#30

my blog is moving! i mean, life is a moving target, so why not my blog?

i figured that since life has really gotten in the way of racing and riding that it's not fair to blog the mundanities (is that a word?) of my life on a mountain biking forum. so, i've moved. you can find me blogging here.

enjoy!

rt

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#29

I have a close friend who recently found out that he has cancer. He is 42 years old and has been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. The prognosis for pancreatic cancer is poor (5 year survival < 5%). Thus, my friend's prognosis is poor. Despite this, he has a number of things working in his favor. He is 20 years younger than the typical person with pancreatic cancer (median age 66). He is healthy - well, apart from that cancer thing. And he has a strong will to live (But I'm not dead yet! ...I'm getting better! ...I think I'll go for a walk!). He is the father of 3 (2 boys, 1 girl) with a wonderful wife. He is smart; He is motivated; He has sought out the best medical care available; and he has a network of friends and family willing to support him in any way possible.

My friend begins a 6 week course of chemo (24 hrs/day, 5 days/week) and radiation (5 days/week) on Tuesday. The goal is to shrink his tumor (which is currently about the size of a walnut) to the point where the risks of surgery are reduced to a viable level. He has created a fantastic blog, I.N.D.Y., which is a tribute to his unique brand of humor - I.N.D.Y. stands for I'm not dead yet! (which will ring a bell for the Monty Python fans amongst you). In his blog he provides his thoughts, feelings, and a wealth of information on his disease. My friend is focusing on living in the present and has shown himself to be not only the wonderful person I already knew he was but an inspiration as well.

I can learn a lot from my friend's focus on the present. I am wont to get caught up in the 'what if's' and the 'what might be's'. I am a worrier and a Type A person. Both of these traits make me good at my job and an ideal candidate for training and (when time permits) racing. But they both also make me someone who forgets, at times, how not to be stressed. As I am discovering, far too soon, from my friend, life is too short to be stressed all the time.

This past weekend was dedicated to stress reduction. Saturday we packed up the singlespeeds and the dog and headed down to Birmingham, AL to ride the Bump n Grind race course. 17 fantastic miles of trail with a nasty fireroad climb in the middle.

We suited up.
mm was ready....


Nola was ready....


And we were off. The first bit of trail was too fast & flowy to stop for pictures, so the first Kodak moment came when we hit the fireroad.

mm feels like he's being followed...


yep, still being followed...


The fireroad climb, as usual was brutal, and made more so by the fact that we each had a single gear (mm: 33x17, rt 34x19). mm sprinted the hill while I simply struggled to make it to the top without dabbing. Nola, who is more of a sprinter than an endurance pup was dragging by the time we hit the climb (at mile 5) and seemed happy to plod along at a slow walk next to me while my computer barely registered 3 mph. The gnats sped past me and I think Nola wandered off for a 10 minute nap while I managed to progress about 25 feet.

mm reached the top of the climb, turned around, and caught me as I hit the final steep section to the top.

We passed the spot where I have flatted and crashed more times than I care to count in the Bump race without incident.


looks smooth, but it really isnt.

mm pointed out a smoother line but I had already bounced down the rocky, washed out, un-line in the center.

We continued along a fast section of fireroad, slowing or stopping occasionally to let the dragging doggie catch up until we hit Blood Rock. This is the section that everyone remembers about this trail. In truth, it looks a lot scarier than it is: there is a clear line with 3 rollable drops (the largest about 18-20"), 2 tight turns, and a final wet rocky roll out section. I love Blood Rock.


enterance to the Blood rock section

mm rides it






rt rides it


Nola makes it look easy


Six more miles of fun singletrack and we are done with our first lap. We deposit the doggie by the car to rest and head out for a 2nd lap. More of the same fun, but this time at a faster pace and without the camera.

After 2 laps and 34 miles, I am done. mm heads back out for a 3rd lap (stud), and Nola decides she's ready to continue the doggie triathalon and brings me a stick which she insists I throw into the lake for her to retrieve. She enjoys this game immensely and we attract a small crowd of kids who are amazed at her swimming and fetching abilities. They each want to throw the stick for her and I organized turn taking.

