cramps suck. crashing sucks. cramping and crashing in a race sucks. rather than bore you with a lap-by-lap analysis of the 8 hours of labor, i will merely rant about 4 elements of the race that pretty much decided how things went for me.
1. the start - man my start was just awesome. i ran just about as fast as i can to my bike, which i placed just about as far from the start as was allowed. this was good as there was generalized chaos as riders ran thru and mounted their bikes in the same small area. i hadn't done any pre-riding, and quickly noticed that the course was being run in the opposite direction this year. that meant miserable hot grassy field riding first, tung nut last, that's cool. overall, start = very good.
2. crashing - i was leading a pack of 4 or 5 guys through tung nut towards the end of the first lap. at the base of the final climb, i fucked up and fell over turning in some soft sand. it was a painful fall, compounded by 5 guys immediately passing me. i felt shaky and my arm hurt, but not too bad. i pushed up the climb to try and give myself some time to regain my composure before i got back on the bike. 5 more people pass me. (all numbers guaranteed to be rough estimations) i start riding again and complete the first lap within the overall top 20, not bad, but could have been much better without the stupid crash. still, the first lap was by far my fastest - the only one i did in under 50 minutes. but everything went downhill from the point of that crash. (i would go on to crash twice more later - one in a grassy field and the other on the last lap just to remind me that i suck) overall, obviously, crashing = bad.
3. cramping - starting on lap 2, my legs were cramping. by lap 4 i would experience the most painful and debilitating cramps i've ever had. standing to climb? cramp. big ringin' it on the grassy fields? cramp. any climbing at all at a reasonable speed? cramp. lightly lifting myself off the saddle on a rooty descent? cramp. getting off the bike in the scoring area? horrible, horrible leg-locking, face-deforming cramp. diagnosis: not enough fluid (one bottle per lap was not enough). prescription: a bike that i can mount 2 fucking bottle cages to. next year. without cramps, i surely would have finished a couple places higher. overall: cramps = very very bad.
4. pit strategy - nailed the pit strategy here. i had the most wonderful person handing me bottles, food and providing encouragement. i was probably stopped in the 'pits' for nor more than 120 seconds of the whole 8 hours. overall: help in the pits && stopping as little as possible = very very good.
so lessons were learned. did i meet my goals? i wanted to do 8 laps and make the top ten, both which i did. but i left the race feeling like i could have done much better without the problems i've identified in #'s 2 and 3 above. oh well, that's what next year is for. do i dare set goals for next year? well, i'll have a full season of xc racing under my belt, and another season of local 6-hour races, so i should show continued improvement. how about a top 5 in 2010?
2009 results
2008 results
FSC 1&2 reports coming soon!
Saturday, October 3, 2009
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
FYI
Some of you may complain that I don't update this blog. Well, frankly that's because I an't doin' interesting shit. I ain't Dicky - my narcissism is kept confined in my own dome-piece, for the most part. When I do something interesting, like RACE MY BIKE, I'll post something here.
This post is dedicated to the blogger-quitter MUCARO. Shut yo biztch azz up before I Nancy Kerrigan your knee.
This post is dedicated to the blogger-quitter MUCARO. Shut yo biztch azz up before I Nancy Kerrigan your knee.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
loquacious
it seems like there is an agreement amongst Florida competitive cyclists that there will be no racing this time of year. that's probably a good idea, as the heat is stifling and oppressive, sometimes dangerous.
my riding habits have changed a bit lately. early this year i was doing long road rides twice a week or so, pretty consistently. well i've bored myself of the south tampa route and have been struggling to find other satisfactory routes for 4+ hour rides. in the meantime i've begun commuting more seriously, 3 days a week, 15 miles or so round trip. i've also been making time to ride the mtb around the city looking for interesting places to trespass and get flats (been much more successful at the latter).
sooner than later i'll need to get back into the long rides. next race on the calendar is the 8 hours of labor at san felasco. i'm excited about this race because i love riding out at san felasco, and it will be interesting to see how much i have improved since last year, when i did 7 laps and finished 16th. after that i'd love to head up to dauset and race the 12 hours there on Sept 19. before i cna do that i need a better lighting system, which won't be cheap.
