Now I Understand

Sunday, I lined up for my second ever cyclocross race. In my first race, I crashed pretty good on the fourth lap and therefore didn't get the full effect of the 'cross race scene. The Spanish Lake course looked entertaining to say the least. Mike Weiss, our race promoter, set up a little bit of everything for this week...a steep downhill/run-up section, the requisite barrier crossings, and a mound of dirt. Yep, a pile of dirt approximately 5-6 feet high. On the warm-up laps we sort of looked at the dirt and wondered do we run it or ride it. Riding it definitely won out, but it caused many a mishaps during the race.



I got a decent start and headed into the run-up section (which many of us chose to ride every lap) near the top half of the pack. The feeling by many was that there would be a big pile-up at the bottom of the hill and they wanted to avoid it by hanging back a little. My group all got through cleanly and we made the climb back towards the start finish section. As we neared the start finish line, the course featured a zig-zag section which seems to be a requirement for a 'cross race. It's a good feature to help you see where folks are without looking behind you all the time. By the time we reached this section, the group was already starting to string out quite a bit. (I'm the 4th rider from the right.)



As the race strung out, I looked for a wheel to get on in an attempt to pace myself and determine how to settle in for the next 35-40 minutes. I quickly found Rick Hess of ICCC and grabbed his wheel. He would ride the lower section of the course very strong, while I seemed to ride the upper section of the course a little better. We continued this ham and egg approach for the better part of the entire race. Every now and then we'd catch a rider and toss them into the mix.



With each lap, we'd pass the cowbellers Mike Magnussen and his buddy warming up on their trainers for almighty B race. They always be cheering me to close the gap on Rick, get his wheel and keep hammering on. Invariably, as we re-entered the loop where they set-up shop, they'd urge Rick to sprint out and drop me off his wheel. You gotta love the all-inclusive style these guys employ to cheer on the riders.

I was really battling to stay on Rick's wheel and towards the end of the race. I was riding in the red zone for the entire race and that's not my style. I was hurting badly and was just hoping he was too. As we made the u-turn at the bottom of the run-up section, I took a different line up the climb, spun-out and lost all of my momentum, a in what seemed like the snap of a finger, I gave Rick a considerable lead on me at a time when my body could least afford it. This on top of the fact that every time we rode the lower section, I just fought to get through it so I could make time on the upper part of the course. That slip up was the beginning of the end and I knew I wouldn't have the legs to reel him back in this time.



As I approached the barriers for the last time, I felt like I was being chased by a ghost. I was gassed and I was in pain big time. As it turns out, I was being chased by something or someone who's face was equivalent to mine. While his was cosmetically painted on, mine was painted on with pain and suffering. 'Cross is like putting your body in a blender for 45 minutes. At the end, you're just hoping you can turn the pedals and keep the bike upright in all the right places. My hands were getting numb and my legs and lungs were burning. Rick had passed me for the last time and won the race within the race.

Overall, I'm not sure where I finished. I'd guess somewhere around 20th, but I don't know for sure. I finished and now know what it takes to race cross. I've had many people tell me it's quite painful and they're right. You never seem to get a chance to recover and always seem to be really pushing the pace. I'm taking two weeks off due to travel, but I'm planning to race 3 more times this year before beginning my off-season. I can't wait.

Relax, I know what I'm doing

I had to get a root canal yesterday. My tooth had been bothering me for the last week or so whenever I ate anything hot or drank any coffee. I actually thought I had a cavity, but I go to the dentist every 4 months, brush and floss regularly, and felt the odds were certainly low. The dentist did his normal routine of checking everything out and determined my teeth were fine above the jawline. After a couple of xrays he suggested I visit an endodontist (root canal specialist.)

A 'emergency' appointment was set-up and I was sitting in the endo's chair 30 minutes later. He reviewed the xrays, decided he wanted his own xrays, and determined after 15 minutes (and a quick test squirting hot water on my tooth) that a root canal was definitely needed. Since I was heading out of town the following day he suggested we get this done asap and agreed to work me in at the end of the day.