Eventually both the kids and Nola tire of the game and shortly thereafter mm returns with 52 singlespeeding miles in his legs and a strong desire to do nothing more energetic than lie flat on his back on the closest picnic table.

We finish our day off with a visit and dinner with friends who live in the Birmingham area, and a late night drive back to Atlanta where we fall into bed happy but exhausted.


tired dirty bikes

Sunday dawned cloudy and a bit threatening (despite the forecast of sun and 10% chance of rain) and we met up with one of mm's friends who recently bought a road bike and did a nice easy spin around town. The rest of the day was dedicated to house work. Our kitchen renovation is almost complete and mm spent the day putting in trim below the cabinets and crown molding above (it's my job to paint once things are in place).

While mm beautified our kitchen I tried to do something with our back garden. Nola is of the opinion that anything green is fair game to be dug up and sat upon. As such, she has really taken a toll on my efforts at cultivating something other than dirt. In an effort to thwart her desire to sit on my plants I opted to put in a container garden this year.


The pots seem to deter her desire make a plant dog bed. All in all, I'd say it looks pretty good.


So, in the end, we had a lovely, relaxing, living in the present weekend. Here's to many more of them.

rt

To laugh often and love much;
to win the respect of intelligent persons and the affection of children;
to earn the approbation of honest citizens and endure the betrayal of false friends;
to appreciate beauty;
to find the best in others;
to give of one’s self;
to leave the world a bit better, whether by a healthy child, a garden patch or a redeemed social condition;
to have played and laughed with enthusiasm and sung with exultation;
to know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived - this is to have succeeded.

-- Ralph Waldo Emerson

Comments (0)

#28

Part I - White knuckle resistance training

Sunday plan: 3-4 hrs of trail on the singlespeeds.
Saturday night-Sunday forecast: 80% chance of rain, strong thunderstorms, damaging hail, wind......
Not exactly a promising forecast for implementing our plan to ride trail.

Surprisingly we awoke to blue skies and damp streets Sunday morning - another accurate forecast by the weather-guessers at we-lie-alot (aka The Weather Channel). Sweet! We started gathering the bikes up and getting stuff ready to head out to ride.

Hmmm....how much rain did we actually get over night? We should probably check just make sure the trails are open.YES! We got a whopping 0.03" of rain. No reason to close the trails. Wooo hooo! Singlespeeding here we come! Uh, not so much. A trace of rain and the trail nazis have shut down every trail in a 50 mile radius of our house. Fan-tastic.

Now before someone jumps all over me for ruining trails, causing erosion, and being worse than the bike-hating equestrians who take their steeds out on wet trails leaving 6" deep potholes in the clay-like mud (no offense meant to non-bike-hating equestrians who are careful about trail conditions), I'm all for trail closures to prevent trail ruination. But 0.03" inches of rain and blazing sun to dry whatever might still be damp I hardly think that warrants a trail closure. But that's just my opinion....

Back went the singlespeeds into the bike room and out came the roadies. Sigh. Not what we wanted at all, but still, much better than nothing.

Revised plan: A nice 50 mile roadie loop from the house.

While the weather-guesser totally missed on the 80% chance of rain and hail all day, s/he got it right with the wind. Holy h3ll was it windy out there. Like windtunnel testing....only for free. The good news was that the temps have been relatively cool so the usual deep south method of figuring out wind direction were null and void: i.e, it's a headwind if you smell the the dead possum before you see it; tailwind if you smell the dead possum after you see it; and a crosswind if you get blown into the dead possum as you smell it.

with a face like that, why wouldn't you run it over????

Instead we were greeted by the smell of honeysuckle and wild roses before, after, and as we passed them.


However, being buffeted by 30-40 mph wind gusts for 2.5 hrs makes for some white knuckle riding. Even as I struggle to get back into shape after 4 months of kitchen renovation and couch riding, I am still no match for wind that can do this:
.