also on the calendar is the six gap century (Sept. 27) and Karlos' CFITT (Oct. 3). If i can get myself in good shape for the end of August and the next two months I will be able to do well at these events. the CFITT will be a huge test knowing Karlos' sick, evil, twisted mind. ~180 miles? yikes
i've talked (and thought) a lot about getting a new bike. well, that's not going to happen for me anytime soon. necessary car repairs have taken away any money i might have had to spend on such an endeavor. oh well, my bike has done me well so far, and its only about a year and a half old, despite appearances!
oh well, that's what's up with me. boring eh?
my riding habits have changed a bit lately. early this year i was doing long road rides twice a week or so, pretty consistently. well i've bored myself of the south tampa route and have been struggling to find other satisfactory routes for 4+ hour rides. in the meantime i've begun commuting more seriously, 3 days a week, 15 miles or so round trip. i've also been making time to ride the mtb around the city looking for interesting places to trespass and get flats (been much more successful at the latter).
sooner than later i'll need to get back into the long rides. next race on the calendar is the 8 hours of labor at san felasco. i'm excited about this race because i love riding out at san felasco, and it will be interesting to see how much i have improved since last year, when i did 7 laps and finished 16th. after that i'd love to head up to dauset and race the 12 hours there on Sept 19. before i cna do that i need a better lighting system, which won't be cheap.
also on the calendar is the six gap century (Sept. 27) and Karlos' CFITT (Oct. 3). If i can get myself in good shape for the end of August and the next two months I will be able to do well at these events. the CFITT will be a huge test knowing Karlos' sick, evil, twisted mind. ~180 miles? yikes
i've talked (and thought) a lot about getting a new bike. well, that's not going to happen for me anytime soon. necessary car repairs have taken away any money i might have had to spend on such an endeavor. oh well, my bike has done me well so far, and its only about a year and a half old, despite appearances!
oh well, that's what's up with me. boring eh?
Saturday, May 9, 2009
my own NK ride?
Was out riding today and saw some opportunities for a fun mtb/cross group ride. thought I might be able to string together my own Naked Indian Ride-ish route. This is only a first draft - there is lots of other stuff I'd like to add, some stuff maybe I would take out. Highlights of the route, as it is, includes: Lunch stop at TACO NAZO, lots of riding along the Hillsborough River, a nice tour of Temple Terrace, Davis Islands, Downtown Tampa, USF Campus, New Tampa (barf), a stop at New World Brewery (for beer snobs), and finishing with the final stop at Bo's Ice Cream. Start and Finish is at my house. OH, we would also ride the Trout Creek singletrack ;)
http://www.gmap-pedometer.com/?r=2806355
Comments, suggestions and/or discouragement welcome. I could probably make this into a century ride pretty easily.
http://www.gmap-pedometer.com/?r=2806355
Comments, suggestions and/or discouragement welcome. I could probably make this into a century ride pretty easily.
Thursday, May 7, 2009
PMBAR 2009
ON March 19th I was near comatose, staring blankly at something on my computer screen, trying not to go dormant. The previous two weekends were filled with racing action - the SSAR, where my team finished 2nd, and the Squiggy 6hr, where my team finished 3rd. But at the time my racing calendar was relatively empty, and all I had to think about was the dreaded end-of-semester combination of stress, anxiety and procrastination.
I needed a distraction. I needed a pick-me-up. But I promised myself and my loved ones no more coke, no more hookers.
ROB, my pseudopartner from the Naked Indian ride, answered my prayers. Just as I was about to fall completely unconscious, I noticed a new mail. Rob was looking for someone crazy enough to be his teammate for the PMBAR.
WHAT did I know about the PMBAR? Well, I knew it was a race for checkpoints, not a race for speed. I knew it was in the mountains of NC's Pisgah Forest. I knew it would be totally brutal and probably disastrous. I replied and said I was in.
ROB must have not received any response from any of the others included in that fateful email. He replied and said we were in, our spot was secure.