Before this procedure, I had no clue whatsoever what a root canal was. The only thing I had heard was that they could be a major source of pain. I have to say, they aren't much worse than having a cavity filled. The whole procedure took just under an hour and really wasn't uncomfortable at all. Perhaps my tolerance for pain has increased with riding/racing? I don't know. What did seem to help was that the Good Doctor really seemed to know what he was doing. Everything went perfectly and while I heard him talking with the assistant the whole time, I never once heard something along the lines of, "Hmmm, I've never seen that before?" or "call Dr. so and so and ask him if he can come in here for a second."

Well done Doctor. Less than 13 hours later and I feel fine. I wish the same could be said for how my right hip feels. Darn tree root. I wonder if the doctor would like to visit Creve Coeur park with his tiny little tools of destruction????

Cyclocrash

Sunday was my debut in cyclocross at Creve Coeur park. This was the second race in the 2007 Bubba Cross series sponsored by Big Shark and Pfoodman. (Yes, that's an overt plug!) Having never raced 'cross, I didn't know what to expect over than what folks had told me. What they had told me was to expect pain! They weren't too far from the truth. Pain is served in large helpings during a 'cross race.



I lined up near the middle of the pack and decided to try to roll near the middle of the group until I got used to how the race would unfold. Seemingly everyone's strategy is to go as hard as they can for as long as they can. I redlined shortly after the start and stayed that way for the next few laps. While I was trying to get my head around the notion of riding on the rivet, I also began to think of alternative racing strategies. I then decided it's too painful to decide, so I would ride through the burning feeling in my lungs.

The course was laid out around a baseball field, along the edge of some woods, and along a paved section of the park. Overall it was a great layout, however, the severe lack of rain left the trail extremely dusty, as well as very rough/choppy. In particular there was one section of ruts and roots as we began an uphill climb to the paved portion of the trail. Having ridden mountain bikes almost exclusively the last few months, normally I wouldn't think much of this terrain. However, as I haven't had too much time on a 'cross bike, I felt a little less comfortable and as a result seemed to approach those areas more tentatively. It's odd because I was definitely more fearful of the barrier crossings than the technical terrain.



As each lap rolled away, I got a little more comfortable with the pace. Not much, however. Maybe it's the terrain, maybe the spectators aways being in sight. Whatever it is, you feel compelled to ride as hard as you can for some unknown cause. The 'cross race reminded me of watching motocross on TV. As you look around the course you see everyone moving at approximately the same pace, but the riders are scattered throughout the entire course seemingly chasing some virtual rabbit. Yes, the leader is still the leader, but they are many races within the race. Perhaps you're trying to place in the top 6 for the points, maybe you've got your eye on your buddies from practice, or for a noob like me, just finishing the race in the top half of the field would be a respectable outcome.

As I mentioned before, the course was quite dusty. I recall feeling my throat burning from sucking in endless amounts of the talcum powdery haze. I didn't have a water bottle mounted to my frame and decided at the last minute to put a water bottle in my jersey pocket. Originally I had planned to have someone from my family hand me a bottle during the race, but at the line I learned there are 'no feeds' allowed during a race and that rule would be strictly enforced. Trying to ride off-road on a washboard like surface while fishing a water bottle out of your back pocket isn't conducive to speed or handling. Against the wishes of my brain, my throat won out and I was grabbing for my water bottle like a man clawing his way through a sun-baked desert. And that's when it all started to go wrong.



Entering the most technical section of the course, I couldn't swallow and grabbed for my bottle. I knew the section required my focus but more importantly I needed water. I quickly grabbed the bottle, dispensed it's cool contents, and deftly replaced the bottle. I bunny hopped the large rut and thought, your fine now get prepared for the root. The same root that had caused a first lap, 4 man crash right in front of me. The root that was taller on the right side. The root that could easily be bunny hopped. The root that's sitting just around the corner. The root that I now couldn't see for the life of me. For some reason, I was now having troubles seeing the root amidst the shadows of the tree limbs and patches of dappled sunlight. Where was it? Did I already jump it? Had I found an easier line? Just then, I saw it. Directly in front of my wheel. Too late. My wheel smacked the root at it's highest point and caused me to immediately slam my right side into the ground. The race was over for me as quickly as you can blink an eye.

