Lutsen 99er 2015

Pre-amble 

I'm not sure who's idea this was.  Lutsen MN. Near Grand Marais. North of Duluth. If you're thinking that's close to anything, you are very mistaken. Or you live in Two Harbors.

At this point I'm firmly blaming Conrad, but I was complicit. I have not made a journey to the Upper Midwest to ride with Conrad, though he has been to the Southwest and Michigan many many times.  The Cheq40 has been calling...but this time, it was Lutsen.  Plus, the idea of a 100 mile event in the middle of the summer was appealing...force me to get 100 miles in pre-Leadville. So an adventure was hatched. Vacation plans were turned into silly putty, and I found myself bound for the Northwoods!

(by the way, I'll get some pictures in here soon)

I'm Strong, really

I came into this thing thinking I was going to crush it. 7 hours max. Maybe even 6.5. I had set goals for 8 hours, but fully expected to be well ahead of them and accelerate.  7000' of climb in 99 miles, no altitude to speak of, 1000 of those feet came in the first 5 miles. 

In my (tiny, pea sized in fact) brain, this was a dead simple, if long, course. I've done 5 hundos all much harder. Heck, the 40s and 50s I've done are harder. I was thinking I had a great track to see what I could pull out for 99 miles. 

As you can tell by the past-tense of the expectations...things works out a little differently.

My pre-race prep was sketchy at best. I had plenty of training, but the three days leading up to the event were...challenging.  So let's start this one on Thursday. 

Excuses

I flew from Phoenix to Detroit with my three girls Thursday morning. I had a decent breakfast at home, but I could not bring myself to eat airport or airplane food for lunch. So, I ended up with no lunch. Probably good, as one of my kids had a "motion sickness incident" on the plane (fortunately, right as we parked at the gate!) Mom had made a big dinner, but I was too keyed up from the plane incident and too busy trying to get everyone settled to eat enough. I had basically one chicken drumstick and some rice...or about 1/2 what My 10 year old ate. Oops. 

I didn't get to bed until 1230. I had a 6am wake up to get to the airport. Mom had no coffee, so my first coffee was at the National Coney Island at metro, where I had an omelette. This was the best food of the day. (By the way, for all you travelers, if you find yourself at Detroit Metro airport, the full size National Coney Island, not the express, is a really good option.  It is a real diner with actual cooks -- pretty tough to find in an airport). I knew I needed to eat more at first opportunity, which would be Midway. But the options at Midway were not good, so I had a soggy veggie wrap, for some unknown reason. I'm sure the vitamin content was there...calories not so much.  Due to various delays, got in about 90 min late to MSP,  Conrad picked me up and we headed for Duluth to pick up the rental bike.  I ate a Kind bar in the car that Conrad had stashed.  He did text me the menu of a really nice looking lunch place where he was getting road food, but I did not listen to his hints and just got a beet-carrot juice.  Didn't eat dinner until 8:45 and it was 2 small tacos at a brewery.  

Breakfast!

So between Thursday and Friday I ate enough for Thursday. I was missing like 2500 calories, in the 24 hours before a 100 mile event.  This was not good. 
Also realizing I am not drinking enough water day to day. I have fallen out of the habit...and this was going to become very important around mile 50. 

Finally, as part of my ace race prep, I got to bed about midnight for a 4am wake up. 

That sleep thing I am sure did not set me up well. 8 hours over 2 days is half what I should be getting. Half the food and half the sleep needed...hmmm. 

Dinner was here.  good beer

What I did not realize on race morning was just how detrimental not sleeping was to performance, and the importance  of eating the day before race day.  I knew I was behind, but figured I could just power through with a solid breakfast (at a fantastic little diner in Lutsen by the way), extra coffee, and by sticking to the nutrition plan. 

More Excuses...it is all about the Bike

Bike.  With Number

For this 99 mile adventure, I'd be riding a rental bike. Many bad decisions led up to me renting the bike, which I will complain about now.  Damn thing was easily 30lbs.  And no, it wasn't a fatty. Front shock was a spring, no damping. Rear shock had a shitty damper, so it was like riding on a trampoline, but with slower rebound. The left crank arm was bent slightly inward which I could feel every time I hit the bottom of the pedal stroke, making it feel like my left foot was going to slide and unclip from the pedal. The grips were slightly too big for the bars, width wise. This made the handling a little iffy as I usually have my hands right at the edge of he bars.  It also had a 3x9...so that sucked. Given the previously mentioned shock issues, I rode he thing locked out most of the time.  So I was dragging around a FS frame which weighed as much as Conrad's Mukluk, with none of the suspension or wide tire benefits. Sweet. 
However, Ricky MacDonald is a dude who has ridden Leadville 21 times on a Huffy. He has buckled (under 12) every time and gone sub-9 a few times. So there goes the bike excuse. As they say in Leadville, any bike can do it. The rider is another matter.

 
So that's my long pre-amble. Chock full of excuses for what comes next. Buy if you know me, it's worth hanging out till the end, because I do learn something. 

