Friday, March 31, 2006
Trails in the sky
Sunday, March 26, 2006
No mud was slung by me
It was time for the first race of the season - the infamous Mudslinger. Now there hasn't been much mud around here in Bend, since it's hidden by all the snow we've had in the last month, but over there on the West side of the mountains, supposedly they have rain and a good helping of muck. So eager for an early season mud-bath, I signed up for the race.
I was eager to fly the bright colors of the Web Cyclery race team, and I was going to kick ass because I've been on my mountain bike....uh... once in the last 5 months. Ok so I was going to suck wind a bit, but so what it's all fun and games until the EPO kicks in.
Normally I would show up at the race site the day before, do a lap of the course, and scope out some short-cuts (just kidding:). But I decided to just get up at 5am on Sunday, and scoot on over, getting there with at least an hour to spare. The plan was looking good until this happened on Saturday.
Just a minor setback, I'm sure it will all melt off in a few hours. But no, it kept coming down, and got colder. But being the eternal optimist, I got all packed up the night before, and bolted out of bed at 5am as the alarm went off (I don't think I've used an alarm in years). Checked the road report, and noticed there were all these blue diamond icons on the mountain pass roads, which meant severe weather, chains recommended, etc. Now I am somewhat of a Gilles Villeneuve in the snow, but I didn't see how I could maintain the required 65 mph average through that stuff to get there on time...
So I was LAME!, and went back to bed. Then went out later and did some intervals on the road bike, and coughed some strange stuff out of my lungs.
Thursday, March 23, 2006
Tuesday, March 21, 2006
You've lost that dirt loving feeling
Get out at lunch and hit some dirt - although it's often a toxic combination of mud and dog-shit. Got a bit of the feeling back. But yeah can't wait for me and the bike to become one again ... and being two is fun in a sick way too, as you leave the bike careening down the trail and take flight into some bushes.
Saturday, March 11, 2006
Indian Winter
The next day, ran up the white flag for biking, and took to the woods on skis. A foot of fresh dumped overnight, real fluffy stuff, and did a coupla morning hours breaking trail. Made excessive use of my rectus femoralis, a very useful trail-breaking muscle (also a good one to fire off on the bike on the top pedal-stroke). It's hilarious how no-one wants to break trail - on my return journey could see everyone had followed my exact track - nubes!
Today rode the trainer in the garage for an hour, doing some sprint intervals and what-not. Still chafing the chode pretty good - have to rebuild that callus I guess !:) But according to my uber-training program, was supposed to go on a 3.5 hour road ride today. So had lunch, then drove up to Bachelor with various ski configurations. Took the skate skis out as usual, but it was snowing so hard that the groomers couldn't keep up with it - wait a second - I never saw a groomer - lazy turds. An hour and a half of pushing through the rapidly accumulating sno was enough... Got out the classic skis and did another hour and a half. Whew... on the way home broke down and picked up McD's for a quick fix. Got an extra order of fries to bring home for the munchkins, which they devoured like jackals on a fresh kill.
8:30 pm. Everyone else is asleep. Me too soon I think zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
Monday, March 06, 2006
Two Wheels Good
I opt for a long endurance ride on Saturday, which ends up being 3.5 hours. Sure, lungs felt great, but the rest of my body is wrecked - cramped neck and arms, sore calves and Achilles, numb chode, and just general wastedness. So I guess another ride is out for Sunday - went skate skiing instead for 2.5 hours. I'm used to doing that, shouldn't be a problem...? Well it got compounded by the cycling, so I was even a bigger mess Sunday night. And I was feeling - how shall I put it - gastronomically challenged (yes with accompanying odour track). And today went to the gym to get the blood flowing, but my body was basically a wet noodle from the waist down. So this schedule is in need of some adjustment - maybe less endurance and more beer ?
