Race Report: EFTA Glocester Grind--Gnarly Root and Rocks--Not for the Faint of Heart

New Race Report Format

After reading a recent race report by Mr. Sweeney over at the other blog, I have decided to follow his lead and make a template for my race reports. Instead of giving you a boring play by play about people who you may or may not know and/or care about, I will review the race itself, while offering a condensed version of my experiences in during the race. I am not sure how this will work out, so I will test driving this format until I either forget to do it, or I find that it isn't satisfactory.

The new headings will be: overall quality of the race, value (taking into consideration travel as well as race fees and perhaps lodging), race organization, attendance and depth of fields, safety (road/trail conditions as well as organization issues that impact rider safety), fun factor and what strengths the race rewards and which shortcomings it punishes.

Glocester Grind

Overall Quality

This race is awesome. At $25 + $4 for a One Day EFTA license, this race is more expensive than many mtb races, but it makes up for it by providing challenging trails and good, yet casual race organization. The short 1.5 hour drive and the excellent trails make this race well worth attending.

Value

I didn't preregister for this race. With race fee and EFTA license, it cost me $34 to race, which is pushing the envelope of acceptability. My driver, Mike Wissell was grumbling about purchasing yet another license. While EFTA seems to be a good organization, forcing me to purchase another license to race seems like gouging. Many of us already hold USAC and UCI licenses. A third license is excessive. You can purchase an annual EFTA license for $24. But remember that there are only 7 EFTA races. You'd have to make to all 7 to make buying the license up front worthwhile. I hate to say it, but for the number of races that you can use it for, the $90 USAC Road/Cyclocross/MTB license is looking like a bargain next to the EFTA license. Seriously, EFTA should just charge $4-5 more for the races and quit the day-off license shell game. The race is $29, not $25 as advertised. I'd rather just pay $29, than feel like I am being nickeled and dimed.

After the rant, this race was well worth the fees (upfront and hidden).

Race Organization

The directions to the race were mostly accurate (there were some distances that were incorrect). Registration was quick and simple (and the young woman who took my paperwork was chainsmoking). The races went off on time. Results were posted on a fancy electronic monitor quickly. I heard that splits were being posted while we were racing. One thing though, the display on the monitor scrolled confusingly. Fields were not well denoted. I know my finishing time and where I finished in relation to the other men who raced with me.

EFTA (and MTB in general) has too many categories. In Root 66 races, I get the pleasure of racing against Mike Wissell since we are both in our 30's (more accurately, I see his back at the start and then he watches me finish while wearing his street clothes). EFTA races further divide riders by age. I was got 5th place among 38 year old men who rode hardtails and didn't have tattoos.

There was no food or drink available to racers after the race. While I come prepared, this affects many mtb racers, as they have come to expect a BBQ, some local baked good and some drinks for sale after a race.

Payout was slow. Not as slow as Root 66 sometimes is, but slow. That said, they paid Mike $10 for first place. Cash is good. Waiting an hour for it...not so much.

Attendance

The race was well attended and it felt competitive. I say this mostly because I felt like I was constantly being passed. Actually I was. Since I was getting passed, the field was competitive. The elite field had about 20 riders, which seems big.

Safety/Trail Conditions

The trails were gnarly, which means that there was ample opportunity to crash. But the course routing and markings were great. The trails themselves were pristine. Apparently, this race is on private property and they only open the trails for this race. Damp and rooty. Twisty. Spiky rocks in the corners. Lots of threading the needle. I slammed my pedals into stuff multiple times a lap.

What You Need to Bring

Bike handling was key. If you were taking bad lines or squeamish about slippery roots and rocks, you were dropped quickly. There were a few power sections, but mostly you needed to keep your speed up through the technical stuff and rail the many corners. Line selection was more important than in any other mtb race I have ever done. Many of us found that running through the muddy rock gardens was faster.

A dual suspension bike would have been better than my hardtail. Oh well.

While I am no ninja, I rode well and didn't feel seriously disadvantaged, which is serious progress from last year. Last year, I would have left this race after one lap, crying.

My Race

I have been cycling little, so I was unsure how I would perform. I did fine. Also, my Fuji Mtb needs a tuneup and I failed to do it before the race. In fact, I was 5 minutes late to meeting my ride since I had to put a waterbottle cage on the bike on the morning of the race. It shifted rough and the rear wheel was wobbly for the whole race.

