but riding MTB’s should also make you grit you teeth and pucker your butt a little too.

The 2 months of crappy weather had many chomping at the bit to come out and race (in the neighborhood of 100, great for Duffield). To further tantalize, we had some awesome looking custom medals made up (the stainless steel Metal of Honor) and tons of prizes from our generous sponsors at Giant Bikes, Shimano, Clarksville Schwinn, Pearl Izumi, GU, and last and certainly not least, Holzking.net.

The Medal, er Metal

Speaking of crappy weather, trail conditions were great until the night before when a 20 minute deluge made sure things stayed slickery for the morning. Thanks nature. But Duff is a tough trail and doesn’t let a bit of moisture get to her. The up n down nature allows for some decent drainage and come race time, all was ride-able. Slower up, greasier down and generally harder, but ride-able. The slick conditions, along with the nature of the beast that is Duffield, made it hard on all with a DNF list that rivaled the finisher’s results. If you finished, you were pretty much top 5.

In the end, everyone who stuck around walked away with something, from Shimano pedals, to ½ gallons of Jim Beam, and of course, the Metal of Honor. A donation was made to the “Friends of the Fort” who pretty much let a bunch of mountain bikers have their way with the woods surrounnding the fort. Money well spent. So with a tuff Duff behind us, the season is sure to only get easier,

until ,

the next weekend at Butler.

General Butler is the best XC course going. 5.6 to 6 mile loops that flow up and down the hills of an old ski “resort” in Carrollton, KY. It is a great test of XC racing skills as it doesn’t really favor climbers, descenders or technical prowess. Many from Ohio, Kentucky and Indiana will gush openly about their first race ever that took part at Butler. Unless the course is wet. Those same faces that glowed moments before thinking about their first race suddenly look like they’ve been sucking lemons and smell dog turds when you mention mud and Butler. And this year, it was a bit wet. Some spots resembled bog racing more than XC, and much time was spent de-mucking the Anthem afterwards, but I won and not much else positive can be said.

This weekend is the D.IN.O. at Brown County State park in Indiana. A stark contrast to, well, every other race this season; dry and hot is on tap. This also should be an interesting one since I have yet to have to (or been able to) race at full throttle for a whole 2 or so hours, much less doing so in 90 degree temps.

I am hoping the late start to the season means a strong finish, but you never know what is in store.

I’m ready.