Back to the story at hand...
Since the event started at sunrise which was scheduled to take place Saturday morning at 7:17 AM sharp, we decided to bring out the trailer the day before and setup camp. The parking lot was just starting to fill up, so we had our pick of the allocated 10x10 spots. We chose one far from the line up of port-o-potties yet with easy access to the race course itself. A small break in the snow fence would allow us to pull off the course to exchange riding duties and refuel.
Base camp:
I decided I'd do one final quick run through of the bikes while Micki went searching the event for the best possible toilet situation. I noticed that my front rotor was rubbing slightly, so being the "master" mechanic that I am, I decided a readjust was in order. Tool box open and 5mm wrench in hand, I went about the relatively simple task. With caliper bolts loosened, I spun the wheel to get a better idea on what needed to be done.
Laziness, bad angle, sheer stupidity or a combination of the three... but the wheel stopped very abruptly and a pain ripped through my body emanating from one of the digits in my left hand. I had somehow let a finger tip get between one of the rotor windows, the caliper body and that sharp blade of the disc. All of this powered by the centrifugal force of that big ass 2.35 Nevegal. That combination had now done a pretty good job severing the end of a rather important middle finger. The rotor had split my finger and nail almost in half from the side. Man-O-Man did that hurt, and start to bleed like crazy. The cold didn't help either... and I grabbed the cleanest shop rag I had to sit down and wait for Micki to come back.
Luckily, we had a band-aid. A quick and tight application pulled everything back together so I could heal overnight. Believe it or not I basically did (but it still hurts).
With catastrophe now avoided, we heaeded inside our shelter. That little pop-up comes through time and time again as far as comforts are concerned. As the sun fell, so did the temps and it was soon lower 40's and into the 30's... but Micki's little propane heater just kept clicking on, keeping us both nice and toasty inside. We BBQ'd some chicken and mixed it with pasta as the venue around us continued to fill up. There really wasn't much noise, probably due to the cold and most of the participants cramming themselves into tents, sleeping bags or any shelter that could be found to get out of it.
We went to bed early and started to hear everyone come to life around 4:45 the following morning. Hmmmm, 2.5 hours before the start of the race... ridiculous. Being true mountain bikers, we waited under the covers until about 5:45. Once up, I downed some oatmeal and consumed my first RockStar of the day.
Even for me, a Rockstar before 6:00 AM seemed like a bad idea.
Stepping outside, we quickly realized how well off we were in the trailer. Temps must have been close to freezing as our thermometer recorded 38 degrees F. The race start was 1.6 miles away on the asphalt entry road to the park. They designed the course this way to break up the group before everyone hit singletrack, but rolling downhill in 30 degree weather was uber gnarly. Me in shorts with a lightish jacket and Micki bundled up as much as possible. She was nice enough to come down to the start so I could hand off my jacket before the go signal. It was brutal, but beautiful at the same time. A soft orange light started to illuminate the skyline from the East and all the riders started to gather. Started to remind me of a Budweiser commercial with all the horses penned up expelling bursts of steamy breath from nervously flared nostrils. Oh yes... it was very close to go time.
For reasons I still cannot justify, I decided to line up in the second row back from the start line. As the gaggle around me started to compress, I began to notice I was the only soul in baggy shorts... and helmet visors seemed to have gone extinct. The racers around me all sported clean shaven legs and factory race jerseys. Sram XX was all over the place and phat knobby tires had all but been replaced with seemingly road slicks. I glanced casually over my shoulder and saw at least 15 rows deep behind me, all the while growing in size and ferocity. I told myself I'd rather be passed by all these racers than pass them on the singletrack and held my position as the others started to jostle and tighten their grip around me.
Almost ready:
I handed my jacket to Micki and was now down to my super vest and arm warmers. The full fingered gloves I had chosen offered resistance only to dirt and none what so ever to the frigid breeze that was starting to pickup. My fingers went numb and I tried to forget about the cold by concentrating on my jittery nerves. As the countdown began from the number 10, the race organizer suddenly realized that the nylon reinforced flagging stretched across the start line had been tied in complicated knots at both ends. Down to 5 now and despite their best efforts, no release for the cord could be found.
3, 2, 1... GO!!!
In a panicked realization that some 200 plus riders were about to make a blind, frozen, mad dash into the guillotine stretched head high in front of them... they raised the rope as high as they could reach and the front rows just ducked under. We were off and I realized I was in big trouble almost instantly.
Limbo start (can you see me?):
Bingo:
Knobbies started to howl and gears clicked as all that surrounded me began to form a pace line. It was pretty cool actually to see all these competitors begin to work together without any signal or previous plan. Cool that is until I realized I was supposed to be doing the same thing. I tried to squeeze in once but was blocked out. My second attempt was more successful if one counts success getting into a pro level pace line some 100 yards off the start of a 10 hour race.
