It's that time of year again. The beginning of a new season is upon us, and figuring out (or trying to) what I'll be doing (racing), where, and when is a cool feeling. Planning adventures for the year is exciting and inspiring. Especially as I sit here in Boulder, wind whipping and gusting at 50+ mph outside, after months of cold weather, wind-impaled, and generally uninspiring trail-less riding. Things I considered when trying to put together my schedule for 2014: location, competition, and fun factor. I have learned a lot in only 2 seasons of racing. Last year I (unknowingly) got burnt out physically from so much travel while trying to balance work and life and fun. For 2014 I will be trying to stay closer to home and take advantage of all the amazing racing that happens in the Rocky Mountain region. I'm always wanting to push myself to new levels and be competitive with the best, so finding those events that tout high competition was also a consideration. Last but most importantly, a kid's gotta have fun! I'm not into racing my mountain bike just to say I did. The best races are always the ones that are the most fun, whether you place 1st or 50th. A few that I'm super excited about are the Firebird 40, High Cascades (hopefully), Breck Epic, and Winter Park 50. This list is very tentative and will undoubtedly change and be added to. I'm hoping to find one odd-ball "adventure" style race to throw in there as well. Pisgah, Shenandoah, something in B.C.?? I can't wait for the fun to begin!
2014 Competitive Schedule:
January 19: El Paso Puzzler 50
March 15: True Grit Epic 100
April 27: Whiskey 50 (tentative)
May 17: Firebird 40
May 25: Gunnison Growler
June 14: Bailey Hundo
July 4: Firecracker 50
July 12: Breck 68
July 19: High Cascades 100 (tentative)
August 10-15: Breck Epic
September 13: Winter Park Epic 50
Monday, January 13, 2014
Friday, November 22, 2013
25 Hours in Frog Hollow & 92Fifty' Racing
If last weekend was any indication of what racing with
92Fifty’ Cyclery is going to be like, I’m a happy camper; literally. In a last-minute foray into the unknown and
unplanned-for, unprepared as we were, Kyle Taylor and I loaded up the 92Fifty’
camper and headed deep into the southwestern Utah desert.
The event was 25 Hours in Frog Hollow, the longest “one-day” race. Neither one of us knew what we were getting
ourselves into; probably for the better.
I had originally planned on racing on a 4-man team until about 3 days
prior, when plans fell through and racing on a duo team was my only
option. Kyle was planning (loosely) on
racing solo. Each of our “plans” resided
around the fact that neither one of us had ridden our bikes very much in the
past couple of months, with absolutely zero real “training” leading up to this
mega event. Since the flooding hit Boulder in September my riding has been reduced to small
ventures up to Nederland for fun rides and hot
laps around Betasso Preserve above Boulder. Even these were few and far between. I had been implementing Yoga into my
“training” routine. Not too sure if a
month of doing Yoga is proper training for a 25-hour race, but there was no
turning back now.
We left 92Fifty’ Cycles in Blackhawk, Colorado
on Thursday afternoon and headed for Fruita.
It was about the halfway point, and we couldn’t pass up riding out
there. On Friday morning we rode some of
the 18 Road trails, each of us dying to stay out there and ride all day; kids
in a candy store. We knew we better not
push it, so forced ourselves to call it a day after about 2 hours and headed
further West for Hurricane/St. George.
My duo teammate for the race was Josh Bezecny. I met him for the first time on Friday
evening. I didn’t know much about Josh,
but had been told that he was really fast and competitive, which was all the
inspiration I needed to take this thing a little more seriously. Kyle and I finished off the last of our Sierra Nevada Torpedo IPA's and called it a night.
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| Desert Morning. |
The race started on Saturday morning under perfectly clear
blue skies and cool temperatures. Josh
led out the first lap and I anxiously awaited my turn. Before I knew it he was coming around to the
start/finish with only one guy ahead of him!
Damn, this meant I better be fast!
