Tuesday, October 28, 2014

October Racing, Part I ...


I raced three out of four weekends in October this year. In my last post, I covered the first race I did this month -- Iron Cross. The following week, I lined up for the four hour endurance class at Blue Marsh Cyclemania, and then this past Saturday, I was down in Maryland for the inaugural Six Hour relay @ Susquehannah.

I've done the Blue Marsh Race almost every year they've had it now, including the last two versions in the endurance class. Blue Marsh is a very fast course with one massive climb up the back of the old ski mountain. That climb is what really makes the race challenging for a single speeder, because the endurance class at Blue Marsh is open -- there are no age groups or separate class for geared vs. single. So it's pretty much a tough road to hoe to make the podium on a single speed because you can't gear for  both the mountain and the flats. What you end up doing is gearing for the fast flat sections and accept that you'll be hiking the big climb. The geared riders don't have to make that choice, so … like I said, tough road on a single speed.

My goals for the race were to ride as fast as I could all day and try to beat as many of the geared riders as possible. I figured I was going to be the only single speeder because that was what had happened the previous time I'd done the endurance race there. In fact, it wasn't until the day before that there were even any other single speeders registered, and that was when Chris from MTBNJ texted me to get some info on the race. I did know that there were at least two geared riders coming who were going to be almost impossible to beat on that course, so I figured that my absolute best case scenario was maybe third. On race day morning, I was happily surprised when Chris brought along Mitch and another friend, Tim, to join the two of us on single speeds for four hours.

The race start at Blue Marsh goes along the contours of a small, slick grassy hill. I knew that the best option was to get out front early if I could because someone always seems to hit the ground on that grass and I wanted to avoid any part of that. So of the start, I went out as hard as I could and led the entire field into the single track. I knew that wouldn't last, but I wanted to avoid as much possible trouble as I could. As it turned out, I stayed near the front for most of the first lap, and at one point took a quick glance backward and realized that we had a small selection up front -- three geared guys, myself and the other single speeder, Tim. I could see Chris charging hard but we had a gap and I figured that even if Chris caught on, we had already put a bunch of the other racers on the defensive.

We lost the lead three geared guys on the mountain as I suspected we would. Chris caught on with Tim and I as we hiked up to the top portion, but the effort seemed to cost him quite a few matches because we dropped him again after the descent. Chris and Mitch had both made a last minute decision to swap out their gears for larger ones right before the start, so they both had to do a lot more work than myself or Tim on the few steep climbs on the course. Personally, I don't mind spinning so I would never have opted for the larger gear and I was happy all day on my 32:18.

Once we left Chris behind, Tim and I pretty much settled in for the rest of the day together. We chased the geared guys, but realized pretty quickly that we were really at a disadvantage on the singles, and eventually we decided that we'd continue to chase but would focus more on holding off anyone chasing us. We worked very well together, and I had a good time chatting with him as we looped around the course again and again. I pretty much sat on the front all day, but that wasn't Tim playing any games. The truth was it worked best that way. I was a little stronger (because of my slightly lighter gear) on the climbs and I get skittish following a wheel too close because I like to see my own lines. Tim was a better bike handler and had no issues sitting on.

There was some confusion at the scoring tent near the end and it ultimately cost Tim and I a final lap, but it all worked out in the end. We were never going to catch the lead three (even though we did get closer than I thought we were) and in the end I crossed the line with Tim for fourth and fifth overall.

ENDURANCE 30 AND OVER OPEN
PLACE  BIB  FIRST NAME    LAST NAME    Team                                           Age  Finish Time
1      514  GORDON        DAVIES       ELEVEN MADISON PARK / BICYCLE TECH RACING / VTC47   4:14:49
2      517  STEVEN        MANCUSO      CYCLE CRAFT/BULLDOGS                           40   4:15:45
3      512  CHRIS         BRAWLEY      MTBNJ.COM-HALTERS CYCLE                        48   4:18:23
4      515  MARTIN        GRIFFIN      TWIN SIX / BULLDOG MTBERS                      43   3:47:07
5      523  Tim           Borsetti                                                    53   3:47:07
6      521  CHRISTOPHER   SCHILLING    MTBNJ.COM/HALTERS CYCLES                       43   3:57:21
7      518  JOHAN         NEL                                                         44   4:06:23
8      519  JASON         PERRY        HANGSTERFERS LUBRICANTS                        36   1 Lap
9      520  JASON         PILATO       TEAM MARTY'S                                   43   1 Lap
10     511  JOHN          BAUMANN                                                     52   1 Lap
11     522  BRIAN         SHAUB                                                       37   1 Lap
12     555  Mitchell      Gold                                                        55   1 Lap
13     526  Anthony       Groves                                                      40   2 Lap
14     524                                                                            0    3 Lap
15     525  Erika         McEnroe                                                     42   3 Lap

16     516  ROBERT        HIMES        MASON DIXON VELO/THE CYCLE WORKS               40   4 Lap



Next up … Susquehannah ...