Riding While Ignorant of the Doom

The race is staged around a ski area. It's one of the ones you drive up to, and take runs down - so your "last run" better have time to get a lift back up to the lodge.  Not a familiar set up for you Mountain West types, but happens in the east and midwest all the time.  We were starting at the Lutsen Lodge area, which was about 2/3 of the way up the mountain. 
Me, Conrad, and his friends Matt and Taylor lined up toward the front, not looking for a jump in position, but rather to avoid any potential wrecks. Very casual startline...which was awesome. Nothing worse than a MTB race with a bunch of folks all thinking they are getting World Cup points for a top-10 finish. 

The start was controlled, as it is 2 miles straight down the ski hill road, and it's not a mistake that the Strava feed says 45mph. Very nervous, as this was not the group of people I wanted to be riding close to at 35+ mph. Amateur mountain bikers don't know how to ride in a group (me included), and there were the "special tools" who were hammering down the (gravely) shoulders trying to gain position. WTF, really?  The bike (previously complained about) was mostly stable, but started to get twitchy above 35 mph. Fortunately one good thing was the hydraulic brakes, so I had some attenuation and was able to make the turn into Highway 61 (yes THAT Highway 61) unscathed. 

The race really started with about 5 miles of steady Midwestern climb. Meaning, mostly uphill with a few rollers to give you a break. This felt pretty good, and my HR was in check even though I could feel the extra weight of the bike. Strava says I pushed 300W for this segment, but it was definitely more because strava assumes my bike weighs 24lbs.  I have not done that math, but whatever.  The 4 of us mostly rode together, with just a little yo-yoing as our legs warmed up. 

I knew I was in for quite a day when we turned off the road for the first time and onto a snowmobile trail. I unlocked the suspension and felt the bounce of the minimally damped shocks. Sure it was cushy, but the bike went nowhere fast when I applied power to the pedals. So, I locked out again, and figured if a big hit blew the suspension, I had paid $10 for up to $500 in damage. 

For those in the know, the terrain was much like the VASA section of Iceman, though the climbs felt a bit longer.  You could see the top of all the climbs easily, unless they turned. Also, no sand. Instead lots of rocks and dips hidden by grass. If I had been on a FS bike worth its salt, would have been great (I know, I'm complaining about the bike again). 

This is where we lost Matt and Taylor who were quite fast and had trained for this as their #1 ride of the season. At least, that's what I'm telling myself. I'm peaking in 7 weeks...

For the next bunch of miles I felt good. I was gapping Conrad on lots of the climbs, though I was slowish on the descents. Conrad was eating. So I remembered to eat too. Caramel macchiato and salted Carmel GU. Yummy!  (Seriously...like spread that stuff on toast yummy)

We had about 10 miles on those trails then blissfully hit some gravel road. I opened up a bit again here, and the pattern was pretty steady. I was gapping Conrad on the climbs, and he would catch up on downhills. Did some road tactics, drafting off some guys, and felt solid coming into the mile 23 aid. 
Took on some water and a waffle, and got rolling. 18 miles before we were right back here, so we did not need much. 

We then started an 18 mile double-loop we would do twice (on the map its that figure 8 looking thing on the north east side). It started out with a few miles of dirt rollers.  The dirt roads here were true gravel...like 1-2" deep and a little loose, so you were always looking for the worn line, or the gravel would slow you right down. Played some more road tactics here and grabbed onto a big group which made about 2 miles a total breeze. Then it was back on the snowmobile trail. Steeper climbs here, much like Iceman. Also a bit slick. Since I have not complained about the tires yet, I will now. They sucked. Again, I reminded myself about Ricky. 21 years. 1 front tire. Get over yourself Rohit. 

Popping out of the bottom half of the figure 8 there was some gravel climbing to the top bit of the 8. This section was damn tough. The ground was soft and energy absorbing, but (thankfully) not muddy. Rolling climbs with rocks that sucked up all the energy. Very, very tough riding...lucky to hit 12mph on the flats and 15 on the downhills. 

Came out of there and onto more gravel roads.  We were riding along a ridge that was the local high point. This for me was the best part of the course. You could see Lake Superior off in the distance, and smaller lakes to the north.  Tons of purple and yellow wildflower as and tall pines all around. Summer in the North Country in all her glory... Pretty amazing. 

We got to the 43 mile aid intact. Picked up drop bags here and of course Conrad had to strip to reapply his butt cream. Did he do this a little away from the road? No. He just dropped trou right on the course. I was mortified, thirsty and wanted a waffle. So I rode on the 100m or so to the actual aid. Conrad caught up, we ate, drank, messed with bikes and rolled out. 

Not really stronger than most of your friends, Mr Bery

Miles 43-61 were a repeat of the figure 8. This is were it all came apart for me. About a mile from the aid I stood for a little climb and heard the *ting* of a breaking spoke from the rear. I looked down, no wobble. So I rode on. Turning onto the snowmobile trails I knew it was going to be a tough ride. We hit a little "streamlet" crossing with some rocks at the bottom of a hill and I heard something break on the front of the bike. Something definitely had going bye-bye in the fork, but it was still locked out, so onward.