I went out hard but still conservatively, just using this first lap to
learn the course. My lungs were feeling
that ever-present XC-full-gas-burn early on, which was something they hadn’t
felt for a while. After climbing up
singletrack and service road, dipping into and out of washes and gulleys for
about 25 minutes, you get to the JEM trail, where the real fun begins. From here you get a solid 20 minutes of all
out, big-ring crushing, stupid-fast and flowy buff desert singletrack. On this first lap, going into the only
technical section of the trail, I took a sweet over-the-bars face plant as my
front tire got stuck trying to make a switchback and catapulted me into the
air. I laughed it off and got back with
it, only realizing later that I had bashed my right knee pretty good. The rest of the lap was more a feeling out
process: super-fast JEM trail, a little service road, some technical and
ridiculously slow (and frustrating) rock gardens, a few steep singletrack
climbs, and ending with an all-out riding-on-rails descent into the
finish. I came around in 50:01, besting
Josh’s 50:51 first lap time. He put in
an even faster second lap, and I was feeling ready to do the same. Having a teammate push and inspire me was a
great feeling. On the second lap I went
out strong and was feeling great. Poised
to put in a sub-50-minute lap I had my head down on the opening climb and
missed my turn, only realizing after I was a few miles up the road. After turning back and hammering, I finally
got back to the course after losing about 15 minutes. So much for a super fast lap. Even though I lost a bunch of time, in my
second go-around of the JEM trail I was railing it noticeably faster than I had
previously, hammering my largest gear and barely touching the brakes. Adrenaline was pumping out of every
pore. I put in a 1-hour second lap; not
too bad after losing so much time. The
rest of the race was mostly a blur.
Short, fast, and super fun laps, followed by not-enough rest time
(usually only about 30 minutes after undressing, eating, then redressing and
getting ready again), rinse and repeat.
I did get lucky enough to get the sunset and sunrise laps! The sunset lap was amazing, as colors changed
drastically on the high mesas surrounding this beautiful area. Into the night we went, and the temperature
dropped about 30 degrees. All of my
night rest-periods were spent in the van with heat blowing on me. It got real weird as the night
progressed. Not seeing or talking to
anyone for hours, in a state of sleeplessness and adrenaline-fueled action, and
ripping singletrack in the dark desert made for an interesting experience. I really loved the night laps. I was able
to stay mostly positive and was feeling great physically throughout, something
I can’t explain given my lack of time on the bike in the previous months. Josh and Kyle were both huge inspirations to
me. Josh kept putting in fast lap times,
and pushing me to do the same. At one
point about halfway through the night we were ahead of all the 4-man and 5-person
teams! Kyle kept pushing on and staying
positive lap after lap, which gave me no excuse not to do the same. In the end Josh and I walked away with the
Duo victory, and had the chance the set the new Duo lap record with 25 laps,
had either of us wanted to go out again!
Kyle, on the other hand, did set the new Solo Male lap record with 22
laps! Crazy and inspiring what he was
able to do. Josh and I each logged about
150-miles of fast-paced racing.
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| Kyle Taylor: 1st Solo Male |
Tuesday, November 12, 2013
92Fifty' Cyclery
Nestled in the high country of Colorado, and growing from those woods and
the passion for a better way of doing cycling, is a new project being started
by Jonathan Davis, along with his wife Kathy.
They are calling the new conglomerate business 92Fifty’ Cyclery, since
the new bike shop they are opening sits at 9250ft outside of Blackhawk, Colorado. Along with the bike shop itself, the business
model is diverse and ever-expanding. At
the forefront of this is the “Supported Rider Program” which aims to support
athletes inasmuch it is a mutual relationship where the athletes help support
this new business. In simple terms it is
the foundation of the new 92Fifty’ Racing Team, which I am proud to be a part
of in the coming year, and because of Jonathan’s passion for the sport and
helping others around him it will be much more than that. The next part of 92Fifty’ is the “Performance
Studio” and training sessions/camps that will be available. Because it sits in the mountains at such high
elevation, and surrounded by amazing riding, it is the perfect place to train
at altitude. The Davis’s will be hosting
personalized training sessions out of the studio wherein someone can come from
sea level, train at altitude for a week, and have all the benefits of a professional
training program, physiological testing, as well as recovery options including ice
baths, compression legs, and a personalized diet. 92Fifty’ will also be hosting training camps
along with Coach and Pro racer Drew Edsall in St. George, Utah
throughout the winter months.