It was a free-for-all when the gusts struck as to where the front wheels of our bikes would go. We sincerely wished for cars to give us extra passing room just in case. We unsuccessfully tried to create an eschaleon of 2. At times I was sure my bike and I were at a 45 degree angle to the road and if the wind stopped suddenly, which it was wont to do, I would end up in a heap on the ground. m-m and I dared each other to see how long the other could ride with no hands before being blown over. Needless to say we didn't give it a try.

We estimated that we would be lucky to average 15 mph for our 50 miles. This loop generally defies the laws of nature and provides a headwind or crosswind-headwind from all directions. If you have a headwind on the way out, you are gauranteed to have a headwind on the way back too. But the gods seemed to be smiling on us yesterday, after battling the wind for 2.5 hrs we turned onto the final 20 mile stretch of open road and found ourselves with a blissful tailwind (with only occasional suprise crosswind gusts). Suddenly we were averaging 25 mph without breaking a sweat. We felt like Cancellera....except with smaller thighs.

We rolled back up to the house in under 3 hrs with a 17.5+ mph average and some very tired legs.

Part II - Sunburn hurts

I am 41 years old and today my shoulders glow in the dark and more closely resemble a cooked lobster than human skin in daylight. You would think that in 41 years of life I would learn to remember to put on sunscreen before going out for a 3-ish hour ride in the blazing sun. But NOOOOOOOOOO! Not me. Apparently 41 years of experience with the sun has taught me nothing and I have managed to toast my shoulders & back no less than 3 times in the last 3 weeks. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. I think from now on I am going to keep the sunscreen in my helmet or my shoes just to remind me to wear it.

Ouch.

Part III - My first mother's day


need I say more?

rt

Comments (1)

#27

I have had a long standing theory that my brain will get me further in life than my cycling will. Even in my most fervent days of training & racing, I still knew that my furture lay in my cognitive skills not my ability to go fast or long.

Yesterday I was finally proven right and I had my Worhol-esk 15 minutes of fame - except, due to inflation it turned into more like 15 nanoseconds of fame. No matter the length, it is unlikely that I will ever have the opportunity again to see myself on the national news (doing something that doesn't involve being led away in handcuffs ):
CBS Nightly News with Katie Couric

Oh, and maybe now that I am done working 12 hour days for a while I can get back to riding my bike.

rt

Comments (2)

#26

it's been so long since i posted on any forum that i actually got a little note asking me to come back and post. can't remember another time where this has happened. i've been slacking....and busy. ah well, such is life.

Comments (0)

#25

Orrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrcaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhh hhhhhhh


but wait? is that red? do your eyes deceive you? hmmm..... maybe something got lost in translation and i said this:
ooooooooooooooooooooorrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrcccccccccccca aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa


yes, that looks better. but the size. it's all wrong. 51 cm? what? do i think i'm going to have a growth spurt in my 40s? unfortunately that's not likely. as much as i would like to be taller, wishing and buying larger bikes does not make it so.

so she got stripped down, we sold the frame and fork, and i started over with a 48 cm frame.

as luck would have it the Orbea rep happened to have an '08 frame in just my size.....


comin' atcha


from the top down


feel the force...........the force is fuzzy?

[SIZE="1"]yeah it's time for a new camera[/SIZE]

just the facts ma'am
'08 Orbea Orca frameset, 48 cm
full SRAM Force groupo
Salsa Poco Carbon bars (38)
Orbea CAT II stem & carbon post (to be replaced soon)
Selle Italia Signo gel flow saddle (to be replaced asap!!!)
Mavic Ksyrium ES wheelset
Michelin Pro Lite tires
Look Keo pedals
Profile Design carbon cages (may be replaced with metal cages eventually for easier bottle removal but the carbon ones match so nicely )

lighter than air


ok maybe air is still lighter but m-m had to hang on tight to keep her from floating away


built up and ready to ride



my first ride on her was 70+ miles in the N. GA mountains. smooth doesn't even begin to describe her. the shorter wheelbase than my previous bike makes handling a dream. she accelerates better than i do and i barely do her justice on the climbs. i'm looking forward to many years of riding in her company.

