CX Lives Again!!

The 'cross bike was put back together and has had only two rides on it, but the first race of the season was Sunday! Actually I should say races, as in plural. It was great to be back out and feeding the addiction, especially on such a tough course. It was really flat, but 6 dismounts made for a tiring experience. In the first race, the cat 4 category, I had a slow pickup off the start having selected a very bad gear to get going. However I finally got up to speed and shot towards the front then dove hard into the first turn, a U-turn with room for only one rider on the exit. I came out of the turn in first place and held position for about half a lap. From there I lost a few positions slowly over the next 40 minutes. I ended up in a relatively close battle for a few laps, but managed to attack and pull away with 1/3 lap remaining to take 7th of 36.

I then cheered Chris on during his race, shouting and ringing a lot of cowbell. After stressing out a little too much then suffering from two hard crashes he was slightly down in spirits, but I convinced him to get back out for the noon race, the Cat 3/4 race. We both rode in this race, though we were quite tuckered. We decided to start at the back and use the race as training and try to pick off who we could. After a brief separation on the start we rejoined and rode the rest of the race together keeping each other posted on gaps over 4 or 5 other guys near us and general course notes. My legs felt like they could barely turn the cranks but I managed to finish the 45 minute race. I'd saved enough energy through that race that I managed to have a little kick for the last lap. I'd been opening gaps in technical parts of the course all race, so the final lap I pushed as hard as I could through those sections and kept my pace up throughout. I managed to drop the rest of the guys that had been just behind us. I managed a 24th place finish of 39. Not too bad really.

Overall a great start to the season. The results are posted here.

Bagels, Travel, Then Bikes, and some Karma

Realizing that my writings have been lacking in the areas of bagels I deemed it necessary to include a picture of my brunch from Saturday morning. A fantastic egg, cheese, and bacon sandwich on a bagel. In fact, touching upon the themes for which this blog is named in reverse order, I had traveled to New York City early Saturday morning with Pat and Sam to check out the Summer Streets event. Essentially, the city has closed Park Ave., 4^th Ave., and Lafayette St. to all motorized vehicular traffic in a route from 72^nd St. to the Brooklyn Bridge. The event allows people to wander down the street, run, bike, or do other things without being worried about getting hit by some maniac driver doing mach 2. The streets were absolutely filled with people, a lot of them running or cycling. There were some organized events going on as well, some performers, some exercise classes, and some people drawing on the street with chalk. The event was really good to see, I hope they decide to run such an event more often. All tolled, we walked over 7 miles that morning without worrying about traffic, but for a few cross streets, and even then we followed the light pattern. I took a few pictures too, view them here.

Oh, and in case you're wondering where to get such a sandwich, I got it at place on the corner of Lafayette and Duane.

Sunday included some more regional travel, to Keene, NH. The Root 66 race series is winding down and I was in the mood for a good bike ride in the woods someplace different so I headed north. You may recall a post some time ago about karma working its way around. Well I pretty sure I had some coming my way after deceiving my fellow competitor at the 24 hours of Great Glen, and it found me.

The race started off well, no one shot off the front too incredibly fast so I managed to keep my competition in check relatively easily. About a half mile into the race while cruising on some paved road heading for what would be a monstrous dirt road and atv trail climb my pedal decided to separate itself from my crank arm. I'm a bit baffled as to how it happened and there is really no excuse for such a failure but it happened. Darn Karma.

Without panic I pulled over to the side of the road and twisted the pedal off the bottom of my shoe then began to thread it back into the crank. I pulled out my multi tool and the emergency pedal wrench on it, tightening the pedal as best I could. I hopped back on the bike, conceding that I was simply out for a bike ride at this point. The course had a lot of climbing though, favoring me a lot, and as such I started to reel people in on the climb. I was truly only in competition with the 4 other guys in my age category, but it was nice to catch back up to people. Before long though I had caught and passed to guys in my class. Then I saw another one, and before long I'd passed him and was riding with first place. We rode together, one two, for a little while. At one point he got sent off on the wrong path due to a near crash by me. Feeling like I'd had enough karma circling back to me I slowed up and waited for him to get back on course and we continued together for a little while. The course pitched up again though and I pulled away. The last 2 miles were on a hard pack gravel rail trail, very fast. I'd caught a guy from an older age group at the start of it and we began trading back and forth allowing the other to draft. We were really cruising into the finish, I managed a 1^st place. The ride was a lot of fun, and it was really good to ride with a few different guys for extended lengths.