I had a shitty start and was last into the woods. I dismounted and passed 5-7 flailing riders in the first rock garden and that was essentially my race. I estimated that this move got me into 5th or so. I rode hard and kept a gap on my group, but watched as a group put time into me. After a 10 minute chase at an unsustainable pace, I settled in to a more reasonable pace and began recovering and conserving energy. I emphasized smooth flow over pure power and I think that this made me faster overall than if I had tried to dump everything into the pedals during the first half of the race.

I rode hard and concentrated on keeping the hammer down while selecting good lines (or as good as I could find). I made it a point to not ride any one's wheel at any time. The course was just too treacherous. Everything was damp and the rocks were often tall and steep enough to force you off of the bike if you came upon them with short notice.

Fun Factor

This was a great race. While my report is not very exciting, don't think that this wasn't fun. It was seriously fun. I will return next year, so should you.

Winding Trails Fat Tire Classic--How Many Ways Can RMM Suck in One Day?

I’ve been busy. Too busy to train. In fact, my training calendar was so sparse earlier in the Spring that I considered hanging up my road season instead of repeatedly wasting time and money in getting dropped out of easy races. More on that after Turtle Pond next weekend.

Mountain bike racing is different. Even if you finish DFL, you still get to complete the race and feel like you did something. Also, bike handling can often trump pure power, as is demonstrated season after season as road cat 4’s without an upgrade points stick it to soon-to-upgrade road 3’s weekend after weekend. But this offers me no reprieve, as the saturated trails have kept me from riding offroad much. So really, I was showing up to this mtb race with every disadvantage possible. No watts, no handling.

I rode to the race with Greg Whitney and Mike Wissell of Back Bay Cycling Club. I figured that driving to the race with faster off-road riders would make me fast. While their skills did not rub off, it was a pleasant ride where we discussed diverse topics such as: getting punched in the mouth, mixed martial arts fighting in the military, German scat porn, gambling in Thai sex clubs, skateboarding, neuroscience, METAL , fixed gears, Bicycle shops in Boston and Freds. Overall, interesting conversation.

Prerace was relatively uneventful, with the exception of preride. A number of riders, including myself, mistakenly thought that the previous race was over and we went to preride a particularly steep climb that occurs about 3 minutes from the finish (though I was unaware that this section was so close to the finish at the time). We jumped on the course and encountered the one deep nasty mud bog. We dithered and complained about getting our dry goods dirty before the race and were soon overtaken by other riders. I asked them if they were racing, while they were about 50 meters away. Here’s where the trouble starts:

A certain angry Cape Cod masters rider who I have seen unrepentantly interfering with cross races in progress was coming though (At Coonamesset 2008, he was loitering on the course in the logic line out of a corner during a race and when this fact was politely pointed out to him, he offered to punch the polite commenter out [I was not the commenter, nor did I comment]). I asked him if he was racing so that I could clear out if he was. He yelled at me to “get the F--- out of my way!” even though all of us were already off to the side of the trail at the time of my inquiry. I may or may not have called him a douche bag.

He verbally threatened me, using my last name. But he did not stop racing (at least he has priorities). I expected to get punched in the face on the starting line of my race. Since this didn’t happen, I expect that there will be some entertaining drama in the near future, as this dude is known to get into it (I have seen him in heated exchanges a number of times), maybe even more so than I am.

Back to the race. The start is a slight downhill into a sand section, where there is often crashes. 100 meters in there’s a rise, almost a climb which leads into some windy single and double track, which a good description of the course. My plan was to stick to the left of the course, as it was less loose and also offered a hard pack line on the climb, instead of the loose gravel and sand. I also planned to take the hole shot and blow up.

Wissell got the hole shot, I missed a beat clipping in. I get through the sand and climb drama free in about 7^th or 8^th. At corner 1, which was more than 90 degrees, a rider crashed, slowing several more riders. I rolled through incident free, now in the top 5.

I rode hard, made passes, got repassed. It hurt. The short story is that I blew up about ½ a lap into a 4 lap race. I was so slain that I almost pulled. In fact if the parking lot had been there at the moment when the parachute came out, I would have went to the car and cowered (and probably have received my punch in the mouth).

