Training with Telemark

There's nothing better for a mountain bike race off season then a robust ski season.  However, as fun as it is to race down slopes with a set of downhill sticks, at times it seems a little easy, and may be too much rest as an off season training regimen.  Especially when I throw back a few beers after a nice day out on the slopes.

I love to ski and I love the winter because of skiing.  I also love starting the spring season with super strong legs and cardio fitness to boost.  Most people will ride a bike trainer in the winter months, or fat bike and those are great (especially the fat bike), but they both pose limitations. 

Riding a trainer, much like a treadmill, only somehow worse

For one, riding my bike on a trainer is a short form of psychological torture for me.  It is an evil way to experience the thrill of riding my bike as it takes away the actual riding part.  Yes, I am technically riding a bike, but I'm not going anywhere and most likely staring at a wall the whole time.  Fat biking is a great way to get off the bike trainer and outside during the winter, but most fat bikes are limited by the amount of snow they can ride in. Cross country skiing is an excellent cardio winter workout, but it lacks the excitement and speed of downhill skiing.

One thing that winter offers is ski mountains and night skiing with many resorts making their own snow.  Alpine skiing at these mountains is a great way to experience the thrill of speed while working out the core and quads, but it can get easy once you're in shape.  However, there is a form of downhill skiing that is never easy.  It is known as free heal downhill skiing, or telemark.  

Somewhere in Norway outside of Telemark

Telemark has a long history and is a style that predates modern alpine downhill skiing.  It is named after a town in Norway where the style originated from.  It combines elements of Nordic skiing with downhill and essentially allows practitioners the luxury (or curse) of turning with a free heal. 

Before I am asked why would anyone want to revert backwards and not take advantage of the years of technological advances in skiing, let me explain what the thrill and feel of the tele turn is like.

Try to remember your first ski lesson, and try to remember how difficult it was to teach your muscles and your body to turn.  Everyone can remember the "pizza, French fries" analogy, and can remember how the pizza part was very uncomfortable.  That initial discomfort is because the modern down hill turn works against the body's natural conformation for a downhill ski turn. 

In telemark skiing the turn is very natural.  It follows the way that your body was designed to tackle a steep slope with skis strapped to one's feet.  In downhill the turn is initiated by the leading ski, with the body and legs leaning in unison into the side of the mountain. 

But in telemark, the turn is actually split between the forward and rear leg and ski and the power comes from lagging the trailing foot and ski behind you.  The turn and your body weight is split between both legs and skis.  

Is this binding broken?

But here's the kicker.  In downhill when one finds their rhythm one will start to feel a burn in the top of the quads.  In telemark when one finds their rhythm the burn is felt throughout both legs, in the feet, calves, quads, hamstrings, and glutes.  The shear number of muscles firing at the same time is mind boggling and the amount of energy that is required to master a run is far, far greater.  To give you an idea of what it's like, imagine doing a serious of jumping squats for several minutes while trying to keep your upper body balanced with your core and that's telemark. 

I have tele skied easy runs that have taken 4 times as long to complete as downhill with an energy expenditure so great that my legs ended up as a quivering mess and most of my layers were shed due to exertion and sweat.  I used to get bored by the chair lift because it was a pause in between my runs, but now I can't wait to get to the chair after a tele run because it means I can take a break and rest!

I have alpine skied entire days without taking a break because of how much fun I was having and because I was conditioned enough from racing to not get tired.  But even after the best race season the longest I can telemark without uncontrollable leg shaking is 3 hours.  It is simply a far more difficult and taxing style, but one that gets very addictive partly due to it's challenge and partly due to how great it makes you feel. 

But by far the greatest benefit of a winter of telemark skiing is destroying that first season race because your legs and cardiovascular system have been put through the ringer on all the slopes you dared to tackle with a style of skiing that is 150 years old!

Delicious powder waiting to be tamed by telemark!

Addicted to Mt biking

Waiting for the race to start

At the end of my 2015 race season I decided to cater to my penchant for all mountain riding and entered an enduro race at Highland Mt bike park in NH.  The night before the race it poured and dumped several inches of rain on everything including the mountain and race stages which made for ridiculously slippery conditions as every root and rock was covered in slimy mud.  I almost came out of the race unscathed, having only suffered minor scrapes from a few falls, until the last stage.  

This stage was the steepest, most difficult, and rockiest stage of them all, and I managed to complete 90% of it with out breathing from sheer terror at its difficulty.  It was literally the toughest mt biking trail I have ever ridden in my life. 

Helmet hit the ground first, thankfully it was full face protection.