Add all of
this awesomeness to the fact that the business is located in Gilpin County, Colorado,
only 30 minutes from Golden, where the sales tax is a ridiculously low 2.9%,
and that multi-thousand dollar bike you want just got a whole lot cheaper. Right now the 92Fifty’ Racing team is 30+
strong and growing. This is amazing
considering the bike shop and business has not even opened its doors yet! I am extremely excited to be racing Pivot
bikes next year, with a sweet Les carbon hardtail on the way.
Jonathan Davis, fueled by his love and passion for cycling,
is truly doing something different and progressive with his approach to running
a bike shop and his approach to the cycling industry in general. Look out for a constant barrage of fun stuff
coming out of 92Fifty’ Cyclery and Racing Team in 2014!
Sunday, September 15, 2013
It's Only the River, It's Only the River
It’s only the river, unless the river is the city in which
you live in. After the 100-year flooding
that has engulfed Boulder and surrounding areas,
most notably Lyons,
there won’t be much to talk about in the cycling and racing world for me. I’m not even sure yet what my training routes
– the canyons west of town that I do most of my riding in – look like or their accessibility
for any time in the near future. Pretty
much this entire area has been washed out.
Lyons was completely underwater; emergency messages warning of “walls of
water” came in every few hours Wednesday evening; pictures of homes floating
off of foundations; piles of rubble, mud, rock, and cars being pushed down
these narrow canyons; major roadways destroyed.
It’s been an interesting week to say the least.
I was planning to end my season with the
inaugural Epic 50 race in Winter Park. That was today. I was excited for the race, and just about
ready to cough up the bucks for it on Tuesday night as I continued to watch the
rain batter down for the 2nd consecutive day. I decided I’d wait one more day to make the
call. That one day proved crucial, as by
Wednesday night our basement had accumulated 6” of water and rising, and me and
the good folks I live with were busy bailing water, setting up makeshift
drainages, attempting to clear pipes and gutters, pump water, etc. The race I had previously looked forward to
was no longer my concern. Watching this
disaster unfold in front of my eyes took front seat. I’ll have a “season recap” coming soon full
of thoughts and thoughtful thinking things of that nature. That isn’t to say my “season” is over. I may be done with this saison, but my season
will continue. That’s because there is
still so much more riding to do and fun to be had! What season?
I’ve already gotten word that I may be headed to 25 Hours in Frog Hollow
at the start of November as part of a 4-man team. Night riding in the desert outside of
Hurricane, Utah? How could I say no? It will be a new one for me, but I’m already
getting excited. When the good folks of
92Fifty Cyclery/Performance Studio/AidStation3 offer you must accept! More info on this new project to come. All I can say is that something special is in
the works.
Something else special is also in the works, literally. For this, as to not preempt any un-happening
happenings, thwart my luck or jinx myself, I’ll just offer a few pictures. The first of which is my Niner One9 frameset
that is now up for sale.
Any takers? I also just reset my White Brother Loop fork from 100mm to 120mm. BRRrrrappp!!!
Friday, August 23, 2013
Epic Shenanigans and Steamboat Stinger
Last week was a busy and
fun one; full of shenanigans, bike industry debauchery, and finally some
racing. I headed up to Breckenridge
bright and early on Tuesday morning for a few days of heckling at the Breck
Epic. The Breck Epic, for those who
don’t know, has quickly become one of the Big 3 (in my opinion) stage races in
the US. It draws riders from all over
the world to ride mind-blowing singletrack, lung-busting climbs at huge elevations,
and amazing views for 6 days, all centered in downtown Breckenridge. The course on Tuesday took riders over the
Continental Divide two times; first over French Pass, then over Georgia Pass,
before descending the Colorado Trail off of Georgia. My plan for heckling/racer support was to set
up an espresso station atop one of the huge climbs, and try to force feed
espresso shots to as many asphyxiated riders as I could. On Monday afternoon I secured this puppy:
Introducing the
AeroPress. Quite possibly the best
camping espresso maker ever made. Come
Tuesday morning, I loaded my bag with 30+lbs of gear and ventured out into the
cool Breck morning en route to Georgia Pass.