UH oh. Did I do the right thing? Am I getting ahead of myself? Do I know what the fuck I am doing? I have no real mountain biking experience - only once have I taken my bike anywhere outside of Florida (Blanket's Creek in GA - not much different from FL riding). Would the mountains crush me? Could I handle miles and miles of steep fireroad? Technical descents? Would my bike snap in half?
MY fears and anxieties were not assuaged by my fellow riders, especially those with PMBAR experience. Luis took every opportunity he could to exacerbate my discomfort. He would tell me, "Surely it will rain, you will crash and fall down a mountain", "You'll be coming back in a bodybag", etc etc. Karlos, who would also be racing, was at pains to convince me that I was ill-prepared mentally and physically for the demands of the Pisgah trails.
WHATEVER, I said to myself. If my bike breaks in half, well, there's a good excuse to get a new one. If I come back in a bodybag, I will forever be a legend and my loved ones will weep and mourn. If it rains, fuck, I'll get wet and muddy. I set low goals for myself. Do not DNF and do not break any bones.
FAST forward to the end of the semester. I finished my seminar paper on autonomy in gestational surrogacy and kissed my lover goodbye. Now all I had ahead of me was the race.
FOR some reason we decided to leave FL for the 9 hour drive to NC at midnight. I slept most of the way, though somewhere in that 9 hours I took a foggy hour at the wheel of the BOX, Rob's Scion xB:
THAT'S pretty much what Rob's car looks like, except his is black.
WE arrived on time at 9am. We settled into our home for the next four days - a lovely campsite near Davidson River, complete with a lovely shrub with pink flowers. We ate at Huddle House then napped for a few hours. Once we awoke it was time to face the music. Almost no words were spoken, but as I sat there Rob and Karlos quietly but intently started to prepare for our first PMBAR pre-ride.
WITH great trepidation I prepared myself. I lubed my ass extra good for the rocking I was anticipating.
WE set off down the road towards Black Mountain trail. Soon I had my first taste of a long grueling service road climb up Clawhammer mountain. About 5 minutes into the climb I felt done, like I needed to stop for a break. But my pride would not allow this. I found an acceptable gear and tried to find a pace that was sustainable. It kind of felt like I was on my road bike, pushing into the wind - except I was going maybe 5 miles an hour instead of 15. Once we got to the Black Mountain trail, the downhill began. This trail was not steep but it was littered with lots of rocks, both the kind that are stuck in the ground and the kind that move when you ride over them. I proceeded slowly and carefully, as Rob and Karlos left me in the dust, shrieking with joy like horny little girls.
AFTER a photo op and safety break at Twin Falls we continued our trek, which took us up to the top of Black Mountain. Soon I was introduced to a novel concept - the hike-a-bike.
YOU see, the singletrack climbs in Pisgah are often quite technical - with big rocks, roots, 'waterbars' and other obstacles. They also seem to NEVER FUCKING END. Many a time I would turn myself inside out climbing some section, to finally quit, look up ahead at how far I had to go and see that the climb went on for as far as I could see. This was, at first, a very uncomfortable feeling, but something I quickly got used to because it happened so often. Near the top of Black Mountain, the trail became so nasty and scary that no mortal could ride it. Even hike-a-biking was arduous and exhausting.
AT the top of Black Mountain I was rewarded with one of the most beautiful sights I have ever seen. From a rocky overlook, all you could see was an endless expanse of tree-covered mountains and valleys. No picture could do this view justice.
OUR ride finished with a descent down Black Mountain, which was absolutely incredible for a flatlander like me to experience. What made it all the more awesome was that the sun had gone down and all I had was a light on my handlebars (Rob had no light, badazz). The ride was breathtaking, and it spit us out about a quarter-mile form our campsite, how nice.
ON day two we rode up to the top of Black Mountain again and over to the Turkeypen trailhead. For the sake of brevity I will not describe this ride at this time.
RACE day cameth. We awoke and grabbed our packs and headed to check-in. There were lots of super-cool-looking dudes there with trick rigid singlespeed bikes and lavender-colored accessories. Some other dudes were conspicuously consuming Pabst at 7am and throwing the cans on the ground. I was shaking in my boots!!
