So I did another race Saturday. Race #3 in the USCS Series at Round Valley. It was a pretty standard XC race. Shorter laps, no need for support, etc. I have only ever ridden at Round Valley once before. It was the 2012 edition of this same race.
Having recently revisited a blog I haven't read in a long time, I realized that it is self-absorbed and pretentious to drag out race reports with minutes at a time play by play. So I will keep the race report minimal. I will get self absorbed and pretentious about the circumstances that led up to the race, and the analysis of my performance.
Essentially, it went as expected.
After Cobourn posted his manifesto about categories and upgrading, I decided on principle to upgrade to expert. This means I am now in the same category as people like Brian Tolbert, Ryan Blaney and Stewart Goodwin. Same category on paper. Entirely different category as far as performance. It also means I am in the same category as Cobourn, and just about every race I do these days is basically a way for us to measure our penises against each other. That is to say, measure them without putting them against each other. These days he has about an inch on me judging by race results.
With the upgrade came an extra 8.8 mile lap. Bringing the race distance to around 26 miles. That is the second longest dirt ride I have done this year. The first being the WB50 from the previous post. I wasn't worried about the distance. I was a little worried about not being completely embarrassed.
Went out slow and then tried to go fast. Didn't quite work out that way. About 6 miles in I had a missed turn followed by a minor mechanical which gave Cobourn and Bobby Swenson the opportunity to get by me. I never saw Cobourn again. I did see Bobby again. Upside down at the end of the second lap and bleeding. I only wish the results would post the DNF's because then I could say I beat two people.(Bobby's fine BTW).
I finished the race "Damn Near DFL". I beat one guy. I came in about 15 minutes behind the winner of my category. Which feels better to say than it did at the finish line. I can't really compare myself to the Sport racers because they only did two laps. But I feel pretty good about it. Cobourn was the next racer ahead of me and I think he beat me by 2 minutes. I can live with that.
Training wise, I have slacked over the last week. But I think the recovery might have done me some good.
As far as the bathroom scale is concerned, when I got home from the race I weighed 181.3.
That is awesome. When this little battle begain I was crowding "The Deuce". If I keep this up I will be in the 170's soon. That's the least fluffy I have been in two years. I have lost ALMOST 20 pounds. I am to the point where I can stop focusing on losing weight, and start focusing on trying to be faster. I am setting a realistic goal for the Crusher of 6:30. My best time of the two previous years was 7:00. It will take some work. And some work ethic. My next biggish ride is this weekend at the Bear Lake Monster Cross. Hundred mile gravel grinder. 6K or so of climbing. It will also be the maiden voyage for Commander Beverly Crusher(My new bike). Something will probably go wrong.
Monday, June 24, 2013
Saturday, June 8, 2013
"Racing" Part 2. The WB50
What a difference a couple months makes. After waffling a little about whether or not I wanted to do the Wasatch Back 50 I ended up doing it. For those keeping track, I have been riding quite a bit lately. I have ridden a lot, but I haven't done a single ride, race or otherwise longer than a couple hours. I was concerned that I might not have the endurance for the race. I can always finish these longer distance rides but sometimes it is a miserable, painful experience.
When Bob Saffell asked me what category I was signing up for I told him whatever category Cobourn was doing. Now Cobourn had recently posted an epistle about the top half of the pack in the Sport Category hanging out where they were comfortable. He was going to upgrade to Expert on principle. When I checked, Bob signed me up for Sport. Which was fine. At best I would only be mid-pack anyway. Which was fine. It was to be a long, challenging ride. That was what I needed.
Secretly, I always hope that for some reason I am going to magically have the best day ever and smoke the competition. It never happens. And spoiler alert, it didn't happen today. I set out trying to maintain a comfortable pace that I thought I could maintain. With the help of a few friends I ran into out on the course I did that on the first lap. I didn't feel awesome, but that trail is great. and got better the further we went. Nice shady sections in the trees, a comfortable grade. It was nothing so much as a fun trail ride. The loop was basically a big climb, followed by a big descent. As all races should be. I came through the aid station near the top of the climb and topped off my bottle. Finished the climb and began the descent.
The descent was techy. newly cut and rough. I heard a lot of racers complaining it about "that damn downhill". It's a mountain bike race, get over it.