I set up shop right where the riders entered the Colorado Trail after
climbing for an hour or so. Much fun was
had that day, with Jeff Kerkove being one of my first takers. It was amazing to see the gratitude some of
the slower riders had for my being there, especially after many had ridden
through a cold hail storm.
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| Photo courtesy: Liam Doran Photography |
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| Photo courtesy: Liam Doran Photography |
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| Photo courtesy: Liam Doran Photography |
The next day I headed out
on the Colorado Trail, almost right from town, en route to the top of the West
Ridge climb, which was one of the hardest climbs the riders would face all
day. This time around I had perfected my
backwoods espresso-making/serving technique in order to provide shots to any
who would accept. It was another super
fun day. My favorite taker was Kyosuke
Takei, who in the midst of chasing down Todd Wells and Alex Grant (who were
riding with other-worldly speed) came by demanding a shot of espresso! Sue Haywood also made my day, as she crested
the huge climb looking like death, and not able to even make words simply
gestured for me to hand her a shot. I
gave her a push and some words of encouragement; the chick is a beast. By far though, my biggest takers were singlespeeders and Europeans; go figure.
 |
| Kyosuke railing post-espresso! |
This may have been the
first time I’ve experienced a race as a spectator/heckler/supporter and it was
such a good experience. I intended the
espresso shots and yelling to be sort of a sick joke, but it turned out to be
appreciated by so many.
Next up was the Steamboat Stinger 50; a race I had been looking forward to all year simply based on its popularity. In its short 3-year run it now attracts many
of the top Pros in the area and sells out in minutes. I knew there was something to like. That something happens to be about 90% singletrack
in each 25-mile loop. Looking at the
level of competition in the Pro class, which numbered ~110, I decided to forego
the singlespeed to race with gears and the state’s fastest Pros.
I showed up in beautiful
Steamboat Springs late Friday afternoon ready to race at 8am Saturday. This meant no pre-riding of the course, which
could have made a difference in a race this fast and furious. I lined up in the massive pack right at the
front, but as the start went off, way faster than I was expecting or used to, I
lost a bunch of positions. Coming from 3
NUE races this summer I wasn’t used to the XC start pace. Judging from this race photo, I was back in
36th spot right after the start before hitting a brutally steep climb.
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| Where's Waldo |
Shortly thereafter the
course turns into doubletrack climb for about ¼-mile where I was able to pick
up a bunch of lost spots. This entire
race was one of opportunities either taken or lost. Each 25-mile loop consisted of two major
climbs and two long sketchy singletrack descents.
Being mostly tight
singletrack, passing was as difficult as any race I’ve been to. Upon hitting
the singletrack on the first major climb of the day I didn’t take the
opportunity to get around another rider, which proved to be a mistake. Within minutes he was carrying a train of
riders, and we all lost valuable time.
Finally I did get around and distanced myself from the field. That was until hitting the long singletrack
descent; the trails were super tight, twisty, dusty, loose, off-camber, and
sketchy! My bike handling was absolutely
horrendous, and before long I was the one carrying a train of riders. As bad as I felt about holding them up, this
was an unfortunate opportunity taken.
There were some pissed off riders behind me for sure. The rest of the race was a lot more of the same, and I never did start
feeling the groove of descending the constantly turning singletrack; get held
up by riders on the climbs and lose valuable time, then get passed like I was standing
still on the descents. I felt like I was driving a school bus around the trails. As frustrated as I
was about my bike handling, I was elated at how my body was reacting to the
super fast pace, basically XC pace for 50 miles, and I never did wear out until
the very end. With how strong I was
climbing all day, I think I could have been a bit further up the field if
certain opportunities were taken, but hey, that’s racing. I came in 20th Pro/Open in a who’s-who
field of Colorado pro mountain bikers.
Sunday, August 4, 2013
Breck 100: Short and Sweet
… Well, it wasn’t exactly
short, or sweet, but my write up will be.