ERIC, the man behind Pisgah Productions, corralled everybody for the pre-race meeting and handed out the maps marking the checkpoints. He called the start and Rob and I quickly determined our first destination for the day. We would head to the checkpoint at Turkeypen, as it was relatively close and we had just ridden that section of trail the day before. But first we had to ascend the Black Mountain trail with all of the other racers. This resulted in a ridiculous and unpleasant grinding climb and hike-a-bike - not exactly the best way to warm up. From the top of Black Mountain we crossed Turkey Pen gap. On the final section before the trailhead, there was a steep, sketchy downhill section that was quite moist. I had walked much of this section the day before and I was determined to ride it this time. I got my ass as far behind the seat as I could and hoped for the best.
A branch from a tree on the left side of the trail made its way directly into one of the vents in my helmet, pulling me off of the bike and onto the ground. I picked myself up and got back on the bike, feeling about half as confident. Soon I came across a waterbar (basically a log angled to stream rainwater off of the trail). Feeling unsure, I braked hard and tried to cross the bar as safely as possible. My hard braking, though, kept my rear wheel from rolling over the bar behind me. Instead it just slid to the right, throwing me and the rest of the bike onto the ground, right on a bigass piece of rock. Fuck me. I got up again and the same thing happened on the next waterbar. This time my knee hit some rock real hard. My confidence was now at zero and so I walked carefully down the rest of that section.
THE pain in my knee grew worse as we rode on, and when we stopped and I looked at my leg, it was swelling up real nice. After getting stamped at the Turkeypen CP, we set off for the Squirrel Gap CP by heading up a service road climb and then up Squirrel Gap. Once we reached the Squirrel Gap CP, I was feeling pretty beat. From there we descended Squirrel Cap, which was awesome, and then up Laurel Creek to service road 5015 - a long and brutal grassy road that took us up to Yellow Gap. There we were faced with a decision - do we ride service road 1205 over towards the next CP or ride the unknown Laurel Mountain trail? We decided to take the Laurel Mountain trail, but the sight of some other riders cruising down 1205 made us stop and rethink. We decided to cruise the road and face what looked like a steep hike-a-bike section up Pilot Rock.
THE climb up Pilot Rock was indeed steep. On the map this trail is rated "medium" but it was by far the nastiest thing we saw all day. The climb up seemed to take forever. I was hike-a-biking most of the way, and stopping frequently because of the pain in my leg and because I was fucking exhausted. Near the top of Pilot Rock, there were the nastiest, most horrible switchbacks I have ever seen. Just walking up them was tough. I was not looking forward to going back down this trail.
EVENTUALLY we made it to the CP at the top. We rested for a while and ate, then turned around and headed back down Pilot Rock. I felt revitalized and happy to be neither pushing my bike nor granny-gearing. The rough downhill was hurting my foot, but some ibuprofen I had taken earlier was starting to help. I was proud of how I handled some of the scary stuff on this descent, but I will admit I got off and walked those imposing switchbacks - need more practice!
THREE checkpoints in the bag. At this point Rob and I had sort of unspokenly agreed that we would take 4 and go home, leaving the 5th checkpoint for next year. Our route to the fourth CP was all either paved road or service road. We big-ringed it down Highway 276 and grunted our way up and down 5041 and 475B to the checkpoint at the gate on 225. There we filled up on water and plotted our route back to the start/finish.
OF course there was one last hoop we had to jump through - the rules require that you both start AND finish on Black Mountain trail. So we rode all the way back up 475B, 5041 and Highway 276 to 477, which started with a long and miserable climb, but finished with the most thrilling, awesome, spectacular, high-speed service road descent. Rob was hauling ass and I was hammering in the big ring when I could to try and keep up and emulate his technique through the turns. We ended up at the foot of the Clawhammer climb we did on the first day and set off up on our last climb of the day.
