Sunday, December 7, 2014
Zip linin' in TN
Some footage of a recent zip lining trip I did in the Smoky mts. There were a few really good lines here, with the highest one at about 300 feet. I also managed to go on the 2nd half with just the guides :) If you're in the area check them out, the place was really nice, low key, well priced, and not boring/very small wait times.
Thursday, October 23, 2014
Cross training with disc golf
Cross training with disc golf
A few years ago I stumbled upon disc golf almost accidentally. I had always heard about disc golf from my days of ultimate frisbee, but I had never played until I found a course on a vacation. I immediately fell in love with the sport and try to play at least once a week and I've found that it is a great way to spend as an off day when not on the bike. It gets you outdoors, there's a significant amount of hiking involved, and you still work your upper body on some of the throws. Plus it's just loads of fun being out there.
There's a great course somewhat nearby at Barre Dam. This course is actually one of my favorites as it is absolutely gorgeous, especially on a fall day. Many others have also said the same thing.
Recently I went for a game and was blown away by how beautiful the course was. It made for some excellent disc golf.
A few years ago I stumbled upon disc golf almost accidentally. I had always heard about disc golf from my days of ultimate frisbee, but I had never played until I found a course on a vacation. I immediately fell in love with the sport and try to play at least once a week and I've found that it is a great way to spend as an off day when not on the bike. It gets you outdoors, there's a significant amount of hiking involved, and you still work your upper body on some of the throws. Plus it's just loads of fun being out there.
There's a great course somewhat nearby at Barre Dam. This course is actually one of my favorites as it is absolutely gorgeous, especially on a fall day. Many others have also said the same thing.
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| Barre Dam disc golf |
Recently I went for a game and was blown away by how beautiful the course was. It made for some excellent disc golf.
Tuesday, October 21, 2014
Biking in the hunting season
October Mt bike safety
It's that time of year again when the leaves turn brilliant colors and begin to fall. This is a great time to get out on the mountain bike for some end of season riding. The dramatic changes that take place within the forest are a real treat as the trail conditions and forest itself change on a daily basis. However, there are some important safety considerations to take note of during this time.
This is the time of year when our beloved trails and forests are shared by a group of outdoor enthusiasts of a different kind: hunters. Now I don't mind hunters, or hunting. I say the more individuals that respectfully enjoy all that mother nature has to offer the better as it furthers the cause of preservation and that usually means more forest to build trails on (in fact there's a special sales tax added to hunting purchases devoted to this very cause).
However, our hunter friends can pose certain dangers to mt bikers. Especially during deer season. Greg Lemond suffered a hunting accident that left several shotgun pellets lodged in his lungs. Now he went on to win the Tour de France with many of these pellets still inside him. I'm not sure many of us would fair the same with a similar incident so it is imperative to be aware of your surroundings when on the bike during the fall.
First, never wear any clothing that has the color white or brown. When a deer is in the forest and startled, it starts to run, but it first flicks its white tail in the air and then crashes off into the forest. Many a mt biker makes a very similar sound, especially when riding on crisp leaves, so stay away from any colors that resemble the very thing a hunter is looking for.
Second, find a safety orange vest and purchase and wear it even on Sundays when most states ban hunting. Seriously these vest are unnaturally orange and for a good reason. You want to be seen in the forest during this time so a hunter knows you aren't a deer.
Third, obtain a small bell and zip tie it to your bike. This might drive you crazy, but it could also save your life as no animal being hunted makes bell sounds and it will warn hunters that a non-hunt-able animal is in the area (usually a dog) but it alerts them to your presence, which is important because you don't want to startle someone who can shoot you.
And Finally, be respectful of these guys, even if you detest hunting. They are there to legally enjoy another outdoor sport and you want to be polite and accommodating. But also make sure they know you are around. They will hear you first and you might sound like a running deer, but then they may hear your little bells, or they will spot your bright orange vest and know not to sight you. So be safe and enjoy the fall riding!
It's that time of year again when the leaves turn brilliant colors and begin to fall. This is a great time to get out on the mountain bike for some end of season riding. The dramatic changes that take place within the forest are a real treat as the trail conditions and forest itself change on a daily basis. However, there are some important safety considerations to take note of during this time.
This is the time of year when our beloved trails and forests are shared by a group of outdoor enthusiasts of a different kind: hunters. Now I don't mind hunters, or hunting. I say the more individuals that respectfully enjoy all that mother nature has to offer the better as it furthers the cause of preservation and that usually means more forest to build trails on (in fact there's a special sales tax added to hunting purchases devoted to this very cause).
However, our hunter friends can pose certain dangers to mt bikers. Especially during deer season. Greg Lemond suffered a hunting accident that left several shotgun pellets lodged in his lungs. Now he went on to win the Tour de France with many of these pellets still inside him. I'm not sure many of us would fair the same with a similar incident so it is imperative to be aware of your surroundings when on the bike during the fall.
First, never wear any clothing that has the color white or brown. When a deer is in the forest and startled, it starts to run, but it first flicks its white tail in the air and then crashes off into the forest. Many a mt biker makes a very similar sound, especially when riding on crisp leaves, so stay away from any colors that resemble the very thing a hunter is looking for.
Second, find a safety orange vest and purchase and wear it even on Sundays when most states ban hunting. Seriously these vest are unnaturally orange and for a good reason. You want to be seen in the forest during this time so a hunter knows you aren't a deer.
Third, obtain a small bell and zip tie it to your bike. This might drive you crazy, but it could also save your life as no animal being hunted makes bell sounds and it will warn hunters that a non-hunt-able animal is in the area (usually a dog) but it alerts them to your presence, which is important because you don't want to startle someone who can shoot you.
And Finally, be respectful of these guys, even if you detest hunting. They are there to legally enjoy another outdoor sport and you want to be polite and accommodating. But also make sure they know you are around. They will hear you first and you might sound like a running deer, but then they may hear your little bells, or they will spot your bright orange vest and know not to sight you. So be safe and enjoy the fall riding!
Tuesday, September 30, 2014
Video LSF in the fall on a mt bike
Another video featuring some excellent fall foliage (and music to boot)
Monday, September 29, 2014
Thursday, September 25, 2014
12 hrs of Bradbury recap
12 hrs of Bradbury Mt,, Men's Sport Solo race recap (9.20.14)
What better way to wrap up a fantastically difficult and fun mt bike racing season then with a 12 hr solo race in one of the best places for mt biking in New England? That is exactly what I thought as I snailed through traffic on 495 on the Friday evening of September 19th on my up to Pownal Maine.
On my drive up I had ample time to recall all 9 races I had completed this season (with the 10th soon to be completed). I learned a lot about myself as a racer over the course of the season, especially on what nutrition works best for me, how to best handle my training and racing schedules, and the importance of rest.
I was reviewing my strategy in my head, determined not to repeat the mistakes I made at the 12 hrs of Millstone in July, where I essentially rode for 10 hrs and blew up. I knew I hadn't eaten enough and had far too many Gu packets. I had brought several Gu's with me for this race, but this time I was going to rely on easily digestible "real" food for the bulk of my calories. In my cooler I had 4 bananas, 3 vita coco drinks, a bag of pretzel sticks, a jar of lightly salted peanuts, and dark chocolate. This was to be the fuel I would rely on for the day and I knew I could handle it because I essentially eat this food all the time.