The terror factor resulted in my death gripping the handle bars and as far as I can tell the reason why I got bit in the last 200 feet of the race, when I lost control on a turn; fell over the bike, failed to clip out, hit head first into the ground, landed my left thigh on a broken sapling tree stump, and rolled over the bike while it was still attached to me.  I felt a very weird sensation in my left hand and immediately thought that I had torn a tendon.  I got up, checked that I was ok, got back on the bike and finished only to realize that something was very wrong.  

Spiral fracture on 4th metacarpel bone

After a trip to the ER tent and 30 minutes of waiting to make sure I didn't have a concussion, I made the 2 hour drive home in severe discomfort from my thigh and hand, only to come to find out several hours later that my 4th metacarpal suffered from a spiral fracture from the fall.  I was placed in a cast and told that it would stay on for 6 weeks, followed by 2 weeks in a brace, and that I could resume full activity after 12 weeks. 

The first week I was good.  I didn't do anything but rest.  By the second week I was getting ancy, so I started to do some light cardio and hiking.  But, I had reached my limit on the third week.  I had been away from my bike for three solid weeks, something I haven't done in over 15 years.  So I decided that I would grab the most stable bike I own and go ride the easiest place I could find, and headed to a local rail trial with my fat bike. 

Yes, this was a stupid thing to do, but I literally couldn't stay away from biking for that long, I just missed it too much.  I was having nightly mt biking dreams and was waking up very upset that I couldn't bike.  So I decided that enough was enough and took matters into my own hands.

We can all agree that there are far worse addictions,  but I won't deny that I am fully addicted to mt biking, and I'm not sorry about that.  As for Enduro racing, I'm probably over it, but then again I know better then to never say never.  

"Falling down is how we grow. Staying down is how we die." -Brian Vaszily

Berkshire East Bike Park

Some videos from a recent trip to Berkshire East Bike Park to enjoy the fall foliage and gravity.

Putting the "Wild" into wild rides

Looking back on this I realize this could have ended very badly for all involved.  Thankfully everything worked out for me and the other guy.  Nothing worse then super man endo-ing over a table top jump, and I'm very glad it didn't come to that!

Fat bike racing isn't just for the winter anymore

I was torn.  A beloved race of mine was refined to a loop course and reserved for one of the hottest weekend's we've had all year.  As much as I love the outdoors, I can't handle it when it's too hot or too humid which is why I'm rooting for global warming to trigger a mini-ice age in my lifetime. All joking aside I do have a tendency to run hot as compared to others and get heat exhaustion very easily; the flip side being that I never, ever get cold.

Hampshire 100 was to return this year as a lap course, with the 100k consisting of 2 30 mile-ish loops with 3,750 feet of climbing for each one.  I eagerly signed up and started training until I saw the forecast a week before the race which was calling for a high of 85-90 with humidity as high as 80-90%.

I don't mind a good suffer fest every now and then and the 100k is certainly that.  But I wasn't particularly feeling like suffering while melting at the same time, so I reluctantly emailed the race director a few days before asking if I could drop to the 50k, which would allow me to ride the new course, but not die.

I didn't feel right riding the 50k on my race bike when I had been training and racing other long distances so I signed up for the fat tire option.  I figured that this would most certainly be a challenge as I have never ridden the fat bike that far.  I rode the fat bike a lot in the winter and it was certainly fun.  I had been missing the fun factor with my constant training for races this summer and so I designated Friday's solely for fat biking as it was a way to goof off before my long Saturday rides, or races, but those rides were no longer then 1 hour and were less then 10 miles. This was going to be 33 miles on a very tough course.

The fat bike ready to ride

4" tires and a fully rigid steel frame

My fat bike is not a fast bike.  It is built like a tank, and rides like one.  Basically rolling over anything that gets in its way, however a race bike it is not.  The frame is built from tanged chromoly steel which makes it very strong, but very heavy.  The tires are 4 inches wide and there is no suspension; it is a fully rigid bike.  That makes it an excellent climber, but a terrible XC race bike.  Still, you race the bike you have, not the bike you want, so I made my way to the race eager to test my mettle and my bike against the course.

And I was not let down.  Riding the new course on a fully rigid, steel fat bike weighing around 40 pounds was no small task.  However, I met this challenge head on and grinning for most of it, with the exception of the last dozen miles of single track that managed to literally destroy me.  The fat bike excelled at the climbs, even allowing me to clear the "Crotched Mt" climb when everyone else was walking.  And, it still managed to speed me down the hills with the characteristic monster truck tire whirling sound that is so fat bike, and even managed to float me over the muddy and sandy sections (and there were a lot thanks to the previous night's thunderstorms).