CLAWHAMMER was not so bad at this point. We came up on a rider being towed by a rope behind another rider. I took this to be low-hanging fruit and made a move to pass them quickly. Off Clawhammer we took Maxwell Cove up to the near-top of Black Mountain. Maxwell Cove was a read mindfuck - I kept thinking that the end of the trail was near and that all we would have to do is descend Black Mountain and be done. With this feeling of anticipation I was giving it all I had. Rob and I passed two other teams on the climb up Maxwell.
WE made it to the Black Mountain trail, but we still had to hike-a-bike up a fair bit before we could cruise the downhill. One of the teams we had passed on the climb hike-a-biked past us, bummer. At least they were friendly.
THE descent, when we finally reached it, was awesome as expected. But the exertion was starting to show - my arms felt rubbery and my neck muscles were sore. My legs felt OK but they weren't needed anymore, hah. We pulled in to the finish sometime between 7 and 8pm, putting our total ride time at about 11 hours.
BURRITOS were the immediate reward for finishing, and damn was that a good fucking burrito. After sitting on the ground for a while I went back to camp, cleaned up, and headed back to the finish to wait for my homies.
THERE were kegs filled with delicious organic Pale Ales calling my name. As I waited my turn at the tap, some geeky looking fucker, when asked if he did the race singlespeed, said "PEOPLE RIDE GEARS AROUND HERE" and then chuckled smugly. I wanted to bash his face in and shit down his throat, then put a 22T up his azz. OK not really but the dude made me feel like a loser for riding gears. I was filled with feelings of inadequacy and shame. What felt like a glorious achievement was instantly denigrated and made almost worthless.
I drank a beer and forgot about it, deciding instead that I was the bomb-diggety and kicked the shit out of those mountains, gears or no. But I will forever be able to recall, in memory, his whiny rhetorical question, and I will feel shame not for myself, but for singlespeed, elitist nerds like him. This is exactly what he looked like:
I needed a distraction. I needed a pick-me-up. But I promised myself and my loved ones no more coke, no more hookers.
ROB, my pseudopartner from the Naked Indian ride, answered my prayers. Just as I was about to fall completely unconscious, I noticed a new mail. Rob was looking for someone crazy enough to be his teammate for the PMBAR.
WHAT did I know about the PMBAR? Well, I knew it was a race for checkpoints, not a race for speed. I knew it was in the mountains of NC's Pisgah Forest. I knew it would be totally brutal and probably disastrous. I replied and said I was in.
ROB must have not received any response from any of the others included in that fateful email. He replied and said we were in, our spot was secure.
UH oh. Did I do the right thing? Am I getting ahead of myself? Do I know what the fuck I am doing? I have no real mountain biking experience - only once have I taken my bike anywhere outside of Florida (Blanket's Creek in GA - not much different from FL riding). Would the mountains crush me? Could I handle miles and miles of steep fireroad? Technical descents? Would my bike snap in half?
MY fears and anxieties were not assuaged by my fellow riders, especially those with PMBAR experience. Luis took every opportunity he could to exacerbate my discomfort. He would tell me, "Surely it will rain, you will crash and fall down a mountain", "You'll be coming back in a bodybag", etc etc. Karlos, who would also be racing, was at pains to convince me that I was ill-prepared mentally and physically for the demands of the Pisgah trails.
WHATEVER, I said to myself. If my bike breaks in half, well, there's a good excuse to get a new one. If I come back in a bodybag, I will forever be a legend and my loved ones will weep and mourn. If it rains, fuck, I'll get wet and muddy. I set low goals for myself. Do not DNF and do not break any bones.
FAST forward to the end of the semester. I finished my seminar paper on autonomy in gestational surrogacy and kissed my lover goodbye. Now all I had ahead of me was the race.
FOR some reason we decided to leave FL for the 9 hour drive to NC at midnight. I slept most of the way, though somewhere in that 9 hours I took a foggy hour at the wheel of the BOX, Rob's Scion xB:
THAT'S pretty much what Rob's car looks like, except his is black.
WE arrived on time at 9am. We settled into our home for the next four days - a lovely campsite near Davidson River, complete with a lovely shrub with pink flowers. We ate at Huddle House then napped for a few hours. Once we awoke it was time to face the music. Almost no words were spoken, but as I sat there Rob and Karlos quietly but intently started to prepare for our first PMBAR pre-ride.