 
Conrad started gapping me on the hills. My HR was good, but the power was dropping. Then he started to play this incredibly irritating game of pretending not to wait for me. I told him like 3 times to ride on, and he kept slowing at the top of climbs. I was like "dude. Get the F- outta here...you're buggin me!"  Finally I caught him once and he was not picking up the pace so I passed him. Turns out he was a bit gassed...so I was now irritated at myself for being irritated. Me in a bad mood during a race is not a good sign.  I'm always happy when I'm racing!  And here I was with a cloud of bad attitude while I'm riding with my friend...the whole reason I came to this place 2 hours North of Duluth in the first place!

The top half of the figure 8 was painful. I developed cramps in the adductors, downed the Rocketlytes, and kept pushing. Also discovered the seat post clamp (QR style) was not holding the seat post in place, so my saddle was steadily dropping. Which kinda sucked. 

Popping out onto the road, my saddle was now all the way down, so I had to stop and fix. The act of dismounting and bending over to deal with this caused full on leg cramps.  If you've never had this happen to you on a bike, let me explain.  You fall over like a tipped cow.  

So there I was at mile 55-ish, laying on the side of the road. Conrad was there, but pretty much useless, because what could he do?  Course marshals on motos came by, I assured them I was just in pain, but not hurt physically.  Mentally, and emotionally, I was crushed. 

I was in pain, and I was confused. I'm not an expert endurance racer, but I'm no slouch. Why was I cramping less than 4 hours into a race with somewhat limited obstacles?  I figured the cramps would come...at hour 6. I was hitting the Rocketlytes waaaay early. Fear and Doubt and self loathing were creeping in. What the heck was I doing out here NORTH of Lake Superior??  What was Conrad doing standing there?  Why would he not leave?  

After what seemed an eternity but was really not that long of writhing on the ground I managed to get it together and start rolling. Thankfully while I was mentally cursing Conrad he had raised my saddle to a reasonable height and cranked down the bolt on the QR. I was riding again, and really hurting. 

This is where I discovered just how bad a place I was in. I was fully in the pain cave trying to spin and will the cramps away with high rpm soft pedaling. Conrad is riding next to me/slightly off the front with no hands. We were on a dirt road. If he had a bobble he was going to take us both out. Instead of focusing on making my legs do what they did not want to and pushing more fluids, I was worried about Conrad crashing me. I was irritated at my friend of 20+ years who is a master bike handler...I have seen this guy hit a rock on a technical climb, allow his bike to roll backwards, pick a new line, and accelerate up the hill.  He was NOT crashing, and yet....the thought of it  was definitely interfering with my recovery. That's the bad pain cave dark place defined. 

tick tick tick

I was staring at the Garmin, willing the miles to tick up. I knew if I made it to 61 I'd be at the aid, and could just get a ride back to the ski area and drown my sorrows at the beer tent. Cramps were not going away, and I was starting to feel ill from trying to solve the issue by drinking too much Roctane and Carborocket.  I had resolved to quit at the aid station.  I would find someone with a truck, and be done.  

Somehow, on the the final small climb up to the aid station, the cramps subsided.  This was the cycling godsp laughing at me.  They could have made me fall over in a heap of cramped. dehydrated, unmotivated sweaty cyclist and lycra.  

Instead, they told me I could move forward. The cycling gods are mean.
My resolve to get a ride to beer lessened, and I decided to just sit in the shade for a bit eating a honey stinger waffle and drinking plain water for a while. Conrad came along and I told him to ride on, and that he was being irritating.  I don't think it was offensive, as it was clear I was not in a good place. So Conrad rolled out. 

I got a couple fig newtons and saw a woman named Bonnie Moebeck roll up on a fat bike. She looked to be hurting a bit, and I think was looking for Gatorade that had run out but she was pushing forward. She's got an amazing story (misadventure racing...read it).  I gave her a cheer, and she said it was nice to see me. I've never met this woman, but she was channeling positive vibes my way. 

Some combination of fig newtons, waffles, water, shade, having Conrad ride on, a few words from a woman I've never met and people asking me if I was buying beers at the line (I was wearing my DC kit) got me moving again. 
For the rest of the ride, there was aid every 10 miles. Very easy to chunk up in my head.  Plus, I did not need to carry as much water since it was at worst 90 minutes to aid, more like 50-60. So I filled the camelbak half way, and rolled on. 

The Cycling Gods hate me

The race was now on gravel roads or 2-track for most of the rest of the ride. Much easier to deal with, though not without its complications. 
I caught and passed Bonnie about mile 64. I told her I was in pain and she laughed. That laugh is like rocket fuel. I highly suggest riding near Bonnie in your next race. 

At about mile 65 there was a huge muddy area of he road caused by a beaver dam. I guess you could have ridden it, but I was walking. As I was about 2/3 of the way across the cramps came back and both legs locked solid. I fell over and on the way down my arms cramped. 

So there I was, laying face-down in like 3" of mud with another 3" of water on top. I could barely move. I was thinking "I'm going to drown in a bike race in a fucking mud puddle". People passing me asked if I was ok, but everyone riding at that point was suffering pretty badly so they just keep rolling. I did get myself up after probably not all that long, and staggered forward covered in fairly foul smelling muck. I managed about 10 steps trying to work out the cramps when a whole bunch of Roctane, GU, Fig Newtons and whatnot came out the way they had gone in. 

