After spending Thursday night in Mountain View to cut the 6 hour trip to Eureka Springs in half, I slept in ’til nearly 7 Friday then hit up the Rainbow cafe on my way out of town. When I arrived in Eureka, I figured I’d settle in, eat lunch, then head up to Lake Leatherwood for a preride of the XC course before the shuttle started running for the downhill practice at 2pm.

I rode from where I am staying, which is about halfway between the Lake and downtown Eureka Springs. I found the beginning of the XC loop and made my way up the first little climb and along a ridge before descending back down to lake level. At that point, I’d only ridden a few miles, and the course had been well-marked. However, I reached an intersection where the course arrows pointed down both trails. Uh…

I chose “left,” which I guess was the course for the beginners, because I was back at the parking lot within a mile or two. At that time, it was 1:20. I met some other riders in the parking lot that were getting ready to ride the course. I briefly thought about going with them, but with the short track registration and TT starting at 4:00, I didn’t want to miss the first shuttle for DH practice. So, I chose to stay in the parking area and hang out with some of the people who had come to town just for the DH race.

2:00 came and went with no shuttle. Around 2:50, someone showed up with a dying truck and flatbed. I made a couple of runs and had to call it quits so I could get ready for short track.

The short track course was pretty boss. It had some sweepy, full speed turns, a couple of gravelly, greasy turns, and a hump to 180 to steep pitch just before the finish line straightaway. I nearly missed the qualifying TT because registration was painfully slow, but made it just in time to take a hot lap with no warmup or pre-ride. Somehow, my lap landed me a spot in the lineup 1 row ahead of the other women (women were run as an “open” category with the cat II men). I like MTB racing from the front, so this was good for me.

With 18 minutes on the countdown clock, we were given the signal to go. I hammered and from the start and fought for position through the first few turns in hopes that the other women would get caught up in traffic. After the first few laps, I could no longer hear spectators cheering for my competitors as I passed, so I knew they’d dropped off of my wheel. Not thinking, I settled my pace down a notch. After a couple of laps, I noticed that one of the other women was gaining some ground back. Then, I remembered that in an 18 minute race, there is no settling down… duh. I put the hammer down and tried to look at the start/finish timer, but it was malfunctioning. According to conversation overheard following the race, that clock has malfunctioned for the past two years before this race as well.

Nevertheless, I won the race. Later that night, I picked up my women’s award of a pint glass, water bottle, and a pair of gloves (cat 1 men received cash and those things, but since the women were combined with cat II men, for our race, we were awarded the same as the cat II men) . More importantly, I picked up some good points for the omnium competition.

Off to a good start. Saturday, however…

Sponsorship check.

If you enjoy reading this blog, you’ll shop at Outdoors. While you’re there, let a salesperson know that you shop there because you like that they support my racing habit. It’s a small, local company, so it really means something when they hear things like that, and it eventually gets back to powers that be that since they help me out, the store sees more customers.

Eternally grateful…

 

I only had one “bad” wreck while on the Mohican course. It was very early in the race, and was the result of a left turn/rear wheel slide that happened so fast that I rode it all the way to the ground. The bruise on my butt is starting to turn all sorts of nice colors…

There’s something I’ve been hearing a lot since Cohutta: “We need to get you on some gears so you can be up there with the big girls” or, “Wouldn’t you be faster if you had a geared bike?” or any number of other things along those lines. The advice is generally well-meaning, I know, but let me clue you in on a couple of things…

1) I own a geared bike. It’s f*cking awesome, and I love it.
2) It’s not my lack of 19 other gear options that’s slowing me down. It’s called “being slow” (relatively speaking, of course) that’s slowing me down. In fact, in some instances (such as the long forest road climbs @ Cohutta), being on a singlespeed made me climb faster than if I’d had a granny gear option.

So, that being said, my geared bike is staying at home until I’m damn well ready to use it. Get over it and enjoy the show.

 

When the cat’s away, the mice will play.

