SO, today was a first for me… first face-plant into a tree.

I was at Herb Parson’s Lake, JRA (at a modest to high rate of speed), when I went through one of the little dips in the trail (someplace after the long, wobbly, narrow bridge) where the trail splits around the tree. In the dip, there were a couple of branches laying in the middle of the trail parallel to the direction of travel. I managed to roll my front wheel over one. I don’t know how exactly I got from front wheel slipping to tree-kissing, but all I could do when I came to a stop was wrap my arms around the tree and hug it for a few seconds while the waves of face-pain were coming on. Somehow, my ergon grip & bar end were popped off the end of my bar & flew down the trail (I actually saw them out of my peripheral vision skipping down the trail as I hit, because I remember wondering if the object I was watching was one of my teeth).
I managed to sit down next to the trail and try to figure out what to do next. I thought about trying to ride in slowly, but then I noticed that I was bleeding. I didn’t know where I was bleeding from- my nose, teeth, and lips were all equally in pain. That’s when I snapped this trailside photo with my phone. I was trying to figure out where the blood was coming from…

I couldn’t see the picture very well on my phone, so I tried calling Eric (who I’d been riding with before his crank bolt fell out), and he didn’t answer. I looked across the lake, and there were people on a pontoon boat not too far from me. Since I didn’t know the condition of my handlebars (which had been twisted around on the steertube) and didn’t feel like I was mentally capable of assessing them, I went over to the bank & called the people over. It was a boat full of elderly individuals. They were nice, and were happy to give me a ride back to the parking lot across the lake, but when Captain Gramps gunned the motor, it stalled. He kept trying to re-start it, and it wasn’t working. The wind picked up and started to blow the boat in the opposite direction than where we needed to go. For some reason, at that point, I started laughing at the absurdity of the situation. The old people thought I was crazy, and one woman told me that she didn’t think it was very funny.
Somehow, Gramps got the motor fired back up (it died two more times before we made it across the lake). When I got to the bank, I got to meet Steve from MSTA. He was out preparing to fix areas much like the one that I wrecked in, and was obviously wondering WTF a person with a MTB was doing getting out of a pontoon boat full of people that looked like they were on vacation from a retirement home. He and the park ranger made sure I was alright and directed me into the bait-shop place to get cleaned up and get a bag of ice (thanks, guys!)

I was happy to see that it wasn’t my nose that was bleeding (I was worried that I’d broken it). Most of the damage was to the inside of my upper lip (it’s swollen up big time now). I also have a tooth that’s hurting and feeling like it’s slightly out of place (going to the dentist on Monday). Otherwise, everything’s ok. A couple of beers at Flying Saucer made it feel a little better. I’m still racing this weekend (Crude XC in Fayettville).

I don’t know how I’m going to feel once I get back on the bike. I got my bell rung pretty hard this time, but, as always, it could have been worse.

Update… teeth seem to be ok, though one of them is a little chipped and another is still a bit loose. My face is healing well, though my septum piercing is a little crooked now, so I’m guessing my nose broke a little. I took an artsy photo in the garage before I washed my gloves:

Yesterday, Ryan and I headed out to the Orange and Blue trails to ride the portion of the Syllamo’s Revenge course that we’d skipped the day before. I found that not only was my hanger bent, but the cage on my rear DR was cracked, so I was still pushing a 36 x 23 and staying off the shifters.

Side note- I know a lot of Arkasas guys ride a 32 x 20, which I didn’t realize was nearly the same gear ratio until I did a little calculation. Woohoo!

Just to start the day off right, Ryan ended up taking a stick to his derailleur about 30 minutes into the ride. His hanger ripped apart- luckily he had a replacement, and we were back on the trail a few minutes later. I was still feeling good, and was really getting the hang of negotiating some of the steeper technical sections without the aid of a granny gear. Once we were a few miles into the Orange trail, we started a little climbing. My legs started to feel tired- not just from standing to get up some of the hills, but also from standing on the rocky descents.

If you’ve never ridden the Blue trail at Syllamo, I think the best way I can describe it is one of the more physically and mentally challenging things I’ve ever done. The descents and climbs are all rocky and steep- either large stuff you have to dodge (like Blowout Mt on the Ouachita Trail) or loose “shingles” that slide around as you roll over them. It’s also the only trail that drops all the way down to “river” level before climbing ~2.5 miles back up to Green Mountain Road. It’s the type of trail that some people will swear off and others will pay homage to for making them stronger and tougher.