For some reason this made the cramps go away. And allowed me to get back on the bike.  As I pedaled away from my vomit, I made another resolution. When I saw the "1/4 mile" sign for the 71 mile aid I would pull over, and rip the dérailleur off the bike. Then I could claim a major mechanical, get a ride back and start drinking beer. I would also take out some aggression on the bike I was really hating.

Greasy Shoulder Pat

Once again, as I rolled up to the aid, I started feeling better (dammit Cycling gods!  will you not just smite me!?!?). I got some water, hosed myself off a bit (no one mentioned seeing vomit, but it was good to spray my face) and took a seat on the back of a panel truck they were using for supplies. I was sipping a bottle of water and overheard the aid station mechanic chatting with another volunteer about how awesome it would be to have the time to ride races like this instead of having to work them. He then walked over to me, Asked how I was doing.  Suggested that I needed a whiskey instead of whatever mantra I was saying.  I knew that dude was down...because of course, Whiskey is My Yoga.

So that kid with the cheap blue sunglasses and 80s style checkerboard painters cap got me thinking.  All those thoughts about being lucky to have the time and money, the physical health, and the friends and family to do crazy shit like this came rushing back. 

Kid with the blue glasses and the greasy shoulder pat got me rolling. 

10 miles to the 80 mile aid. 

Spinning Home

The power was coming back. Not full power by any means, but just enough to make the climbs with a bit of vigor. I was chatting with racers again. Playing a game of "yo yo" tag with 3 other riders as we all gained and lost strength. 
The 80 mile aid wa staffed by some sort of girls group. So all these 10-12 year olds were handing out supplies, which was cute. They also had cans of Coke. 

Coke is the fuel of life the last 20% of an event like this.  I put down 3/4 of a can, and off I went. Into the thunderstorm. 

Miles 81-91 were pretty much a straight rolling gravel road. And it was raining hard in a flash storm that you get. It felt great. Cleaned me off, and cooled me down. A girl in pink caught me at about mile 86 and we rode together. She unapologeticaly drafted off of me on the flats and climbs, but being lighter could not keep up on the descents. I started talking about about being "into" this hundred mile race thing. She was into the gravel ultras. We both were having bad days and talked about how there was no way to walk in the door at home and tell the kids you quit...so we rolled on. 

Mile 91 aid was actually at mile 92.4 which was a bit of a mind fuck. 
But they had coke, and beer, and maple syrup. I had a coke, and the idea of a beer was good. Clearly I was recovered. 

Last 7 miles were actually pretty cool single track until the very end when we were going up a dirt road in the ski area for about mile to the finish. We went under a bridge about 30 ft above us with spectators.  Conrad yelled for me, which was great. Some obnoxious 20 yr old was yelling "pedal pedal paddle paddle" so I flipped him off. Appropriate DC jersey behavior. 

9:40 official. No DNF. I got an axe blade medal I can't take on the plane, but at least it's a bottle opener.  

Still Grateful

So that race is in the bag.  I was 2 hours plus off my time.  I did get to ride with a great friend, make some new ones, and see a part of the country I had never laid eyes on.   I was reminded of where my inspiration comes from, and found ways to extract it when I'm at the darkest point in one of these "bad ideas".  

A week after Lutsen I was back into the big miles, riding past corn and wheat during cool July mornings in Michigan.  Leadville is 6 weeks away.  That's enough time to build a little more strength, reinforce the riding motivation, and get into that race day groove.  I'll also remember the lady, the kid, and the friend who got me going at the darkest points...that's where the true strength comes from.  

Made it.  There's a smile there. 

Everything is Better Now

Race Report Whiskey 50 2015

The Whiskey has had my number.  Before last Saturday's, I had 3 starts, and one finish.  2012, I was in the fetal position on the side of the road, and needed a lot of water and food from a marshall to keep moving.  I paced behind his 4-wheeler up Copper Basin road, and might have grabbed on a few times.  That's a DSQ, though the time was recorded at nearly 8 hours.  2013, I ripped the derailleur of my bike at mile 10.  That ends your day on a dual suspension mountain bike.  2014 was epic -- a journey for sure but not quite the race you look for in Arizona in April.  5:51.  I came into the 2015 edition feeling pretty fast, and with a kind of crazy goal.  I made my first mark this year -- under 3:30 for the McDowell 40.  I was going for 4:30...

The Whiskey

I'll say it.  The Whiskey Off Road is the best one day race west of the Mississippi!  (Iceman gets the title east of the Mississippi)!  Yes, I know, I know.  Sacrilege to many what with Downieville, Leadville, Bailey Hundo, True Grit, Crusher in the Tushar, and countless others out here.  But this event really does it all.  A true mountain bike course that tests climbing, descending, and technical ability like no other I have ridden.  An in-town venue where the whole community supports and benefits from the event, beer garden, live music, close to camping for those who do it, great organization, and great people.  The amateur race is sandwiched by a pro criterium on Friday, and the pro XC on Sunday (and when I say pros, I mean pros...the world champion, national champion, etc. etc.).  You've got a whole weekend ready for the taking.  OK, enough gushing, time for the racing.