With Amanda Carey and other NUE podium “regulars” off at the Trans-Sylvania Epic, the battle for the podium was set to be fierce for the rest of us chasing NUE points. OK, well, Cheryl Sorensen was there… and she’s generally the only one that challenges Amanda (exception- I heard Sue Haywood gave her a pretty hard run for her money at SM100 last year). I knew short of Cheryl having a major mechanical or wreck that I’d likely be battling it out with BrendaLee Simril and Laureen Coffelt for the remainder of the podium spots.

Saturday morning, I was up before the alarm on my phone went off. After a delicious breakfast of powdered eggs and french toast from the local American Legion, I went back to camp, suited up, and rode the mile or so down the local bike path to downtown Loudonville for the race start.

The race start was fast as usual. The first half mile or so is downhill before the course shoots up a ~100-150ft climb up a road out of town. In typical singlespeed fashion, I fell back at first and passed half the pack back on the first hill (I finally settled on using a 36×21, which turned out to be a slightly overzealous choice). It also meant that I passed Laureen and caught up to Brenda. I could tell that Brenda meant business when we hit the next hill, and I heard her upshift as other riders were downshifting. It was on.

Well, at least for the next mile or so.

I entered the first singletrack a few wheels back from BrendaLee. Then I ejected a bottle and had to stop for about a minute and never saw her again. Err…

The first singletrack was otherwise great. This year, with the combination of improved speed and course conditions, I wasn’t stuck behind a bunch of people walking their bikes in the difficult pitches of singletrack. I also didn’t break all sorts of parts of my bike, which is never a bad thing. I did, however, have one rear-wheel slide-out wreck (landing me an awesome goose-egg on my left ass-cheek) and also realized that I was overgeared.

Side note(s): In case you were wondering, one of the worst feelings of impending doom is realizing at mile 15 out of 100 that you’re overgeared. Also, I still stand by the statement I made last year that the hike-a-bike (in Breckenridge) known as French Gulch was the most physically difficult thing I’ve ever done in my life (doing it three times reinforced this) compared to any other hike-a-bike.

Sometime before Aid 3, I had somewhat of a  Double Rainbow moment when I crested a hill to see an amazing view of rolling farmland lit by the mid-morning sun. I realized just how fvcking lucky I was to be out there riding my bike. I mean, really… from the moment of conception, things have generally just gone right in one way or another. It’s the type of stuff you think of when you’re 40 miles into a bike race, and it’s exhilarating.

Sometime after Aid 3, I realized that the Cytomax in all of my bottles was mixed too strong. It’s the type of stuff you think of when you’re 50 miles into a bike race, and it’s nauseating. Luckily, just past the”nearly gagged when I passed an eviscerated raccoon” part of the trail, there was a water-only aid station where I topped off both bottles with plain, cold, water. Eventually after, my gut was able to function again, and I started to recover from over an hour of what felt like a near puke/bonk. I can’t say it didn’t slow me down, though. Luckily, the trail leading to the next aid included a long railroad grade that allowed me to recover a bit and get some calories down. Once I reached Aid 4, I dumped half of my cytomax bottles out and diluted them. It eventually led to me feeling (somewhat) normal.

Unfortunately, during that time, Brenda probably put a healthy chunk of her lead on me. Fortunately, Laureen didn’t catch me. After walking up part of the “gravel wall” just after Aid 5, I realized that I was inside of 20 miles from getting my first podium finish at an NUE race. It gave me the wings I needed to finish the remainder of miles despite the exhaustion and threats of cramps coming from my quads. Boom. Done. Nothing beats being on the top of the podium (literally, of course, and figuratively). However, at a race as big as anything NUE, where most entries are there to kick ass, it’s freaking amazing to get to any of the steps, even if it was behind Cheryl and Brenda. Thus… the theme song for Saturday evening, courtesy of Lady Gaga…

 

It’s not very often that I’ve looked at the start list for a race and thought, “I could race a perfect race, and still finish DFL.”

The start list for the Syllamo NUE Series race was short and stacked with seasoned women who had all (for the most part) kicked my butt at one time or another. Even though the race didn’t offer a singlespeed category for women, the Syllamo terrain lends itself well to singlespeed riding. Also, I’m still on my singlespeed rampage, so I lined up against the heavy hitters on geared bikes in the women’s open category.