I tried to fake it. I rested and concentrated on not wasting energy and staying off the brakes. Riders streamed around me. I conceded to all of the riders in my chase group one at a time. The next group got me and I hung in for a bit, but at this point, I was in oxygen dept and handling the bike poorly, recovery was coming slowly and quite incompletely.

The course itself is twisty fast hardpack. There is no gnarly terrain, so bike handling should not have been a factor. In fact Wissell tried to reassure me before the race by saying that “there are few rewards for good bike handling on this course.” Little does Wissell know how poorly I handle a bike when I am out of practice and/or tired.

On the flats and climbs I was gaining ground, but as soon as there was a root or a turn, a gap formed. When people were on my wheel it was downright embarrassing. I started letting people by so that I could ride their wheel for a bit. Soon enough, I was getting passed by riders from other fields, since I was now riding DFL in the 30-39. I was passed by the 40-49 leaders. Single speeders came by me with little effort, scoffing at me as I hit the sissy switches before easy corners.

The race felt long to me. Last season I was a cat 2, racing 3 laps on most courses. Cross races are only 45-60ish minutes. Most crits are about an hour. 4 laps of mtb biking is more hard riding and self abuse than I am used to. Add to this my detonation at half a lap in and you can imagine my misery for the last 3 and half laps.

Wissell broke a chain, blowing a likely podium, as did good friend Cary Fridrich (Embronational) in the PRO race. I am not sure where Greg finished in the PRO race, but surely well.

I finished my race. Normally, I race bicycles. Yesterday, my performance was more akin to the hordes of people suffering through the Boston Marathon with no chance of placing, no real concern with their time, their only goal to finish and have a story to tell--“I finished the Boston Marathon”--and to get a $2500 Boston Marathon branded warmup jacket that they can where to running club events.

The race wasn’t a total loss: I was slapped in the face by my inadequacies, which helps me know what to work on when a precious afternoon unexpectedly frees up; I have a tongue lashing and possibly a punch in the mouth coming my way in the coming weeks; and I made a couple of friends, Greg Whitney and Mike Wissell are both solid and interesting dudes, who I hope to share a few more rides with soon.

Race Report: Hodges Dam Village Dam Race 2009

Beforehand/Background

Perhaps I am delusional. Or perhaps I have am hyper averse to sandbagging. All summer I have maintained that I would be upgrading after this race. This season, I have consistently placed top 5 in Root 66 cat 2 races, podiuming most of the time. My plan was to rest up and slay this race. It is the Mtb Massachusetts State Champions and I like gold medals. But we all know how that goes, planning on slaying a specific race...

While this is my first season racing mountain bikes, I have raced this course the previous two years with my wife. It has become sort of a tradition with us. She is more involved and interested in mountain bikes while I am more into road. Obviously we both share a love of cyclocross. But this race has become "our" race, since it is the only mtb race that I have done before this season and I used to do it in order to race "with" Natasha. I usually do well on this course, so I was confident.

Pre race there was little drama. The wife and I (who I had to prod and cajole into racing [she had hoped to upgrade before this race, she didn't feel good, she isn't trained], in fact, I had to give her registration money in cash in order to finally convince her to prereg) arrived about two hours early. We dressed, ate, got numbers, warmed up and prerode the first third of the course without incident. I felt good. Normally, I show up to mountain bike races after hard training weeks, sore and already broken. Today, I felt supple and relaxed.

Earlier this week, I learned that Scott Rosenthal planned on racing the cat 2 race with me. I consider him my prime nemesis. In anything off road, I can't beat him.

When I was riding back from preriding the course (against the course direction), I passed Rosey going in the opposite direction. I felt that we were close to start, so being the gentleman that I am, I asked my opponent how long til start, indicating that we should be heading to staging. He assured my that he had time.

On the start line I was more nervous than normal. But no Rosey. I looking up from my fidgeting and adjusting, expecting to see him barreling the wrong direction down the starting straight. No dice. We started without him.

The Race

I didn't get the hole shot. In fact, I was about 8th in a tightly packed line heading through a long packed sand straight away. The lead rider tried to turn onto a trail that wasn't part of the course. He nearly took down Michael Wissell of Back Bay and caused major confusion.

After I settled in, it was clear that riders ahead of me had overextended themselves; I didn't want to overextend also, so I sat tight.

At about 3/4 of a kilo in, there is a slight kicker with loose gravel and sand. I should have used a match to gain a place or two, because the guy who's wheel I was on bobbled, which forced me to dismount, as I was riding his wheel way to close. Luckily, I dig hard when I run up and was able to pass him there even though he was riding and I was running.