My initial thought was anger. I jumped up looked at the bike and began to remount and get back into the race. I noticed my right brake/shift lever was angled towards my stem. No problem, I'll just bash that back into place. Then I noticed I could hardly pedal the bike. The gears must have shifted onto my 11t cog in the back. Just shift those back up and start your climb. As I attempted to upshift, my derailleur sat lifeless at the back of my bike. Why isn't it responding? Upon further review, I noticed my derailleur was jammed into the teeth of the cassette and wasn't hanging straight any longer. All the while I never once noticed my flat front tire. As my attention turned to the overall condition of my bike, I knew this day was over for me. I had no spare tubes, didn't bring a spare set of wheels, and riders were starting to pass me with steady frequency.

This tree root meant business and it was out for blood. Take no prisoners, this root. I learned several riders met similar fate on that same root. Ralph got nailed by said root while warming up for his race. Bill Howells was part of the 4 man pile-up in the first lap, but untangled himself to recover and post a very nice result somewhere around the top 10. Rich Pierce must have said something to the root along the lines of "leave me alone or I'll be back here with my new Stihl chainsaw..." as he was upright so much so he put in a massive attack on his last lap. I on the other hand was left to cheerlead.

That's racing. Next up, Spanish Lake.

The Element of Surprise

Sun Tzu said:

Whoever is first in the field and awaits the coming of the enemy, will be fresh for the fight; whoever is second in the field and has to hasten to battle will arrive exhausted.

Saturday was the last race of the 2007 NORBA series which was held at Spanish Lake. Based on how I felt following the race, perhaps the venue should be renamed, Painish Lake, as it certainly put me into the red zone for the entire race. The radar showed possible storms heading into the area, but short of the temperatures dropping a little and some brief periods of sprinkles, the conditions were ideal. I rolled to the course a little later than normal, which generally makes me uneasy. I'm usually quite anxious and always want to get to the venue as early as possible to help ward off thoughts of being late or feelings that I've forgotten something.

As I parked, I stayed around the car and chatted it up with several folks talking about everything from the new paint job on the Gunnar, good beers, how the earlier races went, and who was showing up for our race. After several discussions, I registered while chatting with Dave Ploch. I thanked him for his support and work throughout this year and headed back to the car to begin prepping for the race. I got dressed, readied the bike, and rolled out for a little warm-up. Rich Pierce told me he had changed the course slightly, so I decided to roll a lap to see what Rich had in his bag of tricks. Earlier in the week I had suggested to Rich a Burmese Tiger Pit and knowing Rich, he may have put one on the course. As I headed onto the course, I practiced a couple of entries into the first section of singletrack, paying particular attention to where the braking sections should be and where to carry the momentum. I felt very confident throughout the singletrack, but was a little worried by the abundance of fireroads and wide open areas which meant power would dominate the race over bike handling.

During my warm-up laps, I put a few hard efforts in and recall not feeling much snap in my legs. For the first time since my first race, I got nervous and thought the day could be very long, painful, and result in a bad finish. I tried to shake off the thoughts by rolling along and focusing more on where to attack and where to ride tempo. When I got back to the car, I diverted my attention by loading up my camelback and putting on a sportdrink bottle to drink before the start. After a quick stop at the rest room, I pedalled towards the starting line to find everyone on the line and ready to rock'n'roll. That's so out of character for me. I don't really know what I was thinking. Why would I let everyone roll to the line and damn near leave without being focused and ready myself? (I actually must have been pretty loose, because I saw Furby standing at the line finishing a bag of Doritos and asked if he had any left. He didn't.) I then turned my attention to scoping out the competition and offering well wishes to Dan Mogus and Loran Cavano and gave a little good luck to Aggro. Seconds later the under 35 Beginners rolled off the line and we were that much closer to our start.

