2011 Races

I didn't do a single race last season because the economy tanked and I'd just bought a new house, so something had to give. I'm hopeful the worst of the bad economy is behind us now, so I've been looking at various race websites and trying to figure out which, if any, I'd like to do this year. Naturally, this all depends on a lot of unseen variables like gas prices, the general economy, budget cuts, and even bad weather, so I reserve the right to change my mind and just stay home. One thing for sure is I probably won't be doing as many cross country races and I've done in years past. In fact, I only have two XC races on my list. This is the year I'm making the jump to more endurance (XXC) style events.

April 30, Cohutta 65/100
June 5, Bump 'n Grind at Oak Mountain, Birmingham, AL.
July 24, ORAMM, Old Fort, NC.
Aug. 20, Fool's Gold
Sept. 11, Black Bear Rampage, Ducktown, TN.
Oct. 2, 12 Hours of Stank, Memphis, TN.
Oct 15, 6 hours of Herb, Collierville, TN
Sept 4, Skool of Hard Nox, Louisville, MS
Sept. 18, Clear Creek Challenge, Oxford, MS.
Nov 12, Oak Mt. 6-hour Race, Birmingham, AL

2007 Memphis CX Photos Found!

I found some photos online that I thought were lost forever when my computer got hit by a virus several months ago. These are from the 2007 Memphis Cyclocross Championships. I remember this race because it was brutally cold and the wind that day only made things worse. As bad as it was, the Cullman CX race was by far the worst ever because it snowed during the race and the course included a water barrier. Anyway, I'm thrilled to have found these. I only wish I had a record of my race resume'. I lost 11 years worth of race data and could have sworn I had a backup file somewhere.

Here I am at the start line trying to figure out my plan of attack.

Check out that form on the barriers!

I rode this guy's wheel for the last two laps and attacked on the big climb.

Waiting for my moment on the climb.

Attack!

Time to Start Training!

March 13: US Cup Bonelli Park - San Dimas, Calif.
March 27: US Cup Fontana – Fontana, Calif.
May 16: US Cup Big Bear – Big Bear, Calif.
June 5: Bump ‘N Grind – Birmingham, Ala.
June 26: Subaru Cup – Mt. Morris, Wis.
July 10: CTS International Classic – Colorado Springs, Colo.

2009 Clear Creek Challenge

The 2009 Clear Creek Challenge is in the books and ended up being a mud fest of epic proportions. Seven days of non-stop rain prior to the race helped saturate the ground to the point of overload. However, a brief reprieve from the weather the day before allowed the trail to setup overnight and was in surprisingly good shape just before the start. All it needed was for the rain to hold off until after the race. As luck would have it, a thunderstorm moved in just as everyone was staging for the start and the skies soon opened with a deluge of water.

As I waited for the start of my group, I kept wishing I wore my helmet with the visor, but left it in the car since I didn’t expect a Biblical torrent. With water dripping down my helmet and onto my cheeks, I rolled to the start line and hoped beyond hope the trail wasn’t muddy. Ten seconds to start and my jersey is completely soaked and glued to by back. I can hear rain pellets beating against my helmet and feel them stinging the back of my neck. “This is going to be miserable.” I think to myself.

We’re off and racing toward the trailhead and I’m out front. When I reach the trail, I find a small river rushing downhill. Almost instantaneously, I get sand and water in my eyes and squint as I navigate my way down the “trail”. All I want to do is stay upright and hopefully open a gap so I can clear my eyes. Maybe two miles in the trail, I catch the end of the 30-39 group and start working my way through. I also start losing my rear brakes and sliding in the corners.

Just before a series of small climbs, I’m passed by a single-speed racer only to have him stall out on several climbs and seriously slow me down. This was aggravating since I was literally on his rear wheel and wanted to get around him. All I could do was sit back and watch this guy grind up climbs I knew I could blow over. In any event, Andrea in the women’s 30-39 group is soon on my wheel. My real brakes are completely gone by this time, and I only have my front in working order. The trail is a greasy mess in places and water puddles in others. I eventually manage to pass Mr. single-speed but later clip a tree and crash as I’m sliding around. Andrea passes me as I’m getting back on my bike, but I soon catch back up and work my way around a few more in the 30-39 group. Toward the end of the first lap, I slide down a switchback and roll off the trail. I push my bike back onto the trail and get back on where the trail climbs out to the finish area. As I’m getting started, Andrea goes past but she lets me around as we’re going into the last lap.

About half way into the second lap, my front brakes start to fail, and I’m in survival mode simply trying to avoid a mechanical problem and crashes. I shift into my granny gear to avoid stressing the chain and gingerly drift through the corners. This works to a point since I did avoid mechanical problems, but not necessarily the crashes. My rear wheel slid from under me on a rocky downhill section buttered nicely with mud. After that, I decided discretion is the better part of valor and chose to walk anything that looked too hazardous. Why take chances when the race is in the bag? With three miles to go, I completely lose my brakes and I’m just trying to finish.