ahh, nothing quite like being the first kid on the block with a new toy.


rt

Comments (6)

#24

so, many of you have been wondering when i'll update my blog. sometimes life gets in the way of riding.....and that's not a bad thing. but since the blog is really dedicated to riding i've been keeping mum. however, given that people are asking here's what we've been up to...

last weekend we took a trip to the pumpkin patch. lots of squash but not a bicycle in sight.

pumpkins everywhere


there were big pumpkins


and little pumpkins.


sometimes, it takes a village to lift a pumpkin


next on the agenda was a trip to the park.


is there anything more fun than a slide?


or a sandbox?


and finally, a little proof that old gymnasts never die. they just need to find lower beams.


rt

Comments (5)

#23

Dear Diary,

My name is rt and I am a glutton for punishment. Last Sunday I did a race that took me longer to ride than I spend at my desk on a typical work day. I climbed almost as many feet as a TdF rider in the Alps (but without the help of banned substances), and ended up spending 2 days on the couch recovering.

The worst part about it is I could have predicted this. After all, it’s not the first time I’ve done this race. But hey, at least this time the weather and conditions couldn’t have been better



I even managed to ride without any mechanical mishaps, crashes or other similar disasters, or encounters with bees or other stinging creatures.



But still…you’d think I’d learn!



I mean, really, how many people would look at this description and think, ‘hey! That looks like a great way to spend a free Sunday.’???




[SIZE="1"]i particularly like "many riders have retired their biking efforts after competing in this race" [/SIZE]

Right. Now ask yourself, how many people would do that, learn how miserably painful it is, and still go back year after year for more?????

I consider myself to be a reasonably intelligent adult (probably a misperception), and yet despite knowing that I’m going to wish for death somewhere around mile 45 and want to sell my bike to the lowest bidder immediately after crossing the finish line, I continue to show up at the Off Road Assault on Mt. Mitchell.



For the week leading up to the race m-m, his brother Kevin, and I watched the weather like a cast of hawks (yes, a group of hawks is called a “cast”. I looked it up). Kevin would be doing ORAMM for the first time. M-m is still out of racing commission due to knee issues but agreed to come up as support and entertain himself on a long road ride on the Blue Ridge Parkway while Kevin and I rode over Pisgah hill and dale.


the top of a 19 mile climb for m-m

Rather than embark on the futile path of trying to find a reasonably priced hotel in the middle of Pisgah Forest, and having learned my lesson about camping close enough to ride to the race (ORAMM rept 1), I opted for a hotel in the booming metropolis of Morganton, NC. This required that we drive up SC-18 for long enough that we all began to hear dualing banjos and the guys started hearing ghostly whispers of “Boy, you got a purdy mouth…”

We checked into the hotel at 9:30 pm and were out by 7 then next morning. With a 30 minute drive to Old Fort, we were pushing things very, very close to the 7:45 am rider meeting and 8:00 am start time. Usually I like to be at the race venue at least an hour before the start. I broke every speed limit on the way to Old Fort and still managed to miss the prerace meeting as I threw any last minute things I might need into my pockets and camelbak. Going to the prerace meeting might have been useful as it would have alerted me to the fact that the route had changed from the last time I raced and the distance/my time to my 1st planned stop would be significantly longer than in previous years and thus would require more food/liquid. But what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, right?

Kevin and I tucked in toward the back of the pack of 450 riders to wait for the start.



My theory was that it didn’t really matter where I started because I would be spending the first 40 minutes warming up and had no plans to try to hang with the front group as they hammered the starting section of pavement toward the first bit of dirt. There wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hades that I would be among the first to hit the dirt so I might as well just ride my own race.