The first single track section runs through a severely degraded forest. I suspect that sections have been recently harvested for lumber. The trail alternates between single track and twisty, gnarly dirt work roads. Most of the sections have a clear line that is smooth and flowy some with berms. The shoulders of the track are rideable, but bumpy and rooty. Passing in this section was possible but difficult since we were riding fast, the trail snakes around and undulates and when you built some speed to make a move, it was often squandered when you came off the smooth line to pass. I remained tight on the leaders' wheels through here, but was growing antsy, as I had gas in the tank and opponents were stacking up behind me.

About a quarter of the way through the lap, the trail becomes bumpier and somewhat slippery from a recent shower. There was a split in this section. 3 riders got away and I found myself behind the two riders who allowed the gap to form. I wasn't happy with the pace and was infuriated to see that I was getting gapped. No one was on my wheel. I panicked. I started darting into any offshoot that looked promising only to find the increased momentum causing me to bump around wildly. After 3 expensive attempts I settled in, planning to pass at the forced walk.

Yes, you read that right. There was a forced walk this year. There has been an over abundance of rain this season, and while most of the course was dryish, it seemed to become more saturated as the lap progressed. This first of four water sections was a flooded stream. Apparently it was deep. They had thrown a bunch of pallets in the water, called it a "floating bridge" and stationed a marshal there to make sure that you didn't try to ride it. Getting onto the pallets required you either to leap over 3-4 feet of deep water and risk slipping on the partially submerged wood or step up to your knee in the water and then up onto the sinking, sloshing pallets.

It paid to keep running after the floating bridge since remounting in the ensuing mudpit with its slick longitudinal roots didn't seem like the best way to clip in and build momentum.

After trying to pass for a mile or so, I was finally able to power around the guy ahead of me while on foot right after the bridge. Of course I did a wild cyclocross remount right in the middle of the trail to insure that he knew I was serious and so that he'd think twice about passing with my legs flailing about. I had to fight hard to keep my spot. He fought back and started playing chicken after we were back on the bikes. I yelled at him not to chop my wheel. He chastised me for passing him. I had the front and the advantage, but he took a few digs. I am no stranger to knocking handlebars, throwing elbows and shouldering. It didn't come to that. After he figured out that I was assertive, he backed off. When I finally dropped him, he was gone, long gone.

Now I was bearing down on Maison Chen whom I have been battling all season. I powered around Maison on a slight rise, apologizing for how close I cut it. I didn't endanger him, but it was a bit narrow. I had the momentum and there was a tiny space...

I dug deep to create a gap. Half of dropping someone is quickly creating that gap in order to break their spirit. If someone hovers in front of you, you'll be tempted to reel them in and pass. If they quickly ride away from you, you know you are bested and you sit up.

I got a 15-20 second gap inside of a kilo. The trail left the rocky section and fed onto a flowy, but slick and tacky section. I was still in the red zone intent on getting out of Maison's sight. I slid out and fell on a wet diagonal root at the top of a roller. This was not a tricky section. I literally riding far above my limit, with the vomit in my throat and seeing cross eyed. I just didn't see it. Of course it took a few seconds to untangle and remount. In my panicked mind, I had conceded the race to the 2 chasers. In reality, I got up quickly, recovered well and rode even faster.

There are a number of single track and also work road sections, all rather flat. These were good riding, but uneventful. I powered hard on the work roads, putting my roady power to good use.

But, but there were flooded stream/swamp crossings. There were 3 or 4 sections of trail/road that were fully immersed under water. They were all more or less rideable, but the water came up to my knees in one of them. One of the others had hidden rocks and ruts under the murky water that would knock you off balance unexpectedly. These crossings/wadings, didn't present a problem, but they were noteworthy. After reading Sweeney's rants about trail maintenance vs. abuse and about mtb race organizers losing venues because of trail abuse, the routing seemed ill advised.

There were a couple of sections of deep mud. One was about 20 meters long with roots. I ran this. The other was basically a deep divot on the trail filled with squishy mud. It had a high root on the other side. Visually, it looked like you could ride over it, but your whole front wheel sank in up to the quick release (26 inch wheels) and was unable to get over the root. I hit it every lap. First lap I made it through, second I endo'ed and bounced out of it while dabbing my foot, last lap I lost my front wheel and went over the bars. I can't be sure, but I think that it was getting deeper every lap.