I arrived at Bradbury Mt an hour later then I intended due to heavy and slow traffic. I got to work setting up my one man tent and cooking my dinner (Knorr sides). This time I was also going to have a real breakfast of oatmeal 2 hours before the start of the race. I chatted with several other races around the communal fire pits and then headed for my slumber.
I woke up at 3 am shivering in my 40 degree rated sleeping bag because it grew unusually cold over night. I do not know what the temperature was but another racer noted the presence of frost and when we woke up, it was very, very cold. So cold in fact that the brake lines on my bike were acting quite odd. They were bound up and very sluggish for braking for the first 15 minutes of my warm up. I got to work making my breakfast and putting on as many layers as I could so as to not lose much body heat.
The race started at 8 am after a 15 minute pre-race meeting. We left in waves separated by 2 minutes. The first few minutes were fast and freezing. I managed to wear a long sleeve jersey as a base layer, but quickly warmed up over the first 7 mile lap. I came in to the lap check in tent and pulled over to take off my base layer. I rode the next 2 laps wearing short sleeves and barely broke a sweat. When I came in to the check in tent spectators were wearing down jackets and wool hats. I knew it was cold because I could only stop for 5-10 minutes to eat and drink before I would start to shiver and at the start of every new lap I would be cold until the first hill.
The course was a very fun, but brutal track. It featured tight and twisty single track that was littered with tree roots. There weren't too many hills, and the ones that were there were short and steep. There were several bridge crossings including one that was built so that the first portion was 5 feet from the ground. This was always hair raising and fun!
At the start of my 4th lap I put on arm warmer sleeves that I kept on for the remainder of the race. During my 5th lap I had the first feelings of severe back pain that is so common in these races and for the first time in the race I contemplated quitting, calling it a day and heading home. I made a pact with myself that I would try to ride until I had completed 9 laps which would equate to a respectable 100km of single track, and then if I felt like I couldn't go on I would stop.
However, a funny thing happened on my way to completing 9 laps. After the 6th lap my back was completely wrecked, so I took off my camelbak, and put my spare tube and gu packs in my jersey pockets and moved my tire changing tools and pump to the bento box attached to my frame. I also grabbed my asthma inhaler and put it in there in case the cold squeezed off my air ways. I made sure my water bottle was full and added race-supplied Heed to it, and I took off.
I immediately felt like a new person. All of my lethargy went away, I got my morale and energy back, and best of all my shoulders and back felt fantastic! I then knew I would be able to complete 9 laps and I made a new pact with myself. I agreed that I would ride until they made me stop!
I came into my 8th lap and by this time I had to start carrying lights. The sun was starting to go down and it was getting dark in the woods, however I conserved the light batteries by not using them until I absolutely would have to. Lap 8 came and went and lap 9 was initiated, and I still felt great!
My body was starting to show signs of fatigue and despite not having the camelbak on, my back and shoulders were once again getting sore. Lap 9 was completed and I pulled over to eat some food and take stock. It was 6:10 pm when I started lap 10. The rules were that the last lap had to be initiated by 7 pm in order for the rider to be allowed to continue. It was also getting very, very dark. I knew that there was not going to be an 11th lap, but there was certainly going to be a 10th.
Now, 10 laps during a 12 hr solo would be a new personal record for me. In addition I had been riding for 10 hrs and 10 minutes, which was also a new personal best. I turned on my lights and put them both on medium setting to conserve the battery. I knew I had about 3 hrs on this setting and I knew (hoped) it wouldn't take me that long to complete the 10th lap.
Riding the single track in the dark with lights and 10 hours of riding behind me was a whole new experience. The trail started to get wet with a light covering of dew and things started to get very treacherous. In addition, it got eerily quiet and lonely out there with the darkness encapsulating me from all sides. After awhile, all I could see was the swath of trail laid out before me by my lights. Anything outside of that field of view might as well have been non-existent, it was that dark in there.
There were a few spots that made me feel very uncomfortable riding in the dark. I could hear all sorts of things in the forest, but I could not see any of them. I started to get a little panicky, but then I was immediately calmed by one thought.
I had been riding my bike longer, and further then I have ever ridden in my entire life. I had completed 1, 7 mile lap for every single race of my 2014 season. And I was about to accomplish a physical feat I have never achieved before, and thought was impossible. I had gone from the brink of quitting 7 hours earlier only to commit to a challenge that was molding my very character as I was thinking these things.
This thought gave me goose bumps, and brought tears to my eyes. I felt overwhelmed by emotions of accomplishment and satisfaction. I had shown extreme perseverance and had proven to myself that I have what it takes to take on and complete enormous challenges; to meet them head on and not only do what I say I am going to do, but push through the pain and suffering to prove to myself that anything is possible; and these profound emotions were carrying me home.
As I grew closer to the finish I could hear faint cheers of spectators cheering riders in. I started to ride with a quicker pace. I turned the last corner to see a set of torches and pulled into the approach of my last lap. I was announced on a loud speaker and faced a cacophony of cheers from perfect strangers, but it couldn't have been sweeter. As I crossed the finish line I held my fist high.
I had ridden for 11 hrs and 20 minutes, covering 70 miles of technical and rooty single track. I had placed 5th out of 21 sport solo riders. But most of all completed the crowning achievement of my mountain bike racing career and finished the 2014 season with my head held high. I slept contented and awoke with a smile gazing into what 2015 has to offer.
Thursday, September 18, 2014
A set of 50's in September in Southeast New England
A set of 50's in September in Southeast New England
Landmine and Freetown? What exactly do these two have in common? Well, they both take place in September, they are both in Massachusetts (Southern New England), they are both littered with rock gardens deposited from the last ice age (a staple of Southern New England riding, and really Northeast riding in general), and they both offer 50 mile options. Oh and did I mention they are only a week apart?
I couldn't surpass the chance to challenge myself against 2 very difficult races with very difficult recovery/tapering in between. The races are just as challenging as figuring out how to do the recovery and taper in between.
I had done Landmine a few years back on a mamba hardtail. The mamba was on ok bike, but it wasn't for me. I found the bike to be heavy and rough. Not exactly a racing bike, but tough enough for a 50, or so I thought. The bike handled decently enough, but it did manage to beat the crap out of me. I finished, although barely, at just under 7 hours. And I remember experiencing a kind of pain I hadn't felt in many, many years.