Thursday, October 9, 2014

Michauxing ...

Over the last three weeks, I've taken the drive out to Michaux twice, once for the Terror of Teaberry on September 21 and then again this weekend for Iron Cross XII.

I've had a weird relationship with Michaux for years - I love riding there, but it seems that almost every time I race there, something unusual happens. The first time I raced The Curse of Dark Hollow, I was maybe ten miles in when my bottom bracket housing separated from the frame on my carbon OCLV. And a few years ago, at the Michaux Trail Cup, I missed a turn and rode seven miles out into the woods before I found my way back. This year's Teaberry was no exception.

This was my first time racing the Teaberry race. I've done both of the other two in the Michaux Endurance Series in the past (Michaux Maximus in the Spring and The Curse of Dark Hollow in the Summer.) And having done those two and then hearing the Teaberry was the toughest race in the series ... well, my curiosity was peaked.

I should have just ignored my curiosity.

I was a bit tired before the race. I think part of it was the inevitable slow down that came after SM100 this year. I was still riding a ton, but it was on top of continued long hours at work, and there was definitely less urgency to training as other priorities took the forefront for a while. That's not an excuse - fact is, I actually felt okay on the start. And on the roll out, I was pretty close to the front. But then, not three miles into the race, my legs just stopped working. It wasn't anything dramatic. It wasn't like I cramped up or anything like that. It was just … empty legs.

I tried to make a go of it, but the course wasn't going to allow that. If you're going to have a bad day, it's best not to do it at Teaberry. I was within reach of the podium but really not feeling like I could bridge the gap. I would occasionally catch a view of my rabbit on dirt roads but could never seem to get close enough to pull him in. And then I came to a rocky v-drop section and had to dismount and when I put my foot down in the middle of it, I stepped right on a bee's nest. A disturbed, angry bee's nest. I looked down and my right foot was covered in them. And then they started stinging. I screamed and started to frantically swat them away and then ran away as fast as I could. I'd later count eight stings. I was lucky I'm not allergic (a fact I was not aware of before it happened.) 

After that, I was done. I just had no race left in me. I rode out the rest of the course and hiked half the last (awful) climb. I just wanted to get out of there. No one passed me the rest of the way, so I rolled into the finish in fourth place having averaged about 7 mph for the last 15 miles. Meh. 

I've thought a bit about why I just couldn't psyche myself up to really move that day -- was I burned out from earlier in the season? Was I just having a bad day? In all honesty, I think a lot of it was the course itself. It's a beautiful course, for sure -- the first few miles alone go through a wildly scenic section of the forest. But it's one of the most frustrating courses I've ever ridden. On most courses, even most really tough courses, you get a payoff for the suffering -- like the swooping descents in the SM100, or the ridge line single track at the Stoopid 50. Not at Teaberry. At Teaberry, there weren't any payoffs. Just more suffering. A long slog of a climb topped out with a mile long rock garden. Or a bone-rattling rocky descent ended with a slog through a loamy trail. (Loamy trails are the bane of any single speeder.) Okay, so there was definitely some fun sections on that course -- the "waterfall" rock garden was a blast. But even the fun sections were tough enough that you had to stay completely focused to survive them. And don't get me wrong -- I'm not actually complaining.  I actually think it's pretty impressive that a course could be so relentlessly tough and I'm sure there are plenty of racers out there who think this is the only way we should ever race. I think I just hit a perfect storm of low motivation, bad legs, ridiculously tough, tech course, and … bees. I didn't have a mental game at Teaberry so when things got tough, I didn't break down but I did just kind of shut down. I didn't race so much as I just rode my bike after the bee incident. Until then, I was fighting myself to keep racing. After that, I admitted defeat. Like I said, meh. Will I go back? If you asked me that in the days following the actual race, I'd have said "no way". Now? Not sure. Part of me thinks I left something unfinished. So … maybe.

At any rate two weeks later I was back in Michaux, albeit in a completely different section of the forest,  for Iron Cross XII. I did IC last year for the first time and had an absolute blast, so it was on my radar from all the way back at the beginning of the season. In fact, besides Leesburg, CP and the SM100, it was probably the only other race that was a "definite" for me. In '13, I finished in 5:30, so this year I really wanted to get 5 hours.

The course is about 90% gravel and/or paved road with a little bit of single track thrown in, and you can reasonably ride a cross bike or a mountain bike. I ride my mountain bike since my cross bike isn't a SS and that's the class I want to race. In fact, I think a mountain bike is faster -- you can really let loose on the gravel descents and it's obviously better for the few single track sections. 

