A Slow Ride at Clear Creek

I had planned on going over to Tupelo for a mountain bike ride at Trace State Park, but decided to go out to Clear Creek for a lazy ride instead. As desperately as I need to train for the 6-hours of Herb, I just felt more like being lazy and enjoying the outdoors.

It might have been

If you haven’t been watching the Ken Burns/PBS series on our national parks, you are missing something truly special. It’s a six-part series chronicling the history or our nation’s greatest natural and historical treasures. Moreover, the series delves into the untold story of people from every conceivable background who shaped our national parks. I find myself not only transfixed by the stunning visuals but the amazing stories of the people as well. For me, the series goes beyond its obvious entertainment and educational value. It slips into the emotional.

The poet and writer, John Greenleaf Whittier, is noted for the phrase, “For of all sad words of tongue or pen, the saddest are these: It might have been!” These simple words have proven to be somewhat prophetic in my own life. While I find the national park series both awe-inspiring and entertaining, I’m also saddened to a degree by something that might have been in my own life. As a child, I was never the most athletic or in with the popular crowd. I was the quiet kid in the back of the room daydreaming out of the classroom window, transfixed by the trees, grass, clouds, and often drawing on scraps of notebook paper. While the other kids were engaged in various games and activities, I typically milled about the playground looking at different weeds and poking at anthills with a stick. The center of my play world was a small drainage ditch behind my house teaming with frogs, minnows, crayfish, and an entire universe of insects. I contracted poison ivy almost every summer from exploring a wooded area not far from home. I climbed trees, picked Blackberries, built forts, and gathered insects rather than play Little-League like everybody else.

One of my most vivid memories from sixth-grade is deciding I wanted to be a Park Ranger during career week. I didn’t exactly know what a Ranger did, but the uniform looked cool and I knew they worked in parks with animals and lots of trees. My only previous reference to what Rangers do was watching Mr. Ranger chase Yogi and Boo-Boo around Jellystone Park, but that was enough for me. As is typical in life, the road forward branches in various directions and our decisions take us to new destinations. I slowly, without even realizing it, gravitated away from my career week decision as most six-graders probably do. As I watch the PBS series, I’m taken back to the sixth-grade and what might have been.

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.

Remember

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

The World's Ugliest Bike

Delta 7 Arantix mountain bike

This is the Delta 7 Anthrax. I'm sure it's lightweight and climbs like a rocket, but I'm not flossing my frame after a dirty trail ride. Besides, this thing looks like something Spider-Man would ride. It is also stupid expensive at $7000 just for the frame. I’ll take a pass and use that $7000 for buy two more bikes.

Road Bike version.

A broken Delta 7 Arantix top tube and down tube, but to be fair, this looks more like an adhesive failure than a carbon failure.

I gotta get me one of these.

This caught my eye as I rode through the Square today when coming back from the mountain bike trails. I don't know what this is, but it definitely sticks out in a crowd.