I end my suffering with first place in 2:19:12.

Labor Day Weekend Implosion

I got out of bed this morning at a semi-reasonable hour and eventually gathered my gear together for a few laps at Clear Creek so I can prepare for the upcoming Clear Creek Challenge. I managed to keep up a semi-race pace for about the first 25 miles, but imploded somewhere between mile 25 and 27, probably because I only had a bowl of cereal for breakfast. After my implosion, I decided to go into tourist mode and snap a few photos on my way back to the trailhead.

Armadillo

Where the trail meets the lake

Sardis Lake

One of many fast downhills

A Stinky Stanky Fail

Some days it just doesn’t pay to get out of bed. This was one of those days.


I came into this race with low expectations and pretty much got what I expected against a field of 10 riders in my category, one of who made the trip all the way from Waco, Texas. The Waco rider bitch slapped everyone in the time trial yesterday, so I had him pegged as the odds on favorite for the cross-country.

When my group rolls up to the line, I take a spot on outside left of the front row and instantly realize I picked a bad spot due to a small mound of dirt right where the path makes a slight left bend. Oh, Perfect!

The race official explained the rules about outside support, passing, and giving way to faster riders, then began the countdown. My start was sloppy, but I manage to make the single-track in the fifth position. The pace was fast, just like I expected, but whoever was driving the train turned on the jets about a mile into the Blue Trail and instantly fractured the group. I manage to latch onto the caboose and hold on for dear life. It wasn’t long before the course turned extremely narrow and twisty. This is not something a tall person on a big bike considers fantasy material. The leaders begin to pull away from me until they are out of sight. By this time, two or three other riders close the gap from behind and latch onto my rear wheel. The trail eventually opens up a bit, and I'm able to pickup the pace. Unfortunately, I'm not able to shake the riders on my wheel despite my best efforts. Roughly, three or four miles into the race, I start running out of gas and grow weary of dragging my competition around. They eventually pass me and I find myself riding alone for a while, so I decide to settle down into a more comfortable pace to grind it out for the first lap and into the second lap.

It isn’t long before someone else closes in on me, so I kick it up again. He literally gets RIGHT ON my wheel and we even rub tires at one point through a series of small drops. I attack on a straight section of trail and briefly open a gap. My heart rate feels like it is off the charts as I push down the trail and eventually end up catching the two who got around me earlier. There are now five of us in a tight pack hammering down the trail at breakneck speed with my heart beating against the top of my helmet.

The lead rider in the group of five soon clips a tree and goes vertical in the most spectacular fashion. I roll off the trail and manage to dodge the carnage, but also find myself out front with a small gap. My escape is short-lived as I soon have two guys firmly locked in behind me. We battle for what seemed like an eternity until both get around and attack, leaving me to ride solo again.

Something weird happens during a race when you are riding alone and you know you’re not going to place. Call it acceptance or even a shitty attitude, but you begin to think about everything but going fast. All you want to do is finish the race. You just want to ride down the trail without puking your guts up and cross the line. The downside to this is you, knowingly or not, slow down too much.

As I’m riding down the trail, I soon pass someone in an orange kit leaning against his bike as if he just finished smoking a cigarette. A little further down the trail I pass someone changing a tube. This shakes me out of my fatalistic mood and I start going a faster. Roughly halfway into the last lap, I pass the tail end of the 30-39 group. For some reason, this really helps my sour attitude as I leave him further and further behind. Then it happens. Someone closes in on me from out of nowhere and settles in directly behind me. I’m literally dying on the vine with about two-miles to go and now find myself in a battle I don’t need or want. SHIT! I speed up and manage to get the occasional gap, but nothing I can hold for any period of time. I figure it will come down to a sprint, so I settle down and just ride my own pace. I know he is long gone if he gets around me, so I just ride and try not to worry about it too much. He’s about 12-inches off my rear wheel when we go through a section of trail studded with big roots and small dips. That is when I hear a loud thud quickly followed by the sound of a bike crash. Glancing back, I see his rear wheel in the air and know he bit it on a big roots just above a sharp dip in the trail. This seals my escape, and I ride the last two miles to the line solo.


I didn’t stick around for the results, but I’m sure I placed well into the bottom half.

Stanky Creek Time Trial

I placed third at the Stanky Creek time trial today in a field of six riders for my group. My time was 14:24 over three miles, which is just absolutely pathetic. I know climbers are notoriously bad time-trialist, but I’m still disappointed with my performance. I never knew how hard to push it so basically raced my regular cross-country speed.