This year I was determined to break that record and come out in tact and not crying in a fetal position in the corner. I brought the Epic and was very glad that I did. Sections of landmine were still very rough, but were manageable with an FSR and the brain shock set in the middle for dampening. My first lap was fast and felt great. I managed to come in in about 2 and a half hours. My second lap was slower and more annoying. My last 5 miles really got me in a mood. I was sick of getting tossed around like a pin ball. So I turned that negativity into a tirade only a sailor would be proud of and pushed it hard against the course. I managed to come in at a respectable 5 hours and 17 minutes. I had shattered my PR from all those years back, and better yet, proved to myself that I could rematch a course that had destroyed me all those years ago, and then I realized that I don't have to come back now :)
A week later I found myself pulling into the Freetown State Forest at an earlier hour then I would usually be awake on a Sunday. I was ready to sample the Freetown 50. I had heard that this forest is haunted and possessed by a little creature known as the puckwudgie, a gremlin like creature that likes to lure unsuspecting people into the woods and push them to their deaths.
Now, I did not get lured anywhere except to a trail that was as technically difficult as it was beautiful. The Freetown 50 is one of those courses that really manages to shred everything it touches. Bikes, biceps, bipedals, it doesn't matter. Whatever rides through these trails comes out the other side tenderized, traumatized, and tantalized! To say the course was difficult is an understatement. The first 8 miles of this course were like nothing I have ever seen in a 50 mile race. I'm not sure I was breathing much through this section. It required the kind of concentration only a Swiss watch maker has mastered. From what I remember (please excuse me as my brain, like the rest of me, experience quit a bit of vibrational trauma) the course was gorgeous, and tough. Whenever we rode on single track it was littered with rocks.
There weren't many roots here, there was no room for them as they had no way of penetrating the quarry of rocks. Concentrating on the line was not only recommended here, it was necessary if you were to survive. Falling on any rocky section here would mean an instant DNF and most likely a trip to the ER. There was one section called the "demotivator" that really should have been named "the bone breaker". The rocks here were more like small boulders.
I managed to come in at 5 hrs and 35 minutes. A decent time considering the terrain and what it did to my bike. After the first 5 miles of the course my bike began to ghost shift. Then after the first lap my shock became over-pressurized and I didn't fix it until the last 10 miles (but thank goodness I did). When I finished it took me a good 2 hours before I felt like I could drive the 1.5 hrs home without passing out. I didn't feel right until after a 1 hour sports massage where the masseuse informed me that they successfully broke up the 30 knots in my shoulders, neck, and back! My bike didn't come out unscathed either. A trip to the shop revealed the need for a new chain and a tune up, as my wheels were knocked off true (what a surprise).
Still, the course was a rip. Definitely a gem of a course for New England (or anywhere!), and definitely tough. I think next year I'll leave the Epic at home and opt for a heavier, slower bike, one with 6" of travel :)
Landmine and Freetown? What exactly do these two have in common? Well, they both take place in September, they are both in Massachusetts (Southern New England), they are both littered with rock gardens deposited from the last ice age (a staple of Southern New England riding, and really Northeast riding in general), and they both offer 50 mile options. Oh and did I mention they are only a week apart?
I couldn't surpass the chance to challenge myself against 2 very difficult races with very difficult recovery/tapering in between. The races are just as challenging as figuring out how to do the recovery and taper in between.
I had done Landmine a few years back on a mamba hardtail. The mamba was on ok bike, but it wasn't for me. I found the bike to be heavy and rough. Not exactly a racing bike, but tough enough for a 50, or so I thought. The bike handled decently enough, but it did manage to beat the crap out of me. I finished, although barely, at just under 7 hours. And I remember experiencing a kind of pain I hadn't felt in many, many years.
This year I was determined to break that record and come out in tact and not crying in a fetal position in the corner. I brought the Epic and was very glad that I did. Sections of landmine were still very rough, but were manageable with an FSR and the brain shock set in the middle for dampening. My first lap was fast and felt great. I managed to come in in about 2 and a half hours. My second lap was slower and more annoying. My last 5 miles really got me in a mood. I was sick of getting tossed around like a pin ball. So I turned that negativity into a tirade only a sailor would be proud of and pushed it hard against the course. I managed to come in at a respectable 5 hours and 17 minutes. I had shattered my PR from all those years back, and better yet, proved to myself that I could rematch a course that had destroyed me all those years ago, and then I realized that I don't have to come back now :)
A week later I found myself pulling into the Freetown State Forest at an earlier hour then I would usually be awake on a Sunday. I was ready to sample the Freetown 50. I had heard that this forest is haunted and possessed by a little creature known as the puckwudgie, a gremlin like creature that likes to lure unsuspecting people into the woods and push them to their deaths.
Now, I did not get lured anywhere except to a trail that was as technically difficult as it was beautiful. The Freetown 50 is one of those courses that really manages to shred everything it touches. Bikes, biceps, bipedals, it doesn't matter. Whatever rides through these trails comes out the other side tenderized, traumatized, and tantalized! To say the course was difficult is an understatement. The first 8 miles of this course were like nothing I have ever seen in a 50 mile race. I'm not sure I was breathing much through this section. It required the kind of concentration only a Swiss watch maker has mastered. From what I remember (please excuse me as my brain, like the rest of me, experience quit a bit of vibrational trauma) the course was gorgeous, and tough. Whenever we rode on single track it was littered with rocks.
There weren't many roots here, there was no room for them as they had no way of penetrating the quarry of rocks. Concentrating on the line was not only recommended here, it was necessary if you were to survive. Falling on any rocky section here would mean an instant DNF and most likely a trip to the ER. There was one section called the "demotivator" that really should have been named "the bone breaker". The rocks here were more like small boulders.
I managed to come in at 5 hrs and 35 minutes. A decent time considering the terrain and what it did to my bike. After the first 5 miles of the course my bike began to ghost shift. Then after the first lap my shock became over-pressurized and I didn't fix it until the last 10 miles (but thank goodness I did). When I finished it took me a good 2 hours before I felt like I could drive the 1.5 hrs home without passing out. I didn't feel right until after a 1 hour sports massage where the masseuse informed me that they successfully broke up the 30 knots in my shoulders, neck, and back! My bike didn't come out unscathed either. A trip to the shop revealed the need for a new chain and a tune up, as my wheels were knocked off true (what a surprise).
Still, the course was a rip. Definitely a gem of a course for New England (or anywhere!), and definitely tough. I think next year I'll leave the Epic at home and opt for a heavier, slower bike, one with 6" of travel :)
Tuesday, August 19, 2014
2014 Hampshire 100 race recap
Aug. 17th, 2014 Hampshire 100 race recap
Wow! As usual the Hampshire 100 did not disappoint this year! This having been my third entry (2nd year in a row; yes I am hoping to complete a Hampshire 100 hardcore) I was prepared for a great day of the best 100 km of mountain biking that southern New Hampshire has to offer with approximately 7,500 feet of climbing, or so I thought.
This year featured a course change within the first ten miles. Traditionally the race would start with a very fast set of paved and dirt roads with a section of railroad track that lead into the first of a long set of climbing; but this year the land access rights were denied due to a dispute between the state and the RR company, so there was a detour, with a substantial amount of climbing added and earlier then usual. In addition to that we were treated to about 2 hours of pouring rain early in the morning between Saturday and Sunday, so the trail was going to be muddy and possibly not in a good way, but that was to be seen (fingers were crossed for good conditions).