The race start is challenging in terms of pacing. The 3/4 mile mad dash up Blanchard Springs forest service road dumps you into the trail system close to one of the most technical, rocky sections. The crowd of racers heading up the hill was thick enough that I didn’t really know how I was placed going on to the trail, but I assumed it was good since I was feeling awesome.

My assumption was correct. As I tried to calm down and hit my rhythm, I realized I was swapping places with Brenda Simril, Namrita O’Dea, and Sonya Looney. In the past, I’ve watched their results from a distance while riding my own pace in the back. Now, I was on home turf and throwin’ bows.

The first 15 miles of trail has some tough technical spots, which were made worse (slippery and more treacherous) with the mud and moisture spread around by large amount of race traffic. I passed Namrita and Sonya on the yellow trail then swapped back and fourth with Brenda (and her husband Lee) for the 3rd place spot behind Amanda Carey and Cheryl Sorenson. At the first aid station, they passed me while I was swapping out bottles and airing up my front tire, which had punctured then sealed itself when I gave it a shot of CO2 from the Big Air I was carrying.

The green trail flew by, as did the first part of the orange. On the second orange trail climb, I caught back up to Brenda & Lee, who were working on Brenda’s bike, which was suffering from massive chainsuck. I have to learn how to keep from getting too excited, because every time I’d pass her (or any  one of the other women), I’d bobble a section of trail that I could normally ride with my eyes shut. I passed her and kept up the pace, hoping that her mechanicals would keep her from chasing me. Unfortunately, she caught back up to me on the descent to the first Highway 5 crossing to the 2nd aid station. It was at that point that I realized I should have picked the suspension fork.

At the 2nd aid, I swapped bottles and a gel flask. Brenda and Lee took off up the trail. I felt like I needed to back off a click so that I wouldn’t kill myself on the next couple of climbs. So, I settled in and hoped that they’d come back at some point.

Fast forward a bit, and I’m up the blue trail climb and up to the 4th aid station. I never saw Brenda and Lee, but I kept to the same tempo pace for the red trail. Somewhere along the way, Sonya Looney flew past me like I was sitting still. I knew I wasn’t going to chase her down on her big ring, so I kept trucking in hopes that when she caught Brenda that they’d hammer at each other enough that one of them would pop and I could make a catch on the second time around the yellow trail.

Unfortunately, other than passing a few end-of-the-pack 50-milers, I was alone on the yellow trail. I managed to cut a sidewall about a mile out from the final aid station stop before the final red loop. I was low on CO2 from my first flat, so I knew it’d be better to try to refill it at much as possible and get to the aid station. At one point, a guy I passed informed me that my tire was flat. I told him that I’d brought that wheel into the world, and I’d take it out even faster.

At the aid station, Nate Carey graciously helped me get a tube into my tire (Amanda was already well into her final lap of the red trail). I crammed a powerbar, took on a fresh bottle, and was off on my final 12 miles of trail. I was absolutely drained at that point, so I was trying my best to flow the downhills with no brakes. The thing about the red trail is that it’s fast, non-technical, and slippery in some spots because of loose rock over hardpack. It’s very easy to have a high-speed wreck by way of losing a front tire off the edge of the bench of the trail.

With about 7 miles to go in the race, I did just that. I was headed down a slightly fast hill when I wrecked and tumbled face first into the bushes and a deadfall tree. After laying on the ground for a minute to make sure I wasn’t paralyzed, I got up and assessed my bike, which was a good five feet away from where I come to rest. I had to dig my multitool out to straighten my handlebars, and I felt like my face was bleeding and my helmet felt tighter than before (it ended up being scratched on the right side and pretty dented in the middle/front, so I retired it to the trophy wall at the cabin).

Thank you, Rudy Project, for once again saving me from the life of a vegetable.

I continued on, albeit slightly more cautiously than before. I did my best to zone out and forget how much everything was hurting at that point. Eventually, I was making the turn back on to Blanchard Road and was hauling ass down to the finish line. Luckily, no one passed me while I was having my tire/wreck difficulties, and I ended up 5th…

45 minutes behind the winner, Amanda Carey.

