Race Report: 2007 Whiskeytown 9 to 5

I tried to prepare for this race as best I could. Friday night I loaded up the truck with my bike and equipment. In the morning I would only have a few things to do before I hit the road. Still, I would have to get up at 3:45 to leave by 4:30. This shouldn't have been much of an issue since I get up that early almost every day. I simply needed to go to bed at a reasonable time and I would be fine.

Unfortunately, I was too amped up to sleep. After tossing and turning for hours, I finally fell asleep around 11:30 p.m. I woke up at 3:00 and couldn't get back to sleep. I would have to do this race on 3.5 hours of sleep.

It was a long drive to Whiskeytown Lake. After nearly 3.5 hours, I pulled in to the campground where Roger flagged me down and told me to park next to him. He and Sean Allen had a pit set up right on the race course, which turned out to be a really sweet spot. I jumped out of the truck to find it cold—really cold. Like 35 degrees cold, and all I brought in the way of warm weather gear were arm and knee warmers. Nice.

I registered, dressed and set up a makeshift pit in the bed of my truck. I spun around for a little bit in an effort to warm up, but in hindsight not really long enough. Roger filled me in on the course: the first climb was very steep, and the first downhill a little sketchy, so take it slow the first lap. Got it.

After the riders meeting, we cruised down the road a little bit where we would eventually line up. After goofing around for a while, Roger and I rolled up to the starting line. People immediately started lining up behind us. I didn't want to be up front, but I figured there would be plenty of time for things to string out before the climbing began.

When we took off, I took a few easy pedal strokes and slipped right onto Roger's wheel. My only thought was not knocking down Roger, who had the ability to win the race. When I looked up, we were sitting one-two heading into the dirt. I eased up on the pedals, because I didn't want to be up there, but nobody would come around.



As the trail tilted up, one single speeder jumped around me to go after Roger. We rounded a corner and were greeted by a wall. I threw it into an easier gear and started grinding away. Roger and the other single speeder had a gap, then it was me and a long line of people right on my ass. With everyone riding on my wheel, I felt pressured to keep the hammer down, even though I was already very uncomfortable with the pace. I figured that the grade couldn't stay this steep for very long, so I kept pounding away in a big gear. We went around another corner, and it was more of the same—steep, rutted, rocky, with exposed roots. I kept going with my heart rate near max. I thought, "What the hell are you doing? It's an EIGHT HOUR race!"

Another single speeder jumped around me and promptly spun his tire, which brought us both to a stop. Thankful for the excuse, I jumped off my bike and started walking while four or five guys rode past. I jumped back on the train and continued climbing, looking back to see nobody else as far as I could see. I was at the tail end of the "fast guys" group, a collection of racers I had no right to be part of. When we finally crested the top I was cursing the promoter. What a tough climb to start off a race with.

The descent was as tricky as advertised, and I was lucky to have advanced knowledge. The singletrack was exposed, rocky, loose and sketchy. The turns often had decreasing radii or off-camber surfaces. I thought of Sean who would be navigating this at night because he was doing the 24-hour race.

After the downhill there was another climb, this time on a fireroad, that immediately put me back into difficulty. It was short, but once again steep. Then another loose, rocky downhill that led to another fireroad climb. This one I could comfortably do in a reasonable gear, allowing me to eat, drink and pop Endurolytes. Most of the course after that was fun singletrack, with some steep grinds here and there, one hike-a-bike, and a screaming fireroad descent back to the finishing road.

When I checked in after the lap, I took a peek at the log sheet. There weren't many people checked in yet, and I was leading my age class. This was really dumb on my part. I went out way too hard on the first lap.

I finished the first 8.5 mile lap feeling a bit negative about the course. It was by far the most demanding of the three endurance courses I had raced on (Cool being the easiest). I hit the climb and immediately went for the granny gear. I was able to go up the climb at almost the same speed, but with a good spin and a WAY lower heart rate. It wasn't too bad the second time around.

The singletrack descent was still sketchy the second time. I just didn't feel comfortable on it. There were way too many corners where mistakes would send you over a cliff. My Waltworks hardtail excels on wide-open, high-speed descents, but I have never felt comfortable on it in technical situations like these.

I backed off the throttle a bit on the second lap and a couple guys passed me. That didn't worry me because I was just there to finish my eight hours. Halfway through the lap was a makeshift rest stop stocked with Hammer Gels, so I grabbed a couple. The flavor was "tropical," and they tasted like crap. I rode on wondering what about this nasty taste was tropical.

The second lap passed without fanfare. My legs felt great after slowing down a bit, and I was confident I could keep up the pace and knock out some laps.