Course

A friend said the Whiskey is not for the faint of heart.  I think she knows what she's talking about because everytime I see a picture of her on Facebook, seems like she's standing on a podium.  And while it's a little intimidating, it is a TON of fun.  So the particulars...

Almost 50 miles (48.5 miles according to Garmin).  7280' of climbing according to the official map (about 3000 of which comes at one time from miles 25 to 36).  I like to think of this course in 6 segments:

1. Road climb out from the start. This is a 4.2 mile pavement climb.  It's pretty steep in spots. Key here is to go fast so you are not bottle necked on...
2. Forest single track. About 7 miles, mostly up, mostly awesome. Tops out around 6800'
3. Descent on trail 220 and forest road connector to copper basin road. Wicked downhill followed by a moderate climb before taking a left onto...
4. 9 mile descent to Skull Valley. It's great because you know you get to turn around and...
5. 14 mile HC climb to Sierra Pieretta overlook. Pain. 
6. Last 10 miles. Mostly descent from Sierra Pieretta, plus "cramp hill", water crossings, the creek, and the road home.

Being my 4th year I knew exactly what I was getting into.  So after a 4am wake up, meeting up with my buddy Randy, 5am departure, 90 min drive to the start, and a little pre-race prep...it was time for the shotgun!

Racing Day!

Randy Ready to go on Whiskey Row

And really, that's what the Whiskey 2015 was about.  I drove up with my friend Randy.  I got to high-5 Kaolin, the combustible tumbleweed, before the start.  I got a hug from Kaolin at the finish.  I had a few minutes to chat with Rad Brad Keyes, and get a few half-evil single serves (which if you're an endurance person or pretend to be one, and you're not drinking half-evil for fuel...you should try it) and CR Clean Bottles.  My friends Trina and Adrienne made the drive to ride some awesome singletrack and cheer us at the finish.  2/3 of the way up the climb from skull valley I got Fireball from the DC crew, which gave me the reason to keep the pedals turning those last few miles up that damn road.

Significantly for me, I got to wear my Shadetree jersey.  The Shadetree is the  first shop jersey I have ever owned. I'm not on a team, Not in "the club".  I don't make it to the weekly group ride - and likely couldn't keep up with it if I did.  Despite not being part of the lifestyle, Joey, Mark, Spencer, and the rest of the gang there have always treated me like I mattered.  They know that I'm not standing on any podiums, but having bikes that work, and work well is really really important.  Just as important for me as for the hard guys (and women) who finish races an hour before I do.  A good tune, round wheels and a shock that works can make the entire weekend (and therefore the week) sooo much better.  Shadetree represents what biking should be about in my mind -- turning pedals to have a great time.  And if that means going fast, or shredding singletrack, or just cruising to the bar, that's all good.  Joey's passion and craftsmanship are second to none.  I was proud to fly the colors, and hopefully Joey won't ask me to please not wear his jersey anymore.  

I'm sure it was the good mojo flowing through the Shadetree kit that made my day.  I PR'd everything, and on every section the course had someone giving me the "hey -- Shadetreeeeee".  I cheered for the DC guys going by, and got a few cheers in return.  Well, the CR half-evil and rocketlytes helped a lot too, but suffice it to say I put in a record time for myself on the course.  5:10 official.  4:58 according to Strava.  Top half of the field.  I'll take it.  4:30 was a bit of a pipe dream, and gives me a reason to sign up for 2016.

The Whiskey 50 2015 I got to check off three big items from the list.
  1) wear a shop jersey in a big race.  
  2) get a handup from the DC crew in a race (as Endless bike girl says:  "Drunkcyclist...making life worth living one fireball handup at a time" 
  3) Have a great day on the bike at the Whiskey.

done, done, and done.If you're interested in the gory details of the lung busting climbs, insane downhills, and multiple (5, 6?) stream crossings, let me know and I'll email them to you.  Or look at the Strava here.  I had that post written up, but went with this one instead, because good friends, good people, and great vibes is what riding a race is all about for me.  

Giddyup! 

Rohit Bery Smile

This was a fast section...props to the photog!

I've looked better at the finish

Rewards

Decisions

Saturday I race the Whiskey Off Road 50 for the 4th time.  I DNFd once, should have been DSQ once, and last year gutted out rain/sleet/snow/dirt/wind insanity.  Hoping this year is truly a great day on the bike.  

The Whiskey feels very "Arizona".  Laid back vibe with riders who can rip your legs off going uphill, and demonstrate that you're a giant wimp going down.  No matter what you do on the course, there's great people, good music, and good beer at the finish line.  

There's also a little bit of a scene...

My prep is what it is.  I may ride faster than before, I may not. I have my list of stuff to take, nutrition to take on, etc.  I don't have to worry about podium position, so I put the knobby on the line, and take the (hopefully less than) 5 hours to enjoy riding as fast as I can with no other worries.  Nice bonus that people will have some food and water for me along the way, and I get a glass when I finish.  

My kit is usually utilitarian.  Shorts that fit, a jersey that lets me put stuff in the pockets and does not itch.  Socks that don't hurt my feet.