As we got on the line, I remember someone saying they should have started in the earlier group and they took off as a solo rider pursuing the youngster pack. At that point, I thought get your head on straight or you're going to be just like that dude! I looked down at my Garmin GPS computer and discovered I hadn't turned it on yet. I flicked the button and knew it wouldn't acquire the satellites before the start of the race, so I will need to remember to start it when I come across at the start of my second lap. The starter counted us down from 10 seconds, I snapped into focus, and started exactly as I wanted. Steady, not overly fast, but right at the front. Dan Mogus led the group out, while Bill Cahill rolled behind him and Aggro and I cruised in 3rd and 4th place. As we neared the entry point to the singletrack, I hesitated jumping onto Mogus' wheel, a mistake I cursed seconds later, and began the first singletrack section riding Bill Cahill's wheel very hard. I was feeling very aggressive in the singletrack (sorry Bill) and I think that was because I knew every turn, rise, root, and rut like the back of my hand. Watching the riders ahead of me, I literarlly hatched my race strategy as we exited the first section of singletrack.

My strategy became simple. I've struggled when others set the pace and since I was already going against everything I'd normally do at a race, I decided to go on the attack. Yep. My mind firmly grabbed the idea and I held in it clear view. Attack, attack, attack! Attack at the top of the gravel hill and go as fast as I could until the second section of singletrack, nail the singletrack, and jam it until the top of the next climb. As we exited onto the gravel hill, I shifted into the big ring, stood up and attacked. Dan Mogus told me to "go get'em Boz" and I was off without looking back. I knew the downhill section of the gravel was a little slick, but I was laying it on the line. My strategy felt perfect until we neared the second section of singletrack and all I could see was a line of the under 35 beginners stringing out on the entry to the singletrack. I forgot about them being ahead of us and decided I cannot get held up by anyone on the log crossing. I picked my way through the singletrack and climbed to the gravel road. At the gravel road, I gave Kris Williams a couple of jabs in the arm and he attempted to push me off my bike (Fingerbangin' funkilla stuff....I actually took time to joust during an attack...damn, I am too stupid for my own good, but I told you I would have fun on this ride!)

On the gravel road, I again pedalled hard, but found myself getting passed by Gary Dyer on a cross bike and Bill Cahill riding solidly on his wheel. Damm, how'd those guys get back on my so quickly? We paced together to the top of the climb, but Gary was not having anyone ride on his wheel, so he pushed the pace even harder. I was gapped by a few bike lengths and then it was Bill's turn to get dropped. I got back on Bill's wheel and followed him into the next section of singletrack. Since I had put in such a hard effort to get off the front, I was redlining badly and I think Bill sensed my pain. He kept the pressing the pace and popped me as we neared the top of the two-way trail climb and that was the last I saw of him.

My race then became to keep my podium spot. During the wooded part of the course, I could never see Aggro and had no idea where he was behind me. I kept my pace focused on tempo and listened to folks I knew along the way giving me a sense of still being in the thick of things. As I rolled across the start finish line, I looked for my wife and kids and saw them off to the side. They didn't recognize me at first and then shouted some encouragement to keep me going. I did remember to start my computer and then focused on the readouts to help me pace and control my efforts. As we neared the climb on the backside of the course, I caught a glimpse of Cahill ahead of me by roughly 30-40 seconds. I thought wait until you get to the same place on the hill and see where Aggro is in. It turns out he was approximately the same distance behind me, roughly 30-40 seconds. At that point, I knew Jo was going to try to run me down, so I wasn't going to do anything but maintain my pace. Essentially, I decided to make him do all the work. (I may have regret that decision later on.)

My final lap was uneventful until we made the long gravel climb, I looked back at the top and thought Jo looked closer than on the previous lap, but he didn't appear to be attacking. Perhaps he made a little time because he had a clearer trail. I decided the rest of the lap would be hard on me so I tried to sharpen my focus, and grunt my way through it. As I climbed the two-way trail for the last time, Greg Suter called out something to me like "45 seconds." I didn't know if he was saying that was my gap to 2nd, or my gap ahead of Jo. I kept the pace rolling hard and as I made my way down to the final section of singletrack, I again saw Greg. However, this time his face was much, more anxious. He said something to my but I wasn't sure what he said. I thought he was saying I could close the gap and I tried to yell back whether I should try to bridge or not. I rolled down the final section thinking ride it hard, but don't make a mistake. I rode it clean and popped onto the trail for the final climb and the final podium spot.