The race started early. At 5:30 am the runners (yes runners, there are actually people who ran the thing!) were sent off. We had a pre-race meeting at 6:15 am, with a race start of 6:45 am. The early morning start had some fog and moisture from the night's rain, and was chilly. I managed to eat a few energy bars and drink some vita coco at about 5 am to get the food digested for my early start and was able to hit the port-o-john's for an early constitution: always a pre-race must!
We were sent off and I held back as much as possible. The start is very fast at Hampshire 100 but it is here, within the first 5-10 miles, that the race can be lost. Especially if one goes out too fast, which is very easy to do as it is hard to gauge with the start jitters and adrenaline going. Almost every noob goes out too fast and pays for it dearly in the last 10 miles, even veterans still make this mistake, because it's an easy one to make.
I remember specifically going slow and only breathing through my nose to force myself not to go fast. Hampshire 100 is one of those epic adventure races. The terrain and climbing only gets harder and worse as the day wears on and the finish squeezes every ounce of strength and vitality from almost everyone. When you do finish Hamp100 you will feel excellent, partly because the immediate pain and suffering is over, but mostly because you know you've accomplished something as unique as it is difficult.
After the fast start and cruising down paved and dirt roads we entered the new single track section. While riding this new section I immediately realized how much more difficult this year's course was going to be compared to last year's. Firstly, we were bottle necked in the single track because it occurred while the field was still tight. So you were pretty much stuck in the order you entered until the trail opened up (very rarely) and there was a ton of climbing in this new section. In addition the trail was sloppy and very wet from the rain, which was going to make the day that much harder.
On one of the down hills, I almost got hit by a deer! I was behind the guy in front of me by about 30 feet and in between us a spooked buck decided to sprint to safety. He passed by me in a flash of an instant. I heard only 3 hoof strides before I saw a tan blur and briefly smelled a wild smell. I thought, whoa!, that could of ended very badly, but then used him as inspiration later in the day, as it was a magnificent thing to see, and no one else saw him, so we had shared the moment.
After this section we started the hill climb that eventually led to the infamous power lines climb. Almost everyone walked the power lines, but when I was walking I turned around and was greeted by a magnificent view of the Pack Monadnock range and Greenfield, NH. I took a terrible spill on the Crotched Mt down hill and thought I had broken or pulled something in my back. I picked my line on a C turn covered in rocks and slipped off the line (due to the rain) and super-manned with my heels passing over the back of my head. It happened lightening fast and I hit the ground hard, but got up immediately and kept riding. My back was sore for a few hours but then healed on its own after some stretching at an aid station. I would fall twice more over the course, once so hard that it knocked my sunglasses off my head and the third time was a front wheel spin-out on a mud puddle with a header into a mud pile. After that I swore to not fall again and I didn't.
After 5 hours the course started to blend into itself and I am still having trouble remembering the order of it. I clearly remember the sections, but not their order. There was a new trail section carved specifically for the race that ended up being almost impossible to ride. Perhaps if it had not rained it would have been better, but with the rain this section was very slow and very frustrating. I kept thinking to myself that this is the type of terrain that can break a collar bone, and so I walked most of it.
However, my favorite section was still in the race and did not disappoint. In the past is has been known as "the painful, but soulful section," and it is certainly both. It is however a highlight of my race. I love riding it every year, despite the suffering it can provide. As the day wore on the course did start to dry out, although slowly.
My nutrition was going very well. I was taking 2 endurolytes tablets every hour, and was eating either solid food or gu's every other hour, until one of my falls emptied my bento box, and I didn't realize it until I got to the next aid station where I could stock up on hammer gels and smart bars. I felt very strong up until the last 5 miles of the race. By this point I was ready to finish and stop the pain that was starting to build in my quads. I started to push the pace after the last aid station, where I only stopped briefly. Up to this point I was stopping at aid stations for at least 5 minutes to eat and drink as much as I could stomach. It was this fuel that was helping me to stay strong and power through the day, but at the last aid station I decided to push the pace into the finish.
I knew this was not going to be an easy 5 miles, and I knew it was going to hurt, but what I didn't know was the magnitude of the pain that I was about to go through. After about 2 miles I started to feel a little strangeness in my quads, and then it happened. I had the first of several series of very painful quad and hamstring cramps and spasms. These were the kind where the muscle group starts to clinch and creep on it's own. I immediately thought, "oh no, how am I going to finish like this?" I couldn't stop pedaling because if I did my muscles would start to twitch and spasm in very painful ways, so I grinned and bared it and kept pushing those pedals. There were still a bunch of small hills to go over and I could hear the road by Oak park in the distance. So I kept pushing it. But the more I pushed the harder it became and if I slowed down the more pain I would feel, so I had no choice but to just keep going. At the second to last road crossing I was in a terrible fit of pain and was ready to be done. When I finally saw the finish line I started to sprint (or at least I thought I was).
I crossed the line dizzy, with tears in my eyes from the pain in my legs (and back). The time was 8 hours, 9 minutes. I later found out I finished 8th (out of 21 finishers) in my sport vet. I category (results). It took me at least 30 minutes before I could move and eat without feeling like I was going to throw up. I managed to crack a half smile between suffering and felt a sense of tremendous accomplishment and disbelief that I finished so well despite the slippery trail conditions, falls, and extra climbing.
For a brief few moments I thought to myself, how will I muster the courage to show up next year? And then I remembered, that I felt this same way at last year's finish, and that's how I'll show up at the next one :)
Wow! As usual the Hampshire 100 did not disappoint this year! This having been my third entry (2nd year in a row; yes I am hoping to complete a Hampshire 100 hardcore) I was prepared for a great day of the best 100 km of mountain biking that southern New Hampshire has to offer with approximately 7,500 feet of climbing, or so I thought.
This year featured a course change within the first ten miles. Traditionally the race would start with a very fast set of paved and dirt roads with a section of railroad track that lead into the first of a long set of climbing; but this year the land access rights were denied due to a dispute between the state and the RR company, so there was a detour, with a substantial amount of climbing added and earlier then usual. In addition to that we were treated to about 2 hours of pouring rain early in the morning between Saturday and Sunday, so the trail was going to be muddy and possibly not in a good way, but that was to be seen (fingers were crossed for good conditions).
The race started early. At 5:30 am the runners (yes runners, there are actually people who ran the thing!) were sent off. We had a pre-race meeting at 6:15 am, with a race start of 6:45 am. The early morning start had some fog and moisture from the night's rain, and was chilly. I managed to eat a few energy bars and drink some vita coco at about 5 am to get the food digested for my early start and was able to hit the port-o-john's for an early constitution: always a pre-race must!
We were sent off and I held back as much as possible. The start is very fast at Hampshire 100 but it is here, within the first 5-10 miles, that the race can be lost. Especially if one goes out too fast, which is very easy to do as it is hard to gauge with the start jitters and adrenaline going. Almost every noob goes out too fast and pays for it dearly in the last 10 miles, even veterans still make this mistake, because it's an easy one to make.