I stopped at the truck, chucked the two empty bottles, and grabbed two new ones from the ice chest. Ten second pit stop.

I hit the climb for the third time and felt OK. I didn't want to kill the promoter anymore, at least not for the moment. About halfway up, when I hit one of the steeper sections, both hamstrings locked up suddenly with powerful cramps. What the hell? Two hours into the race? I had been adhering to my eating and drinking schedule, and I had been taking the Endurolytes. I was shocked and bewildered. I hopped off the bike, popped three Endurolytes, and drank a whole bottle of energy drink. I remounted and gingerly finished the climb. I continued the lap at a reduced pace, and didn't have any more cramps, but I was going pretty slow. People were passing me at regular intervals now. Mentally I was feeling pretty down. At the rest stop I pulled out some more Endurolytes and popped them as an older guy was passing me. He said he too was cramping already and couldn't believe it. I felt a little better knowing I wasn't the only one, but not much.

After the third lap I stopped at the truck to oil my bone-dry chain and get more energy drink since I consumed two bottles during the lap. I drank some water and took more Endurolytes. I hit the climb for the fourth time and immediately cramped. I climbed off the bike, drank more energy drink, stretched and tried again. Cramps. I continued walking up and tried a few more times to ride, but the cramps would not let up. Mentally I was broken. Even though my legs had many more miles left in them if I could just defeat the cramps, my mind had quit. I was done.

I coasted back downhill to the truck and threw the bike in. Sean's wife Mary—who was pitting for Sean and Roger, and is herself an accomplished racer—tried to console me. I changed clothes and stuck around long enough to see Roger and Sean come around a couple times, then made the long drive home. I just wasn't in the mood to be there watching other people make it look so damn easy.

Even though I was in better shape for this race than I was for the Boggs 8-hour, I only made it a little over half the distance.

I learned a few things from the race. For one, you cannot train for mountain bike endurance racing by riding on the road. Regardless of all the hours I put in, they in no way simulated the intensity required for that course.

Doing long rides alone isn't enough. Without some hard interval training, your legs will be shocked when the intensity of racing is encountered. Regardless of your intentions to keep your heart rate down, situations will arise that force you to redline.

You cannot do this kind of racing half-assed. My penchant for being ill-prepared, tired and late-arriving isn't such a hindrance in a short cross-country race. An endurance race is a different story. It was dumb of me to do all the training, spend all the money, waste all the time, and then try to drive down the same day. For another $55 I could have stayed in a Redding motel, picked up my race packet Friday night, and left for the race at 8:00 instead of 4:30.

Do NOT eat Mexican food the night before a race. Jennifer had a bad day at work on Friday, so she wanted to go to her favorite restaurant. I wanted something mellow like pasta, bread and a salad, but I didn't speak up. Normally Mexican food doesn't bother me, but with the nervousness I was experiencing the night before I was a wreck the next morning.

Ride a bike you are comfortable on, not one you have been wrestling with your position on for 18 months.

Chamois butter is a great thing. I slathered my shorts with the stuff and had ZERO issues with discomfort like I did at Boggs.

Later.

Race Report: 2007 PCRS #7

After race number six I was tired. All the racing and training leading up to the 24-hour race (and the race itself) took its toll. Added to all the other adult responsibilities, I was preparing for a huge retaining wall and cement work in the backyard. And a pool in the front yard. And another retaining wall around that. And a pool fence. And more cement work.

If a witch were to concoct a sickness potion, she would throw all those things into a caldron and say a few lines of rhyming nonsense. Poof! "You're sick!" she would cackle as she sped off on her broom.

By the time race number seven rolled around, my cold had devolved into a lung infection. I was on antibiotics and feeling pretty terrible. However, I was in first place in the standings, and as I was juggling all the things in my life, I was a little too obsessed with that racing ball that had a "#1" on it.

Today I had a sore throat and a headache, but I went out and raced anyway with predictable results. Doug ripped off another win, Jerry took second, and I limped around the course to take 8th place. Jerry leapfrogged over me and now had a solid five-point series lead after seven races.

Even though I knew I could bounce back after the infection cleared, I started questioning whether I even wanted to. This all started as a way for Doug and I to train for the Coolest 24, and we accomplished that. Now the weather had turned very hot, and circling around the rough, dusty, boring courses was quickly losing its appeal.

I decided to take a week off to fully recover. Then I simply never went back.

All things considered, I was fine with how it turned out.

Even with missing the last five races I took 6th place out of 62 on the season. A top five would have been nice, but that's what happens when you quit.

Later.