I have a bad habit of settling into a line when racing. I sit behind people I think I can get past. I did that a couple times on the climb but not bad. On the downhill, I got in behind a small pack of racers I thought I could get around. I made my way up to the Expert woman that was leading the pack. When she offered to let me by I took the chance. She was quick, but I thought I was quicker. I felt obligated to take off and get away from the pack. We had entered a section with long fast straightaways followed by 180 degree switchbacks. These were predictable because you could see them coming. Except for one. The trail started to bend behind a tree. What I couldn't see was that behind the tree the bend turned into another switchback. It caught me off guard and I slid out. Hard. Slid into a berm made mostly of cantaloupe sized rocks. When I looked back, the pack I had left was on their way. I tried to remount and get going quick, but that's when I noticed my rear shifter and brake lever dangling down by my front axle. Shit. Pulled off the trail to survey the damage. Had a mixed bag of emotions. I was pissed that maybe my race was over. Then I was happy that maybe my race was over. I realized I could hold the brake lever on the bar with my thumb and still use it mostly.
I limped down to the aid station and was able to round up some zip ties and electrical tape. This made the brake about 90% functional. The shifters though ranged from being clumsy at best, and a two-handed affair at worst. Rolled through and began the second lap. Once the adrenaline wore off I realized that my right thigh was in a lot of pain. Throughout the climb, it started to get a stabbing pain with each hard pedal stroke. It brang to mind the scene in the modern version of True Grit where Rooster Cogburn is running the girl back to the store after she is snakebit. When the horse began to falter he took his knife and stabbed it in the hind quarters. That image rolled through my mind over and over for the rest of the climb. Basically a rock had given me a dead-leg. A bad one.
But I was surviving. Second lap wasn't nearly as fast as the second, but I survived. Suffered through. The second downhill wasn't as fun as the part before I crashed. It had gotten hot and we chubby folk suffer in the heat. I made my way to the bottom and the finish section. I rolled in about 5h40m or so. I had ridden alone mostly. No idea where I had come in.
Cobourn had beaten me handily. Slightly less handily since he started ahead of me with the experts, but he still had me by about a half hour. Took a dip in the canal by the finish line which was at once the most terrible and fantastic thing I had ever experience. Rinsed the dust off and shocked my legs.
Once the results were posted I was amazed. 8th place. Sport 30-39. I was stoked. Much better than I thought. And considering my adverse conditions even better.
Due to Cobourn's tenet nailed to the forum wall, I will upgrade to Expert for the Round Valley in a few weeks.
I am pleased. The last week I have improved my diet a lot. Since I've been "training" the weight started to come off pretty quickly. I am down about 12 pounds since last week. I am not starving. I am just eating a little better.
Progress. Yippee.
A word about the WB50. This is going to become a popular race. An instant classic. The support was excellent. The course was fun. I never once felt like I was suffering. I was working, but not suffering. And I had fun at several different points. Next year I predict it will be hard to get in.
When Bob Saffell asked me what category I was signing up for I told him whatever category Cobourn was doing. Now Cobourn had recently posted an epistle about the top half of the pack in the Sport Category hanging out where they were comfortable. He was going to upgrade to Expert on principle. When I checked, Bob signed me up for Sport. Which was fine. At best I would only be mid-pack anyway. Which was fine. It was to be a long, challenging ride. That was what I needed.
Secretly, I always hope that for some reason I am going to magically have the best day ever and smoke the competition. It never happens. And spoiler alert, it didn't happen today. I set out trying to maintain a comfortable pace that I thought I could maintain. With the help of a few friends I ran into out on the course I did that on the first lap. I didn't feel awesome, but that trail is great. and got better the further we went. Nice shady sections in the trees, a comfortable grade. It was nothing so much as a fun trail ride. The loop was basically a big climb, followed by a big descent. As all races should be. I came through the aid station near the top of the climb and topped off my bottle. Finished the climb and began the descent.
The descent was techy. newly cut and rough. I heard a lot of racers complaining it about "that damn downhill". It's a mountain bike race, get over it.
I have a bad habit of settling into a line when racing. I sit behind people I think I can get past. I did that a couple times on the climb but not bad. On the downhill, I got in behind a small pack of racers I thought I could get around. I made my way up to the Expert woman that was leading the pack. When she offered to let me by I took the chance. She was quick, but I thought I was quicker. I felt obligated to take off and get away from the pack. We had entered a section with long fast straightaways followed by 180 degree switchbacks. These were predictable because you could see them coming. Except for one. The trail started to bend behind a tree. What I couldn't see was that behind the tree the bend turned into another switchback. It caught me off guard and I slid out. Hard. Slid into a berm made mostly of cantaloupe sized rocks. When I looked back, the pack I had left was on their way. I tried to remount and get going quick, but that's when I noticed my rear shifter and brake lever dangling down by my front axle. Shit. Pulled off the trail to survey the damage. Had a mixed bag of emotions. I was pissed that maybe my race was over. Then I was happy that maybe my race was over. I realized I could hold the brake lever on the bar with my thumb and still use it mostly.