That is, until I heard Jo pop onto the trail right behind me. Turns out, Greg was trying to tell me Jo was attacking me from down the trail and closing the gap. He wasn't saying anything about catching 2nd place, but that I had better get my butt in gear or I was about to throw the entire race out the window! Sorry Greg, but thanks for the help! I owe you one!

I pointed the bike uphill, screamed at myself for getting caught, and decided it's a done deal. Aggro has caught you and now he's going to ride your wheel right off the podium. I grabbed harder gear than normal and thought if he's going to get the podium, he's going to suffer (just a little bit more) for it. I put my head down and cranked to the top of the hill. At the top, I turned to my left expecting to see Jo attacking me to the finish but he wasn't there. I gasped and thought, you idiot, he's jumped around you on the right! I turned to find him not there. What the hell, did he already pass me and I missed it? I looked all over the trail and finally decided he must have used everything he had to catch me, but came up a little short to close the deal. I was right and 12 seconds was all the difference in the world.

I was extremely pleased to have survived Aggro's attack. It was definitely the hardest time I've ever spent on a bike. Funny thing, 2 of the hardest efforts I can recall on the bike were in Jo's presence. He's good for that, pushing me outside of my prior limits and introducing pain into the equation. My hat is off to Aggro. That was one of the hardest efforts I've seen to catch me. My Garmin shows I rode the final two laps in identical fashion. That means Aggro rode his final lap almost 1 minute faster than the second. My hat's off to him. He put in a tremendous effort!

I finished 2 minutes outside of first place, 1 minute outside of 2nd, and 12 seconds ahead of 4th. In the series standings, I finished 3rd overall and am pleased to say I am no longer a beginner. Next year it's Sport class and a whole new level of pain and suffering. Who cares right now, next year is next year. Right now, I'm going to race a little 'cross and then take it easy. And then I'll get prepared to feel the wratch of Aggro's winterlong aggression buildup. I can't wait!

One more, one less

Aggro says he's out of words. Cat has his tongue, I guess. Perhaps he needs a break, maybe he's all outta love, his cup runneth dry. I don't know, but I'll miss his encrypted titles referencing music lyrics, movie lines, and modern culture. I will have a void previously filled with his rants, raves, and racing recaps, but I'll survive. Perhaps Furby, Pfoodman, or someone else will step up and pull double blog posts for a while? From the writing perspective, Jo pulled a P.O.D. "Lights out, game over" on us. You know, he didn't even ask our permission. Fine with some, not with others. Take a break, my tattooed friend. Fill you head with pearls of wisdom and when you're ready, send out the word and we'll gather around your feet while you hang us by every word!

Saturday will be my fourth and final race of the 2007 mountain bike season. I spent 5 months as a beginner, but following this race, I'll be a beginner no more. I will formally decide in the 'off-season' what class I'll race next year, Sport or Endurance. However that decision isn't ready yet. I'll be seeking the advice of many, but we'll see. As this will be my last race as a Beginner, I was thinking of going out in style. What, you think I'm planning to WIN??? Most would consider a win as a nice way to go out in style. Meh, not me. I'm not wired that way, folks. I'm considering something more along the lines of rolling onto the line in an Elvis costume or perhaps a wedding dress (I still like that idea Aggro.) Perhaps a gorilla suit? I will make this a fun race, I'm certain of that. Maybe I need to call Dwayne G and ask how you get a permanent smile installed. That guy epitomizes loving life on a bike!

One more race, one less race. One more blog post, one less blogger. One more period of time you wasted reading my blog, one less conversation you could have had with someone else.

Peace all.

Surly to bed, surly to rise

No, Lance. It is about the bike.

Meet the new boss, same as the old boss

The Gunnar Rockhound is back from the paint shop and is rebuilt and ready to roll. Les at Powder Coat Specialists (314-427-4991) did the work in less than a week and did at fantastic job. He bead blasted the old finish, prepped the frame, and applied the new finish. The color is Smoke Black and matches the color/finish of the Rock Shox Reba fork perfectly. The Gunnar decals were custom made through www.edecals.com. Powder coats are supposed to be more durable than traditional paint jobs (even with clear coats). My only problem is that with my string of crashes, a black frame will be harder to spot lying in the underbrush!