I remember specifically going slow and only breathing through my nose to force myself not to go fast. Hampshire 100 is one of those epic adventure races. The terrain and climbing only gets harder and worse as the day wears on and the finish squeezes every ounce of strength and vitality from almost everyone. When you do finish Hamp100 you will feel excellent, partly because the immediate pain and suffering is over, but mostly because you know you've accomplished something as unique as it is difficult.
After the fast start and cruising down paved and dirt roads we entered the new single track section. While riding this new section I immediately realized how much more difficult this year's course was going to be compared to last year's. Firstly, we were bottle necked in the single track because it occurred while the field was still tight. So you were pretty much stuck in the order you entered until the trail opened up (very rarely) and there was a ton of climbing in this new section. In addition the trail was sloppy and very wet from the rain, which was going to make the day that much harder.
On one of the down hills, I almost got hit by a deer! I was behind the guy in front of me by about 30 feet and in between us a spooked buck decided to sprint to safety. He passed by me in a flash of an instant. I heard only 3 hoof strides before I saw a tan blur and briefly smelled a wild smell. I thought, whoa!, that could of ended very badly, but then used him as inspiration later in the day, as it was a magnificent thing to see, and no one else saw him, so we had shared the moment.
After this section we started the hill climb that eventually led to the infamous power lines climb. Almost everyone walked the power lines, but when I was walking I turned around and was greeted by a magnificent view of the Pack Monadnock range and Greenfield, NH. I took a terrible spill on the Crotched Mt down hill and thought I had broken or pulled something in my back. I picked my line on a C turn covered in rocks and slipped off the line (due to the rain) and super-manned with my heels passing over the back of my head. It happened lightening fast and I hit the ground hard, but got up immediately and kept riding. My back was sore for a few hours but then healed on its own after some stretching at an aid station. I would fall twice more over the course, once so hard that it knocked my sunglasses off my head and the third time was a front wheel spin-out on a mud puddle with a header into a mud pile. After that I swore to not fall again and I didn't.
After 5 hours the course started to blend into itself and I am still having trouble remembering the order of it. I clearly remember the sections, but not their order. There was a new trail section carved specifically for the race that ended up being almost impossible to ride. Perhaps if it had not rained it would have been better, but with the rain this section was very slow and very frustrating. I kept thinking to myself that this is the type of terrain that can break a collar bone, and so I walked most of it.
However, my favorite section was still in the race and did not disappoint. In the past is has been known as "the painful, but soulful section," and it is certainly both. It is however a highlight of my race. I love riding it every year, despite the suffering it can provide. As the day wore on the course did start to dry out, although slowly.
My nutrition was going very well. I was taking 2 endurolytes tablets every hour, and was eating either solid food or gu's every other hour, until one of my falls emptied my bento box, and I didn't realize it until I got to the next aid station where I could stock up on hammer gels and smart bars. I felt very strong up until the last 5 miles of the race. By this point I was ready to finish and stop the pain that was starting to build in my quads. I started to push the pace after the last aid station, where I only stopped briefly. Up to this point I was stopping at aid stations for at least 5 minutes to eat and drink as much as I could stomach. It was this fuel that was helping me to stay strong and power through the day, but at the last aid station I decided to push the pace into the finish.
I knew this was not going to be an easy 5 miles, and I knew it was going to hurt, but what I didn't know was the magnitude of the pain that I was about to go through. After about 2 miles I started to feel a little strangeness in my quads, and then it happened. I had the first of several series of very painful quad and hamstring cramps and spasms. These were the kind where the muscle group starts to clinch and creep on it's own. I immediately thought, "oh no, how am I going to finish like this?" I couldn't stop pedaling because if I did my muscles would start to twitch and spasm in very painful ways, so I grinned and bared it and kept pushing those pedals. There were still a bunch of small hills to go over and I could hear the road by Oak park in the distance. So I kept pushing it. But the more I pushed the harder it became and if I slowed down the more pain I would feel, so I had no choice but to just keep going. At the second to last road crossing I was in a terrible fit of pain and was ready to be done. When I finally saw the finish line I started to sprint (or at least I thought I was).
I crossed the line dizzy, with tears in my eyes from the pain in my legs (and back). The time was 8 hours, 9 minutes. I later found out I finished 8th (out of 21 finishers) in my sport vet. I category (results). It took me at least 30 minutes before I could move and eat without feeling like I was going to throw up. I managed to crack a half smile between suffering and felt a sense of tremendous accomplishment and disbelief that I finished so well despite the slippery trail conditions, falls, and extra climbing.
For a brief few moments I thought to myself, how will I muster the courage to show up next year? And then I remembered, that I felt this same way at last year's finish, and that's how I'll show up at the next one :)
Thursday, July 31, 2014
Video Rutlan trails before they closed
Some fun at Rutland State Forest
Check out my XC -type ride at Rutland State Forest. Rutland has a rail trail with several trail off shoots. Some are very fast (like in the video) and some are technical (not shown). Others are old jeep roads and dike maintenance roads in the Barre Dam flood zone. This is a great place to ride for the beginner to intermediate mt biker or for tempo and fartlek rides. Enjoy!
Check out my XC -type ride at Rutland State Forest. Rutland has a rail trail with several trail off shoots. Some are very fast (like in the video) and some are technical (not shown). Others are old jeep roads and dike maintenance roads in the Barre Dam flood zone. This is a great place to ride for the beginner to intermediate mt biker or for tempo and fartlek rides. Enjoy!
Wednesday, July 30, 2014
2014 12 hrs of Millstone race recap
2014 12 hrs of Millstone Race Recap
Saturday, July 26th, 2014 was my second 12 hr solo attempt at the 12 hrs of Millstone (race web page). I had come back to break my personal record set in 2013 where I had completed 7 laps in 9 hours and 15 minutes before my body decided that it had had enough and basically cramped from my foot to my neck to let me know it was done. This year I was determined to ride more then 7 laps and more then 9 hrs or whichever came first.
The course at Millstone weaves and winds through 6.5 miles of trail that skirts along multiple abandoned quarries that were dug about a hundred years ago to pull the granite from the mountain (race course). Throughout the forest there are tons of slag piles that reach as high as several hundred feet and several quarry ponds. Nature has reclaimed this area and one could be walking through a thick pine forest only to stumble upon a huge hole in the ground filled with water and flanked by steep granite cliffs. It is a very unique and amazing place.
The area is situated in Barre, VT, at the top of a hill. The race venue utilizes a large field for camping and support tent set up and offers a great place for camping with fantastic Vermont views, and excellent star gazing at night. The course itself doesn't seem to be that steep (at least for the first few laps) but does have about 800 feet of climbing over the 6.5 miles. The elevation gain is sneaky though and really starts to wear on you over the course of the day. The trails are technical, a lot of roots and rocks, and tight, flowy single track. However, the course makes for some excellent mt biking, but is not for the beginner or even intermediate rider.
I got to the field on a Friday evening and picked a spot for my tent and set up. I had a nice dinner and registered and mingled with fellow riders, but not for very long. I was eager to get a good night's rest as I knew I was about to endure a very tough and punishing course. I went to sleep by 9pm and slept a solid 9 hrs. When I awoke I put my race number on my bike and realized that I was #12. A good sign as I was a solo rider, attempting to ride for 12 hrs.