The course is advertised as a 100K, but that K actually stands for "Kuhnometers", as the promoter Mike Kuhn likes to say -- could be more, could be less than a true 100K. In the case of IC, it's quite a bit more - about 68 miles. I figured five hours on a SS for 68 miles would be a bit aggressive for me (since there is also about 7000 feet of climbing), so I knew I was in for a pretty good effort. The course itself is basically two loops that meet at the start finish, and the hardest part of the course comes in the second loop. So I knew I'd have to get off to a good start to build a cushion if I was going to meet my goal.

In fact, the start was freezing!! Temps were in the high 30's, expected to get up into the high 50's and I thought I was dressed well for the day. But at the start, I was shivering uncontrollably and felt awful. In fact, I was so stiff from shivering that it took me a good ten miles of riding before I felt like I loosened up at all, and it was on the walk-up at about 20 miles before I got feeling back in my hands. 

But despite not feeling good at the start, I did feel pretty good as soon as I got moving. I was a bit stiff, yes, but I was able to use the MTB to advantage in the early power line descent and got ahead of the crowd of CXers who had to take it slower down the rutted, rocky trail. Being cold may have even helped because I pushed harder to try to warm up. I settled in once I got past the first real single track section and started to feel better as I rolled along the highway into Caledonia. And then I really started to feel pretty good after doing the walk-up climb with Matt Falwell, another SSer (and the ambassador from KY for this year's SSCXWC!) 

The walk-up … oye! To picture what the walk-up at IC, imagine riding your bike along a path that ends at a skyscraper. Your only option to go over the top of it -- you can't go around it. That's kind of like the walk-up. It's a brutally steep hike of about a quarter mile long that is filled with rock and log steps. It's an awful climb that I wouldn't want to do if I was just hiking, much less with a bike on my shoulder. But it eventually ends, and then things get fun for a while.

I started to feel really good at that point -- the hike had warmed me up, and there was a screaming descent to enjoy before doubling back through the start/finish area to start the second loop. I had been going back and forth with another SSer for a while, and as he caught me about five miles into the second loop, he mentioned that I could have ridden away from him if I was running a bigger gear (my gear was 32:18), but I told him that I had thought about that and decided to stay with my easier gear, because even though I was spun out on the roads, the climbs that were ahead were going to make me glad with the gear I chose. 

And that was largely true. I felt pretty good on most of the climbs (and even took the beer hand up at Larry's Tavern!) In fact, I was right on pace for my goal right up until the second to last climb. I lost a little bit of time there because I was really tiring out and that climb feels endless -- it doesn't really change grade for about 6 miles. It's just a miserable section to ride that late in the day. I definitely slowed down, but I never went "dark" -- I kept my focus and knew I'd have one more chance to make up the lost time. 

Right after that six or so mile climb, there is a screaming gravel descent. I took some stupid chances getting down that descent because I knew that right on its heels was the final climb back to the start/finish, which is itself shorter than the previous one, but still brutally steep in a few sections. I hit the final climb having recovered a little time, but still needed to average about 12 mph for the last two miles. 

And ultimately, it was just a little too much to ask. I crossed the line three minutes past my goal, at 5:03 and change. In fact, that three minutes was roughly the time I spent stopped at aid stations, so my ride time was right on it. I wasn't too disappointed (although my placing - 12th - was a bit of a letdown. Last year, my time would have put me in the top 10.) I did knock almost a half hour off my time from the previous year, which was pretty cool, and I feel like I rode well, pushed myself, and still had a ton of fun. And if I can say that about any race I do, I'd call it a success. After the race, I got to hang around and see some friends from Evolution and the LWC crew while I chowed down on a BBQ sandwich, and chatted with a few other racers about how the day went. All in all, a very fun day!

(BTW: Sorry about no photos this time -- I just didn't have any at my disposal!)


Next up … Cyclemania at Blue Marsh this Sunday. See you on the trails!

Sunday, September 7, 2014

Long Time Coming, Pt. 4 ...


The rest of the story:

Part 1: Motivated by Failure

Race day!


The heart attack profile of the SM100

The phone rang for my wake-up call at 4:30, and I hopped out of bed immediately (mostly because I was already awake.) I got ready, ate a quick breakfast (knowing the hotel buffet wouldn't open for a few hours, I had picked up some pop-tarts the day before) and started bringing my stuff out to the car. I headed out the door by 5:15 and was at the venue a half hour later. There were a lot of people stumbling around in the dark (I need to remember to bring a headlamp next time) and it seemed like only a few minutes after I got there, Chris Scott was telling everyone to head to the staging area. I picked up the pace to get moving and managed to spill half of my Osmo pre-hydration mix all over a towel in the back of my car (it still smells like pineapple/lemon back there now.) Oh well. No crying over spilled Osmo - it was time to go.