I limped down to the aid station and was able to round up some zip ties and electrical tape. This made the brake about 90% functional. The shifters though ranged from being clumsy at best, and a two-handed affair at worst. Rolled through and began the second lap. Once the adrenaline wore off I realized that my right thigh was in a lot of pain. Throughout the climb, it started to get a stabbing pain with each hard pedal stroke. It brang to mind the scene in the modern version of True Grit where Rooster Cogburn is running the girl back to the store after she is snakebit. When the horse began to falter he took his knife and stabbed it in the hind quarters. That image rolled through my mind over and over for the rest of the climb. Basically a rock had given me a dead-leg. A bad one.
But I was surviving. Second lap wasn't nearly as fast as the second, but I survived. Suffered through. The second downhill wasn't as fun as the part before I crashed. It had gotten hot and we chubby folk suffer in the heat. I made my way to the bottom and the finish section. I rolled in about 5h40m or so. I had ridden alone mostly. No idea where I had come in.
Cobourn had beaten me handily. Slightly less handily since he started ahead of me with the experts, but he still had me by about a half hour. Took a dip in the canal by the finish line which was at once the most terrible and fantastic thing I had ever experience. Rinsed the dust off and shocked my legs.
Once the results were posted I was amazed. 8th place. Sport 30-39. I was stoked. Much better than I thought. And considering my adverse conditions even better.
Due to Cobourn's tenet nailed to the forum wall, I will upgrade to Expert for the Round Valley in a few weeks.
I am pleased. The last week I have improved my diet a lot. Since I've been "training" the weight started to come off pretty quickly. I am down about 12 pounds since last week. I am not starving. I am just eating a little better.
Progress. Yippee.
A word about the WB50. This is going to become a popular race. An instant classic. The support was excellent. The course was fun. I never once felt like I was suffering. I was working, but not suffering. And I had fun at several different points. Next year I predict it will be hard to get in.
Monday, June 3, 2013
Ride More, Bitch Less.
Not gonna lie. Training is going okay. I will not win any races. Hell, I can't even seem to get any Strava KOM's, but I am getting stronger. I am feeling better.
I'm even eating a little better. The past few weeks the "try meter" has been registering pretty high. Missing very few days due to laziness. Now that doesn't mean that I am logging huge miles. Most days all I am able to get in is an hour before work. That might be an hour climbing up American Fork Canyon, an hour redlining on Murdock Canal, or an hour shooting the shit with Jeff on our recovery loop through Lehi. Though I am not racking up huge elevation gains I am feeling better on the climbs.
Tonight I met Cobourn at the mouth of the canyon to make a quick run at the cave. With a 10 minute recovery waiting for him and a tailwind I felt really good heading up the canyon. It's nice to be pleasantly surprised at how quickly you reach landmarks. That damn Forest Service sign that says it's a 1/2 mile to the Timp cave visitors center has seemed grossly inaccurate the past few months. Now it seems about right. Maybe someday soon it will seem inaccurate the other direction.
The only place I am really lacking is distance. Maybe not distance but time. The races I have my sights on all require long hours in the saddle. Last Labor Day I spent 10 hours suffering through the Park City Point To Point. It was hard. It was hard but I never felt like I wasn't going to make it. I'm not sure I have that kind of endurance his year. The Crusher on the other hand. That was 7.5 hours of hoping I would die. It was earlier in the year, and I was slightly less than prepared. The only reason I finished that race was because I had paid $80 for a souvenir jersey and there was no way I would be able to wear it if I had thrown in the towel. There's motivation for you. Expensive souvenirs. That's very RAGNAR of me.
This weekend however, I am facing a bit of a challenge. The Wasatch Back 50. I may be unprepared. I have not logged more than a couple hours at a time in the saddle and sources tell me that I should plan on at LEAST 6 hours to finish. Yeesh. The other bonus is that the course for this race is about 50% new trail. New trail means it's going to be a rough bastard. If there is one thing that makes cardiovascular suffering tougher it's rough trail. The good thing is that I will be far enough back in the pack that I should benefit from the traffic ahead of me "riding in" the trail. The other good thing is that I haven't registered yet so I could always back out. No shame in quitting before you start. Or something.
Historically I have had good luck diving head long into things I was ill-prepared for. WB50 should be no different. Last year it took place one week after the Crusher and due to some last minute land disputes was a largely dirt road affair. It was also about 150 degrees. A 50 mile race the week after a 70 mile race seems like you'll be taking it easy. Like it is a step back. But your legs still hurt and you spend the week between rationalizing about how you don't need to ride because you just flogged yourself the Saturday before. This year the excuses are nowhere to be found. The non pre-registration back out is seeming like a more and more viable option. Kind of like the old adage about better to keep your mouth shut and be thought a fool. My version would be "Better to not race and be thought fat and slow than to show up and remove all doubt."