Maybe I’ll have better luck tomorrow in the cross-country race, but I doubt it. This trail is pancake flat (except for one downhill on the XC course) and doesn’t favor me at all.

This is one of the monkeys scattered around the course.

This is the "big downhill" on the XC course for Sunday.

Six Weeks to Clear Creek Challenge

Click the image for a larger view.

The Clear Creek Challenge is 6 weeks away and it’s time to start getting serious with my training. I have a good history on this course and I want to keep the streak going. Clear Creek is an important race for me because it’s my home trail. In fact, I put this race right up there with Chickasaw Trace and Bump ‘n Grind on my value chart. This is race #7 in the SCRCS and #4 in the state series, so the big guns from Memphis should be coming down for the event as well as the usual group from Mobile and south Louisiana. I’ve given some thought to trying the cat-1 group for this race. I’ll more than likely do it if there isn’t any good competition registered for my USAC category.

My next race is this coming weekend in Memphis at the Legend of Stank Creek. I really don’t have any expectations for this race since the trail is flat & twisty, which doesn’t favor me at all, so I’m treating it as a tune up race more than anything else.

State Games of Mississippi

The organizer combined all the cat-2 racers for a mass start given the extreme heat. I believe it reached 97 degrees with a heat index somewhere off the charts. At one point during the race, I could have sworn I smelt bacon cooking but it could have just as easily been the skin on the back of my neck baking in the sun. Suffice it to say, it was a scorcher! Having a combined start made good sense with such hot weather that bordered on dangerous. However, the only negative is a mass start makes knowing who is in what division virtually impossible. I adjusted to this by racing against anyone in front of me and trying not to get caught by anyone behind me. This approach made for a lot of unnecessary suffering on my part.

I take up a position in the middle of the second row and immediately started sizing up the field. I couldn’t help but notice the Incredible Hulk directly to my right. He had to be close to seven feet tall complete with muscles on top of muscles. I’m doing good to reach 150 pounds holding two bricks while wearing army boots. The Ironman tattoo on the Hulk’s ankle says I should take him seriously, but his size was surely going to be an issue on the climbs.

I gun it at the start and immediately go for the front trying to avoid any traffic issues once we reach the single-track roughly 100 yards away. Most everyone else seemed to have the same plan, so the start quickly turned into a stampede of epic proportions. After a 90-degree turn to the right, we come onto a gravel road leading to the trailhead some 75 yards ahead. Someone launches an insane attack off the front and opens a small gap on the group. This stirs up the pack and everyone gives chase and quickly squelches the attempted break. With this group explosion, everyone instantly begins to string out. I make the single-track somewhere in the upper middle of the group, not exactly ideal. The pace is extremely fast, almost too fast, and I know people are going to start imploding from the effort - if not the heat - very quickly. Not 200 yards into the trail riders start popping like balloons in a dart factory. I work my way around several slowing riders and a few more just roll off the course to recover. I never see The Incredible Hulk during the entire race, so I can only assume he went off to crush cars and uproot trees.

At the halfway point of the first lap, I’m somewhere in the top five riders and guess that I’m first or second in my category. My teammate is just ahead of me and we swap positions a couple of times before I finally move past him and open a serious gap on a hilly section of trail. I then find myself riding alone for the remainder of the first lap.

When I come around for the second lap, I see someone in a black & red “R2W” kit a short distance up the trail, and I set about trying to bridge up to his wheel. He grabs a fresh bottle of water at the 90-degree turn before the trailhead, and I’m slowly reeling him in like a fish on a line. The catch is made just as we enter the single-track where I settle in and let him make pace. I know he won’t try to drink out of his bottle as long as I’m on him, so I let him work in the heat while I wait for my chance. That chance comes on a series of small grunt climbs where I get around him and kick up the tempo another level. I soon have several seconds on him and quickly add more and more distance with every pedal stroke. About five minutes later, he starts eating into my lead and eventually gets within a bike length. We continue to battle with each other for most of the second lap until the climbs come into play a mile or so from the Start/Finish area. This is where I make my escape and go into my final lap solo.

When I enter the single-track for the third and final lap, I calculate that I likely have first or second place in my division sewn up. However, my main goal is to complete the last lap without a mechanical, serious crash, heart attack, or being caught by anyone closing in from behind. It’s this fear of being passed that drives me to keep the pace high while riding alone during a race. My nightmare scenario is losing a position just before the finish. I simply can’t imagine a worse feeling.

The racecourse is a good mix of alternating single-track and open gravel road. When I come to one of the gravel road sections, I get down in a time-trial position and step on the gas to ensure no one is closing in on me. It isn’t long before I start lapping the Cat-3 field, which isn’t as problematic as one might think. It only takes advanced warning, riding skills, and good manners. I’ve mentioned this in other posts, but I always say “thank you” when someone lets me around.