I lined up in the nine hour corral, not because I was thinking I'd actually finish in nine hours. I just wanted to avoid as much of the bottleneck that was certain to form at the first climb as possible. That was kind of futile, of course, since one thing I was absolutely certain would happen was that on the SS I was about to get dropped on the crazy mad dash in the first mile or so of pavement. But whatever - I still figured being further up at the start had to count for something.

A moment later, it was moot - the roll-out began and we were off. Sure enough, tons of riders came flying by once we'd crossed the metal bridge and were on the long paved straightaway. I was just happy I had managed to avoid getting taken out in the early chaos (a few others weren't so lucky.) I settled in and planned to just ride smart in the first few miles - pass where I could but not get too caught up in burning matches early. It was already in the high seventies when we started and I was figuring that the heat would only get worse throughout the day.

I did spend most of the five mile dirt road section passing riders who'd been able to go by me on the pavement, and when we finally hit the hard left turn into the single track climb, I was able to sneak by two more riders and then just settled in to a long train. It's always tough to sit in like that on a SS - it's actually a lot easier on the legs to go faster on longer climbs. But I just accepted it -- if I started trying to pass people, it would have been a constant stop and go. There were dozens of riders ahead of me in the train and I just had no other option but to sit back and try to take it as easy as possible.

We eventually topped out in the technical single track that led us toward the nicest surprise of the day - a super-flowy descent that seemed to go on forever. In my pre-ride the day before, I had turned left at the top and headed down the old climb, so I had no idea what I was in for on the descent. A few minutes into it, I was almost laughing. I was also surprised to notice that I was feeling really good and as the first hour alarm went off on my Garmin, I noticed that I was just about 11 miles in.

Overall, the SM100 is probably best described as a set of six distinct climbs, interrupted by periods of fire road or pavement. Most of the single track (around half the ride) comes in the climbs and descents. Each climb has a very distinct characteristic. The first climb used to be a loose gravel grind, but now it's a single track ridge climb that gets progressively techier the closer you get to the top. I was very surprised at how good I was feeling at the top, but I knew the next climb (plus four more after that) was looming a few miles away so I knew not to read too much into how I was feeling just 10% into the ride.

I popped out of the single track after the first climb and started down a long gradual fire road descent. I quickly felt totally spun out but just kept my speed going at around 20 mph as much as I could. Eventually, a big train of riders came flying by and one of them, a small girl on a Misfit, yelled "hop on!" I wasn't able to hold their wheel (even though the guy on the back actually tried to sit up and give me a chance to catch on), so I had to let them go. But that set up a theme for the rest of the day - I would eventually spend most of the day going back and forth with Linda Shin from Toronto -- I had to go a little faster on the climbs by virtue of riding the SS, but she was definitely a much better descender than I was and she and many other geared riders would always roll by me in the flats. (I'm not ashamed to admit that I simply followed her wheel on the techiest descent of the day because she was just simply much better at picking lines than I was.)

I continued rolling down the fire road and eventually it kicked up a bit and I started to reel in some of the folks who'd come by me. I hit the base of the second climb, on the Lynn Trail, and decided that since I was still feeling pretty good, I was going to give it a go with riding as much of it as I could this year. That trail quickly becomes extremely steep and I rode maybe the first 20% of the climb before hopping off to save my legs. I trudged for a bit, but did remount a few times and rode some of the flatter sections. But the last few miles of the climb are very steep and I didn't want to blow myself up, since I was still only 20 or so miles into the race. I trudged along with another single speeder who seemed to be pretty miserable. I think he was riding a much bigger gear than I was and kept asking how much longer he'd have to trudge. I tried to cheer him up, but the only thing that really seemed to work was when we turned a corner and saw daylight - the top of the climb! Of course, as with most climbs on the SM100 course, it was a false summit. And some of the steepest short sections of uphill were yet to come, but I didn't mention that since he seemed to be really happy to be able to start riding again. I had to stop before starting the descent to check my rear thru-axle because my rear wheel seemed to be a little shaky. I fixed it and started down the impossibly techy descent.