The second lap was uneventful until the start/finish where Rosey was loitering in street clothes. He told me that I was 8 minutes down on first place. 8 minutes in two 30ish minute laps! Who the hell is this sandbagger? Well he is actually a friendly acquaintance of mine, Mike Wissell of Back Bay. I prerode the course with him. He was telling me that his upgrade requests have been denied by USAC since all of his results are at local races (read Root 66) instead of larger national events.

Mid Race Report Rant

I didn't realize that the new strict "national level event only" upgrade policy was in effect for cat 2 to 1 upgrades. Jesus Christ. To reiterate Sweeny's complaint (one amongst many): it doesn't matter who enters a local race and how much time you put into them, a Root 66 race is a regional race and results from those races can not be used for upgrade points. Let's use an example. If I beat the current cat 2 national champion in a clean Root 66 race (no mechanicals) and I had other Root 66 podium results, no matter, they will not allow me to upgrade.

Thanks USAC, thanks. Now I will have to explain to everyone why I am still racing cat 2 despite podiuming almost every race. Thanks. (Note: I am sending in an upgrade request later today. I expect that it will be denied)

Back to the Race

Seriously, my whole race happened in the first lap. After that, I kept the pace as high as possible and wished for death. I became sloppy in the second lap. I didn't crash, I just noticed that my lines weren't as precise and that I was hitting roots and rocks that I normally would have avoided. I passed a number of riders, most of them from other fields. Some may have been from my field, but I wasn't keeping count.

I finished strong. Sloppy, but strong.

Oh and I beat Rosey. He got to the Start late. He claims to have been putting a dent in the 6 minute deficit when he ripped his derailleur hanger off after either failing to change his chain or using a chain that was too short (his text left the details unclear). Getting to the start on time and maintaining a bike are part of racing, so I will call this my first win against Rosey offroad.

I rode as good a race as I am able. Every race I handle the bike better, becoming less of a roady and more comfortable off road. I kept my power high throughout, evenly dosing my effort so that I was able to finish strong.

I finished 4th. While would have preferred to win, but I rode a good race and I can't complain.

Reflection

So, I guess the question that we have to ask is this: Do I deserve an upgrade? I can't seem to win a cat 2 race. I never finish outside of the top 5, often 2nd or 3rd. I am consistent, but I consistently don't win.

Also, I am now 2nd in the Root 66 series. I am behind Maison Chen by very few points (under 10). Considering that he has never beat me, if I don't upgrade, I could very possibly win the whole series if I show up to the rest of the races and achieve decent results (better than Maison by a couple of places). Considering that the highlight of my 2009 racing season has been winning a prime by coming around Colin H. Murphy (after he dragged me around for 3/4 of a lap) at Wells back in early April, I could use the results to affirm that I am actually racing bikes as opposed to just pinning on numbers and getting dropped.

The Wife

Natasha, on the other, hand killed her race. She finished way ahead of her nearest competitor. She is the Massachusetts state champion. Last year one of her season goals was to win this race. She took second behind Rebecca Wellons (to be fair, RW was forced to race Sport since that is/was the highest cat you can race with a one day license).

Since I paid her registration fee, drove her to the race and because I have been considering buying one, Natasha gave me the Blackburn Airstick 2 Stage mini pump that she got for winning today. Seriously this is the actual pump that I have checked off on my next group buy order sheet. Even though I got 3rd in the state, one could argue that I won, since I got to make out with the female state champ and took her prize as a present.

Race Report: Pat's Peak Mountain Bike Festival Cat 2 30-39 2009

I hate mud. I hate it so much that I don't even own mud tires. My bike and my team kit has an excess of the white colorway. Secondly, I hate roots. I suck at descending. Roots covered with mud have haunted my dreams since I began regularly racing mountain bikes this year. Roots covered with mud on a steep descent are enough to transform me from my normal placid self into a raving lunatic, which is exactly what happened today.

Pats Peak has lots of climbing, which suits me. But the flipside is: what goes up...

Earlier in the week, there was intelligence on the HUP wire that only 75% of the course was rideable. Then my beloved and I were awaken in the early am by a rollicking, rowdy thunderstorm. I can't catch a break. After months of rain in New England, I figured that I was finally going to get a moderately saturated race course as opposed to the fully and supersaturated courses that we have come to expect now that we are on the same weather circuit as the Pacific Northwest. Did I mention that I don't own mud tires?