Considering I’m now 3 weeks late, I’ll keep it to a minimum. No reason for too much reflection. They say hindsight is 20/20, but I think my
rear view mirror is still fogged up. That
must be the case, because I’ve already convinced myself that it would be a good
idea to do the full 100-miler again next year.
I couldn’t have been further from that standpoint on Sunday, July 14.
The weekend started by
ripping my bike off the roof of my car at the Denver Airport, and ended in
hypothermia. When it rains it
pours. Literally.
Driving into DIA on
Saturday morning to pick my parents up for a joyous weekend of mountain
festivities, fully prepared both mentally and physically, with all bases
covered, I was wrongly directed to the West terminal. You should never go to the West
terminal. A second later I heard a “Whhhhappp!”
coming from my car. I thought I had been
rear-ended, but the only thing in my rearview mirror was an 8-foot height
restriction bar swaying back and forth.
Shiiiiit!! I literally went
numb. I had just hit my bike, and had no
idea how badly it was damaged. On a side
note: seriously DIA?? 8 feet?? Shaq couldn’t drive his convertible Lexus
under that thing. Upon further
inspection it turned out that my $200 Easton EC90 seatpost had taken the brunt
of the impact. So here I was, completely
shaken and in search of new seatpost less than a day away from the biggest race
of my life. One was found, thanks to the
LBS.
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4 am Sunday morning came
rather quickly. There’s nothing like
starting your 27th birthday in the cold, dark morning. Before I knew it we were heading out for the
biggest test of my life. The climb up to
Wheeler Pass at 12,400ft went well, and I was in 6th or 7th
place overall, topping the pass with Jeff Kerkove on my wheel. I let him go and started my descent down the
super sketchy and narrow, wet and slippery Wheeler Trail. I could barely hold onto the bike but finally
made it to the bottom without getting passed.
I lost about 5 or 6 places on the long section of bike path, spun out
the entire time, but regained a few of them on Peaks Trail heading back into
Breck and the Start/Finish area. I came
through still feeling fresh and ready for Loop 2. A bunch of people were telling me I was
inside the top-10, so that gave me motivation.
I noticed my legs feeling a bit sluggish as I started Loop 2, but it
wasn’t until hitting Little French Gulch, or it hitting me, that I really
started feeling the pain. It hit me like
a ton of bricks, and I had to walk a lot more that I wanted.
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| Little French. So Much Pain. |
But I knew there was a big downhill coming,
then the West Ridge section of the Colorado Trail and another fun and fast
descent. I figured whatever my body was
going through would wear off and I’d be on my way. Upon hitting the West Ridge climb the 2nd
Place singlespeeder was right on my heels, and although struggling to climb at
my usual pace, I was still able to put a couple of minutes on him by the
top. This was about the halfway point of
the race and I was still leading. I
hoped that my energy and strength would come back and I could actually start
racing again! On the descent down the CO
trail I was passed by Charlie Hayes, who remarked “are you feeling alright?” Apparently he was alarmed that he had passed
me on a downhill. So quite to the
contrary of regaining my strength, I continued to fall deeper and deeper into
the black hole of pain and tire. Upon
finishing Loop 2 I was completely spent and had been struggling for hours. I had also lost 3 places in the singlespeed
field. I basically went out for the last
34 miles just looking to finish, with all hope of regaining positions thrown to
the wind. I had nothing left. I finally made it to the top of Boreas Pass
and was actually starting to feel good again.
Either that, or my body had just completely given up and I was in a
state of numbness. Whatever the case, I
was now hitting one of my favorite sections of the day, the Gold Dust
trail. The skies began to open up about
halfway down to Como, where you turn around and climb Boreas Road all the way
back up to the pass. By the time I
started the climb it was a full-on rain, and it didn’t let up for the rest of
the race. When I made it to the pass I
was mildly hypothermic and hadn’t been able to feel my hands for about 30
minutes. I stood at the aid station just
trying to get some blood back into them before descending another 10 miles in
the cold rain. The descent was
absolutely brutal. I was trying simply
to hold onto the bike as my body shivered feverously. I descended the last section of singletrack
like an old lady in a walker, stiff as a board.