This year I have a decision to make. Two pieces of kit arrived in the mail this week.  Do I wear the colors of my favorite shop (RIP Nobilette Cycle Cellar), or do I wear the colors of what can best be described as a "movement".  Whatever happens Saturday, I know one thing.  Flying with Shadetree or DC will make me feel a little more like an AZ MTBer when I'm done.  

MARC in the Park

March 28th was the MARC in the Park relay race.  4 hot laps by the team at McDowell, just under 18 miles per lap.  It was a fun day riding for about 1:11, then chillin' out whilst the team brought it all home.  The course was fast -- 6 mile climb to start, followed by 6 mile descent, then 5 miles of desert rollers just to see if you have any juice left.  I turned in a lap five minutes faster than last year, and so I was happy.  Our team did well, 14/26.  Considering the top team had 3 legit semi-pros, and did not lap us, I say we were going fast.  Also happy that I did not get taken out by a deer on the course.  Because that happened.
More important than the details of my 1:11 pain fest where I managed to drop my water bottle 15 minutes in was the other stuff I learned or was reminded of on Saturday:

• Relay races are awesome, because the post and pre-ride hanging out happens the entire day
• I have some awesome friends.  Randy, Trina, and Pat are great teammates.  We had enough food and "hydration' for a 24 hour race...and we were there for 5 hours.
• Adrienne is a cool chick.  How many people say stuff like "when I was white water kyaking in Bhutan..."  Not many
• I suck at descending
• Girls on singlespeeds who drift the corners at 23mph with cactus on the outside of the turn are not going to let you catch them on the next climb...or the climb after that.  Or in the 100m sprint to the line as you try and make up that last bit on them
• People in Arizona are crazy fast

That is all.  Here are some pictures...mots courstesy of Randy, though I didn't ask him.  Hopefully he's not mad.

Desert mornings -- its a tough life sometimes

Early morning starts in the Sonoran

Race Plate!

Post lap Chillin with Adrienne

Randy, you happy?

Look -- Pat can sit like Adrienne.  I cannot

Iceman Jersey makes me look fat at the dismount line

Barry-Roubaix by Captain Slow

So there's a Bad Dad who has chosen to be named Captain Slow.  I asked him to share this story on the blog because it occurred to me that despite the fact that we are getting older and more decrepit, the gang continues to do some cool stuff on bikes that we might want to remember one day.  And since the internet is forever...

Of course, there's another captain slow, but this ain't him.  I've been running with this guy since we were 12.  Captain Slow has the essence of what it takes to be a great cyclist.  Dude knows how to suffer.  Then, when it seems like there's no more suffering to happen, dude hits the reset button and suffers more.  While I was riding in the desert this weekend enjoying my 80 degrees and clear blue skies, this man was riding a gravel grinder in Michigan where it was just a little colder.  People here in Arizona may be hella fast, but the dudes in Michigan take the cake for crazy.  Two of the biggest off-road events of the year are up there, Iceman and BR.  Both are in shit weather.  Both are sponsored by breweries.  Both are just a little bit of awesome.    

I'll leave the rest to him:

Captain Slow Rides Barry-Roubaix

First off I need to say that I had no plans to do this race.  I don't know shit about gravel riding, those dudes are crazy.  What happened was that in January I started trying to get in shape, promised myself a new bike as a reward for the winter trainer miles, ended up showing up 4 days early for a sale because I am a genius, got the bike on sale anyway, and looking for dirt to ride on (our trails are still in full fat bike mode), decided to go check out a newbies clinic and pre ride for the BR that weekend.  What a great day.  Sun, 50 degrees, new bike, good hills, I kept up.  Way more interesting than my scheduled trainer ride, and a better workout.  I got all psyched and signed up for the race.  

But because I am not a gravel racer, I figured this should just be another training ride, and since it is time to start doing longer rides, I decided to sign up for the 36 mile race, instead of the 24 mile course that I had just ridden and thoroughly enjoyed.  What?  Yeah, that's what I did.  

So I had to get up a little early on race day because the day before, when I saw the forecast low of 9 and high of 32, I got so depressed that I went to bed without getting any of my crap together.  I got up at 7, sorted everything by 7:30, and got to the race and checked in and parked with plenty of time to sit in the car before the start.  It was beautiful and sunny and 10 degrees outside.  Everyone in the parking lot was camped out in their cars and every now and then someone would venture out to use the porta-johns or to put a number on a bike or something and then dash back in.

By the time my race started at 10:12 the temperature had soared to 12 degrees and at the line I was actually pretty comfortable.  That ended about a minute into the ride, because my lungs apparently cannot tolerate 12 degree air in any significant quantity, so I started wheezing, which made it hard to get oxygen, to which my body's response is apparently a feeling of impending projectile vomit.  This is mile 1 as I am trying to stay in the opening surge.  

So I dropped out of the pack, dialed it back, and went into survival mode for a few miles that I don't remember.  But one thing I've learned in years of doing races for which I am ill-prepared is how to do survival mode (the other is how to pack a car quickly).  And, it turns out that I can survive faster than I used to, so by the time conscious thought returned, I realized I was still ahead of pace and feeling really not too bad. 