Data crunching the 24 hour effect.

For all you antsy pantsy folks looking for more information I'll provide you with some further data and goodies to look through. I know, I led you on with great anticipation and suspense over the 3 post story and since you've read the final installment of the account so quickly I'll provide the data quickly. I suggest heading on over to the 24 hours of great glen website and clicking on one of the options in bold, results, videos, or photos. They're all worth checking out.

To check on some lap splits head to this page. Trust me, use the link, getting there other wise takes super secret ninja skills. Type 142 in the left box and click "show laps." If you check or uncheck one of the boxes click "show laps" again for the action to take effect.

According to the Scott computer the following were the times for my outings. They differ slightly as I had to run out of the timing tent following each exchange and get to my bike prior to riding. The overall lap of our team is in parenthesis, T is time, D is distance.

Turn 1, Lap 1 (3)
T - 45:55
D - 7.93

Turn 2, Lap 2 (7)
T - 46:58
D - 7.94

Turn 3, Laps 3 & 4 (13, 14) [Dark]
T - 1:49:14
D - 15.93

Turn 4, Laps 5 & 6 (21, 22)
T - 1:47:47
D - 15.94

Turn 5, Lap 7 (27)
T - 49:22
D - 7.94

If you really like data and analyzing information, I've created a spreadsheet breaking things down into more ways than you'd care to look at. If you want a copy, leave a comment and I'll email it to you.

2008 24 Hours of Great Glen - part 3

I sat there waiting, fidgeting. I looked at the lap times as riders came through, checking their class to see if they belonged to the 4-man sport class. I saw one pop up as our class; I looked and memorized the jersey of the next guy going out on that team. I wasn’t sure if they were close in the standings or not, as I missed what their number plate was. I wasn’t taking any risks; I knew I needed to catch him. Now the wait was really killing me, every second that passed gave that guy a bigger head start over me. I saw the class results come up again. As we’d been all race, we were close to team 162. We were about 8 minutes behind at the last check, when Jake had started the current lap.

“Okay Jake, where are you?” I thought. I knew he’d have to put down a lap nearly as fast as when he was fresh to get in this soon, but precious seconds were ticking by. It’s amazing that after nearly 24 hours of racing I was worrying about tiny little seconds.

Suddenly there he was, coming through the field around the pond. This had been a really fast lap! I was going out again, at a quarter to 12:00pm.

I started out and immediately started to pass other riders. Less than I mile in I saw the jersey I’d marked for target. Despite a fair head start I’d caught him quickly. Knowing I was moving much faster he made space and let me pass easily.

“Now, who else can I catch?”

As I neared the top of a small steep climb near the cottage I saw a rider making the turn to descend back down the hill. I looked at his number. 162!! I immediately marked him for target and memorized the gray fox jersey and neutral colored camelback. A few seconds later I turned down the hill, one of the fastest sections on course for me.

I caught two slower guys who braked hard for a narrow turn that I’d been barreling through with minimal brakes all race. The first crashed over his handlebars blocking me. It seemed like days before the second guy moved through, I was in a race for position and stopping was not an option. I immediately pressed as hard as I could on the open section that followed. Another mile in and I saw my target again. Then he disappeared in the winding course. Then I caught him again, and again he escaped. Desperation was now flooding my system, I needed to catch this guy but my legs were awfully tired.

I decided to ease up just a bit. There was a substantial hill yet to come that most people were walking significant portions of. I knew I could clean all or most of it with strong enough legs, and riding it clean would be faster than walking. I reached the hill and began my ascent. For one small section the slippery mud forced me off the bike, but I ran up it and jumped back on the bike. Continuing up the hill I saw the rider again, I was catching him quickly as I rode up the hill.

Much to my dismay I wasn’t quite fast enough. He crested the hill just seconds before me and opened the gap as he dropped down the other side. I pushed down the hill, through the rocks and mud as fast as possible. Then the ground leveled off as I entered the mud pit of doom. There he was again.

“Get him here,” I thought, “you’ve got to get him here.”