Friday, March 03, 2006
Oregon MTB Report #3 [from Jul 21, 05]
Lesson #1 : never stop hammering
It’s a skeleton crew at the start line for the Sport class race, at Ski Bowl near Mt. Hood. Maybe people have been scared off by the dismal weather that always seems to hang around these mountains – the last time they had a race here, in early June – it snowed. Currently it’s barely 10 degrees at 10 am and a light drizzle is falling. I see one person I know in my class – he was at the race last week. I managed to win that one, while he came in a couple of minutes behind in 3rd place [Pic at right is me on the way to my first ever race win] I know I’m a marked man now, and he’s definitely giving me and my equipment the once-over. He’s racer-boy with his sponsored kit and minimal accessories – where do these people carry their pumps and other shit ? Me, I’m wearing baggy shorts and flip-flops and guzzling a beer 1 minute before the start – ok well the first one is true.
The gun goes off and we tear for the hole shot a couple hundred meters away. A good dozen get ahead of me as is normal. I don’t care too much – feeling kinda weak today and unmotivated with the rain. Into the single track, which is nice and technical with plenty of up-and-down and lotsa roots and rocks – makes me nostalgic for Squamish – sniff. Following too close to someone, I smash into them when they fail to negotiate a 4” uphill log – damn I keep forgetting how many of these Oregon racer types have crappy technical skills. Wait a second, that used to happen on Jack’s Trail in the Test of Metal too J
We get to the first major intersection, which is an open area with a couple of ski lifts and trails and roads going off in 6 different intersections. I’m in the front group of 3 or 4. Screwup #1 : the trail we’re supposed to go on is roped off, but the course directors yell at us to hop over some logs and go around the tape. Start going uphill, and RacerBoy and another guy motor ahead, I don’t have the legs to match their pace. Then hit a long rock-strewn downhill with some ledges – I pass one guy, and then in the technical single-track, start closing in on RacerBoy. I pass him in a set of switchbacks, and he voices his annoyance. Now I’m the front-runner. Hit the same complicated intersection again, and start a long climb up a road. RB is maybe 15 seconds back. Near the top of the climb, look for the downhill trail back to the start. The one I think we’re supposed to turn on is roped off, so I’m about to keep going when I notice some guy huffing and puffing up the hill. Screwup #2: this guy was supposed to open up the descent trail and direct people down it – guess he needs more uphill running practise ! I get delayed 30 seconds, and my pursuers are closing in !
The downhill is pretty gnarly – babyheads, ruts and 2 foot ledges. I push hard down it, hoping to regain my advantage. Almost lose it a couple of times, but I’m not used to riding a hardtail down this stuff. At the bottom start my second lap, go to lock down my fork – hey it’s already locked out. Hmm, no wonder that downhill seemed a little rougher than usual – I guess the blow-off valve works J
I keep looking behind me during the 2nd lap – no one in sight. Cool – got the gold medal wrapped up baby! Then hear something behind me on the switchbacks – some kid appears out of nowhere – he says he’s 16 and not tired – whatever, no problem – I let him by as we come out of the woods. Hit the disfunctional intersection again for the last time. The organizers are a little confused about where to direct me, do a quick huddle, then send me up the road. I know we have to take some different bit of singletrack on the 2nd lap back to the finish line, not sure where that starts. But Screwup #3 : I hear a lot of yelling behind me, and turn around to see the organizers gesticulating at me to turn back, they sent me the wrong way. So I turn around – apparently the other kid didn’t. They point me at some singletrack that looks familiar – hey that’s where we came out after we started, right ?
So I think I’m going in the right direction, until I see riders coming straight at me ! They are as surprised as I am, and there is much muttering and swearing and ‘what the fuck!?’. Come out onto the double-track section which points me back towards that main intersection a bit. Just before it goes back into singletrack I’m within shouting distance of the organizers, so I yell at them if I’m going the right way. I seem to hear that I’m on the right track, so keep going. More riders coming at me, and now I think I most definitely fucked up somewhere. Slow down a bit, feeling pissed off that the easy win has now turned into a major snafu. Then I hear an exultant shout behind me, and turn around to see Racer Boy charging full steam ahead. Somewhat stunned, I let him pass me. Finally my brain kicks into gear – if he thinks he knows where he’s going, this must be right ! So start chasing, but he’s got a good gap on me. But more riders coming at us cause a general slowdown, and I get a bit closer. Out of the singletrack and I’m hot on his tail charging down the road. But I can barely keep up – he’s got gold medal fever and is totally adrenalized. There’s a final steep rocky loose pitch near the end, and I shift into the big ring for the big showdown. He wavers a bit at the top, drifting left, and I seize my opportunity and drive hard down the fall-line, passing him. I hear him yell ‘You bastard!’ as I mash across a bridge, then up the last 100 feet to the finish line. And then… another Screwup ?!