Sure, 45 minutes is a long time. At last year’s races, it was two or more hours.  It’ll be a long journey of small steps, though I’ll be the first to admit to  my constant impatience. Hopefully, Saturday was a sign of good things to come in upcoming races. I think I might have arrived on at least one or more radars in the past couple of weeks.

I’ve expressed my impatience to my coach, and this was the text message reply that I received back:

“Two bulls are standing on a hill overlooking a group of cows. The young bull says, ‘let’s run down and get ourselves a cow.’ The older bull says ‘no, I have a better idea. Let’s walk down and get them all!”

So, I guess if I’m patient enough, all the cows will be mine? I’m not totally sure, but it made me laugh, and seemed like promising advice on the virtue of patience…

As a rookie singlespeeder, I sometimes fret a little over gear choice. Though a 32×20 will get you through just about anything, a 32×21 has been my gear of choice for the Breck 100 and most rides at Syllamo. Though the terrain in those races is vastly different- long climbs at >10k feet vs. short, steep sea level climbs, the lower gear seems to work out well (especially at Syllamo, where there are very few places where you can spin out).

At Cohutta, the 32×20 worked well, though if I’m more fit next year, I might bump down to a 19t so I can keep the pace up on the flat spots (same song for SM100- the 32×20 was great last year on the climbs, but the long flat pavement section was monotonous). I’m sticking to the 21t for Syllamo, but Mohican? Uh… I’m not really sure. I DNFd last year with geared-bike mechanical issues- a blessing in disguise since I also cracked the Air9 frame and decided to say “to hell with gears” and warranty it with a One9. The course is generally rolling, but has some short, steep spots, so I’m not totally certain of what to do. Same for ORAMM.

Wait… did you just say ORAMM?

Yes, the fact that I’m even considering it must mean that last year’s ORAMM was apparently a pain similar to childbirth. For the uninformed: I knew that the weekend following the Breck 100, I’d either have “awesome superstar legs,” or I’d be a total lump of sh*t. Surprise- it’s wasn’t what I was hoping for. During the race, I dislocated my thumb around mile 20something. It forced me to decide between painfully slow descending or fast and excruciatingly painful descending. If any of you vultures who hung out at the “people will probably wreck here” spots and thought you heard sobbing as I passed by, yes, you heard correctly. About halfway up Curtis Creek, I started having lower back pain. Lots of back pain. I’ve figured out now that as convenient as it is, I just can’t wear a hydration pack of any style. I’ve tried the traditional style pack, the Wingnut, and the Camelbak LR, and all of them, at some point, will make my back hurt. To cap off my ORAMM experience, I started to massively cramp just before the last climb up Kitsuma. Worst cramps of my life, in fact.I swore the race off forever.

Fast forward to this year. I’m working at the Outdoors Inc bike shop. We’re kicking ass and taking names. There’s no way, in my current role at the shop, that I can take 3 weeks of summer to gallivant around New Mexico and Colorado.  Yes, I could probably make it a short trip where I arrive, race within 24 hours, then go home a day or two later, but that’d be pretty lame. So, the Breck 100 is on hold until I’m either A) Pro enough that I don’t need to work in a shop, or B) Ryan gets a fat raise at work and I don’t need to work in a shop. ORAMM, which is July 24th, is looking like an attractive option. I’ve obviously forgotten how bad it hurt last year and/or figured that since that was officially the “worst race of my life” that it couldn’t really get worse short of me leaving the course in an ambulance.

So, I guess the point of all this is that I’m trying to decide what gear I’ll use for Mohican and ORAMM. It’s not easy to go off of advice that others give, so I’ll likely just decide at the last minute and spend half of the race cursing my decision (which half will be determined by whether I choose too hard or too easy of a gear). Then there’s the rigid vs. suspension thing… who knew that singlespeed riding could be so complicated?

Finally, I’ve now got a gaping hole in my race schedule from Mohican (6/4)  ’til ORAMM (7/24). Race suggestions (must be weekend-trip-able) are more than welcome.