I rolled through the finish completely shaken and hypothermic, caring
not to talk to anyone or rejoice, but only to warm my frozen body. I had just finished the hardest day of my
life, and arguably the hardest 100-mile mountain bike race in the country, and
all that mattered was getting into a warm shower.
I finished 5th
in singlespeed; a huge disappointment considering my aspirations, preparation,
focus, fitness, and standings early on in the race. A ton of thoughts have gone through my head
since. Am I cut out for 100-mile events? Did I train properly? Did I go out too hard? What could I have done
better? Was this race just too damn big
for someone only doing their 3rd 100-mile race and only 6-weeks
after their first? That last question is
one that I am comfortable answering with a “maybe”. Surely it was way more than I had ever done,
and especially made harder by doing so on a singlespeed. I’m not there yet. That being said, I’m glad that I suffered
like I did, and have that experience to throw into the memory bank. What doesn’t kill you only makes you
stronger. If I can figure out this
100-mile race conundrum, I feel confident that I can do really well. Only time will tell.
Tuesday, July 2, 2013
Snake Bites
What the hell happened to
me this weekend? It was all a big blur
of nausea, pain, adrenaline and beer.
I’m still trying to process the pain in every appendage, joint, and
muscle group in my body and an awesome weekend of high-altitude riding. I want to go ride again, but can’t; forced
recovery.
I headed to the Keystone
ski resort Friday afternoon for the Rocky Mountain Endurance Series’ Snake River Mountain Challenge. I had
overheard (or read) that this race was going to be brutal in terms of
climbing. Having never ridden at
Keystone before I didn’t really know what to expect, but judging from the
elevation profile it was going to be pretty straight forward. Start at the base (9300ft), climb
¾-of-the-way up the mountain, descend for a couple miles, then climb the rest
of the way to the 11,800ft summit before descending back to the base. Rinse and repeat 2 more times. That works out to about 10,200ft of climbing
in 56 miles. Ouch! Checking out the numbers (nerd check) that’s
182ft/mile ascent, compared to the Breckenridge 100 (next race) at ONLY
130ft/mile. Double ouch!!
I woke up at 5:15am on
Saturday morning in my campsite next to the Snake River. First order of business: coffee, then eggs,
toast, oatmeal w/ granola & peanut butter, and homemade beet juice to top
it off. I was flying high and feeling
good early in the morn. The race didn’t start until 9am so I had plenty of time
to relax and get ready. The weather felt
perfect as the start neared; a mild 65° and sunny.
At the start line I eyed
the singlespeed Series Champion Charlie Hayes.
He and I went back and forth a bit last year and I have not gotten a
chance to race against him yet this year.
The start rolled out under a neutral lead until we got dumped off onto
the first climb of the day. It was a steep
and loose service road about ¼-mile long that pretty much sent everybody’s
heart rate through the roof. I had seen
Charlie off to my left loose traction on some rocks and have to come unclipped.
This was the last time I’d see him all day.
As we neared the singletrack entrance I was up in the front inside the
top-10. Let the climbing begin! We traversed the mountainside via switchback
after switchback; an unrelenting and never-ending climb. By the time we got to the first downhill
section I had just passed a couple riders and was approaching another, sitting
in 5th or 6th overall.
After a sweet fast and flowing ripper of a downhill we were spit out
onto service road where we would face another daunting climb to the top of the
mountain. I rode with another guy for
the first couple of miles, and then put in a couple of good efforts to get away
and catch up to the next. Nearing the
top I was probably 20 seconds back of the next rider. Then I passed an aid station at the top and
continued riding straight up the road when I was supposed to turn onto
singletrack. There were no course
markings and the course marshal just watched me ride right on by without saying
a thing. I turned around to see the
rider behind me entering the singletrack.
Needless to say, I had a few words for the course marshal. By the time I came back through they had set
up tape and arrows to direct riders. I
was super happy to get to the top and ready to descend 2500ft back to the base. What I hadn’t considered was how grueling and
physically demanding the descent would be.