I eventually emerge from the woods onto a gravel road leading to the finish. All I have is one small hill and a gentile left turn before I reach the 50-yard flat stretch to the line. As soon as I make the gravel road, I quickly look over my shoulder and gun it for the hill like an escaped convict. Once on top of the hill, I look over my shoulder one more time and see nothing but empty road. I go for the line and ride across with my hands on my hips trying to catch my breath.

When the results are posted, I take Gold in my division and complete the day with the second fasted time of the 30-39/40-49 Cat-2 group.

The Numbers:
Distance: 17.61 miles
Race Time: 1:36:11 hours
Ave, Speed: 10.85 mph
Max Speed: 23.86 mph

Pondering the Iron Butt

I'm considering giving the Iron Butt 100 a whirl. I hear this thing is brutal, so it could be a good measuring stick for other endurance races in the future. The Black Bear Rampage and Fool's Gold 50 are two races I'd really like to do this year, but the Fool's Gold conflicts with the Stanky Creek CX & TT. That choice will likely come down to weather. There's still the Black Bear Rampage as well as the 6-hours of Herb and 12-hours of Stank. Ultimately, I really want to do something like the Firecracker 50 or even the Leadville 100 in Colorado.

2009 Bama 'Cross Schedule

Let the insanity begin!
9/26 - Clanton
10/4 - Avondale
10/18 - Prattville
11/1 - Tuscaloosa
11/8 - Birmingham at Sloss Furnace
11/14 - Anniston, Saturday Night Race
11/22 - Montgomery
12/6 - Cullman

Races to Ponder

I need to work out which races I'm gong to do and make plans accordingly. My participation will largely depend on weather since I've sworn off mud races. If anyone has any event suggestions, please feel free to let me know. I'd also like to squeeze in a century ride or two this year since I haven't done one in a while and really miss non-competitive social rides.

Race Menu
June 21, Three Legged Dog. Little Rock, AR.
June 28, Mississippi State Games, Meridian, MS.
July 12, Alabama State Championships, Anniston, AL.
July 19, Lock 4 Challenge, Nashville, TN.
July 19, Eureka Springs Fat Tire Festival, Eureka Springs, AR.
Aug.15, Legend of Stanky Creek Time Trial, Memphis, TN.
Aug.16, Legend of Stanky Creek Cross Country, Memphis, TN.
Sept. 20, Clear Creek Challenge, Oxford MS.
Sept. 27, C.E.N.L.A., Alexandria, LA.
Sept. TBA, Black Bear Rampage, Ducktown, TN.
Oct. 3, 12-Hours of Stank, Memphis, TN.
Oct. 17, 6-Hours of Herb, Memphis, TN.
Oct.18, McGee/Martin Lungbuster, Ridgeland, MS.
Oct. TBA, Dead Dog Mtb. Birmingham, AL.
Oct. TBA, Bama Cross Series. Alabama.
Nov. TBA, Memphis Cyclocrunk Series, Memphis, TN.
Nov. TBA, Memphis CX Championship, Memphis, TN.

Random Bump 'n Grind Photos

Catharine Pendrel and Georgia Gould (my hero) talk before the race.

Pua Sawicki and Georgia Gould on the line.

Pro men lining up for the start. Geoff Kabush and his sideburns in orange.

Super pro Geoff Kabush. I want sideburns like that!

Georgia Gould burning it up on the trail.

Sho-Air team bus. This is the way to travel.

2009 Bump 'n Grind

I almost missed my group staging for the race because I was unknowingly mingling in the 50+ crowd. Maybe I was feeling old at the time and enjoying a senior moment. Maybe I just enjoyed the friendly conversation about bikes. The sad truth is, I was getting nervous about the race and didn't pay attention to the announcements blasting over the public address system. Considering the volume of the announcer's voice, I must have been seriously distracted. Once I realize my group is staging for the race, I begin working my way through a small gaggle of bikes and riders to stage with the proper race group. When I reach the start area, all the prime positions are gone, and I reluctantly settle on a spot in the very back next to one of the barriers. "Oh great!" I think to myself. "Now I have to fight my way through traffic to reach the front."

As I look over my competition for the day, I size up everyone based on their kits and equipment. It's not the most scientific method, but it works for me. I figure if someone is going to spend $5000 or more for a bicycle, then they're probably a little more serious than the average recreational rider. If they happen to be wearing a team kit and have freshly shaven legs, then you know whose wheel to grab at the start. Like I said, it's not scientific, but it works for me.

The seconds tick down to the start and the knot in my stomach tightens. I want to go back to the friendly people in the 50+ group, but I'm trapped by my date of birth. The whistle blows and a burst of metallic cleats lock into pedals in a series of rapid clicks followed by the rattle of tensioning chains and shifting gears. We're off for 17 miles of bumps and grinds in the largest mountain bike race in the Southeast.