I was practically sitting on my rear tire on a few of the rockiest sections of the descent but eventually made it to some smoother single track and then the fun began. I was flying along and swooping around bermed switchbacks and having a great time. I saw a few riders on the side of the trail but no one needed any help so I kept rolling. Eventually, the descent popped out into a less steep singletrack straightaway. This should have been the easiest part of the ride, but while rolling along at about 25 mph, I managed to hit something and t-boned my handlebars. I was thrown over the bars and landed on my head and shoulder. I got up slowly and checked that everything was still working. My handlebars were bent from when my knee hit them, and I had a new dent in my helmet form where I hit the ground, but other than that and some cuts and scrapes, I felt fine. I had to adjust my bars, but luckily I had a 5mm wrench in my pack and was able to get them realigned pretty quickly. While I was on the side of the trail, dozens of riders came by and all of them asked if I was okay, so that was very cool. I got going a little gingerly to recover from the shock but for the most part I was good. The only thing that hurt was my knee because all the skin was scraped off, but it would later turn out that was just adrenaline -- the next day I would notice that I had banged up my shoulder pretty bad, I had a big knock on my forehead, and bruises all over my legs and arms. But at the moment, I didn't notice a thing, so I saddled up and headed out.

Next up was Hankey Mountain, one of the longer climbs of the day and a constant slog. As I was riding up the hill I was catching a lot of the folks who had passed me after my crash, and they nearly all asked how I was doing. That's a very cool thing I've always noticed about mountain bikers in general -- more often than not, we tend to look out for one another and I really appreciated the concern. I was good to go though and thanked each of them for asking. And the truth was, the first ride up Hankey Mountain was a turning point for me. Up to that point, I was convinced that everything would eventually blow up for me as it always had before. But despite having bounced off the ground at a pretty high speed just a few miles before, I felt really good going up that hill and started to think that just maybe this day would be different. I summited the climb feeling strong and even managed to stay upright (with one near miss) on the early, ultra-techy part of the descent. Once I got through that, I just hopped on the back of a train of riders and we flew down the back side of the mountain (I think it's called Dowell's Draft) on some of my favorite single track anywhere. I popped out at the aid station and checked my time - I was running right around 10 mph including my crash time and was feeling pretty confident that I was going to beat my early prediction of 12 hours. I still figured that I was going to have a rough time going up the "death climb" but I figured I'd done enough in the first 45 miles to give myself at least a small cushion.

I swapped my bottles at the aid station and headed out along the highway toward Braley's Pond. I rode for a while with another single speeder (I think his name was Josh) and I was telling him how much I wasn't looking forward to this part of the course. The road section was something I'd particularly been dreading before the race -- it's a long slightly uphill slog on an active highway and I imagined it would be a nightmare on a singlespeed. He agreed but only because he'd been running a pretty big gear and was a bit wiped at that point. But for me, it turned out that wasn't the case. I kept a pretty good average speed along the road and before I knew it, I was riding through the rocky creek bed into climb number four.  And then I rode much more of the climb than I had in the previous two times I'd done the race. That climb probably has a higher percentage of singletrack than any other on the race, most of it very tight ridge line trail where you don't want to risk slipping off to your right. I walked the techies parts just to be safe and was surprised at how quickly I reached the top. I was also really psyched because the Braley's Pond descent is about as much fun as you can have on a bicycle -- super fast with flowy berms around every turn and sections where you are just flying between trees on a very well-kept trail. No matter what happened in any previous time I've ridden here, I always came out of the woods at the bottom of Braley's with a big smile on my face and this year was no different.

My one bit of strategy for the day had been to leave my only drop bag at Aid Station 4 just before the death climb began after Braley's. I rolled up and the volunteers already had my bag out for me. I grabbed my extra bottle and reshuffled my pockets to balance everything out. Once I was all set to go (and had slammed a few cups of coke), it was time to the tackle the death climb!

The early part of the death climb is actually barely a climb at all. The whole thing is over 20 miles long, but the first ten or so miles are pretty gradual. It was on the death climb when I started to wonder if I might make it in less than 11 hours after all. I was feeling very good on the early part of the climb, averaging well over 10 mph. More importantly, I was able to keep it up without feeling like I was pushing too hard. That was key because I knew that once we hit the switchback, it would get pretty nasty and I'd have to slow down. Sure enough, I rolled into the steep part of the climb and immediately felt like I was hitting a wall. I felt pretty good and was able to keep pedaling but it was definitely a slog and my speed dropped down to less than half of what I'd been doing earlier. It always seems that Rest Stop 5 is just out of reach on this section of the climb. You keep expecting it to be around the next corner and those last two miles to reach it seem endless. But eventually I rolled into the rest stop and checked my time -- I was still right around 10 mph and thought maybe I should rush through and get out ASAP. But there was coke and pizza and apples, so that wasn't happening. I was feeling pretty good, but knew that a coke at 76 miles would be like a little slice of heaven so I enjoyed a cup (or three) and ate a slice of pizza. Then I grabbed an apple and told the young girl at the table my quick story of how an apple saved my life a few years ago here. She looked at me like I was nuts, and so I just said thanks and took off.