In retrospect, this was a mistake. We could have easily moved forward in the crowd and been mid-pack to start which would have put us in amongst the more seasoned racers who would be more likely to ride than walk when things got jammed up. Foresight, however, is not 20/20.

8:10 am: Todd, the man responsible for this sufferfest, yelled “GO!” and we……………………………………stood there.

Maybe 45 seconds later my portion of the field finally started to move. We were off.

Kevin stuck with me as we set a sedate warm-up pace and moved up through the field. In past years we started with 3 miles of pavement before hitting the climb up Old 70 to the base of Kitsuma where 12 brutal switchbacks would take us to the first technical descent of the day. However since last year, (should have gone to the prerace meeting), Old 70 has been closed and the race would now circumnavigate the base of Kitsuma with 4 additional miles of pavement before any dirt would be seen.

I chatted a bit with, R, the women’s SS winner of the Cowbell Challenge 12 hr race as we cruised along. We would continue to see each other for most of the day. R, you are a stud-ette completing this race on an SS!!

We passed Andrews Geyser and finally saw the turn off the pavement onto dirt. Ahhh….dirt. Into the singletrack and WHAM! We came to a screeching halt to the tune of a traffic jam that closely resembled I-285 on a holiday weekend.


mmm...feel the traffic-y love

I’m on dirt and I’m standing still. WTH? Why? Why?! WHY are we standing still???? The line of dismounted riders begins to move and we shuffle along over totally rideable singletrack. Then we stop. Then we shuffle along again. I could cry looking at all this great singletrack that I am being forced to walk. Finally, I can’t stand it anymore and I get on my bike and begin to ride. “Rider back!” Walkers move over and I am able to ride up to the next point where people are stopped dead in their tracks. Well, that got me exactly nowhere but at least I got to ride my bike to nowhere.

At last I see the cause of the traffic jam: a 50’ stupid-steep, unrideable hike-a-bike section. Ah. Well, that explains everything. At the top of the hike-a-bike the trail levels out and I am back on my bike. It is still crowded and things back up but at least most of my forward momentum is on the bike rather than next to it.

Out of the singletrack and back onto pavement. Sharp left turn and onto gravel. This road will take us up to the base of Kitsuma. Switch backs here I come.

I surprise myself by riding many of the switchbacks that I remember as being impossible. One thing I have noticed this year is that my technical skills have taken a quantum leap. I have always been a decent, albeit cautious, technical rider but I am now finding that I can clean technical climbs and decents that in the past were unrideable for me. After 10 years of riding it’s nice to see that I can still make noticeable progress in my skills/abilities.

Once again the singletrack is clogged with walking riders but people are generally accommodating to riders back and I have only a few mishaps where my front tire bumps someone’s rear tire as they suddenly stop dead in their tracks. We form an assembly line to get people over the giant tree that is lying diagonally across the trail. Fortunately, there are no pictures of my very ungraceful climb over the trunk of the tree.

The descent off Kitsuma is challenging and technical, I am forced to walk a short rutted out steep section because of the traffic but am back on my bike for the drop off the waterbar and the remainder of the descent that takes you past thick rhododendrons on 6” wide, scary exposed and sometimes off-camber singletrack.

I’m having too much fun but the additional road miles have added 45 minutes to my estimated ride time to the first checkpoint. Nevertheless, I continue past checkpoint 1 and stick to my plan of stopping only twice: at checkpoints 2 and 3.

Another hour passes as I climb Star Gap, ride the ridgeline, and admire the views.



There is a dark cloud to my left but blue sky abounds. I can feel my camelbak getting light and I have eaten all my gels. I hope I get to the 2nd checkpoint soon since I’m getting hungry.

Another 10 min pass. Definitely hungry now. Not just a little hungry but REALLY hungry!! I have some jerky in a ziploc bag in my jersey pocket. Do you know how hard it is to descend while trying to open a Ziploc bag and extract a small fragment of jerky while wearing full-finger cycling gloves? Let me tell you, it’s not easy. But it is much easier than trying to eat jerky through a plastic bag!