I was catching him as we struggled through the mud running for an extended section. Then we both jumped back on, only he immediately had to jump back off while I railed through a great line I’d found earlier. I’d finally passed him. Then I heard the question I feared he might ask, the answer to which I’d been debating with myself while chasing him the whole lap.

“Hey, what class are you?”

I knew if I answered sport, he’d chase me hard right then and there, knowing he was in a battle for position. However if I answered another class he’d likely not chase as hard. Clearly he hadn’t paid attention to the results screen like I had, or he would have been familiar with my number and known he needed to fight for this position. I needed to take advantage of the knowledge I had over him and knew what I had to answer.

“Expert,” I replied.

“What place are you in?”

“I have no idea.” I replied.

“Well I hope you win anyways.”

I thanked him as I thought, “If he only knew what I just did to him.” Surely I had some bad karma coming my way sometime. I hit a dirt road with a small lead and pedaled as hard as I could. Checking back before entering the single track up the final hill it appeared I’d dropped him.

“Thank goodness, I pulled it off and we pulled back another position.”

Then I heard someone behind me as I’d been forced to walk the bike up the hill. There he was; he’d caught back up. I franticly began to scramble through the mud and over the roots, pushing the bike up the hill. I had to get further ahead. I dropped off the hill, running as fast as I could, knowing I’d likely wrecked in the ruts and mud only losing time. Finally, I was pedaling again as the trail leveled off. I checked back again, nothing.

Then some how, he was there again, just a few seconds back. What happened next was the last thing I needed, the front wheel slipped out on a root and I hit the ground. I got up quickly, but he was immediately on my tail like a missile locked on target.

We came out of the trail and onto the final piece of dirt road, 500 yards to go. It was all power and speed now, no finesse. I let him pass me, knowing he’d pedal as hard as he could. As he passed, I pulled into his draft, allowing me to work a fraction as hard to maintain the same speed. A hard right, then an easy left into the field, 200 yards to go. Matt was there, yelling at me. I pulled out and sprinted as hard as I could past the guy. Rounding a hard left I checked back, he was still there but I’d opened up a gap on him. Jake was standing just after the corner.

“Dude, he’s right behind you!” he exclaimed just loud enough for me to hear without alerting the other rider.

“I know,” I snapped back.

I pressed on the pedals with everything I had into the last hard right turn. I braked and rolled through the turn somewhat conservatively so not to crash again. Exiting the turn I sprinted back up to speed. As I hit the mandatory dismount area, I stepped off the bike at full speed and ran the final 20 yards across the finish line. I dropped the bike, exhausted, my legs were like jell-o. The rider came in 10 seconds later. We gave each other a high five/handshake over the race we’d just had, though I decided to let him figure out what really happened on his own.

So after 24 hours and 35 minutes two teams were separated by a mere 10 seconds. Team Dirtnuts 3.0 finished 4^th of 24 teams in the 4-man Sport category, just ahead of 5^th, and only 10 and a half minutes behind 3^rd. We were 11^th overall. We completed 27 laps of an 8 mile course during the race, 216 miles of dirt roads and muddy trails.

Click the picture below for a visual walk through of the final sprint.

2008 24 Hours of Great Glen - part 2

After 3 turns out on course, two of which were a single lap and the most recent turn being 2 laps, I was ready for a good long break. Since the other three guys would be completing 2 laps each before I needed to get back on course I had some time to actually lie down and shut my eyes. I tuned into the iPod and turned on some calming music, then passed out at some point.

I suddenly woke up with the sudden urge to relieve my backed up bladder. In an effort to maintain hydration, I’d been drinking a lot of fluids, and a lot of fluids mean a lot of trips to the closest facility. I went to scramble out of my tent as fast as I could but was instantly paralyzed as my legs locked up with cramps. After a few agonizing minutes I crawled out of my tent. When I returned to catch some more rest I was unable to sleep. I was far too worried and agitated that I would be unable to pedal my next turn; that my legs would lock op again. Taylor had suffered a bad cramp himself earlier and I was also worried that if it happened to me we might be down two riders if we both continued to cramp. So I lay there, half asleep, moving my legs every so often to keep them loose. When I finally got up my legs were doing better, but as we’d all suffered a bit in the dark we’d fallen off our original pace.