I knew from experience the one fact that most racers there overlook -- the worst part of the death climb comes after the rest stop. People who haven't done it before often think that once they reach the rest stop the climb is over, but that couldn't be further from the truth. The reality is that the rest stop only marks the beginning of the "endless meadows". The meadows themselves are the brief respite from the uphill. If you look at the profile above, the last kicker on the huge climb is where they are. You basically ride through a meadow and then hit a nasty uphill section and then you repeat that about half a dozen times or so. It gets to the point where just seeing another meadow makes you cringe. But just about when I was starting to feel like I was going to explode, I crested the top of the mountain and was staring down a cray steep, crazy techy descent.

That descent was and probably always will be the hardest part of my day at the SM100. It's incredibly loose and you can't really stop your speed form building no matter what you do because it feels at times like you're riding off a cliff. I was sitting all the way back and felt my hands cramping as I gripped the brakes to control my ride. I kept expecting to smell burning metal as my rotors caught fire or something. This was the point where Linda rolled up behind me and I happily gave her the line. She handled the tech like a pro a I just sat in and let her pick the lines. Eventually, the drop smoothed out and I was able to shake out my aching arms. I was aching in my upper arms at that point, but we kept up our pace in the very flowing bottom of the descent.

At the last rest stop, I didn't need to swap a bottle but I did grab some french fries. At that point, there was about 12 miles to go and I was starting to do the math in my head -- I was still really close to a ten hour pace, but I knew that the last climb, a second time up Hankey Mountain, lay ahead. I started wondering what was going to happen.

And then on that last climb of the course, I had the same conversation with about four other riders. Everyone I passed wanted to know how much climbing was left. Everyone, it seemed, just wanted to be done going up and I was no different.

One thing seems worth noting here: the second time up Hankey is nowhere near the longest climb of the day, nor is it even hit the steepest section of Hankey Mountain. But after 90 or so miles and roughly 12,000 feet of climbing, it's a total punch in the dick and probably the darkest time of the day for almost every rider out there. You get a pretty good feeling when you finally finish the death climb, but to look up at another long dirt road slog is tough that late in the race. But this time, I was able to keep my mind from going too dark and I just kept telling myself that it would be over soon. My legs felt fine, oddly enough. I was never worried about them, even though I did purposely get off and push once or twice just to be sure I didn't stretch myself too thin. Eventually I reached the top (I think I was pretty accurate telling people it was about three miles, by the way!) and then you go over a little hump and start the (mostly) downhill ride to the finish.

I was now really wondering what my final time would be. I was pretty close to 10 hours and about 95 miles in, and figured it was all going to come down to how accurate my mileage was reading at the time. To give it my best shot, I really just let loose on the final descent. I was ripping through the creek beds and rolling trail as fast as I could and throwing all kinds of caution to the wind just to keep the impossible hope of a sub-10 hour day alive.

And then it happened -- I came around a final bend and saw the first camp site above the finishing field. I looked at my time and realized that not only was I going to finish this thing in under 10 hours, but I was going to do it with more than five minutes to spare! I went nuts. I hit the field through the camping area yelling and launched myself off the roller, even catching a little air.  I ultimately crossed the line in 9:52 and change, and probably scared Chris Scott by how amped I was. (Why would someone so far out of the top ten -- I finished 18th -- be so excited?) But this was a really long time coming -- I had cut about an hour and a half off my previous best time and did it on the singlespeed, which was way beyond anything I thought I could do. I was so excited that when I hit the gong, I knocked it over. A total spaz, sure, but seeing that single digit hour finish really felt good.

I grabbed my pint glass and briefly debated whether I should grab a beer right away or go try to get a signal on my phone to tell Joanna. I opted for the phone and spent five minutes walking around until I had enough signal to send a text. I told her my finish time and promised her I'd call when I got back to the hotel. Then I got cleaned up and headed for the kegs. After a beer or two, I tracked down my friend Jesse Kelly who was catching a ride with me back to Philly. He's a super strong rider and had just straight up murdered the course in just over 8 hours for 13th place in the open class -- after riding his bike from Philly to Harrisonburg!!! I think that's one of the most impressive things I've heard in a long time. I told him he should seriously consider doing the Tour Divide some day. After working out the details for the next morning, it was time to head back to the hotel to call home and then get some dinner.

And so that was it. Kind of four years in the making, and I don't mean that in a dramatic way. I realize that my time wasn't anything special in the overall placings, but this was definitely killed a few demons given how tough a time I had at this race in the past. Shenandoah had been a mystery I couldn't crack, and this year I managed to work it out in a way that I think I can build on from here if I choose to. So what's next? Well, long term I'm not sure. I have a few ideas working for next year, but nothing concrete yet. And I have three or four more races this year, including (of course) The Six Hours of Cathedral Pines in November (one of my favorite races all year.) I'd love to go back to Shenandoah with a bigger goal -- is it possible to shoot for nine hours next year? I don't know, but one thing is for sure: I'm going to try to maintain and build on the condition I built this year. Usually, I don't worry too much about weight and fitness in the winter. But I think I've reached an age now where I really can't ignore it at any time of year. Given how much I actually enjoyed the effort this year, I'm going to see how long I can keep it going. I took it easy this week since I was on vacation, but when I go back to work tomorrow, it'll be back to spinach and turkey once again! I certainly don't want to get caught up in racing everything in sight, but I would definitely like to feel like I have the fitness to show up any time I do feel like throwing a number on the front of my bike.