The venue itself is luxurious compared to many MTB race venues. The ski lodge was open and air conditioned (though not freezing), huge clean bathrooms (seriously the bathrooms were clean after 1.5 days of racing), multiple bike washes, ample parking, well run snack bar with decently priced well presented food and a PA system that was audible in the entire parking/lodge/staging area. Seriously good showing Pats Peak, thanks!

The course had been abused by 24 hour, 12 hour and 6 hour races Saturday and lower category XC riders all morning. By my noon start the course was seriously degraded.

The course started on an steep squelchy uphill. If you got out to the saddle, you spun out. I didn't get the hole shot, but I was in the lead group or 3 or 4.

The first 5th of the course is not very demanding, comparatively. There is some twisty slowsingletrack, broken up by saturated traverses across the grassy ski slopes. There were plenty of opportunities to bobble, lose traction, get bogged down and generally waste energy. I did all of these and still kept the leader in sight, Tim Trottier of Claremont Cycles. I trading blows with the Root 66 series leader and eventual winner, Craig Kennedy, from the starting line. I'd falter, he'd come around me. I'd catch him on a flat or a climb, come around him, open a gap, then falter again.

Kennedy and I traded blows and reeled in Trottier on the first significant fire road climb, permanently shelling the rest of the field in the process. Wisely, Craig allowed me to ride tempo up the climb and then only attacked me right before the gnarly singletrack. I didn't think to dig in and remain in front, though knowing my bike handling skills, or lack thereof, that would have been a serious dick move.

This section housed a plethora of roots growing in all directions. There were longitudinal roots to force your line. Roots running perpendicular to the course in tight off camber corners to throw you off of your line and kill what little traction there was. Did I mention the mud. Everything was covered in thick sucking mud. It was super slick. Furthermore, it was deep in the low lying parts.

Tim caught me and I allow him to pass uncontested. After gamely trying to ride this section several times, I settled on the humiliation of a run. I ended up nearly regaining contact while Trottier picked his line and I just long strided while wheeling my steed. My degradation in to 2/3's of a triathlete allowed me to keep the 2 leaders in sight.

I took some time back on the second major climb. This climb was a real spirit breaker. It ran up a steep winding fire road. If you picked your line well you could avoid the saturated grass. But as will happen, I'd sometimes have to correct and end up squandering my momentum by spinning my wheels in the mucky grass. To top it off, at the "top" after 100's of vertical feet of climbing, it curled to the left into the woods, but when you got to the left, you saw that you were actually little more than half done climbing.

The first part of the descent was manageable. It ran perpendicular to the ski slope and while fast, it didn't offer many threats otherwise. I was able to keep Tim in sight.

But then conditions changed rapidly when the course reentered the woods. It started out loamy and winding with a few roots to negotiate. Then it got steep and fast while the root multiplied. Everything slick with mud. Many of the corners had devilish off camber sections with slick roots running perpendicular, like tracks to help your tires loose purchase. I lost minutes in here.

After many minutes of struggling and riding the brakes, the course fed onto a series of fire road descents and comparatively less difficult single track. I dropped many hammers, convinced that the leaders were just ahead. I didn't catch any sign of them.

The finish is a cyclocross style downhill, complete with course tape and grassy off camber turns. It fed into a finish area with a big inflatable Red Bull gate right in the logical line coming into the finish. Seriously the course tape feeds you into the Red Bull gate. When you see a big gate while riding fast, you ride through it, right? We had been warned not to ride through the Red Bull gate while we were staged. Sure they warned us, but would you remember to veer out of the logical line to go under a gate off to the side? Yeah, you can make a mental note. But are you going to read that Post It while the snot is flying, while you are trying to claw back mere seconds from riders who had been sticking it to you for weeks?

Sorry, I just follow the arrows and course tape. Every indicator on the course told me to ride into that gate. I never even looked up to see who sponsored the gate; I was too busy trying not to vomit on myself.

I ended up getting balled out for riding into a spectator area. There was no tape to stop me, no person to guide me. I threw a curse word studded tantrum while I corrected. I am ashamed to have ruined Mike and Kathy Rowell's pre race lunch with my antics. Sorry.