Damn those trails are rough! Head
bouncing, teeth chattering, eyes popping and jumping out of my skull, seat
striking nether regions, triceps cramping, forearms on fire and feet numbed, I
finally made it to the bottom. Not to
say it wasn’t fun. In fact it was a
blast.
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| Photo Credit: Mountain Moon Photography |
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| Photo Credit: Mountain Moon Photography |
Lap 2 was more of the same. I began to tire just a bit, but was feeling
really confident with no signs of cramping and only minimal fatigue. At this point I had the notion that I had
built about a 10-minute lead on Charlie Hayes in 2nd. The one thing that I did begin to notice was
a good dose of nausea and dizziness towards the top of the mountain. Another brutally fun descent and I was almost
down the mountain to start the final lap.
It was then, about ¼-mile from the base, that I took a pretty good
digger head first into the gravel road.
It took me about 20 seconds to compose myself and stand up, feeling an
immense pain in my right quad and calf.
It felt like Chuck Norris had just round-house kicked my leg. Upon gathering myself I realized that my
bar-end had broken off leaving my grip useless.
Luckily, because I’m running the Ergon GS2 grips (best grips in the
world) I was able to put it back together.
In the process, about 3 or 4 minutes, I lost two critical
positions. Okay, time to clear my head
and just roll on! I headed out for the
final lap and was almost immediately hit with the nausea bug again, only much
sooner this time around. As the lap wore
on it got worse and worse, until even the smallest effort left me on the verge
of puking and having to take 30-seconds to regain composure. The altitude was kicking my ass! I’ve never had an issue with altitude
sickness before, but this was clearly what was slowing me down. I struggled all the way to the top, barely
able to take a sip of water, riding at barely a leisurely pace. Luckily I maintained a gap on Charlie, and
felt confident upon hitting the downhill that I could descend fast enough to
keep it. I rolled into the finish line
at 5 hours 49 minutes, 1st Place Singlespeed, about 4 minutes ahead
of Charlie Hayes. I must have lost a TON
of time to him that last lap.
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| Photo Credit: Mountain Moon Photography |
Done and done! This was one of the hardest races I’ve ever
done. I (almost literally) turned myself
inside out to keep going while dealing with extreme nausea. I was happy to get my first win of the year,
but still not overly satisfied. I really
wanted to be in the top-5 overall and felt that I had the speed, but that 3rd
lap killed me. On a positive note, I was
finally descending as fast if not faster than my competitors. I have always had trouble keeping it together
on the descents, and usually lose time on the downhill sections. During this race I was actually catching my
competitors on the downhills! One of my focuses coming into this year was to
get better and faster at descending, and I have. Another positive was the fun I was
having. I remember during the first lap,
while being followed on a downhill by a guy I had just passed, taking an
off-line to hit a jump. Probably lost a
second or two, but damn it felt good! I
did my best to hit all of the features: jumps, berms, tabletops, etc. That’s what they’re there for, right?
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| Photo Credit: Mountain Moon Photography |
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| Photo Credit: Mountain Moon Photography |
Sunday morning I woke up
in my tent feeling like a train wreck.
Still nauseas, head ringing, body sore, etc. What better way to start a day of
lift-assisted downhill runs? I had to
take advantage of being at an awesome bike park on a ski hill, so bought a lift
ticket and let the games begin! I had my
Norco Shinobi trail bike (29er, 140mm travel, slack geometry) just for this
cause! It certainly wasn’t as adept as
the full-on downhill machines that dominate the mountain, but was fine for
me. The first run was rough,
literally. I wasn’t sure how many I had
in me. The second and third each got
better, and I was feeling more comfortable on the bike and having more
fun. Then a rainstorm hit, I ducked into
the bar at the base of the mountain, had two beers, and was ready to roll
again!
It’s amazing what a little liquid
courage can do for ya. The next couple
of runs I was instantly faster and looser on the bike, just floating over rock
gardens, down steep sections, tossing the bike this way and that, hitting jumps
at speed, and finally getting a huge rush doing all of it! I can honestly say I’m now fully addicted to
this new-to-me discipline! Damn that was
a good day. And because of it, I am now
sore head to toe. So it goes.
Next up: Breckenridge 100
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