Thanks for reading, and I'll see you on the trail!


Saturday, September 6, 2014

Long Time Coming, Pt. 3 ...


Part 1
Part 2

As of a week before the race, I was working almost every waking hour and up in the air about what would happen with my broken Niner frame. Joanna had run my frame over to Scott at Evolution Pro Bike on Saturday while I was racing the Misfit down at Fair Hill.

Scott took the bike and promised to check with Niner to see what my options were. On Monday afternoon, I got a call at work with some great news: Niner was warrantying the frame and sending a new one overnight on Tuesday and Scott said he could build it up in time for the race! The shop is closed on Wednesdays, so it actually arrived Thursday afternoon and Scott said it would be ready on Friday. That worked for me because I wouldn't have been able to pick it up on Thursday as it was since I was in the office until almost 8:00 that night.

I had planned to head down to Virginia early on Friday so I could pre-ride different sections of the course Friday and Saturday, but with the bike not being ready to go until Friday afternoon, I adjusted my plan and did one final local ride on the Misfit at Wissahickon Friday morning. Ultimately, I left PA around 3:00 Friday afternoon, getting to Harrisonburg around 7:30 or so. (Incidentally, I took the easy way out and actually drove down.)

Saturday morning, I wasted some time doing busy work - went to a supermarket for some water and food, ate a big breakfast at the hotel, and just hung out in my room for a bit. I did that on purpose so that I wouldn't have to waste time going back and forth to the venue more than once. My (new) plan was to get there in the early afternoon for a pre-ride and then hang out at the venue until it was time to pick up my registration packet. At that point, I probably should have just planned to make a new plan instead because that was out the window after less than half an hour into the pre-ride.

The first climb on the SM100

I started the climb feeling pretty good, but  a little hot. It was oppressively hot and humid in Virginia on Saturday - probably around 90 degrees and a beating sun with humidity hovering as close as possible to rain without the sky actually opening up. I was soaking wet less than five minutes into the ride and felt terrible by the time I hit the new (to me) single track section of the first climb. And on top of that, my bike was making more noise than an orchestra and I quickly realized that my saddle was about an inch too low. It was a miserable pre-ride and I got back to the car and knew that I had to head back to Harrisonburg right away to get to the bike shop before it closed to get a new chain (the one I had was SS-specific and was grinding on the narrow-wide chain ring) and adjust the saddle height and a few other things. And to add one final insult, I also had to stop somewhere along the way and get some new walking-around shoes because, as I was riding, the glue on the bottom of my sneakers melted in the heat and the soles separated from the uppers. (Seriously, that was a thing I dealt with on Saturday.)

So I spent the rest of the afternoon racing around between Harrisonburg, my hotel and then back to Stokesville to pick up my registration packet. (I did find a very nice cheap pair of Converse All-Stars, though, so that was nice.) And for one final "screw you", I managed to forget my front wheel in the parking lot of the hotel when I was heading back to Stokesville, so I had to race back to the hotel after I realized my mistake to pick it up. (Despite my stupidity in forgetting it, I did have the wherewithal to call that hotel and ask them to go grab it the moment I realized it wasn't in the car, which they did.) Not a great way to finish out the day before a race. Exhausted from a very bizarre day, I decided to just pick up the packet and then head right back to the hotel and try to get some rest rather than stay in Stokesville for the pre-race dinner.

That night, before I went to sleep, I called Joanna and told her that, based on the way I felt during the pre-ride, I was expecting another 12 hour day so I probably wouldn't be calling her until well after 6:00 the next night. And then I went to bed terribly disappointed. I had said all year that I wasn't going to let myself get caught up in any level of expectation for this race because if I had learned one thing in the two previous attempts, it was that a lot of things can go wrong in the span of 100 miles. But I have to admit that it was a pretty bitter pill to swallow knowing that despite all the training and effort, that 12 hour estimate was probably pretty accurate. Still, I went to sleep that night repeating the phrase, "you did all you could to get ready" over and over.

Tomorrow, the race itself (and, mercifully, the end of this loooooooong story …)




Thursday, September 4, 2014

Long Time Coming, Pt. 2 ...