Ahh, the jerkey does the trick and in another 10 minutes I roll into checkpoint 2 where my cooler awaits me.

A bottle of endurox, refill the camelbak bladder, 4 more gels for the pockets, a shot of pickle juice (mmm…salty), a package of crackers in my pocket and 8 minutes later I’m heading off for the long, painful climb up Curtis Creek Rd. Some call this climb the climb of death. Others call it the climb from h3ll. But regardless of what you call it the road climbs 2600’ in 9 brutal miles.

This climb sucks, and seriously makes you consider joining Vino on his doping rampage. It’s 100% gravel road, long, boring, steep at times, boring, long, and did I mention boring? I sit. I stand. Parts of me go numb. I wish for a moving sidewalk, a rope tow, an act of God to put me out of my small world of climbing misery. R on her singlespeed passes me seated and spinning. Ouch. I stand. I sit. At least the sun is out.

Then suddenly, there’s the gate! Only a few hundred meters to the top and my second cooler. 1:05 to go from checkpoint 2 to 3. I’ve planned for this to be my 2nd and last stop for the day. Half a turkey sandwich, more pickle juice, I can’t face another bottle of endurox so I leave it, one of those ½ cans of Pepsi (mmm, bubbles, sugar & caffine), get rid of empty gel packs and replace with new ones, a new/full camelbak bladder, lube the chain. Best of all, fresh gloves. Ahhhhh! About 10 minutes later I’m ready to head off and belch my way through the rest of the race.


parkway view thanks to Duckman

By now Kevin is ahead of me. I see him briefly at the top of Curtis Creek Rd but he is long gone before I head out. It’s chilly up here at 4100’ and I wish I’d thought to put my vest into my cooler instead of my rain jacket (which would be much too warm). We take a new route this year and instead of a well deserved 3 mile gravel road descent we turn left onto the pavement of the Blue Ridge Parkway for 7 miles of tarmac.

Immediately the road turns up. Why are we climbing again????? I begin to curse Todd, his progeny, and anyone remotely associated with him. I talk out loud to myself as I grind out the gradual ascent, ‘how much do you want to bet we’re going be climbing for SEVEN F(*^$)ING MORE MILES??’ (Note: please remember that at this point I have been on my bike for about 5 hours and 6000’ of climbing. It is perfectly rational behavior to talk out loud to oneself after 5 hrs/6000’ of climbing.)

At last the road turns downward. I tuck into an aero position that would make Zabriskie envious and conserve as much energy as possible as I fly past the 4th checkpoint willing the pavement to continue on its downward trajectory. Nope, it once again turns up and I grind out the last mile of parkway pavement mumbling epithets to myself.

A sharp left turn, and just because we haven’t been punished enough there is a 200 m vile hike-a-bike up what I swear is a cliff wall. I’m tired, I hate life, riding a mountain bike sucks, and the very last thing in the world I want to do is push said mountain bike up the side of a rooty, rocky POS 65 degree incline. The only consolation is I know that once I get to the top I have one of the best descents in Pisgah waiting for me: Heartbreak ridge – 3500’ of descending in 7 miles.

I slog up the incline and curse Todd and all his relations some more. At the top I waste no time getting back on the bike to begin the fun. Usually by the time I get to this point in the race I am so tired that it’s hard to enjoy the descent but despite my fatigue this year I am not so tired that I don’t have fun.

My HRM reads 6.5 hours in as I begin the descent. It’s fun, it’s fast, it’s skinny, it’s exposed. I go as fast as my cautious self allows. Now for the switchbacks. I make more than I have to walk. My triceps are screaming ‘NO MAS!’ but I ignore them. All too soon it is over. I pass the last checkpoint without stopping.

I’m 7 hrs in. All that’s left is a 4 mile gravel road climb, the 12 switchback climb up Kitsuma, a screaming, technical singletrack descent and then 3 miles of pavement back to town.