But the rooty, rocky single track was to be my downfall.  It was not the bike itself that made this bad, but my spoiled arms, back, and core that has grown used to the comfort of full suspension bikes. My arms were actually more tired then my legs (which were wiped out from pushing a 40 lb bike).

I was actually able to feel the knots forming in my back as I was crushed over every rock and root.  After awhile I learned to grin and bear it as I tried to go as fast as I could over the rough stuff, hoping that speed would minimize the pain: it didn't.

I finished in 4 hours and 37 minutes with 2 fist pumps in the air, ecstatic that the tenderizing treatment my muscles were undergoing was over.  Despite the difficulties in the single track I was very glad I raced the fat bike.  It was hard, but sometimes doing hard things that are out of our comfort zones is how we become better.

I feel this race has made me a better rider by taking away the technological advantages I have grown accustomed to and going more old school.  Despite the fat tires I was forced into picking the tightest lines I could and I was made very uncomfortable during this race, which was a good thing.  Most important of all the fat bike made me smile and laugh even when I felt horrible and that's why I race: to have fun.

Racing the Hampshire 100 on a fat bike

Would I bring my fat bike to every summer race?  No.  But I'll certainly bring it to at least one so that I will never forget why I ride.   

Going Tubeless

In early May of this year I decided to sign up for a season opener by doing the Battle at Burlingame 6 hour solo.  I had been fat biking and cross country skiing all winter and I wanted to see where my fitness stood at the end of a busy, but fun winter, and to gauge the effectiveness of training this way for future seasons. 



Road rash from blowing out on a sandy corner

So I showed up ready to give it my all on a course I knew nothing about, and  I was destined to have a literal blast at this race.  The Battle features a 14 mile lap that includes the last 2 or 3 miles of the XC course and a whole other beast of single track that laps around the lake at Burlingame.  There were a few sandy road sections in the very beginning that I managed to completed wipe out on, but other then that the single track was really nice: certainly challenging and sweet. 

I remember 2 sections in particular, one was the rocky outcrop that actually turned into a trials ride for a few sections and the other was the winding bridge section that raced us over a swamp and at one point through a gazebo! 

It was on my 3rd and final lap, however that I was to have the biggest blast, which occurred when I cleared a log obstacle, only to proceed to experience a completely flat front tire.  So I did what any racer would do, which was to pull over, quickly unscrew my front wheel, take it off, remove the tire, and the tube, and feel for thorns in the tire tread.  But, in my race-haste I did not search diligently enough (which would be the cause for my demise).  After installing the new tube, I proceeded to pump it up, only to terrifyingly witness my only spare tube deflate!  "Oh crap!" was my immediate thought, followed by, "how the hell am I going to finish this thing without a DNF with 5 miles to go on a fully flat front tire?"

I began to run my bike, but that was a disaster as I couldn't get out of the way in time for other racers to pass me and my bike shoes were giving me horrible blisters, plus my fitness wasn't there for me to run a bike out of the woods for 5 miles.  So I decided to carry my bike on my back like a wounded soldier, but that was even worse and the frame was digging into my back and starting to hurt and I couldn't maneuver through the tight turns of the single track. 

I allowed myself to get very upset and curse profusely for about 5 minutes (enough to make any sailor proud), and then I told myself that I would not DNF; and that the only way I would get out of the woods was to do the unthinkable and ride my bike on a flat tire. 

This was a lot tougher then I initially thought but actually hysterical.  I was to navigate some fairly hardcore single track on a bike rim cushioned by a mere few millimeters of rubber, but surprisingly I was able to ride.  Down hills and turns were a disaster though, but somehow the tire stayed on the rim.  I did finish the race within the 6 hour time frame, and I also finished laughing at myself for the less then ideal predicament. 

I proceeded straight to the local bike shop tent that was supporting the race, explained what happened and asked them to inspect what I believed would be my destroyed bike rim (I had hit some rocks pretty hard while on my way out of the woods).  To my astonishment there was nothing wrong with the rim, and it didn't even need to be trued!  On my way home I drove straight to my bike shop and asked for a conversion to tubeless so that a thorn would never have the chance to ruin my race ever again! 

It took me awhile to convert to tubeless, but now that I have I haven't suffered any pinch or thorn flats and that's alright in my book!

See Race Results

Earnin' the turnin'

Earnin' the turnin'

If you're like me, when the flakes start to fly you get a certain feeling in the pit of your gut.  When I hear of a big snowstorm, or watch as those first flakes begin to fall, I get giddy.  Down right, ashamedly hyperactive.  My speech quickens, my pace hurries, and I can't stop smiling.  As each flake begins to amplify, accumulate, and pile up, my excitement grows in as fast and as furious as the snowfall itself.