This post took a whiny turn. Which is weird because I set out to talk about how positive I was feeling after applying my wife's advice about "Just trying". The fact is I am back to enjoying riding my bike. That's why I do all this shit right? Because it's fun. In my heart of hearts I really do love to ride my bike. I love the endorphin rush of pushing a little harder than my body is willing. When I don't get wound up about KOM's and heart rates down in my nougatty center I am having a good time. No time spent straddling a bicycle seems to be time wasted. It helps when it is not ALL suffering. The awesome thing is that the more you do it, the better it feels. The less pointless it feels. There are days when you feel like you are firing on all cylinders. A machine. Like you were built for this purpose. Then the next day you feel like shit. But you keep chasing the dragon. And hey, it keeps me off the meth right?
So I will ride my bike in the morning. I will climb when I want to descend. I will push myself to improve. I will race the WB50 this weekend.
Unless I bail.
I'm even eating a little better. The past few weeks the "try meter" has been registering pretty high. Missing very few days due to laziness. Now that doesn't mean that I am logging huge miles. Most days all I am able to get in is an hour before work. That might be an hour climbing up American Fork Canyon, an hour redlining on Murdock Canal, or an hour shooting the shit with Jeff on our recovery loop through Lehi. Though I am not racking up huge elevation gains I am feeling better on the climbs.
Tonight I met Cobourn at the mouth of the canyon to make a quick run at the cave. With a 10 minute recovery waiting for him and a tailwind I felt really good heading up the canyon. It's nice to be pleasantly surprised at how quickly you reach landmarks. That damn Forest Service sign that says it's a 1/2 mile to the Timp cave visitors center has seemed grossly inaccurate the past few months. Now it seems about right. Maybe someday soon it will seem inaccurate the other direction.
The only place I am really lacking is distance. Maybe not distance but time. The races I have my sights on all require long hours in the saddle. Last Labor Day I spent 10 hours suffering through the Park City Point To Point. It was hard. It was hard but I never felt like I wasn't going to make it. I'm not sure I have that kind of endurance his year. The Crusher on the other hand. That was 7.5 hours of hoping I would die. It was earlier in the year, and I was slightly less than prepared. The only reason I finished that race was because I had paid $80 for a souvenir jersey and there was no way I would be able to wear it if I had thrown in the towel. There's motivation for you. Expensive souvenirs. That's very RAGNAR of me.
This weekend however, I am facing a bit of a challenge. The Wasatch Back 50. I may be unprepared. I have not logged more than a couple hours at a time in the saddle and sources tell me that I should plan on at LEAST 6 hours to finish. Yeesh. The other bonus is that the course for this race is about 50% new trail. New trail means it's going to be a rough bastard. If there is one thing that makes cardiovascular suffering tougher it's rough trail. The good thing is that I will be far enough back in the pack that I should benefit from the traffic ahead of me "riding in" the trail. The other good thing is that I haven't registered yet so I could always back out. No shame in quitting before you start. Or something.
Historically I have had good luck diving head long into things I was ill-prepared for. WB50 should be no different. Last year it took place one week after the Crusher and due to some last minute land disputes was a largely dirt road affair. It was also about 150 degrees. A 50 mile race the week after a 70 mile race seems like you'll be taking it easy. Like it is a step back. But your legs still hurt and you spend the week between rationalizing about how you don't need to ride because you just flogged yourself the Saturday before. This year the excuses are nowhere to be found. The non pre-registration back out is seeming like a more and more viable option. Kind of like the old adage about better to keep your mouth shut and be thought a fool. My version would be "Better to not race and be thought fat and slow than to show up and remove all doubt."
This post took a whiny turn. Which is weird because I set out to talk about how positive I was feeling after applying my wife's advice about "Just trying". The fact is I am back to enjoying riding my bike. That's why I do all this shit right? Because it's fun. In my heart of hearts I really do love to ride my bike. I love the endorphin rush of pushing a little harder than my body is willing. When I don't get wound up about KOM's and heart rates down in my nougatty center I am having a good time. No time spent straddling a bicycle seems to be time wasted. It helps when it is not ALL suffering. The awesome thing is that the more you do it, the better it feels. The less pointless it feels. There are days when you feel like you are firing on all cylinders. A machine. Like you were built for this purpose. Then the next day you feel like shit. But you keep chasing the dragon. And hey, it keeps me off the meth right?
So I will ride my bike in the morning. I will climb when I want to descend. I will push myself to improve. I will race the WB50 this weekend.
Unless I bail.
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