But kinda cold.  At one point I realized I was in my small ring by accident and went to shift and had trouble, and realized that was because I could neither feel nor move my left thumb.

It turns out that several miles of the added distance for the 36 loop are paved, which helped my speed, but not my temperature.  Halfway into the race when we got back to dirt, and it had finally warmed up a little, I realized that I felt about 10 times better than at the start.  After a long slog up a road that has ruts deep enough to earn it special mention on the map (during which I made a major tactical error in staying right in an attempt to keep out of the way), we got back to the part of the course that I knew, and the rest was no problem.  My legs got a bit sore toward the end, then I got a huge cramp as I was dismounting in the finish chute.  I guess that is a better time for it than most.

Time wise the ride was good.  I averaged faster than on the pre-ride and was hoping for 2:45 and going to be pissed if above 3hrs, ended up at 2:40.  Still only good for 85th of 104 in my age group but I was legitimately with people the whole time, instead of my usual race situation of late, which is off the back and/or walking a broken bike along the trail to the nearest out.  (So much for "training ride".  Already justifying...)

I definitely need to keep working on endurance.  I think I could have pushed harder on hills but may not have made the distance.  I am a lot faster on the flats than I used to be so I was yo-yo-ing back and forth thru the same group for quite a while.

[Captain slow did this race on a Salsa Spearfish.  Most people do it on cross bikes.  I pointed this out to him...]  I was trying not to play up the bike issue but yes I'm sure a couple pounds and a bit more stiffness could have helped, perhaps at the expense of comfort.  And an increased risk for mech failure as I saw a lot of those.  Either way 10-15 mins would move me a long way up the standings and I think that with a less disastrous start I would be part way there.  So we'll see about next year.

There were some nice flat stretches where I was spinning along at 20 mph passing people with no particular hassle. That is road bike speed for me so hopefully I will be even faster on the road - though maybe not so much, this is a good bike.

It was up to 33 degrees (!) when I put the bike back on the car.  That was better but still a bit chilly for hanging out solo at the beer tent, and the crowd/line situation was dense, so after double fisting 2 beers I decided to ditch my 3rd ticket.  (sad)  My body was feeling some effects.  I bought some chili and it was not good so I threw it out.  Should have braved the line for the pulled pork.  Or maybe not.

So the take-away here is that I owe beer to my bike shop guy, because if he had followed the rules, none of this would have happened.

Fat Tire 40 -- 2015

It's March in Arizona.  The 12 and 24 hour events are done for the year, the MBAA series is winding up, and racing is ready to move north to Prescott, Flagstaff, Colorado and Utah.  Nestled between the 24-Hours of the Old Pueblo and the Whiskey Off Road is the Fat Tire 40 (not to be confused with the Chequemegaon Fat Tire 40, or many other 40-mile races in the universe).  Lots of folks treat the race as the last longish ride of the season, perhaps a tune up for the Whiskey in a month.  For me, it's really the start of the season.  A chance to see if I gained any fitness over the winter, or (more likely) if I'm really just a slug mounted on a bicycle.

The Fat Tire 40 is also the first mass start race I did in Arizona.  in 2012, when I lined up for the 40, it was the longest mountain bike race I had ever done, and would be the most miles I rode on one day all year.  fast forward to 2015, and that 40-mile monster of a race is now just a morning ride.  The fact that there's a race plate on the bars and a start/finish just makes it a little more fun.  Here's to a little bit of clean living, and a little bit of being lucky and living in paradise. 

The race is contested on my home trails -- about 6 miles as the crow flies from the house.  Of course, that crow has to fly over some mountains, so it's more like a 25 mile/40-minute drive around the mountains to the start line.  The course is 40 miles of mostly single track -- sometimes true 18-24 inch single-track, sometimes it's more like a fire road.  It's all well ridden, mostly buffed out, and people riding the race knows the trails well - so the pace is super-fast.

New twists for this year included no time trial (yeah!), wave starts by age (yeah!), no reverse short-loop (yeah!) and leg markings (huh?)

The race is pretty casual -- no fancy build ups, just the usual collection of awesome people lining up and seeing how fast they can make their bikes go on a Saturday morning.  (as a total side note, many shop owners were noticeably absent from the race...perhaps they were making some money, perhaps they were sleeping in...those guys work their tails off, so any minute of rest they can get is well deserved).

As the race stated we entered the McDowell competitive tracks -- a race course right here in the desert.  Super tight, fast single track.  Little opportunity to pass or be passed...just put the hammer down, hold the line, and keep the pedals turning.  I mostly held the wheel of the rider in front of me. As expected falling back a bit on the downhills or the twisty sections, and catching up quickly on the climbs.  I felt really good -- never really out of breath, only pushing super hard on the T-bone ridge climb, and not crashing (key...)

About 6 miles in, the race turns off the competitive loops and onto a service road.  First real opportunity to pass, and I followed 2 riders passing about 4 slower folks as we went up the approximately 1-mile climb before getting to the Pemberton trail. We were all riding fast enough to be a little uncomfortable, but no danger of burning any precious matches.  A great Saturday morning in the desert, finding the right cadence, settling in, and getting that awesome feel of flowy desert single track under the wheels.  I happened to be in front of the line, but we were only going 15-17mph, and we had a tail wind, so the lack of a wheel to follow was not too painful.