I instantly get stuck behind some slow traffic as we enter a wooded picnic area across from the starting line and know the gap on the front is going to be huge if I can't move up. I try to pass on a short downhill but am almost forced into a tree and decide to back off and attack on the short pavement section coming up. I work my way past the guy who almost forced me into the tree and open a gap on him. The group is starting to string out by this point like an over worked rope. I catch a glimpse of the lead group turning into the single track as I scream down Peavine Road toward the trailhead with two or three other riders on my wheel. "This is going to suck", I think to myself. I decide to go hard but not so hard that I burn myself out. There's a nasty climb coming up, and I figure I can do my damage there and catch the leaders.

The sounds of chains slapping against metal and knobby tires scraping rocks continued to echo behind me from the small train of riders on my rear wheel. They're obviously using me to set pace, so I crank it up a level in hopes of opening a gap. They're still on me after two attempts, so I start leading them over roots and rocks. This also fails. I attack again on a down hill section and eventually shake them off and try to open more distance on them.

I soon encounter the tail end of the 40-45 group and even a few stragglers in the 35-39 group and begin to weave my way through. When it comes to passing, I'm very polite. I don't know why, but I always say "thank you" when someone moves over so I can pass. It goes something like this. I'll get within a bike length of a slower rider and say, "When you get a chance." They find a place to slide over and I'll pass and say "thank you" as I go around them. I almost start laughing when someone says, "And thank you for not being an asshole." after I pass with my customary courtesy. I instantly flashback to last year when some roadie turned mountain biker for a day was being a complete jerk to everyone on the trail and realize he must be at it again this year doing the same thing.

When I reach the base of the long climb up Oak Mountain, I see a long string of people on bikes and begin to grind my way up. During my preride the day before, I didn't think the climb was so bad. In fact, it seemed shorter and not as steep as last year. Someone must have gone out there in the middle of the night and added a ton of dirt to the mountain because it suddenly felt longer and much steeper than the day before. The good news is everyone around me seemed to be suffering much more. For those of you not familiar with Bump 'n Grind, the climb is a rock infested fire road to the top of the mountain. I love it! It hurts, but I love it all the same. As I make my way to the top past riders and small groups of riders, I
often go off the worn path and pass on the rocky sections just to avoid the chance of someone stalling out in front of me. I eventually reach the summit and continue to the last trail sections of the race - Blood rock and Mr. Toad's Wild Ride.

As I'm racing toward the much-dreaded "Blood Rock" section, both legs are on the verge of cramping. I don't know why I continue to have cramping problems this year, and it's becoming a serious issue for me. I didn't cramp last year, so I'm at a loss as to what happened this time. The only thing that comes to mind is I spent too much time preriding the course the day before and dehydrated myself more than I realized. I believe I was out there for about 3.5 to 4 hours in total with only a small bottle of water. Yeah, that was stupid. I normally don't even touch my bike the day before a race, but needed to check out the course since I was unable to make the trip to Birmingham earlier.


I make the right turn onto the BUMP trail and soon cramp in both legs. This forces me to stop and move off the course. Several people pass as I'm off to the side trying to get my legs moving again. I remount my bike after a little stretching and rubbing, but my legs are still not fully cooperating and on the verge of locking up. When I reach "Blood Rock", the muscles in my legs tighten with every bounce and bump on the rocks. I'm concentrating so hard at navigating through the maze of rocks and drops that I do not even notice the crowd standing around waiting for the inevitable crashes. I'm literally in my own world. When I reach the final drop, both legs start cramping and I can only control the bike with my arms. For a brief moment, I pop off the saddle and almost lose control, but manage a great save. I clear the last rock and continue down the trail with a great sense of relief. After a few minutes, the muscles in my legs start to relax and I regain some measure of control over them again.

Paul Tidwell Photography, Inc. All Rights Purchased.

Paul Tidwell Photography, Inc. All Rights Purchased.

The last section of the course is a hammer fest called "Mr. Toad's Wild Ride". It's a relatively easy strip of trail with a hard packed surface and lots of fast turns. I'm feeling good and pick up the pace considerably, eventually passing some riders who went around me as I stood along the trailside battling my legs. With each pass, I start to feel better and know the finish is near. Eventually, the sounds of the finish area begin to filter through the trees, and I start railing through the corners like madman on a mission. I encounter small groups of spectators peering from behind trees, yelling out words of encouragement, and ringing cowbells. There's something about the clank of a cowbell that makes me pedal faster. As I come out of the single-track, I can see a patchwork of tent canopies and team trailers in the distance with the timing clock hanging from a scaffold arched finish line. I blow through gears like a runaway truck and make for ramming speed as I hit the line and put another Bump 'n Grind in the record books.