These guys were fast. Really fast. I was holding up okay though and the group actually started to bunch up. Hell, I was hitting my brakes on occasion to keep from rubbing tires. This was great! Just were I wanted to be at a pace I could hold well within my racing comfort zone.
I blinked twice and started to feel my fingertips sting in the biting cold. Just like that, my calm place was all over.
The peloton I was happily participating in became a massive winding snake of aggression.. I had seen images like this catching clips here and there of the Tour, but never been actually involved in such an occurrence. Sprinting in the front, attacking from all points and crossing from one side of the road to the other. I pedaled my best but knew I was very outclassed. I couldn't wait for that dirt to come and give me a bit more of a chance with everyone having to search for traction. I dared not looked back but envisioned a massive tidal wave of riders about to break over me head in a frothy swarm of Perpetuem and Cliff Shots... leaving me on the side of the road as a shivering, huddled mass of novice roadie carnage.
Finally the dusty relief I had been longing for came in the form of a sweeping right hander. Soon past our trailer and into the first super tight left 90 degree turn. Unluckily for the riders around me, the turn was ungroomed and loose deep gravel. Luckily for me, the inside line I chose had enough traction to actually pass a few of them as they skittered off into the ether. A few more bends then first time through the timing booth and the Pemberton Trail was finally under my wheels.
For those who are familiar with running the course counter clockwise, you will be aware that a 6 or 7 mile flattish dirt road hill awaits. I was still getting passed by small groups but nothing to horrendous. I was in a place I actually appreciated with little traffic to deal with. I could choose my speed and line at will with minimal concern about riders around me. The only problem was the numbing cold through my hands and arms. It hurt to shift and I was concerned how aggressive I could be on the upcoming downhill sections of trail. The sun wasn't coming up fast enough and the hazy skies kept any rays of heat far from where I needed them to reach. Honestly, this was the lowest point of the race for me. Fast as hell cyclists passing me at will and zero sensation but stinging pain in my fingertips.
Bad news was I was only 30 minutes into the event. Good news was it couldn't get much worse from here.
After lap one ended I got to see Micki, Jeremy and Meg cheering me on from the camper. Temps started to rise now and I could feel my hands and arms come back to life. With the exchange of teammates at the timing booth and everyone starting to get into the groove I found my pace starting to make sense. I still was being passed but with less frequency, and I was actually passing back here and there. At the end of lap two I switched places with Micki and became a spectator.
Looking much better than I felt:
Making the swap:
Was good to be able to stop and truly get warmed up in the trailer. I consumed a 6" Subway turkey sub, some energy bars and drink and was able to get my bike lubed up and ready to go. Brad came by and got some fuel and water. He was looking good and seemed to be on track for his seven lap goal. Micki came around for lap two and looked strong as well. I was concerned the cold might be getting to her, but she explained later that the Windstopper gloves Jeremy loaned her helped a great deal.
Micki heading out:
Micki cranking and smiling away:
The clouds hung tough and the sun never really had much chance. On occasion it would poke through, but the day was pretty grey and cold for the most part. Micki finished her second go round and I was back out on the course again. The race was totally blown open at this point. You had no idea who you were racing against or how many laps they had already completed. I was feeling strong with a new found source of energy from all the carbs and superfuel I had consumed. I must say, the hill that was so crushing to my speed-ego on the first couple of laps just seemed to melt away now. I was passing a ton of people and before I knew it was beginning to carve my favorite gravity assisted sections of trail. I felt strong and in the flow and was pretty sure this was going to be my fastest lap yet. Although Pemberton is classified as "easy" or even "boring" by some, I believe any trail is what you make of it. The carving sensation you get when feeling good and being able to open it up out there is hard to match.
I zoomed past the trailer and guessed my time was quick as Meg and Jeremy barely grunted out a cheer through their food stuffed mouths and Micki was nowhere to be seen. Maybe this was going to be the turn around point. Instead of loosing time I'd be making some up for the team. Around the parking lot now and through the timing booth for our blue "5 lap medallion". I was ready to tackle anything.
At least, for the next ten minutes or so.
With Steve Version 2.0, I have found myself drawn to longer and longer rides. Both with racing and general exploring. Be it the 12 hour event in Prescott or epics during the summer, I always wondered where my threshold was and what it might take to stop me cold. As my legs began to drop out from under me, I figured this might be it. I have bonked before, but never like this. I actually couldn't really visually focus and felt very wobbly. Slow going would be an understatement and as I followed a older fellow, possibly in similar condition, he beckoned me to pass. I told him I was about to pull over anyway and with that I rolled to a complete stop.