I’m blasting for the finish line, my vision distorted from mud and sweat and the pounding blood, and then just as I speed into the finish chute, I hear people yelling “Slow down!”, and someone comes into my peripheral vision, and I end up crashing into the netting just before the finish line pole – the chute had a sharp bend in it right at the finish line. As I’m untangling myself, the other guy crosses the line. Shit – a few feet short of the line, and I’ve lost the numero uno placing. Stunned, the other guy congratulates me, saying “That was yours man”, acknowledging that I should have won the race, but didn’t. They write names on the board, and that doesn’t look like my name on the top. Then the organizer hands us medals. What’s this – mine has a goldish colour ? Look at the board – hey that is my name on the top ! So I guess they realized when they slowed me down that I’d already passed the timing line …
Man this race was one screwup after another – luckily justice prevailed or something.
Oregon MTB Report #2 [from Jul 1, 05]
I figured my 5+5 full suspension bike was a little overkill for this area, plus I wanted a lighter racier bike. Tried a hard-tail – nah even on smooth trails didn’t like that butt-ramming effect. Ended up getting a 29” softail.
I started signing up for a bunch of races, partly as an excuse to travel and explore new places, but mostly as a chance to get away from my screaming kids (just kiddingJ). First stop was Ashland, OR , the last weekend in April. It’s a small artsy town off of I-5 in the coastal hills of SW Oregon, just above California. I heard vague rumours about this place, something about women … yeah well all I can say there’s something special in the water there, rumours are true. Got there the day before the race so I could preride it, but got lost and confused in the town and by the time I found where it started it was too late. Good thing too, as it was a few thousand feet of climbing and a long loop that would have finished me for the next day. So the race started the following day with 3000 feet of climbing, nearly all on fire roads. Then you plateau onto a ridge for a long way, and I’m thinking “Where is the single-track?”. I catch up to a guy, and he says “Wanna pace ?”. Eh ? Apparently it’s some roadie term for taking turns leading the way and drafting. So we switch off for a while, and start reeling in single riders. Every time we pass someone we ask them to join up. Soon we’ve got a six-person pace line going… what am I doing in a !#$!# road-race at 4000 feet on a dirt road ? After at least half an hour of this, I look back at one point and see that I”ve dropped everybody. Soon comes a bit of single track, then more road. Getting a bit tired, and a couple of pacers go by me – hey, those are the first 2 guys I was pacing with ! So it works apparently. Then hit the downhill : about 3000 feet of swooping single track and gnarly double track – this part is fun. I catch up to Pacer #1 and pass him. We drop onto tarmac for the last mile to the finish line. I see Pacer#2 ahead, and pour it on, beating him by a second at the finish. I ended up 4th in my class – not too bad.
A couple of weeks later my new bike arrives, and my first ride on it is a pre-ride of a race right here in Bend. I show up for the race the next day full of confidence : now on a 25lb race machine, I’m thinking high podium finish. I get a crappy start position, but pass a bunch of people quickly and have a pretty decent race. 2 hours and 20 minutes later I cross the finish line, and end up in … 13th place ?! Man did I have my ass handed to me. This Bend crowd is fast !