After the first couple of short, steep hills, I could tell that my legs were getting ready to throw in the towel. At the Highway 5 trailhead, we stopped to have a snack and take a break before heading back uphill. The next mile or so of trail before the 2nd highway crossing was tedious- a couple of steep, rocky hills (and one 350 deg switchback w/a 2 foot drop in the middle) eventually ended in bike-hiking. My legs were really starting to disagree with what I was doing, and my brain was trying to bail with them.

Side note- I think that the term “curse like a sailor” could quite accurately be replaced with “curse like a singlespeeder.”

Once we crossed the highway (and Livingston Creek for the 3rd time), we started to ascend Scrappy Mountain. It’s a tough climb- every bit as steep as Chalybeate on the Ouachita and twice as rocky. The combination of fatigue and terrain took its toll on me as we hiked/grinded up the switchbacks. At one point, I was trying to charge up a short pitch when I accidentally steered into a rock that twisted my front wheel around and body-slammed me onto the ground.

Ow. That hurt. I sat there for a couple of minutes to re-group and let the sting in my hip and elbow subside. Mentally and physically, the mountain had broken me.

Luckily, we were near the top. I hiked up a couple of hills that I might have ridden if my legs hadn’t checked out a few minutes earlier, and eventually finished off the final pitch of logging road climb to make it back out on to Green Mountain road. That’s got to be on the top 20 list of toughest stretches of trail you can find this side of the Rockies. It’ll challenge your fitness and keep you on your toes (literally and figuratively) the entire time (I think its relative shortness will keep it out of the top 10). It’s gonna be a killer for some people in the upcoming race!

…sometimes you’re the nail.

Sometimes you accidentally leave all of the conventional tools at home and have to do it Macgyver style.

This weekend, Ryan, Eric, and I are in Mountain View. The plan was for Ryan and I to ride the Syllamo’s Revenge race course today, but, from the get-go, thing weren’t going as planned. Somehow, I ended up leaving my beloved Wingnut pack at home (luckily, Ryan had brought an extra hydration pack). That, in and of itself, sucks, because it’s soooo much more comfortable than anything else. However, inside the pack are mine and Ryan’s multi tools, my trail saw, and a spare derailleur hanger.

But wait, there’s more!

I also left my keys at home. I didn’t realize it until we pulled up to the cabin (thank goodness there was a spare in a lock box). To top it all off, I forgot my super awesome memory foam pillow. Crap.

Nonetheless, we headed out to the trails around 10 this morning. We started by dropping down Blanchard Springs Rd. to the campground so that I could get a feel for how the climb & initial singletrack would ride. The climb back was fine, but once we entered the singletrack, things got hairy. It rained a couple of hours last night, so the wet rocks and mud were pretty trecherous. We picked our way through the bad spots and eventually made it to the blue trail.

I was booking along when suddenly, a branch lodged itself in my rear derailleur. I heard it and immediately stopped pedaling, which probably limited the damage, but left me with a horribly bent hanger. I made several attempts at muscleing it back in to place, but it was still prettymuch unusable. I started to resign myself to walking out and ending my weekend early.

Then I reminded myself of the post I made just a couple of days ago about wanting a Singlespeed. Guess there’s no better time than the present, eh?

Ryan and I made a quick calculation about what combination of gears to use, set the grip shift to get close to it, then turned the barrel adjuster until the chain was somewhat quiet on the cassette. Bam. Singlespeed.

OMG! Fun!!!

The first time you ride with one gear, you quickly figure out that your brakes are your biggest nemesis, momentum your biggest ally, and muscle dominates where you once relented to shifting to a lower gear. I’m pretty hooked. I rode about another 30 miles after that on the green, red, and remaining yellow trail and ended up with just over 40 miles for the day. Freaking awesome. I felt like a rock star. Need. More.

So, tomorrow, we’re going out to the Orange and Blue trails. Lots more climbing and rocks. I can’t wait to try it. It’s going to hurt in the best possible ways.

I’m really, really jonesing for a singlespeed 29er. However, between taxes and recent purchases, the money tree has been pruned. If anyone out there is willing to help, I’m willing to be your schill… just shoot me an email: andrea @ brickhouseracing.com