There’s a fork in the road. A sign on the left fork has a large X and says “wrong”. A little arrow on the pavement points to the right fork. Uhhhhhhh…………..I ride in a circle while my brain processes this information. Another racer comes along and says, ‘go right!’. Oh. Yeah. I knew that. We chat for a bit and then each of us returns to our own ‘quiet place’ to suffer in silence. He pulls ahead of me but I keep a steady pace and eventually catch and pass him.

I make it to the top of the gravel road climb. Only the switchbacks to go then it’s all down hill. Exhausted riders litter the climb up Kitsuma. I pass cramping riders, riders pushing their bikes, riders losing their gels (the racing equivalent of losing one’s lunch). I’m tired but am still able to ride more efficiently than walk. I swear the rhododendrons have taken steroids and overgrown the trail in the past 7 hrs and the trail is now even skinnier than it was in the morning.

I desperately want to finish in 8 hrs. This race took me 8:50 in the rain two years ago. I’d love to cut 50 minutes off my time. I crest the top of Kitsuma at about 7.5 hrs. I look at my HRM and say “Now’s the time to open it up and let it roll!!”

I fly down the Kitsuma descent, yelling ‘RIDER BACK!’ when I see racers walking ahead. Still talking out loud I fly through the rutted out technical section, ‘I hope I don’t die!!!!’, and log drop, ‘Oooops! Nose wheelie!’, and continue on. I have to slow to get over the downed logs that have settled off camber on the narrow trail and once again require help to get over the giant tree. My triceps have had it and every bump in the trail makes me cringe. The descent seems to take forever but I pop out at Andrews Geyser at 8 hrs even.

Only 3 miles of pavement to go and I am done!! I put my head down and concentrate on turning the pedals over. Knobby tires whirr against the tarmac. I can see 3 riders ahead of me and push as hard as I can to catch up. As I get closer I can see that one of the riders is Kevin! I haven’t seen him since the 3rd checkpoint, about 4 hrs ago. I push that much harder to try to catch up to his group.

I’m still 10 bike lengths off the back of Kevin’s group when I see the 1 mile to go sign.

Less than a mile now.


A few more turns and I hear m-m call my name!


He is back from his ride and sitting, camera in hand, waiting for our return.

pavement flew by beneath m-m's wheels

1 block to go.

Down the final stretch and into the finish area.

“headsupheadsupheadsup!!” I yell to a spectator who is wandering down the finishing straight – my arms hurt too much to squeeze the brakes. Kevin is just ahead of me as we cross the line.

8:09

62 miles, 10,000’ climbing (by my HRM)

40 minutes faster than 2 years ago and good enough for 4th place in Women’s Masters.


love the guy yawning behind me!

Congrats to Kevin for finishing his first ORAMM in a very respectable 8:08.



Not to mention Kevin was the amazingly lucky winner of a brand new set of Industry Nine wheels.


Kevin does the happy dance with his mr. pibb

M-m and I considered killing him and dumping the body on the way home so that we could claim the wheels but better sense took over and Kevin made it home safely.



Many thanks to Todd for setting up a fun route and putting on an amazing event. Thanks also to Lee at Peachtree Bikes for working some incredible magic and getting my back brake functioning. I seriously, couldn’t have done this race without your mechanical genius. I owe you! And finally, thanks to the many people who commented on my race report that is posted on the ORAMM website. It’s nice to know that people enjoy my ramblings.


stinky gloves anyone?

rt

Comments (9)

#22

please, please, please get out there an do a sun dance or animal sacrifice or whatever it is you do to control the weather for me.

i'm signed up for 65 miles and 11,000+ ft of climbing this Sunday (no bees please [SIZE="1"][sorry pics seem to have disappeared from the link][/SIZE]) and the forecast looks like this...



i'd really like i'd really like to make it through the 65 miles without needing a snorkle or listening to the water in my shoes squish for 8 straight hours.

please, whatever you can do....



rt

Comments (2)