There was tape on the next lap. But I still hate Red Bull.

Lap 2 and most of lap 3 were uneventful. I overtook riders from other fields and no one passed me. I ran when it was faster. I tried to stay off the sissy switches in the rough stuff and on the descents. Obviously, I was miserable and considered dropping out, which is how I knew that I was riding hard enough. Any point where I began enjoying myself or thinking of anything other than vomiting or dropping out, I shifted into a harder gear and/or increased my cadence.

I saw Trottier's yellow and green kit up ahead on midway through the 3rd lap, near the end really. He was blown, swerving all over the climb(s) like he was delivering the mail. I slowly reeled him in, finally catching him on the final climb. He told me that the win was about 2 minutes up the road; he's really a good guy. But he didn't hesitate to repass me on the sketchy descent and then put so much time into me that I couldn't even see him on the wide open finishing descent.

I got 3rd out of who knows how many guys. In my mind, there were only 3 guys in my race, Trottier, Kennedy and myself.

Natasha got 2nd out of all the cat 2 women and 1st in her category. Considering that she has not trained or even really ridden her mountain bike, it was a stellar performance. She has decided to upgrade. Is it humiliating or hot to have a wife who races in a higher category than you?

Overall, the Red Bull gate debacle notwithstanding, this was a great race. Challenging course, logistically well run, good vibe, well supported, well attended. Swag for podiums was thin (basically Gu-type products and an XL T shirt), but hey they had to give me something to complain about, right?

Race Report: 17th West Hill Shop Mountain Bike Race--Root 66--2009

My first impression of the course, as shown by Cary:

Cycling Videos on CyclingDirt

I learned a few things this weekend. First and foremost, racing mountain bikes involves far more suffering than criterium racing. Saturday I raced the Twilight Criterium and was able to pull a couple of breaks back, get in a few breaks, bridge to and then sit in a break or two and then give the initial leadout to my riders during the final sprint. 4th and 8th (?) for Kyle and Ryan respectively. I worked hard in this race. But man did I work harder on Sunday.

I had been told that the West Hill Shop Race had some climbs. I had been told that it was hard. Little did I know. Second thing that I learned, when competitive cyclists of all stripes tell you that something is hard, believe them.

Wilcox and I left Cambridge with plenty of time to get to our 2pm start. The Pros and cat 1's were racing before us, so I was hoping that we'd get both a pre-ride and course intelligence from finishers.

It was raining as we drove into VT. They looked like passing showers, but when we got to the dirt roads near the venue (after getting lost when the signs that the promoter told us to follow proved to be flopped over and thereby not visible) we found them to be quite pasty and saturated. Lesson Three: If a mountain bike race promoter tells you that there will be signs, Google map it anyway, the signs are usually useless.

We got to ride the easy part of the course and listen to blown riders tell us that it was hard...and oh, Cary pointed out that my tires that were poorly suited to the course.




Then right before staging, Colin Reuter questioned my low tire pressure (though once he found out that I was running tubeless, he approved). Since I have only the tires that came with the bike, Racing Ralphs it was, tough shit for RMM.

The start was fairly tame. 20-30 dudes in my field (cat 2 30-39), most of them behind me. I was settled at third place,

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fighting hard to keep it. After the hole shot, which was at the end of a 150 meter field, the course had some smooth single track that was slick though tacky. I was feeling good, though I was working quite hard. I eventually came around 2nd place and had the leader in sight. I was near my limit, breathing hard and panicked since we were only 3-5 minutes into an hour and a half race. I considered closing the gap and coming around 1^st too...lost opportunities.

I remained in 2nd with a traffic jam of better bike handlers behind me. I would gap them on the flats and climbs, stay about even in the smooth "S" turns and get caught quickly on the descents and the technical sections. The trails were narrow enough in the middle of the course, that it was difficult to pass. I was riding fast enough that a rider would have to dig deep to get around me, but not fast enough to create a gap big enough to make up for my poor descending and technical skills. It was frustrating to clearly outride people on the climbs and then have them close a 15-30 second gap in less than a minute by just not being pussies. Lesson Four: skill trumps fitness in mtb racing.

My tires were completely compacted with mud within 5 minutes and I was slipping all over the course. Damn you Cary, I probably wouldn't have even noticed if you hadn't pointed it out. Lesson five: tire selection is really important in mountain bike racing.

