Race Report : Bear Springs Trap

I have no idea why they call it a 'Trap' - but I was determined to find out. This race is brought to you by the fine folks who put on that race I ragged on last year, with all the confusing intersections. I guess that's just their style, because in the race flyer they warn you about blowing by important junctions and watching for signs, covering their ass so to speak.

I followed the directions to the race start on Sunday morning, an hour and a half drive North of Bend. This worked out pretty well, so I was encouraged the course would be just as easy to follow. Then I discovered the Trap : you had to pay $5 to park in this part of the forest, or buy the the yearly forest service pass for $25. Well my pass from last year should still be good.. except I left it in the other car. Oh well, wrote a little note explaining this which seemed to work.

So after riding in 70F degree weather in Bend the previous day, I wasn't worrying about it being cold. Then how come the thermo is reading 4 degrees outside the car ? Hmm, it's only 9:30 am, it should warm up. Luckily I threw my long riding pants in the car at the last minute, along with my goretex socks and winter gloves. Yup, needed them all. By 10:30 it was up to 7 or 8 degrees. I changed layers several times, but retained full coverage. I was all ready for the race start at 10:45 am, but there were still 100 people in line waiting to get registered. Finally ready to go at 11:20, and by this time I was getting a bit hot, and my bladder was nudging me to take a little walk in the forest. Then ensued what seemed like half an hour of explanation about the course - something about pink ribbons. And the obligatory category roll call, whereupon I discovered everyone in my class was way ahead of me in the start chute. Hmm so the race hadn't started yet and I was already in last place :) Well my plan wasn't to go balls out today anyways, just ride at a steady pace. It's cool, I'll start way back here with all the feebs and grommets and ladies. Never understood why people push so hard to get up front, squeezing themselves into any little opening, anything to get further ahead. You bend down to tighten your shoe, and wham - five people squeeze ahead of you. And many of these people are slow, causing bottlenecks as the road funnels into single track.

Well, enough chit-chat, the gun goes off and a group of 80 or so Pros and Experts start racing up the tarmac towards the 90 degree turn onto dirt a quarter mile away. It doesn't clog up too bad, it's rocky double track for a while so passing is available if you want to risk going off the main path onto bigger rocks and sticks. I love doing a race where you've never ridden the course, and have no idea what the terrain is like. This race had a fine helping of almost all kinds of riding : steep muddy climbs, baby smooth downhill sweepers, rocky twisty steep descents, log rides, baby-head talus slope traverses, bridges, everything. It's all good, and I'd forgotten about all the pink ribbon warnings as I followed a group bombing down a nice descent, when I see the tell-tale sign that it's all gone horribly wrong : a bunch of riders are climbing the trail back up towards us. They are yelling something - what's that, a bear ? Is that the Trap ? Oh, "Wrong way!" is what they're saying. We all do 180's in place and climb back up - yeah we blew by that little pink ribbon - tough to see a 90 degree turn to the left when you're flying by in a cloud of dust. Cool - now that we've totally screwed ourselves on any podium finish, let's just have fun ! Actually it only amounts to a few minutes lost...



I have kind of a blank spot now about what happened for the next little while...I was churning along at 95%, keeping a good pace, but not wanting to push it too hard since with my limited riding time I wasn't sure if I'd blow up or not. I passed more people than passed me I think. Went across a nice bridge in an open meadow, the birds were singing and the sun was shining, and then... I saw someone I knew ahead - my buddy Chris who I raced with quite a bit last year. Aha, if I can just sneak by him undetected...not a chance, I can see his eyes widen as he looks behind and recognizes me - then it's like his ass is on fire and he cranks it up a notch and takes off. This was one of the guys in the paceline I was in in that Ashland race last year, the roadie race at 5000 feet, my first race in Oregon. I ended up catching him at the line in an all-out sprint finish, beating him by a second. Then every race after that I was often a few minutes ahead. Now I can see that he's determined this will not happen again. I decide to stick with my game plan of riding a steady race, and don't match his intensity. It's not like I'm riding slow, but he's definitely getting away. What the hell - I nudge up the intensity just a tad, and start gaining on him. Get right up beside him on a dirt road section, and start talking it up. But he's not much into conversation, and keeps forging ahead. I have enough in reserve that I could initiate a good pass attempt, but then this might cause a bit of "Oh yeah?!", back and forth, as we yo-yo the intensity up until one of us collapses. So just stay behind him, like 10 feet behind, even on the high speed downhills.

This goes on for like 45 minutes, as we thrash through some muddy, rooty, riverside trails that sap your energy. Another guy is in our group now, and it's getting harder to stay with them, as Sport class riders who did a shorter loop are now clogging the trail a bit. I finally pass them on a steep uphill, as they're pushing their bikes while I grind up, still in the saddle. Again I decide not to put the hammer down and try to leave them in the dust. Then I realize this is not possible anyways, as a branch has become stuck in my derailleur cog, playing the spokes like a hockey card. Normally I would stop to pull it out, but not wanting to let them by, I just start shifting all over the place and hopping up and down on my bike, trying to dislodge the little bugger. Finally it comes out. I miss a turn across a bridge, put on the brakes, and the other 2 end up sandwiching each other behind me. The third dude gets hot and starts blaming Chris for backing into him, as we all try to reorient ourselves to walk across the bridge, which is nothing but a series of stumps in the mud. Seeing how these guys are being a bit aggro, I motion them to go ahead of me, and take it out on the trail. Thinking back on it, I should have just pushed them both down in the mud and taken off !:)

They get ahead again, and we end up coming out onto a road. I'm sucking back some fluid and thinking about popping another gel, when I realize, 'Shit this is the road just down from the start line!' I'm a few hundred feet behind Chris when I stomp on it, going full blast for the finish line. People appear on the side of the road as we get closer, screaming for blood. This doesn't help my stealth attack much, and I end up being about 20 feet short at the line. Well, as it turns out a medal wasn't at stake, as we finished 5th/6th out of 15 or so in our class.

Awesome race, probably the toughest technically that I've done in Oregon. Today, don't feel too bad. Did some 8 minute MSP intervals, and then yeah OK starting to hurt. Next stop, Ashland.