The race started promptly at 9 am. The weather was a little humid, but not too warm. The high for the day was predicted to be in the 80's but the majority of the course would be in the forest so I was not worried. My strategy was to complete 2 consecutive laps and stop at the end of the second lap long enough to eat solid food and do some stretches to avoid the cramps from last year. I relied on a Gu pack every hour and 2 endurolyte salt pills every hour, on the hour.
The first 4 laps went very well. I had consistent times and felt really good. The 5th lap started to hurt, and the 6th lap was my low point. At the end of my 6th lap I took a 20 minute break eating some soup that my camp neighbors were kind enough to provide and to stretch. By this point I had been riding my bike for over 6 hours and had experienced significant elevation gain. My legs were starting to feel awful and my back was one giant knot. I had decided to stop after every lap going forward. I still had plenty of time though to attempt to break my record.
7 rhymes with heaven, but my 7th lap was the lap from hell. Nothing seemed to go right on this lap. I was making very dumb mistakes in regards to my race lines. I crashed into a small tree on one of my miscalculations and I felt like I was pedaling in slow motion. By this lap I had consumed far too many Gus then I care to remember and this was the lap that my gastro-intestinal system decided to mutiny. It wanted nothing more to do with Gu, yet I had to somehow find the courage to down yet another packet. The Gu on the 7th lap felt like the consistency of tar by this point and tasted like old bubblegum, like the kind you find stuck to a chair in an old movie theater. I was slow and I was starting to feel like crap, and I was having trouble seeing the trail in front of me. I felt dizzy and faint and for the first time I started to think about how nice it would be to stop.
When I finished my 7th lap I stretched for a solid 10 minutes next to my tent. I changed my glasses lens to clear because it was starting to get darker in the shadier parts of the woods. There was 4 hours left to the race at this point. I had been on the bike for 8 hrs and was starting to feel it. I gathered enough strength to commit to an 8th lap. My 8th lap started good. I was feeling strong and was feeling happy that I was breaking my PR, but after the first steep hill I lost my momentum. From that point on I walked every single hill, including the small and not steep ones. I was gassed, completely exhausted, but determined to finish the lap strong, and dare I even think it? Attempt a 9th lap? I got through the 8th lap, but it was one of my slowest. When I crossed the race tent I decided that 8 would be enough for the day. There were about 2 hours left to the race, and I could have tried a 9th lap, but I was exhausted, and I would have had to race with lights, and I had other races coming up and the risk of an injury at this point was just too great.
When I finished, I had completed 8 laps. I rode my bike for 9 hrs and 50 minutes. I had covered 60 miles of very technical and punishing single track and had climbed 7,500 feet of elevation. I put my bike down and sat on the ground, then laid on the ground and just didn't move. My legs were numb, my stomach was feeling very weird (with a slight nausea), my back was destroyed, and my arms were shot. I got up to get some finisher BBQ, took 4 steps and literally crashed to the ground. The world was spinning, and I felt like I was going to pass out and puke at the same time. I took about 30 minutes of my time just lying on the ground and eventually (and slowly) got up and ate 2 plates of BBQ. I took a shower at the open facility across the street and then grabbed a beer and waited for the race award's to hear how the other solo's and teams performed.
At night I could see every star in the sky, and even saw the faint white band of the milky way, as well as several shooting stars and satellites reflecting sunlight form orbit. I crawled into my tent with a huge smile and sense of accomplishment. My body was sore as hell, but my spirit was soaring. I came to break my PR and that is exactly what I did. I overcame extreme adversity and suffering to do what I love and I was very grateful for it.
Saturday, July 26th, 2014 was my second 12 hr solo attempt at the 12 hrs of Millstone (race web page). I had come back to break my personal record set in 2013 where I had completed 7 laps in 9 hours and 15 minutes before my body decided that it had had enough and basically cramped from my foot to my neck to let me know it was done. This year I was determined to ride more then 7 laps and more then 9 hrs or whichever came first.
 |
| Granite slag piles as high as a mountain in the middle of a forest |
The area is situated in Barre, VT, at the top of a hill. The race venue utilizes a large field for camping and support tent set up and offers a great place for camping with fantastic Vermont views, and excellent star gazing at night. The course itself doesn't seem to be that steep (at least for the first few laps) but does have about 800 feet of climbing over the 6.5 miles. The elevation gain is sneaky though and really starts to wear on you over the course of the day. The trails are technical, a lot of roots and rocks, and tight, flowy single track. However, the course makes for some excellent mt biking, but is not for the beginner or even intermediate rider.
I got to the field on a Friday evening and picked a spot for my tent and set up. I had a nice dinner and registered and mingled with fellow riders, but not for very long. I was eager to get a good night's rest as I knew I was about to endure a very tough and punishing course. I went to sleep by 9pm and slept a solid 9 hrs. When I awoke I put my race number on my bike and realized that I was #12. A good sign as I was a solo rider, attempting to ride for 12 hrs.
The first 4 laps went very well. I had consistent times and felt really good. The 5th lap started to hurt, and the 6th lap was my low point. At the end of my 6th lap I took a 20 minute break eating some soup that my camp neighbors were kind enough to provide and to stretch. By this point I had been riding my bike for over 6 hours and had experienced significant elevation gain. My legs were starting to feel awful and my back was one giant knot. I had decided to stop after every lap going forward. I still had plenty of time though to attempt to break my record.
7 rhymes with heaven, but my 7th lap was the lap from hell. Nothing seemed to go right on this lap. I was making very dumb mistakes in regards to my race lines. I crashed into a small tree on one of my miscalculations and I felt like I was pedaling in slow motion. By this lap I had consumed far too many Gus then I care to remember and this was the lap that my gastro-intestinal system decided to mutiny. It wanted nothing more to do with Gu, yet I had to somehow find the courage to down yet another packet. The Gu on the 7th lap felt like the consistency of tar by this point and tasted like old bubblegum, like the kind you find stuck to a chair in an old movie theater. I was slow and I was starting to feel like crap, and I was having trouble seeing the trail in front of me. I felt dizzy and faint and for the first time I started to think about how nice it would be to stop.
When I finished my 7th lap I stretched for a solid 10 minutes next to my tent. I changed my glasses lens to clear because it was starting to get darker in the shadier parts of the woods. There was 4 hours left to the race at this point. I had been on the bike for 8 hrs and was starting to feel it. I gathered enough strength to commit to an 8th lap. My 8th lap started good. I was feeling strong and was feeling happy that I was breaking my PR, but after the first steep hill I lost my momentum. From that point on I walked every single hill, including the small and not steep ones. I was gassed, completely exhausted, but determined to finish the lap strong, and dare I even think it? Attempt a 9th lap? I got through the 8th lap, but it was one of my slowest. When I crossed the race tent I decided that 8 would be enough for the day. There were about 2 hours left to the race, and I could have tried a 9th lap, but I was exhausted, and I would have had to race with lights, and I had other races coming up and the risk of an injury at this point was just too great.