On the first really fast descent, I missed a corner and went off the course by a few feet. I didn't crash, but I had to unclip a foot and hop back over to the trail. The line of riders stacked up behind me came whooshing by in an evenly spaced line and I had no choice but to wait for each one to pass before I could resume embarrassing myself. I was now in tenth and pissed.

I kept this group in sight. They remained about 30 seconds up the road until the first big climb. The climb was steep. Not so steep that you'd loose traction, but the tacky slickness combined with the roots, left you in danger of slipping out and being forced to dismount. Even on the first lap there were riders walking. I started in my middle ring and locked out my front fork and inefficiently stomped while out of the saddle. This worked well until I realized that this was not a power climb, that the climb wound up much further than it originally appeared to. Lesson Six: PreRide the course.

I made contact with my original group and came around a couple of riders. I was digging quite deep. It was only halfway through the first lap and I was doubting my ability to keep the pace.

I fell in Eric Petterson from Back Bay at the top of the climb. I was in front and flailing in the corners. He graciously pointed out the he had prerode the course and offered to lead. I gladly allowed him to. Minutes later, he announced that a certain descent was a place to go fast. He rode away from me and then yardsaled into the woods after missing a corner.

There were a number of short, technical power climbs. They were rideable, but if you bobbled, you were dismounting and running (read trudging) the remainder, as they offered no place to remount. I saw many riders dismount before these sections. I gamely tried to ride every section, even in the last lap. I was able to pass riders as they walked. Often I'd bobble halfway up, but sometimes I didn't and either way, I got around those competitors. Lesson Seven: try to ride everything, every time.

The final climb is right before the finish line. On a dry day, it would just be a moderately steep, straight dirt climb on a relatively smooth fire road. Today, it was a slippery muddy mess. Most of the time you would have fairly good traction, but then you'd deviate from the packed part and sink into squelchy sucking mud that sapped your momentum.





Then you'd stand to power out and hit an exposed root and your rear wheel would slip out. I was able to remain on the bike, but I was in the little ring and cursing the whole time. Hecklers took thier shots, but I was enclosed in a silent fortress of pain that mere taunts could not penetrate.

I was forced to relent on the second lap. I had overdrawn my account on the two climbs in lap one. In a road race, the peloton would take it easy on the flats, maybe set people up for the climb, in the leadup to it and then suffer up the climb. In this race, I was arriving at the base of the climbs blown and then putting out watts. Unsustainable. Lesson eight: pacing oneself is important.

There were no split times, but I think that I was faster in the second lap. Since I now knew the course, I was more confident in the tech sections and the descents. I recovered on the flats by riding a little below all-out. I still put in efforts on the climbs, attempting to ride everything. I passed a rider or two. On the final climb in the second lap, I seriously considered pulling out. I was struggling to complete the climb and was doubting that I would make it up it even this time, let alone a third. I think the only thing that kept me going was the fact that Cary would make fun of me forever if I did.

The third lap was pure hell. I knew the course, but was spent. Getting out of the saddle to go over a technical section was a chore. I was sloppy.

Near the bottom of the first big climb, a rider from my field came out of nowhere and passed me. I felt like I was at my limit, but I dug in and kept him within spitting distance, getting right on him at the crest. He easily gapped me on the descent, taking crazy risks to hold me off. I stayed off the brakes and kept him in sight.

He took a corner into a mud bog poorly. I didn't see the crash, but I sensed it. I passed him as he sorted out his bike (mechanical failure). I didn't see him until the final climb a few minutes later.

At the base of the final climb, I set a pace that was sustainable. The climb was steep enough and the mud squishy enough that keeping enough momentum to remain upright and moving was difficult. People were cheering. But wait, they were looking through me. They were cheering for the mud bog crasher who was closing on me. I looked back and estimated his speed versus mine and dug for a little more. My left hip flexor and my right inner quad were both threatening to cramp up irreparably. He continued to close as his friend cheered and I struggled.

Once I got over near the crest of the climb, I knew it was over. I wasn't sure how far he was from me, but no matter how blown I am, I have a sprint left. I locked out the fork, got to the big ring and laid it down like I was at the track.

I felt like I won, but the officials thought that I got 5th. The evidence was on their side.

On the other hand, Wilcox won the single speed (out of 2 riders), but got 4th overall out of his starting group (cat 2 19-29) and put 2 minutes into my time.