Race Report: 2007 PCRS #6

I came out of the Coolest 24 race feeling a bit run down, and I didn't ride at all Monday or yesterday, so I wasn't expecting a great result from this race. After a couple practice laps, my legs felt OK but not great. The course was longer and harder this week, with some technical terrain and much more climbing, which I welcomed. I told Doug that some new people will rise to the top in this race.

Doug and I both started poorly and had to pick our way through the field. Jerry (517) was flying.



I lost Doug pretty quickly, and I figured I was going to have a bad day.



My legs felt dead.



At the beginning of the second lap a large rock flipped off someone's tire, hitting me in the right shin. It hurt like hell, but it made me forget all about my dead legs. These things happen in racing, and you just have to block it out. I refused to even glance down at my leg to see how it looked.

I kept plugging along, my throat burning from the dust. Towards the end of the second lap I saw my nemesis, Jerry, up ahead of me on a climb. I knew I could get him if I took back a little time on every climb. At his size, regardless of how strong he is, I just didn't think he could out climb me.

So I set about executing my plan, hitting every climb hard, but not too hard.



Slowly but surely I reeled him in. Before a gradual climb towards the end of the race, I rested on a downhill and then gave it full gas going by him. I held my speed all the way over the top and hit the downhill with a big gap on him. He came back a little on a flat section, where he could use his power, but when we hit another steep hill I hit it hard again. That broke him. It was so very sweet. I put about 45 seconds into him by the finish. What made it even sweeter was how he completely ignored me after the race. He was very willing to talk after races when he was beating me, but not today.

I came in fourth while Doug once again took the win. I feel good about my progression in the last three weeks: sixth, fifth and fourth.

My lumpy shin after the race:

I wrestled back first overall from Jerry, again leading him by one point. (Click for a better view.)



With six races down and six to go, I feel good about a podium finish.

Later.

Race Report: 2007 Coolest 24

As promised the year before, the Noble Riders returned to the Coolest 24 in 2007 to defend our crown. Unlike the previous year, there was no debate as to which class we would enter. As defending champions we would be racing in the pro/expert class. My childhood dream of racing as a pro finally happened at 39 years of age.

Craig could not make it this year so we recruited Steve's friend Alan who came down with Steve from Bellingham, Washington. Alan was the perfect replacement and we never missed a beat.

This year we arrived earlier and set up camp at a more relaxed pace.

We again erected Casa Grande, but nobody complained about our opulent lifestyle this year.

Alan would lead off. Here he is looking relaxed and confident.

Thankfully they did away with the Le Mans start.

Alan taking off.

Steve waiting for his run.

Alan and Steve making the exchange.

Alan happy to get one lap in the books.

Steve bringing it home.

The exchange with Doug.

Steve after getting that first lap in.

Doug bringing it home.

At this point it was time for me to take my lap. I felt OK but not great. I lacked any power and this surprised me. After all, at that point I was leading the 40-49 Sport class in the Prairie City Race Series and feeling very strong.

Even after missing the first two races, Doug (7th) was rocketing up the standings.

Me out on the course.

Bringing it home.

In the first round we turned in laps of 50, 45, 48 and 49 minutes. This was about 15 seconds faster than the previous year, which was a great start for the defending champs. Alan's 50 minutes was not indicative of his speed. He had to deal with first lap traffic.

My next turn came around and off I went for my second lap. I turned a 51 minute lap and just wasn't feeling like myself.

Doug after his second lap.

After I finished my second lap. Bask in the beauty that is my outfit. I can't believe I went out in public with that kit.

Again, I just wasn't feeling right. I simply couldn't comprehend why the sluggishness persisted. I was flying on Wednesday nights. But within a couple days I would understand: I was simply getting sick.

I raced the next Wednesday sick, gutted out a fourth place to maintain my lead in the series, and in the process took the illness up a notch. I ended up with a lung infection and ten days of antibiotics. My dream of winning a series dashed yet again.

***

After our second round, we were at the top of the leader board, just like last year. At this point, we started getting serious and the cameras were put away until morning.

When my turn came around again, it was decided I would take the first set of double night laps. This was the same strategy we used in 2006 and it seemed to work well. I turned laps of 1:03 and 1:04. I still sucked riding in the dark, and I was the slowest on our team, but I was still a little faster than last year.

Morning came and we were still leading the race, but our lead was slim. We had to keep grinding. I got the first full morning lap. It's always cool to be racing as the sun comes up. It really does give you a burst of energy.

Unfortunately I turned a pedestrian 59 minute lap on my fifth time around.

Doug and Steve getting ready for more laps while Alan was on course.

Alan bringing it home.