WITH great trepidation I prepared myself. I lubed my ass extra good for the rocking I was anticipating.
WE set off down the road towards Black Mountain trail. Soon I had my first taste of a long grueling service road climb up Clawhammer mountain. About 5 minutes into the climb I felt done, like I needed to stop for a break. But my pride would not allow this. I found an acceptable gear and tried to find a pace that was sustainable. It kind of felt like I was on my road bike, pushing into the wind - except I was going maybe 5 miles an hour instead of 15. Once we got to the Black Mountain trail, the downhill began. This trail was not steep but it was littered with lots of rocks, both the kind that are stuck in the ground and the kind that move when you ride over them. I proceeded slowly and carefully, as Rob and Karlos left me in the dust, shrieking with joy like horny little girls.
AFTER a photo op and safety break at Twin Falls we continued our trek, which took us up to the top of Black Mountain. Soon I was introduced to a novel concept - the hike-a-bike.
YOU see, the singletrack climbs in Pisgah are often quite technical - with big rocks, roots, 'waterbars' and other obstacles. They also seem to NEVER FUCKING END. Many a time I would turn myself inside out climbing some section, to finally quit, look up ahead at how far I had to go and see that the climb went on for as far as I could see. This was, at first, a very uncomfortable feeling, but something I quickly got used to because it happened so often. Near the top of Black Mountain, the trail became so nasty and scary that no mortal could ride it. Even hike-a-biking was arduous and exhausting.
AT the top of Black Mountain I was rewarded with one of the most beautiful sights I have ever seen. From a rocky overlook, all you could see was an endless expanse of tree-covered mountains and valleys. No picture could do this view justice.
OUR ride finished with a descent down Black Mountain, which was absolutely incredible for a flatlander like me to experience. What made it all the more awesome was that the sun had gone down and all I had was a light on my handlebars (Rob had no light, badazz). The ride was breathtaking, and it spit us out about a quarter-mile form our campsite, how nice.
ON day two we rode up to the top of Black Mountain again and over to the Turkeypen trailhead. For the sake of brevity I will not describe this ride at this time.
RACE day cameth. We awoke and grabbed our packs and headed to check-in. There were lots of super-cool-looking dudes there with trick rigid singlespeed bikes and lavender-colored accessories. Some other dudes were conspicuously consuming Pabst at 7am and throwing the cans on the ground. I was shaking in my boots!!
ERIC, the man behind Pisgah Productions, corralled everybody for the pre-race meeting and handed out the maps marking the checkpoints. He called the start and Rob and I quickly determined our first destination for the day. We would head to the checkpoint at Turkeypen, as it was relatively close and we had just ridden that section of trail the day before. But first we had to ascend the Black Mountain trail with all of the other racers. This resulted in a ridiculous and unpleasant grinding climb and hike-a-bike - not exactly the best way to warm up. From the top of Black Mountain we crossed Turkey Pen gap. On the final section before the trailhead, there was a steep, sketchy downhill section that was quite moist. I had walked much of this section the day before and I was determined to ride it this time. I got my ass as far behind the seat as I could and hoped for the best.
A branch from a tree on the left side of the trail made its way directly into one of the vents in my helmet, pulling me off of the bike and onto the ground. I picked myself up and got back on the bike, feeling about half as confident. Soon I came across a waterbar (basically a log angled to stream rainwater off of the trail). Feeling unsure, I braked hard and tried to cross the bar as safely as possible. My hard braking, though, kept my rear wheel from rolling over the bar behind me. Instead it just slid to the right, throwing me and the rest of the bike onto the ground, right on a bigass piece of rock. Fuck me. I got up again and the same thing happened on the next waterbar. This time my knee hit some rock real hard. My confidence was now at zero and so I walked carefully down the rest of that section.