I place 6th in a field of 16, just one spot short of earning valuable upgrade points.

Close But No Cigar

Okay, so my prediction about the Bump 'n Grind pro results didn't pan out. However, Georgia Gould was only off first by one second in a thrilling sprint finish. I don't know what happened to Geoff Kabush since I didn't stick around for the finish.

I'll post a race report with a few photos on my thumping in a few days.


Results from Cycling News

Pro Women Results
1 Catharine Pendrel (Can) Luna 1.29.38
2 Georgia Gould (USA) Luna 0.01
3 Katerina Nash (Cze) Luna 2.17
4 Monique Pua Sawicki (USA) Mata 4.10
5 Kelli Emmett (USA) Giant 4.28
6 Heather Irmiger (USA) Subaru / Gary Fisher 6.09
7 Lea Davison (USA) Rocky Mt./Maxxis 7.26
8 Susan Butler (USA) 8.09
9 Kathy Sherwin (USA) 9.55
10 Kimberly Flynn (USA) 11.53
11 Anina Aaron (RSA) 12.18
12 Jamie Dinkins (USA) 13.46
13 Erin Disterheft (USA) 13.50
14 Chloe Forsman (USA) 15.07
15 Maureen Kunz (USA) 16.23
16 Kylie Krauss (USA) 21.23
17 Philica Marion (USA)
18 Tracey Wallace (USA)
DNF Willow Koerber (USA)
DNF Katherine Compton (USA)
DNF Aleksandra Rokita (Pol)


Pro Men
1 Sid Taberlay (Aus) Sho-Air/Specialized 1.39.41
2 Jeremy Horgan-Kobelski (USA) Gary Fisher / Subaru 0.02
3 Max Plaxton (Can) Sho-Air/Specialized 0.22
4 Todd Wells (USA) Specialized 0.24
5 Seamus Mcgrath (Can) Jamis 0.46
6 Geoff Kabush (Can) Rocky Mt./Maxxis 2.40
7 Adam Craig (USA) Giant 3.44
8 Troy Wells (USA) 3.45
9 Rotem Ishai (Isr) 4.29
10 Andy Schultz (USA) 4.35
11 Colin Cares (USA) 4.40
12 Sam Jurekovic (USA) 5.49
13 Carl Decker (USA ) 6.03
14 Ryan Woodall (USA) 6.04
15 Thomas Turner (USA) 6.05
16 Samuel Schultz (USA) 6.06
17 Eric Tonkin (USA) 6.09
18 Kris Sneddon (Can) 6.54
19 Ryan Trebon (USA) 7.52
20 Manuel Prado (CRc) 8.57
21 Tristan Cowie (USA) 9.29
22 Samuel Koerber (USA) 10.17
23 Travis Livermon (USA) 10.18
24 Dana Weber (USA) 10.30
25 Travis Woodruff (USA) 10.49
26 Mitch Comardo (USA) 10.50
27 Adam Snyder (USA) 11.53
28 Dylan Alesio (USA) 12.33
29 Robert Marion (USA) 12.34
30 Scott Frederick (USA) 13.05
31 Aaron Elwell (USA) 13.51
32 Andrew Alesio (USA) 14.02
33 Rickey Visinski (USA) 14.20
34 Justin Raynes (USA) 14.25
35 Kalan Beisel (USA) 14.26
36 Lucas Livermon (USA) 15.45
37 Michael Mooradian (USA) 16.11
38 Drew Edsall (USA) 16.32
39 Raymond Hall (USA) 17.06
40 Nathan Wyatt (USA) 18.22
41 Gregory Carpenter (USA) 18.23
42 Craig Wohlschlaeger (USA) 19.13
43 Matt Rotroff (USA) 19.45
44 Blake Zumbrunnen (USA) 19.51
45 Brandon Curtis (USA) 19.52
46 Jakob Prater (USA) 20.19
47 Sean Sindt (USA) 21.38
48 Martin Kell (USA) 25.47
49 Macky Franklin (USA) 45.47
50 Ross Bowden (USA)
51 Jordan Kahlenberg (USA)
52 Martin Cox (USA)
53 Andrew Reardon (USA)
54 Seamus Powell (USA)
55 Dustin Greer (USA)
56 Paul Kolb (USA)
57 Joshua Rosby (USA)
DNF Will Black (USA)
DNF Daniel Kindregan (USA)
DNF Kelly Magelky (USA)
DNF Eric Pirtle (USA)
DNF Alex Ryan (USA)
DNF Jason Sager (USA)
DNF Barry Wicks (USA)

Calling Bump 'N Grind

I predict Georgia Gould will win the women's pro race and Geoff Kabush will take the victory in the men's pro.

So let it be written. So let it be done. :)

Syllamo Damage

Well, here's a list of the damage to my bike from the Syllamo race. I can hopefully get the brake pads and replacement disc in time for Bump 'N Grind in a few days.