As always seems to happen at this stage in a race there was "that guy".  "That guy" who even though the pro-ish level racers destined to finish 30 minutes in front of us were way off the front decides to ride the group like he's mounting a charge for the finish line on the Champs Elyse.  So this guy comes up, clips my bars (the trail is like 10 feet wide here) and cuts in front of me making some snorting noise about "holding the pace".  Looking over my shoulder there were like 6 guys on my wheel just hanging out...so I settle in behind Mr. "Hold the Pace", and see where this is all going.

He pulled us along for the next 3-ish miles as the race turned into the wind.  We were happy to let Mr. "Hold the Pace" do just that.

We turned off the Pemberton trail (and out of the headwind) onto some twisty and slippery (aka loose over hard) single track.  It's a ton of fun, mostly downhill 1.8ish miles.  I'm not so fast through the twisty stuff, so Mr Hold The Pace started to gap me in every corner.  I heard the guys behind catching up on every approach and every turn, but I accelerated out of every corner and never got in their way.  

Turning Left onto Escondido, again few opportunities to pass.  Newish singletrack cut into the sides of ridges and traversing (dry) washes for about 4 miles.  I passed a couple more guys here, and got passed by some of the younger racers who had started about 10 minutes behind us.  Soon enough, we started one of the main features of the race, a 7 mile climb at about 2-4%. Not real steep, but enough to let you know it was there.  Up Escondido and Up Pemberton we went.  This is where I put the hammer down.  Long, steady climb without a whole lot of technical moves?  Add two gears, and hang on if you want to draft...this is my section to shine on.  

Having done my research (and this being the 4th year) I knew this 7 miles would help me immensely in driving my time down and my average speed up.  The climb topped out just past 1/2 way in the race, and was followed by a nice long downhill pretty much to the next aid station than enabled recovery.  The climb felt awesome.  I passed 2 more folks, got caught by 1 more guy from a later wave, and hit the top of the climb averaging about 12.9mph, having improved about 1.5 mph from when the climb started...it felt awesome.  

It also felt a little tiring.  I was starting to feel my quads fatiguing... the tiniest of craps beginning to make themselves known as I accelerated out of corners on the downhill.  I slugged some more Carborocket333, and kept the pedals turning confident I would work those kinks out over the next few miles.

Off the Bluff trail climb and back onto Pemberton, we were hammering the downhill again.  Put 2 more guys behind me, and came into he aid station at 30 miles with empty bottles, and feeling pretty good.  2:15 at the aid station.  I was really hoping for a 3:15 race...and the last 12 miles were very do-able in an hour.  One last big climb in the race, then some ripping downhills to the last 5 miles on the "Long Loop".  I loaded the 2 water bottles, left my Carborocket333 single serve in my jersey pocket and headed out.

WHAT?

Go back and read that again.  Yes, 30 miles of riding hard in the desert sun had fried my brain.  I had the ultimate endurance drink in my pocket, in powder form, and somehow my little brain through it was a good idea to leave it there instead of put it in one of the bottles I HAD JUST FILLED WITH WATER!

Well my dear friends, you know EXACTLY what happens next.  I started hammering up the 1.2 mile approximately 5% climb...and about 2/3 of the way up I started to lose power, get some cramping in the right quads, and slowed waaaaay down.  You can see me slow down on Strava actually.  There's a little man with a sign on the segment.  The sign says "ROHIT LOST HIS MIND AND PAID FOR IT HERE X".  OK, I'm lying.  What you can see on Strava is me PRing every segment up until this one, and no-PRs for the last 10 miles of the race.

From that point, the race turned into a bit of a slog for me.  Legs were tiring, so it was hard to stand and absorb the bumpy technical sections.  The last 5 miles on the "Long Loop" are super roller-coaster ups and downs, lots of little drops, and several wash crossings.  Awesome when you're fresh, pure hell when you're tired.  I started hitting big rocks with the rear wheel, further slowing myself.  about 2 miles to go I finally got passed by the lead woman, who had started 30 minutes behind me.  Losing by 30 minutes to Kata Skaggs, is nothing to be ashamed of -- in fact, losing by 30 minutes to women in general is nothing to be ashamed of, but I did have this little sub-goal of somehow staying in front of them.  What I WAS able to to was get the heck out of the way so I did not interfere with the race.  That I took solace in.

I crossed the line in what I thought was 3:25.  Turns out it was 3:26.  that's not too bad.  12.5mph.  I was 13.3 mph at 30 miles when I forgot to add the nutrients and paid the price.  Overall, a great day on the bike,  Randy, Pat, and Trina all rode well.  Trina managed to get herself on the Podium for the 40K race -- and I love having friends on the podium!

It was a short celebration as I had to run for the airport to go help Priya in the LA marathon...she did awesome, and that is a story for another day

Looking forward to the MARC in the Park!  

86 -- hopefully not "done"!

Leg Markings!  Where's the Triathlon?

I should probably buy this one

On the plane to LA....seemed appropriate