#21

I love the trails at Issaqueena Experimental Forest in Clemson SC. They are ideal singlespeed trails and boatloads of fun to ride on any bike any time. My enjoyment of these trails has translated into some great races on these trails as well. And I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to pull out the ss for some XC racing fun at Issaqueena this past weekend. Not to mention an opportunity to visit with my friends Z & the bestest feedzone fairy ever, Tammy, whom I’ve sorely missed this year as our race schedules have barely overlapped.

m-m and I headed up to pre-ride late on Sat and arrived on the tail of those typical southern summer late afternoon thunder soakers that does nothing but make the trail sloppy, the roads steam, and increase the humidity in the air from 99.9% to 275%. m-m was going to test out his knee, which has been feeling much better, and do the preride with me. But rather than wallow in the slick red-orange Carolina clay we decided to forego the pre-ride and 3 subsequent hrs of bike clean-up.

One advantage of having raced the same series for the past 4 years is that I now have practically every XC course on the schedule memorized. We head toward the start line and I ride my ghost bike a la that credit card commercial where the guy is out “riding” with his buddies but he doesn’t have a bike because he’s waiting to get his credit card reward.


(no, that’s not me…or m-m….in fact, I don’t know who it is)

We’re 10 feet into the start of the trail when “riding” my ghost bike I begin my narrative:
Down the short bit of fireroad – this part is going to suck on the ss since it’s got a very slight downhill grade so we’re all going to be spinning like hamsters, left turn into the woods, a few root drops smoothest line to the left then a curve to the right, smooth, until the short up with the root lip –the right side is the smoothest, and left turn onto the double track. Spin the double track….there’s a log hop a little ways down then it’s a fast descent past that log on the right and then keep my eyes open for that downed tree on the right which is the marker to scrub speed for the sharp left that is coming up. Around the sharp left and smooth and fast, a drop, 2 trees, and then a sharp right…

”Why are we even walking this? You already have it memorized!!” m-m asks. I grin. We prewalk the first mile of the trail and head back to the car. I’ll spin my legs out on the trainer tonight sot that they're fresh for the morning. the ss race is scheduled to begin at 9:30 am.

Race day dawns hot with the promise of getting hotter. The start is typical of all starts. I take off and spin like a gerbil on crack down the short fire road and into the single track. I drop into the trail behind a guy on a blue bike.



The trail is bone dry to the point of being slick from the dust. It feels like there is no one else around but me and the blue bike in front of me. I am racing for personal satisfaction rather than a podium spot since I am racing the open ss class as the only female (again). My plan is to ride the first lap at endurance pace and then pick it up for the 2nd lap. My goal is simple: don’t finish last.

My legs feel good and I follow the rider on the blue bike – sometimes getting almost close enough to pass and sometimes dropping back. The deer are out in force and gallop along side the trail as I ride. The trail is almost too dry. My front wheel nearly washes out a few times. Up the steep hill, my legs still feel good and I am getting ready to start lap 2.

Out for lap 2, I push my pace. I’m done after this lap so I can afford to leave it all out there. The rider on the blue bike nearly hits a deer as it jumps across the trail. It’s hot out but not as hot or as humid as I anticipated. I cruise through the lap, hit the fireroad climb and push up the hill. Almost done. I feel like I’m out on the course alone….so alone, in fact that it feels like I’m not even on the same course as everyone else.

And, in all honesty, I’m not!

The truth is, we got up to Clemson on Sat, did our prewalk and then headed off to dinner where I suddenly realized that I’d left my cycling shoes at home!!

No shoes. No race. Doh!

This is the first time I have ever gone to a race and forgotten to bring a major piece of gear. Glad we hadn’t driven 5 hrs!!

We hung out with Z, Tammy, Charly, and Thomas until about 9:30 pm when they hit the hay for their pre-race beauty sleep, then headed back to Atlanta. Instead of racing I spent a couple hours chasing m-m on his blue bike at Ft. Yargo State Park yesterday (where the deer really were out in force).


Technical rooty section


passion flower seen next to the trail



rt

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