Our lights hadn’t helped us to their full potential either. Jake and Taylor had both suffered from light failures and had to switch to their back up systems. It’s not the easiest change in the middle of the woods in the dark. That’s part of 24 hour racing though, whether with bikes or cars or some other mechanical device. Failures occur. Few are those that manage to emerge from the 24 hour time period unscathed. Those that minimize the damage and repair time do the best.

Shortly after the sun began to light the world around us, the traditional bagpipes began playing at 6:00am. Each year a gentleman in traditional Scottish clothing lifts our spirits at dawn with some beautiful songs.

At nearly 6:30 I took the baton from Jake and began my final turn of two laps. I rode strong and consistent. Usually the second lap of a turn is slower, but this time I’d actually ridden a half minute faster.

I began to do some math in my head in the last 2 miles of that 2^nd lap. I figured if Lee could hold a 55 minute pace or better on his two laps and if Taylor could do the same during his single lap turn we would be able to squeak out another lap, getting Jake on course just before noon. This was likely my last lap of the race, I would have 6 laps complete. Of course, we wanted to accomplish as many laps as possible to boost our position in the standings. I relayed a vague message to Lee to get off some 55’s as I handed him the baton.

Back at camp I recounted my math to Taylor, who found a significant flaw. Jake would get out on course, no doubt about that, the real question was, would I get out again after Jake? The race was on now, the laps needed to be 55 minutes or better. Soon it didn’t seem to be an issue, Lee had held pace and Taylor hammered his final lap. Everything appeared set for Jake to get a fast lap in and that I would head back out on course.

I headed to the timing tent, prepared to take the baton, waiting, watching the results cycle through on the projector screen, and waiting. The waiting was killing me now. It was all I could do though.

2008 24 hours of Great Glen - part 1

It's rather difficult to understand without experiencing it first hand. It's a bit like a card game. Friends can explain the rules, but until a few practice hands are played all you can do is blink your eyes and shake your head in confusion. Only by living through a 24 hour race can one truly understand the event and its complexities. Some racing fans are familiar with Le Mans, Daytona, or Sebring, courses famous among endurance automobile races. The idea behind endurance mountain bike racing is very similar, the person or team that can cover the most distance in the given period of time wins. The distance, is measure in laps completed.

Perhaps two competitors are vying for position out on course, in the middle of a lap, when the clock turns signifying 24 hours are complete, who wins? Well, nobody, at least not right then. Instead, the race is now pressing into the 25^th hour as the winner is determined by the racer that makes it back to the finish line first. Essentially, a lap counts as long as it was started before the end of the 24^th hour. At the 24 Hours of Great Glen, there is actually a rule ensuring that no one can finish until 24 hours have passed, a rule that states a racer must be on course at 12:00pm Sunday, marking the end of the 24 hours that started at 12:00pm Saturday. For some competitors, especially some solos, this means slowing down or even stopping on course, sometimes just feet shy of the finish line in order to be 'on course' and not have to pedal yet another lap. For if they crossed the line at 11:59:59, they would have to continue around the course and come back to the finish line.

For our 4-man team, the rush was on Sunday morning to be able to get in as many laps as we could and hopefully start a final lap just before noon. This meant that the four laps we knew we could get started before noon would have to be at a 55 minute pace or better if we were going get 5 more laps completed. The 'day' had started about 25 hours prior though, around 7:30am on Saturday.

Awaking to a beautiful sky about 5:40am I made a quick trip to the local row of port-a-potties, then found myself crawling back to the comfort of my sleeping bag. A few hours later the team was moving about our site and it was time to get up. After a busy morning of checking in with registration, going to the pre-race briefing, and prepping our equipment, noon was upon us. The cannon fired and Taylor got to his bike after the Le Mans style start and headed out for the first lap. Jake and I had taken a look at the first few sections and watched Taylor complete the small initial loop. Jake went out for the next lap, leaving a smoking hot lap for me to follow up with. Lee then rounded out our first set of laps. We each went out for another set of single laps, bringing us to 8 laps completed around 6:30 pm. We were sitting in a close battle for 3^rd place in our category, while 1^st and 2^nd weren't far ahead. But we all knew, all too well, that there was a lot of time left and troubles seem to come at night.