THE pain in my knee grew worse as we rode on, and when we stopped and I looked at my leg, it was swelling up real nice. After getting stamped at the Turkeypen CP, we set off for the Squirrel Gap CP by heading up a service road climb and then up Squirrel Gap. Once we reached the Squirrel Gap CP, I was feeling pretty beat. From there we descended Squirrel Cap, which was awesome, and then up Laurel Creek to service road 5015 - a long and brutal grassy road that took us up to Yellow Gap. There we were faced with a decision - do we ride service road 1205 over towards the next CP or ride the unknown Laurel Mountain trail? We decided to take the Laurel Mountain trail, but the sight of some other riders cruising down 1205 made us stop and rethink. We decided to cruise the road and face what looked like a steep hike-a-bike section up Pilot Rock.
THE climb up Pilot Rock was indeed steep. On the map this trail is rated "medium" but it was by far the nastiest thing we saw all day. The climb up seemed to take forever. I was hike-a-biking most of the way, and stopping frequently because of the pain in my leg and because I was fucking exhausted. Near the top of Pilot Rock, there were the nastiest, most horrible switchbacks I have ever seen. Just walking up them was tough. I was not looking forward to going back down this trail.
EVENTUALLY we made it to the CP at the top. We rested for a while and ate, then turned around and headed back down Pilot Rock. I felt revitalized and happy to be neither pushing my bike nor granny-gearing. The rough downhill was hurting my foot, but some ibuprofen I had taken earlier was starting to help. I was proud of how I handled some of the scary stuff on this descent, but I will admit I got off and walked those imposing switchbacks - need more practice!
THREE checkpoints in the bag. At this point Rob and I had sort of unspokenly agreed that we would take 4 and go home, leaving the 5th checkpoint for next year. Our route to the fourth CP was all either paved road or service road. We big-ringed it down Highway 276 and grunted our way up and down 5041 and 475B to the checkpoint at the gate on 225. There we filled up on water and plotted our route back to the start/finish.
OF course there was one last hoop we had to jump through - the rules require that you both start AND finish on Black Mountain trail. So we rode all the way back up 475B, 5041 and Highway 276 to 477, which started with a long and miserable climb, but finished with the most thrilling, awesome, spectacular, high-speed service road descent. Rob was hauling ass and I was hammering in the big ring when I could to try and keep up and emulate his technique through the turns. We ended up at the foot of the Clawhammer climb we did on the first day and set off up on our last climb of the day.
CLAWHAMMER was not so bad at this point. We came up on a rider being towed by a rope behind another rider. I took this to be low-hanging fruit and made a move to pass them quickly. Off Clawhammer we took Maxwell Cove up to the near-top of Black Mountain. Maxwell Cove was a read mindfuck - I kept thinking that the end of the trail was near and that all we would have to do is descend Black Mountain and be done. With this feeling of anticipation I was giving it all I had. Rob and I passed two other teams on the climb up Maxwell.
WE made it to the Black Mountain trail, but we still had to hike-a-bike up a fair bit before we could cruise the downhill. One of the teams we had passed on the climb hike-a-biked past us, bummer. At least they were friendly.
THE descent, when we finally reached it, was awesome as expected. But the exertion was starting to show - my arms felt rubbery and my neck muscles were sore. My legs felt OK but they weren't needed anymore, hah. We pulled in to the finish sometime between 7 and 8pm, putting our total ride time at about 11 hours.
BURRITOS were the immediate reward for finishing, and damn was that a good fucking burrito. After sitting on the ground for a while I went back to camp, cleaned up, and headed back to the finish to wait for my homies.
THERE were kegs filled with delicious organic Pale Ales calling my name. As I waited my turn at the tap, some geeky looking fucker, when asked if he did the race singlespeed, said "PEOPLE RIDE GEARS AROUND HERE" and then chuckled smugly. I wanted to bash his face in and shit down his throat, then put a 22T up his azz. OK not really but the dude made me feel like a loser for riding gears. I was filled with feelings of inadequacy and shame. What felt like a glorious achievement was instantly denigrated and made almost worthless.
I drank a beer and forgot about it, deciding instead that I was the bomb-diggety and kicked the shit out of those mountains, gears or no. But I will forever be able to recall, in memory, his whiny rhetorical question, and I will feel shame not for myself, but for singlespeed, elitist nerds like him. This is exactly what he looked like:
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