When I finished, I had completed 8 laps. I rode my bike for 9 hrs and 50 minutes. I had covered 60 miles of very technical and punishing single track and had climbed 7,500 feet of elevation. I put my bike down and sat on the ground, then laid on the ground and just didn't move. My legs were numb, my stomach was feeling very weird (with a slight nausea), my back was destroyed, and my arms were shot. I got up to get some finisher BBQ, took 4 steps and literally crashed to the ground. The world was spinning, and I felt like I was going to pass out and puke at the same time. I took about 30 minutes of my time just lying on the ground and eventually (and slowly) got up and ate 2 plates of BBQ. I took a shower at the open facility across the street and then grabbed a beer and waited for the race award's to hear how the other solo's and teams performed.
At night I could see every star in the sky, and even saw the faint white band of the milky way, as well as several shooting stars and satellites reflecting sunlight form orbit. I crawled into my tent with a huge smile and sense of accomplishment. My body was sore as hell, but my spirit was soaring. I came to break my PR and that is exactly what I did. I overcame extreme adversity and suffering to do what I love and I was very grateful for it.
Sunday, July 20, 2014
Video LSF in mid summer
Wanted to share a video (music by Basement Jaxx, "Raindrops") from one of my favorite mountain biking spots in Massachusetts. Leominster State Forest (http://www.mass.gov/eea/agencies/dcr/massparks/region-central/leominster-state-forest.html). LSF as it's called has something to offer every rider from the beginner to the expert (http://www.singletracks.com/bike-trails/leominster-state-forest.html). NEMBA has done a great job of building and maintaining the trails here and some of the more expert level single track will literally take your breath away (adrenaline surges are funny like that). Here is a copy of the trail map too (http://www.hikenewengland.com/images/LeominsterStateForestMA.pdf).
Thursday, July 17, 2014
2014 Wildcat Epic race recap
June 28th, 2014 Wild Cat Epic
I was in Mt biking bliss once I got to the Lundy section. It was such a treat to have this in the race. The trails were very tight, smooth, flowy, roller coasters with lots of S turns and you really had to balance your line properly but if you did, it was a blast!
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Another turn at the Wildcat Epic. I did last year's 100 km that featured hours and hours of rain, peanut butter-like mud, apple orchards of death, and a general feeling of wet misery and doom. I managed to finish it last year (barely) at 8 and a half hours. It was certainly challenging, but also in a great spot (the Shawangunk range in New York).
This year's 100k race featured a course redesign and riding in both the Lippman park area and Lundy estate in the southern portion of the Catskill mountains. We also lucked out weather wise: there was no rain, and the temperatures actually went as high as 87!
My race was a very awesome experience,
but also a very tough one! The race started at 6:45 am so at least the first couple of hours were comfortable, after that it got balmy. The parts
of the course that were exposed to the sun were hot but luckily most
of the course was in the woods.
I finished very strong with a good race overall and really enjoyed the challenge and difficulty and adventure that the course provided.
It was hilly. The total elevation
gained over the 63 miles was 6,500 feet. When I recall the
course I don't remember any flat sections (elevation profile: http://ridewithgps.com/routes/5121378
). There was one section of about 17 miles that we rode that
was some of the best single track I've been able to ride during a
race; it was so much fun! The guys at Renegade mt bike club have done a phenomenal job at building the trails at Lundy. if you get a chance to get there, don't miss these trails!!! (http://www.bikekinetix.com/t_ny/ny_county/lippman_park_trails.php).
I was in Mt biking bliss once I got to the Lundy section. It was such a treat to have this in the race. The trails were very tight, smooth, flowy, roller coasters with lots of S turns and you really had to balance your line properly but if you did, it was a blast!
After the flowy single track we started
a very steep climb on another section of single track that rode over
several rock walls and logs. Then we came out to a dirt road
and then a paved road that began a very long and steep climb. This climb section was hard! But somehow I
managed to stay strong on it. When we finally crested, we
began our descent on an ATV trail that was actually very tough
trail-wise. It was surprisingly technical. This section was not easy, especially after the fatigue from the climb up.
We came down this trail and followed a
stream and crossed it using a bridge that was adjacent to a very nice
waterfall. Then we proceeded down a dirt road that crossed this
river about 6 times. The river crossings were a lot of fun.
Some of them were shallow (inches) and others were deep (feet).
At one point I had to carry my bike over my head because the water
was waste deep!
After that we began one of the last big
climbs. It went up on a dirt road adjacent to a power line (that
we rode down). It was on this dirt road that I screamed so loud
that my shout echoed off of the entire forest. The reason why I
shouted so loud was because as I was riding up, I all of a sudden
heard this weird noise. It sounded like someone shaking a box
of tic tacs, when I saw something move down by my foot as I was
pedaling. The thing that was moving was a timber rattle
snake!!!!
I almost ran it over, and was inches away from the
thing. It started to rattle like crazy and curled it's neck and
I was so startled that I shouted: LOUD!!
I felt my shout bounce
off the ground and I think the snake did too because he took off.
It was so scary though because those things can kill you! (good thing I signed the race waver)
After my experience with the snake I
was a bit shaken, but determined to finish strong. I was
starting to get fatigued though when I entered the same flowy Lippman single
track from earlier in the morning. I managed to muster up my
last bit of strength to get another fun roller coaster flow
going.... until I mis-managed my line riding through a clump of trees
and hit one with my knee cap going about 8 mph. My legs were
too muddy to notice the damage, but my knee essentially started bleeding (mixed in with mud and dirt) and swell to twice it's normal size. I wouldn't
realize this of course until I finished, washed it off, realized it was screwed up and then got an ice pack for
it.
Overall though the race was fantastic!
It was sooo damn hard, but sooo damn rewarding at the same time.
I finished in 8 hours and 7 minutes, 16th place out of 28 finishers
and 33 total racers (full 100k results here:
http://www.wildcatepicevents.com/results-wc-100-/2014-wc-100-50-results/
). I was very surprised with how strong of a
finish I had too. My nutrition went perfect, I never felt like
I was going to bonk: and I finished well. I
remember being dizzy for the first 45 minutes after but that was probably from being so hot and hungry. I managed to consume 3 cheese burgers and a ton of pasta salad within about 10 minutes!
I was psyched for such a hard course,
but a lot of my peers were displeased that the course was so hard.
One guy had said that the race was harder then an ironman he had done. It was certainly not an easy course, but it was rewarding, beautiful, and a ton of fun!
Wednesday, July 16, 2014
2014 Pat's Peak race recap
Pat's Peak: Roots, Rock, (no Reggae)
June 14th, 2014
Pat's Peak mountain bike festival in Henniker NH (http://www.patspeak.com/summer/bike.html). What a venue! I have raced here 3 times before, with this time being my 4th. The first time I ever came here I raced my stumpjumper FSR comp, 26" wheels with 6" shock travel. I entered the 12 hour solo. That race was pure insanity. I don't know if I have encountered a course as hard as Pat's Peak 12 hr solo either before then or after. This was the only race that I have ever fell asleep on from sheer exhaustion. No joke, the year I did the 12 hr, I got off the bike after riding for 11 hours, sat down on the ground to take a break and remember waking up 30 minutes later shivering from my sweat and the dew condensing on me.