3 weeks later, another Bend race. This course is cool – very fast single track, with some high speed downhills and a technical section through lava rocks. I have a killer race, and get… 9th place ? But wait, all Sport class racers were supposed to do 1 short lap and 1 long lap - rumours abound that supposedly several people ‘got confused’ and did 2 short laps instead. So results are skewed – I see several top spots occupied by guys who finished near the end of the pack in previous races – so I placed at least 7th and possibly 5th – but who’s counting ? Still when you train as hard as I do – 7 or 8 hours a week J - it really matters OK ? J
It’s now June, and flowers are sprouting, etc yada. I sign up for a race in Northern California, and bring the family camping for the weekend. Yreka is a microscopic burg in the steep rolling hills of near-coastal Northern Cal. We camp in a great spot beside the Klamath River, popular with rafting companies. The first night the munchkins are pretty freaked out their first time in a tent in a long time, and I basically get no sleep. But next day is just a preride of the course, so no biggie… Awesome course – I can see why they’ve been having this race for like 13 years. Lots of single track right from the beginning, and up the 2000 foot climb. The downhill starts steep and loose, then flows into narrow singletrack ribbon cut into the side of steep open slopes. At high speed the trail feels about 6” wide – one false move and you’d be tumbling. Race day we do a couple of laps of this, and I end up getting 2nd place – so I had to go race in another state to get on the podium !
As the snow melts off, the alpine has started opening up in the foothills surrounding Bend. The trails there start less than 10 miles from town, and climb high up into the mountains with awesome vistas. These are your classic alpine loops : start off with a 2000 foot climb alongside a cascading stream through old growth forest, top out above the treeline with great views of snow-capped mountains, then a fast technical switch-backing descent through open meadows and steep trees. If Squamish had a bike trail going up Goat Ridge it would be like this. And they’re building more of these here all the time. The local bike organization has a great relationship with the Forest Service, which they’ve developed over the last 10-15 years. New major trails are spec’d, approved and built every year. They just got approval on a huge parcel of forest (maybe 100 square miles) where they’re going to build XC and freeride trails over the next few years.
Back to the racing : so I wasn’t really planning on doing the Test of Metal this year, and while I was pondering it for a few days, it sold out in a few minutes so that was decided. Coincidentally, there was this new race in Western Oregon on the exact same day, called the Test of Endurance. With close to 8000 feet of climbing on an 81 km course (2 laps), it seemed like a good replacement for the other ‘Test’. The week before the race, it rained every day there, so I was expecting some mud and other unpleasantness. The morning of the race, woke up in my tent to the sound of – more rain. The only good thing was the relaxed start atmosphere – with only 60 competitors, the crappy weather, and the expectation of at least 5 or 6 hours in the saddle, there was no jockeying for start position, etc. Miraculously, the sun came out 10 minutes before the start, and it stayed dry the whole time I was out there. But the mud remained, lots of it. A few minutes into the first muddy singletrack, I lost my granny gear to the mud. And a few minutes later, I couldn’t shift to my small chain ring. The way it was going, I’d be lucky to make it through the first lap. But the mud would shed off a bit on the dirt roads in between single-track, and I learned not to shift when in the mud – just pretend you have a single-speed – otherwise, chain suck and derailment. Anyways, enough about mud, we’ve all had it this year – boo hoo. So I do the first lap in just over 2.5 hours, and I’m aiming for 3 hours for the second lap. Feeling pretty good until the 4 hour mark, then start feeling wonky and heavy, so decide to slow down a bit and cruise to the finish. Look behind me on an open stretch of road – nobody there – so I guess I can just cruise and hold my position. But a few minutes later, people start appearing on the horizon behind me. Panicking, I pick up the pace a bit and drop them. But soon enough it happens again as I get lulled into slowing down. One guy is now only 100 feet behind me. What if he’s in my class, and ends up stealing my podium spot ?! He looks like the guy who slowed me down in the singletrack before, so I aim to beat him to the next section. I’m really starting to hate these people for making me put in all this extra effort ! The last singletrack is a downhill slop thick with mud – but kinda fun once you figure out how to surf it. I pass a couple more people, and drive hard the last 2 miles on road to the finish. Make it in just under 5.5 hours – good enough for 3rd place (there were only 6 people in my class – but hey 3 of them were Expert’sJ).
Next on the horizon : more alpine riding and miscellaneous races.