For the third round of turns we would begin to run 2 laps at a time, allowing each team member to rest longer between turns. This would become important during the graveyard shift hours when we would be fighting to stay awake, let alone eat and prep for our next ride. The longer break would actually allow each of us a chance to lie down and rest. After Taylor and Jake each faded a little bit in their 2^nd lap of their first night rides, likely due to a very short rest period after their last single turn, I knew I needed to stay consistent and avoid breaking down myself.

This can be tough in the dark though, your world becomes a cone of solitude, fewer riders are on course and all you can see is what the headlamp lights up. My first lap of the turn went extremely well, mentally I was strong and the legs were good, tired, but good. As I came through to start my next lap I searched the timing tent for our pit helpers, Matt and Kristy.

There was no one to be found. I took another look around. Nothing. "Well, I've got everything I need, plenty of water and a Powerbar, no reason to wait around," I thought to myself. So I headed off for lap 2 of the turn, my 4^th total lap. This lap, the quantity of running through mud and slippery up hills that were forcing everyone off their bikes was taking its toll. It was also nearing midnight. On the last piece of trail I had to dismount the bike, I was doing more of a stumbling shuffle than the run I'd been doing earlier. But, I was holding the average pace I'd hoped to keep over the two laps. After slipping and sliding down a muddy slope on my butt to the entertainment of some kids sitting along the trail, I finished out the lap and handed the baton to Lee. It was time for a shower, some food, and some sleep. Kristy made some great oatmeal for me as I chatted with Taylor, who was preparing to go out after Lee got his 2 laps in. With topped off fuel tanks I crawled into my tent to energize my batteries if only for a few short hours.

I would awake to a bit of drama, which would only continue to grow as the race unfolded; the story of which will develop in the next installment.

A weekend Off

The weekend following National Championships brought some more mountain bike action, this time in the form of non-competitive riding. I ventured to Hancock, MA Friday afternoon. I set up camp in the field near the Jake and the Rad Racing guys. That evening I caught a screening of Klunkerz, a pretty good documentary on the beginnings of mountain biking. Saturday morning we headed out for the 'epic' ride, prepared to go long. The ride wasn't really epic, but we did hit a few spectacularly awesome trails. After our patience wore a little thin with the constant stops to regroup as only one of 5 or 6 ride guides actually knew where we were going, we skipped out a little early and headed back to camp. After sitting out the hot afternoon sun and a dinner time rain storm I was getting ready to ride more. I checked out a few vendors and signed myself and Taylor up for the night time scavenger hunt. The scavenger hunt was entertaining, riding unfamiliar trails, at night, in the mud. It was a short ride though. That night brought a pretty serious storm. Fearing the capabilities of an untested tent with respect to rain, and the nearby lightning I jumped in the car for a bit and caught some shut eye. Some time later, I check the tent, dry as a desert inside. I decided to spend the remainder of the night there, feeling apologetic that I could have doubted my little tent. Sunday morning brought a plethora of mud. No riding to be had in that nonsense. After a few purchases at some vendor tents I pack up and headed out. Though only after waiting for the ambulance to get pulled through the mud and out of my way. Had I not been a guest on someone's property and surrounded by lots of people, my car may have found itself spinning circles and driving down the highway covered with mud. I grabbed a few pictures, a few from the top of Jiminey Peak looking down on the festival and quite a few of the mud bog drag racing. Check them out here.

The weekend after Kendafest, aka this past weekend was simply a weekend free of travel or events. It was a weekend much needed with good quality riding and resting.

Off to the 24 hours of Great Glen this weekend, at the base of the famed Mt. Washington.

After the ultimate mountain bike race of the season, it's time for, you guessed it... Cyclocross season!

More Nationals Nonsense

Following the pro women's race we watched the pro men's field. They started off mighty fast and intense. We headed out after the start to catch some views from various places on course. We watched the field come through the really steep sections and some people had some good rowdy cheering. Then few riders further down started motioning for more noise, and everyone started yelling more. I jumped up and started running beside one of them ringing the cowbell and yelling, he stood up and started cranking real hard. Just as he started pulling away from me he thanked me. Now I had to keep it up.

We walked further up the hill and as Adam Craig came through the next lap I started cheering him on and ran up the hill after me. He said something to me, but I couldn't really tell what it was since I was cheering and ringing a cowbell. Then as some other top contenders came through I ran beside them as well. It was all quite entertaining and a ton of fun. That pretty much concluded the weekend at Mount Snow and the National Championships.