I am waiting for the snow to build to such an extent that allows for excursions into the back country.  Now, if you're from out West or Vermont, then I envy you: because you know exactly what I'm talking about, and you're spoiled :) 

This year in New England we have been blessed (or cursed depending on who you talk to) with 2 storms that dumped 33 inches and then 18 inches respectively of the sweet stuff.  And I took it upon myself to go and enjoy this powder the best way I know how.

Most people will dress in layers, grab a group of friends, pile into a car and drive many hours to a ski resort where they will spend a small fortune and a lot of time waiting in lines and on chair lifts to get to the groomed corduroy.  That used to be my scene, and once in awhile I'll still do that, as there's always a place for that.

However, lately, and perhaps not by coincidence, I have found myself longing for simpler methodology and perhaps harsher conditions. And an experience that is more satisfying (although admittedly riskier).  But where there is great risk, there is greater reward.

When I first started to telemark, my goal had always been to leave the ski resort behind.  I longed for virgin snow, where no man, ski, or groomer had spoiled that smooth, creamy blanket.  

I wanted to get away from the heated spa-lodges with all the crowds, pub fare, and booze and return to an experience more spiritual and perhaps even, religious.

The back country is where I find this.  No chair lifts anywhere, the simplest of runs must be earned by hikes that take several hours to complete.  No crowds.  Sometimes you'll stumble upon a few kindred spirits, and sometimes not.  Natural scenes that are drinkable, to the soul at least.  After many labored steps, there is the pause, the rituals of gearing up for the run down, and the exhilaration of carving down that trail as you could be the first and only person to do so.

What better way to carpe diem then by earnin' the turnin'?

Winter training

How I've been training for the past several weeks.

With the crazy amount of snow New England has received in the last few weeks, I've been training by taking care of the snow the old fashioned way:

Getting "fat" in the off season

Getting Fat in the off season

Ah the off season.  A time to kick back and relax on the coach catching up on movies and beer consumption.  Warm memories of the past season's triumphs and tribulations fading into the dark corners of my brain.  No races to anxiously prepare for for another several months, and just days upon days of early nigths and long slumbers.... or so I thought.

I got about 1 month into the off season before I started to get nostalgic for some serious mt biking and outdoor workouts.   I hopped back on the bike to squeeze in as many rides as I could get, even riding on new year's day in temperatures hovering just around 25 degrees.  There was no snow or ice yet, but the cold was bitingly fierce. 

I was ready for telemark and back country skiing and indoor weight training workouts, but there was no snow, just very cold temps.  Then a few flakes began to fall and ice started forming on all my favorite trails.  The temps were too cold for comfortable mt biking, and the snow wasn't deep enough yet for the back country... so I started to shop. 

I have known about fat bikes for several years now with several of them showing up on local trails and races.  I always thought of them as a passing fad, but this year I took a serious look at them.  I thought what a great way to enjoy the iffy months (October-April).  The months where the weather is very unpredictable and the trail conditions equally so. 

I did my research as best I could, determined my price range, and started hunting.  I didn't want to break the bank on a bike I knew I wouldn't ride all year, and I wanted a simple, but tried and true design.  I settled for a chromoly frame, knowing that chromoly is indestructible, although heavy, but would last me a long time and fit into my price range.  Components and brakes I was flexible on, although I'd want the best my price range could afford.  I had my eye on the Fatboy (entry level trim) but couldn't find a local bike shop that had any in stock, and there was no one who could give me an estimate on their arrival.

However, I did find one bike shop that had a different model still in stock (although a previous year's model).  It was for a bike built by a company I had never heard of before.  The bike had everything I was looking for in my price range, and as a bonus, it was on sale!  So I picked it up.  The Maxi is not the lightest of bikes, but it is very fun to ride.  It is very stable, offering 4" tires, and just an absolute blast.  I've been so happy with it that I have found myself riding in all sort of conditions, from a bitterly cold 8 degree ride, to a snow storm ride, to a bush whacking snow trail run.  I've even started entering fat bike races.

As for the couch, the movies, and my beers? They'll have to be enjoyed by someone else; 'cause I've got riding to do :)

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.

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.

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.

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!

Video LSF in the fall on a mt bike

Another video featuring some excellent fall foliage (and music to boot)

Video: local trail

Mountain biking a local trail spot

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. 

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 :)

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 :)

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!

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.

Granite slag piles as high as a mountain in the middle of a forest

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.

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).