To say that Pat's Peak is technical is an understatement. It is a 5.5 mile loop with about 800 feet of climbing per lap. The entire course is on a ski mountain in Southern NH. With that much climbing there is obviously a lot of downhill, but with the mud, trail camber, and roots and rocks the downhill is actually harder then the up!
My first year at the peak I completed 9 laps in 12 hours. My second year I DNFed because it was pouring the entire time and I was miserable. The 3rd year I entered the 6 hour solo and raced my stumpjumper again and completed 5 laps.
This year I raced the Epic 29er.
Except that the snow had finally melted on the backside of the mountain the week before and the week in between the resort saw 4 inches of rain fall. So, it was muddy. Very muddy.
But still, despite the mud, the hills, the technical, and being lunch for hundreds of mosquitoes, I had a blast and even managed to break my PR, completing 6 laps in 6 hours and 20 minutes :)
See you next year Pat's Peak (maybe for the 12 hr this time?)
June 14th, 2014
Pat's Peak mountain bike festival in Henniker NH (http://www.patspeak.com/summer/bike.html). What a venue! I have raced here 3 times before, with this time being my 4th. The first time I ever came here I raced my stumpjumper FSR comp, 26" wheels with 6" shock travel. I entered the 12 hour solo. That race was pure insanity. I don't know if I have encountered a course as hard as Pat's Peak 12 hr solo either before then or after. This was the only race that I have ever fell asleep on from sheer exhaustion. No joke, the year I did the 12 hr, I got off the bike after riding for 11 hours, sat down on the ground to take a break and remember waking up 30 minutes later shivering from my sweat and the dew condensing on me.
 |
| At the start of the 12 hr solo, notice the smile |
To say that Pat's Peak is technical is an understatement. It is a 5.5 mile loop with about 800 feet of climbing per lap. The entire course is on a ski mountain in Southern NH. With that much climbing there is obviously a lot of downhill, but with the mud, trail camber, and roots and rocks the downhill is actually harder then the up!
My first year at the peak I completed 9 laps in 12 hours. My second year I DNFed because it was pouring the entire time and I was miserable. The 3rd year I entered the 6 hour solo and raced my stumpjumper again and completed 5 laps.
 |
| Racing my first 6 hour solo |
This year I raced the Epic 29er.
Except that the snow had finally melted on the backside of the mountain the week before and the week in between the resort saw 4 inches of rain fall. So, it was muddy. Very muddy.
 |
| Pats Peak 2014 6hr solo |
But still, despite the mud, the hills, the technical, and being lunch for hundreds of mosquitoes, I had a blast and even managed to break my PR, completing 6 laps in 6 hours and 20 minutes :)
 |
| Downhill at a ski mountain during an endurance race |
See you next year Pat's Peak (maybe for the 12 hr this time?)
Elite stands for speed, not distance
Elite doesn't mean big distance, it means fast.
May 18th, 2014
First mt bike race of the season: Weeping Willow at Willowdale forest in Ipswich Ma (https://www.bikereg.com/the-weeping-willow-efta-necs3). This race was put on by EFTA and was my first XC race of the 2014 season. Being used to long distance and endurance events I naturally signed up for as much distance as I could find, which happened to be the elite's 24 miles (8 mile laps).
I thought to myself, "oh, it must be called "Elite" because of the distance, because it's the only option for 24 miles." However, when I showed up to the race I realized why it was called Elite.
The "Elite" racers were called forward at the start, so I strolled on up to the front of the line. I took a look around and only saw skinny, sinewy, nervous, muscle-twitching thoroughbred racers on steads of carbon fiber that were as sinewy as they were and immediately thought to myself, "uh oh."
Every racer there wore European one piece shorts and had their jersey pockets bulging so that the bike wouldn't be bogged down by extra weight. I was the only one wearing fox cargo shorts: they might as well have been jean shorts. With serious looks on their faces: no one was talking at all; except for me.
I turned to the guy next to me and said, "yeah this is my first race of the season, so I'm gonna take it easy today." He replied with, "Yeah, me too." I never saw him again.
As soon as the race started these guys took off. I mean literally blew me away. I realized then why my race was called "Elite". These guys finished 3 laps in 2 hours, whereas I finished in 3. I did finish, although I was last, and had to find the time keeper (who was packing up) to let him know that I was the last finisher.
If I cared about that kind of stuff I would have been annoyed, but I was just happy to get out and ride a place I had many first experiences on the trail running circuit (first off road marathon and first 50 mile ultra-marathon). So my race was filled with memories of November's past and the camaraderie and racing friends I had encountered in those events.
The course was great. Very smooth and very fast. No super climbs or technical sections, but a lot of tight turns and narrow passageways. I had a lot of fun and committed to finishing a race that I was certainly out skilled on. I was a little embarrassed to have signed up in such a hard core class, but I paid good money to race and by damned I was going to finish with my head held high. Besides, no one can ever accuse me of sand bagging!
May 18th, 2014
First mt bike race of the season: Weeping Willow at Willowdale forest in Ipswich Ma (https://www.bikereg.com/the-weeping-willow-efta-necs3). This race was put on by EFTA and was my first XC race of the 2014 season. Being used to long distance and endurance events I naturally signed up for as much distance as I could find, which happened to be the elite's 24 miles (8 mile laps).
I thought to myself, "oh, it must be called "Elite" because of the distance, because it's the only option for 24 miles." However, when I showed up to the race I realized why it was called Elite.
The "Elite" racers were called forward at the start, so I strolled on up to the front of the line. I took a look around and only saw skinny, sinewy, nervous, muscle-twitching thoroughbred racers on steads of carbon fiber that were as sinewy as they were and immediately thought to myself, "uh oh."
Every racer there wore European one piece shorts and had their jersey pockets bulging so that the bike wouldn't be bogged down by extra weight. I was the only one wearing fox cargo shorts: they might as well have been jean shorts. With serious looks on their faces: no one was talking at all; except for me.
I turned to the guy next to me and said, "yeah this is my first race of the season, so I'm gonna take it easy today." He replied with, "Yeah, me too." I never saw him again.
As soon as the race started these guys took off. I mean literally blew me away. I realized then why my race was called "Elite". These guys finished 3 laps in 2 hours, whereas I finished in 3. I did finish, although I was last, and had to find the time keeper (who was packing up) to let him know that I was the last finisher.
If I cared about that kind of stuff I would have been annoyed, but I was just happy to get out and ride a place I had many first experiences on the trail running circuit (first off road marathon and first 50 mile ultra-marathon). So my race was filled with memories of November's past and the camaraderie and racing friends I had encountered in those events.
The course was great. Very smooth and very fast. No super climbs or technical sections, but a lot of tight turns and narrow passageways. I had a lot of fun and committed to finishing a race that I was certainly out skilled on. I was a little embarrassed to have signed up in such a hard core class, but I paid good money to race and by damned I was going to finish with my head held high. Besides, no one can ever accuse me of sand bagging!
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