Back in the beginning of May, my younger brother had his bachelor party in Chicago. It was a really fun, long, booze-filled weekend. And because of that, hen I flew home on Sunday it was the perfect time to begin my "official" training for the year. My plan was pretty simple - the only thing I could imagine that might make all those hills even a little bit easier was to carry less up them. And that meant losing weight - as much as I could without going too far that I had no energy. And that last part meant I wanted to do it quickly, so I had plenty of time to adapt on the bike. So on May 4th, I started eating clean and increased my mileage.

The "eating clean" part wasn't super extreme, but it was an adjustment. Basically, I started being very regular about what and when I ate - a bowl of granola in the morning, raw spinach with some deli smoked turkey and a small yogurt for lunch, and then some chicken or turkey breast with some beans or rice for dinner. And absolutely no snacks between meals. I drank only water and one glass of chocolate milk per day and gave up alcohol entirely for the first month. To keep it sustainable, I had one cheat meal per week (usually, Joanna and I would hit Chipotle for dinner on Friday) and if I was burned out on the same dinner night after night, I substituted a small panini and some sushi from Wegman's. In all, I was probably eating about 1300 calories per day. That was a pretty big reduction in calories, but it was actually surprisingly easy to do. To be fair, the first week was very easy because I was still recovering from my weekend in Chicago, and maybe after that I had adapted enough to be in a zone or something. Whatever the reason, I really never felt like I was all that hungry, which was kind of surprising considering that I was also increasing my miles on the bike significantly at the same time.

The first week and a half, I saw very little weight loss. When I started, I weighed 174, and I was only five pounds lighter after the first two weeks. But I knew that could be deceiving and that the key was to stay the course. By the end of May, I had started to gain some momentum and I was at about 160. And a week later, I was at 155. At that point, I "relaxed" my efforts in the sense that I allowed myself an occasional beer and ate "normally" for special occasions (like my brother's wedding in the middle of July), but other than that, I stayed with my plan. By the end of June, I was maintaining my weight between 150 and 154.

At the same time, I had not only increased my mileage but I was pushing my effort more.



My singular focus for the year remained the SM100, but I started to see general improvement in performance in just about every other event I lined up for as well. In May, I took the win the 4 hour endurance class for the inaugural Woodstock Wrecker in Patapsco Valley Park outside of Baltimore. Then I had a pretty good ride at the Stoopid 50. (I went off course by four miles, but still finished in under 6 hours and felt good on a  tough course all day.) Then in July, I won the SS division of the Stewart Super Six Pack, and followed that up with a win in the SS division of the half-marathon at Rattling Creek.

Despite the successes, it wasn't all smooth. The diet never caused me problems, but over the course of the summer, I definitely hit a few pitfalls. In fact, I got injured the first ride I did when I got home from Chicago in early May when I end over the bars and landed chest-firt on a thin tree stump. That was a tough hit and it took me a few weeks to really feel better. But by far the most disruptive thing I dealt with all summer was work.

In June, I got involved in a project that had a lot of very tight deadlines and required huge amounts of data. Over the course of the summer, and especially as I got closer to the end of August, I was working a lot of very long hours, including one particularly nasty 48 hours straight the two days before the Rattling Creek Marathon (which was why I ultimately decided to do the half-marathon instead of the full 50 miler.) I had been on a pretty nice schedule of riding every day, and the long hours at work threatened to derail it all. I decided that I wasn't going to let that happen no matter what, but I have to admit that it got pretty tough a few times. I was lucky that I could sneak in a few rides before work - other than that, I probably would have fallen off my plan. Ordinarily, I'm pretty lucky as work-life balance goes. But I was on an understandably short timeline with what I was working on, and that meant I had to fit a lot of work into a few weeks. It was just unfortunate that it happened to fall at the same time as the run-up to Shenandoah. The last day I was at work before leaving for Virginia, I worked 13 hours.

And there was one other issue that arose that same week. A week ago, I made the decision to race the Fair Hill Endurance race in Maryland and when I went to clean my bike up the night before, I discovered a crack in the non-driveside chain stay.

Not exactly what you want to see the week before your biggest event of the year ...
Now, I knew right away that I could always race the Misfit, but I hadn't done so in over a year. I took it to Fair Hill, which now became a lot more important because now it was a shakeout ride for a bike I hadn't used in a race in a long while. Meanwhile, Joanna took the Niner frame over to Scott at Evolution to see what my options were. I didn't have much hope, but I figured it was worth a try. The ride at Fair HIll went pretty well on the Misfit, so I wasn't devastated by the loss of the Niner, but at the same time, after spending the whole season on the Niner, it wasn't exactly ideal to lose it so close to SM100.

And so a week before the race I'd focused on all year, I was spending all my time at work and was now without the bike I planned to ride. Not the best way to close out a training block …

To be continued.