When my time came around again, I improved to 57 minutes for my sixth and final lap. Still shitty, but better. Thankfully my teammates were taking up the slack.

Knowing my race was over, I changed clothes and started my PR campaign. I always take time to take pictures with the fans, especially the ones who bring me an iced coffee.

Steve ripped through his last lap with a time of 49 minutes. He finished with a little over 50 minutes remaining in the race, so we opted not to send Doug out. It would have been a Herculean effort to turn a sub 50 lap. Our 26 laps would have to do. Now we had to wait to see if anyone else completed a 27th lap.

 Doug and Steve walking back after Steve's last lap.

Walking back to camp. I just thought this photo reminded me of a film promo shot.

Goofing off while we waited for the race to end.

When high noon struck, we were declared the winners. Another team also completed 26 laps, but it was after our 23:09 finishing time.

We successfully defended our title.

I assumed we would do this again. However, in January of the next year I broke my wrist and that, along with other individual circumstances, ended our championship run. There would be no three-peat for the Noble Riders.

Over the years I was lucky enough to notch a few wins here and there, but the two 24-hour wins with a team were very special.

Later.

Race Report: 2007 PCRS #5

This one hurt. It's getting very serious out there, and I am surprised how competitive everyone is. I assumed the Wednesday night series would be more laid back than a weekend race, but it's quite the opposite—we all want to win.

Realistically, there is only one guy who can win the overall, and that is Doug. He is on another level than the rest of us. If not for missing the first two races, the series lead would be his. This bodes well for our 24-hour team race in three days, but not for my hopes of an overall win in this series.

Today Doug simply rode away right from the start. I didn't even attempt to go with him. Up front he battled it out with another guy for the win:



Farther back I was in a group of three battling for third.



On the last lap, on a long climb into a strong headwind, Jerry and another guy got a gap on me. Again, Jerry's power is freakish.

I gave it everything I had to close the gap, but no dice. Even channeling Johnny Cash with my all-black outfit didn't seem to help.



I ended up fifth right behind Jerry in fourth. We are now tied for first with 96 points.

I completely turned myself inside out in the race. We were all hitting it pretty hard. In previous races there was some coasting down the hills, or sitting up to drink, but not yesterday. It was redline from start to finish. It hurt the worst of the five races so far. By far.

Later.

Race Report: 2007 PCRS #4

Today's race was a definite improvement over last week's fiasco on the single speed. With the geared bike I was able to keep my main rival within sight, but he still beat me.

Right from the start Doug (Saturn jersey, behind 258) rode away from the field:



I (502) was in the next group trying to keep former Rio Strada teammate Jerry (517) in sight:



The pace was high and it hurt a bit. Jerry's power on this week's flat course was too much for me:



I worked hard and took chances throughout the race, weaving through slower traffic:



In the end I had just enough. Doug easily won the race, with Jerry taking third. Greg missed the race, taking him out of overall points contention for now.

I managed a sixth out of 28 finish to retain first overall. I now led Jerry by only one point, 80 to 79.

Later.

Race Report: 2007 PCRS #3

Entering race three, my goal for the series changed considerably. The races weren't just for training anymore. I had the series points lead, and I wanted to keep it.

After easily winning the first race I ever entered on a single speed, I thought there was some sort of magic in using that single gear. I guess as a bike racer I'm just as superstitious as a Dominican shortstop. So even though conditions were once again dry, I opted to race the single speed in race number three.

My friend Doug, who would be a teammate for the upcoming Coolest 24-hour race, came out to race with me. He too was looking for some extra training. As it turned out, I don't think he really needed any training.

We took off from the start and I once again spun like crazy to get out front. We blasted down a gradual, rolling hill and I managed to stay near the leaders.



Doug (546) was behind me a bit, but wouldn't be there for long.



Then we hit a long, gradual climb and everything quickly unraveled. I did the best I could to spin and keep up, but I was losing places at a frightening rate. All the guys with gears just rode away. One damn hill.

The rest of the race was simply an exercise in damage control. I turned myself inside-out and rode harder in that race than I had in many, many years.

Every few years in the Tour de France some lowly domestique finds himself in the yellow jersey in the early stages. If not for some fortuitous breakaway, or simply a complete lack of respect by the peloton that let him gain time, he would not be in the yellow jersey. This man is merely a place holder for the real contenders when they decide to show their cards. I felt like that guy. No way I would wear the jersey into Paris.

I managed to pass a few guys by the finish line to salvage 9th out of 33. Doug took third and made it look quite easy.

Riding the single speed was a big mistake. Still, I stayed close enough to my two main rivals, Jerry and Greg, to maintain a tie for first place.

Later.