Replace cables.
Replace housings.
Clean and grease bottom bracket.
Clean and grease headset.
Replace front and rear brake pads.
Replace rear brake disc. (ouch)
Clean and lube chain.

Skipping the Rock Crusher Classic

After slogging through the muck of Syllamo for 50 miles and racing at a muddy Chickasaw Trace Classic, I just didn't have the desire to deal with another muddy mountain bike race again. Doing a total of 70 miles of mud-caked trail is about my personal limit, so I decided to skip the Rock Crusher Classic in favor of sleeping late and saving my bike a lot of unnecessary damage. Given the description of the trail and the drenching rain at the start, I clearly made a wise decision.

SYLLAMO'S REVENGE

I survived Syllamo’s Revenge. That’s all I can say about my first endurance race experience. Five months of careful planning and training went down the drain, mostly due to circumstances beyond my control. The weather was awful in the days leading up to the race and a two hour drenching the night before only helped make the trail conditions beyond atrocious.

I’m not suggesting I could have won, but I know I could have done better. Rather than compose a narrative of my Syllamo experience, I’ve decided to jot down things I remember and some of my thoughts in a bullet list formant. The truth is I’m just damn tired to think.



SYLLAMO'S REVENGE

I get up at 5:30 A.M. to make sure I have time to eat something before the race start and to better my chances of landing a premo parking spot close to the finish line. My breakfast is a mixture of Mocha flavored Prepetium and 2% milk.

I arrive at the Blanchard Springs camping area shortly after 6:30 A.M. and grab a great parking spot right in front of the finish line. Things are looking good. This is going to save me a lot of trouble after the race since I can collapse right in front of my own car.

Cars start to trickle in just before 7:00 o’clock. I notice lots of license plates from Kansas, Missouri, Texas, and Tennessee.

I meet a fellow racer from Montana. He talked about how much he hates living in Montana because it’s always showing and wet. Scratch Montana off the list

As I’m getting ready for the race, the zipper on my saddlebag decides to get stuck and the grip breaks off. The bag is stuck in the open position and is useless. I start stuffing the extra gear in my jersey pockets and Camel-bak. This is what I get for buying a Wal-Mart saddlebag.


Everyone gathers for the pre race meeting. We are to have our numbers recorded at each checkpoint and have a color-coded mark placed on our number plates. Riders are instructed not to blow through the checkpoints without being recorded. The route is marked with white ribbon (white?!?) and powered lime which was probably washed away in the rainstorms. Riders failing to reach checkpoint 3 by 3 o’clock will be pulled

Everyone is lined up for the start and I take a position in the front half of the field. We’re off and hammering down a paved road toward the camping area. The pace is faster than I would have expected for an endurance race, but I hang with it and look forward to the long climb up the side of the mountain. The group makes a sharp 90 degree turn to the right up a muddy service road that takes us to the single-track section.

The service road is a mile long climb at an 11% grade. AWSOME!


No sooner do I make my turn up the service road than someone in front of me comes unclipped and stops. This forces me to stop. SHIT! I’m stuck on the side of the road as rider after rider goes past. The same thing happened to me at Nationals and I know my race is over before it even starts.

I finally get going and start building momentum. People are slowly grinding up the mountain like a procession of mud splatter penguins, many of them pushing their bikes. I’m in my element now, climbing, and start moving past other riders like they are standing still.

Once I get to the entrance of the single-track (Yellow Trail), everything seems to come to a halt as I encounter a long train of “riders” pushing and carrying their bikes over mud buttered boulders. This particular section of trail is listed as advanced under normal conditions, but it is above that given all the mud on everything. Try walking on a marble floor after you’ve sprayed it with Pam.

I witness several spectacular crashes along the way. One guy almost knocked himself unconscious after trying to ride on a mud-covered slab of granite. He just sat on the side of the trail and drooled for a while.

There are giant holes caused by uprooted trees in the trail from an ice storm back in January. Some of these things are big enough to swallow a small car. There is also all manner of small sticks on some sections just waiting to devour a derailleur.

I look down at my computer and realize I’ve traveled 12 miles in two and a half hours. The mud and grit from the trail are grinding away at my drive train, and I’m literally painted from head to toe in filth. My disgust with the trail conditions begin to weigh on me, so I decide to abandon the race at the first checkpoint at mile 16.

I reach checkpoint 1 and ask an official how I get back to the camp area. She can’t help me, and points to a Park Ranger. I’m instructed the only way back is more trouble than it’s worth, so I decide to ride to check point 2 eight miles away and abandon there

The trail becomes much more rideable and much less crowded. I hook up with a small group of riders. One of the riders is from Austin, Texas and the other from Memphis. As mountain bikers do, we ride along and carry on a conversation about the trail, where we are from, and cracking jokes.

I reach checkpoint 2 and refill my camel-bak. I also decide to press on. I must be insane!


The trail (Orange Trail) is dryer in places now but still offers plenty of mud and rocks in others. I’m pretty much riding alone by this time but do play a game of “leap frog” with group of three riders. I recognize one of the kits (uniforms) as belonging to a Memphis team. All three of them are in their late 20’s to early 30’s, so I feel pretty good about that.

My front tire goes flat after an abrupt stop on a muddy down hill. SHIT! I fill it with co2, hear a loud pop, and realize it’s not a puncture but just burped air out of it, so I’m good to go.

I cross a Forest Service road and get back on the Blue Trail.


I somehow get my left leg looped in a tangle of thorns protruding over the trail. The force pulls my foot out of the pedal and almost sends me off the trail. The thorns rake across my leg like a claw doing a lot of damage. My leg is a mud and blood covered mess.


The trail is little more than a mud-filled trench in places and a small creek in others. The only blessing is the field is more spread out now.

I encounter a photographer on the trail (Blue Trail) just as I ride down really gnarly rocky section. She snapped a photo of me and said,” Well done!” as I blow past her.

As I’m riding along, I’m calculating the damage to my bike: new chain, replace the brake pads, clean headset, new cables and housings. …

I come to the first of three creek crossings and attempt to ride across. I do this because I found photos on the Internet of people riding across and figured it is doable. This was a serious mistake. The creek turned out to be much deeper than I expected and the bottom of the creek is littered with boulders. As I entered the creek, I find myself above the kneed in water and soon drop my front wheel in a hole or crevice. When I surface, I see my bike drifting down stream in the current and freak!. Reaching out as if to save a drowning child I grab the top tube and pull my bike back from the abyss. Another rider reaches the creek crossing just as I emerged from the water on the opposite shore. He looks confused about what to do, so I yell across, “WALK IT! IT’S TOO SLICK TO RIDE!”

As I remount my bike on the creek bank, I am freezing cold and soaking wet from head to foot. My shoes make a squishing sound with every pedal stroke. The good thing is I‘m not muddy anymore. I encounter a group of 15 riders coming down a dirt road. They missed a turn and were doubling back to find the course marker. We ride along together for several minutes until someone spots a white ribbon off in the woods.

I get off and walk across the second creek crossing.




The third creek crossing is intimating because it crosses at an up stream angle, and I can’t see the bottom on the creek. Also, I can’t swim. I don’t see any dead bodies down stream, so I wade into the rushing water with a firm grip on my bike, making sure to lift it as high as I can. As I’m crossing, I get this mental image in my mind of a Marine wading through some rice paddy with an M-16 above his head. Not encountering any Vietcong on the other side, I remount and continue down the muddy trail.

I reach checkpoint 3 with an hour and a half cushion. I know I only have about 12 miles to the finish. I fish around in my jersey pocket for Ziploc bag of HEED (brought my own powder premixed with Endurolyte powder). After quickly reloading my camel-bak, I continue down the last section of trail toward the finish.

The trail (Red Trail) is now completely dry and very fast. It also has amazing flow and is free of roots and rocks. The only negative is the trailside debris from the ice storm clean up. I zip along at my normal race speed and soon start passing small groups of riders. The end is near!

With about 5 miles to go, I begin to feel fatigued and slow down to 8 mph. I ‘m also starting to feel full, so I know a bonk is on the horizon. I concentrate on pacing myself since I know eating and drinking at this point is only going to make me sick.

A rider up the trail spots me closing in and he picks up the pace. I know he will probably implode from the effort, so I maintain my pace and wait for the kill. He bonks on a small hill. I pass without a word.

I’m getting tired now and clip a tree with my right grip. I curse like a sailor as I pick myself up off the trail. It sucks to ride almost 50 miles on technical single-track only to crash on the easiest section.

The trail emerges onto a steep service road with the marker indicating I’m to go down. I know this is the same road I climbed at the start and realize I’m in the home stretch to the finish. As I’m racing down, someone blasts past me at sprint speed. The road is still plenty slick, so I figure caution is the better part of valor and keep my speed in the low 20’s.

I see some poor guy walking his bike down the mountain and ask if he’s okay. He lost his brakes, probably worn out pads from all the mud.

I see the finish and cross with fumes in my tank. I think the clock said 7 hours and 23 minutes but I’m not completely sure. I honestly didn’t look that close and went directly to my car.













This is the Forest Service road at the start. I wish you cold tell how insanely steep this thing is in the photo.



It's better than tent in a thunderstorm.



This is me at the finish. The photo does not do justice to how filthy I was, but remember I crossed a creek three times and fell in once.



I need to rebuild my bike.