I was done.
I wasn't really thirsty or tired... and I couldn't even pinpoint what part of my body had failed, but just felt a collapse that was really foreign to me. I downed a Hammer Gel and then a Cliff bar, sucking large volumes of water in between. I chased all that down with several cola flavored and caffeinated Cliff Shots. All the while riders kept passing me one by one. I wondered what Micki would think with my delay once I made it back to the trailer, assuming I ever made it back. Thinking of her as my team mate willing to try such an event after coming off a significant injury gave me inspiration. I was hopeful that if I could just relax a few moments more that this batch of superfuel might start to kick in and I could get back on track. I gathered myself up and started to pedal again. Relaxing back into the groove, I started to feel my energy return and even though my pace was a shadow of the one I had just laid down on the previous lap, at least I was moving forward.
Catching and passing my fellow racer who had offered the pass just before my breakdown renewed my confidence even further and the rolling turns of the trail helped keep my mind off the fatigue. Before I knew it, I was back at the trailer handing off the racing key chain to my inspiration and team mate. Micki stated she actually wasn't feeling very good, but I let her know she had about an hour and a half to get in before cut off to allow us one final lap. She said she would try and knowing Micki I knew exactly what that meant... she would be sure to succeed.
I refueled and stretched and watched the clock tick away. The sun was fading into the west and having no idea as to our standing, I was now more focused on the personal achievement of our overall lap count than much of anything else. While lubing the chain for a final time, Brad stopped back by. He was finishing lap 5 and enough time remained for him to complete one more and even sneak in his 7th if all went well. Truly impressive for his first solo MTB event... on a singlespeed to boot!
Brad looking forward to another lap:
As expected, Micki finished well ahead of any required deadline and caught me just making the final preparations of putting on my gloves. We were well under the 4:20 cutoff time and all I had to do was cruise one final lap. As I rolled away I figured I'd just spin this last one out.
Leaving the timing booth I realized just one flaw in this non-competitive plan.... Micki and I can be very competitive.
With 60 miles under my belt I actually felt pretty good and decided to tackle the hill with a little more fervor. I was passing people fairly regularly. I put it to the fact that this was the last lap for everyone and pretty much no one was putting the hammer down... either by choice of simple lack of will. I just couldn't help imagining that everyone I did get by was racing mixed doubles and on their 8th lap. What if we lost a place by 1 minute? By 5 minutes? I decided to give it all I had left, which wasn't really all that much at this point anyway.
Funny how racers get awfully courteous when sheer exhaustion sets in. I had people asking me if I'd like to pass, pulling over or even offering up conversation when strained breathing allowed. I hadn't been passed yet until the rocky hill when one rocket screamed by me. In the rollers now I heard another catch up. "I am in 2nd place for blah yippity blah!!" is all I could make out and had no problem moving over. I figured how fast is this guy gonna be on the downhill this late in the race after all.
All I have to say about this point in my rolling spectatorship is "awesome".
This racer stood on it like he had just begun seconds ago. I don't mean began a long MTB race, but more like a short track BMX event. It was furious and a pace that I simply couldn't believe. My guess is he knew 1st place had just gone by me and had set his sites on catching him. It was really cool to see him just stand up and crank the bike from side to side without mercy. Some 200 yards up I could see him catch a slower rider. It was quickly obvious even from this distance that slow guy wasn't about to yield to supernova. It was also obvious that supernova wasn't about to have some slow guy dash his chances for victory.
Simulated fast guy:
I could see slow guy make a sloppy and feeble attempt to hold off the supernova... and now both were feverishly heading down the trail in some sort of death battle. Adding to the mix was a cyclist, most likely female, who was simply minding her business and finishing out the event. With no regard, or perhaps feeling like their was simply no time, supernova made a bid for his pass. Slow guy held firm and now they were headed two wide at top pace to this innocent racer. Supernova got by just as slow guy clipped the shoulder of social girl. Amazingly, no one went down and supernova's pass stuck. But now I had a new goal... to catch slow guy and see how he felt to have some asshat ride him that hard on the singletrack.
That asshat was going to be me.
With myself and gravity being such close friends, I was own my new found buddy rather quickly. I made sure he knew my presence was known and followed him for a while to see if he might make any mistakes. We were approaching another rider at this point on a slight uphill with a wide bend at the top. Slow guy was suffering, tired and wobbly... but still not about to let me pass. I suppose I could have taken him at the top, but instead made one of my finest racing gambles yet. I knew there was a hot left handed corenr fast approaching. I had seen skid marks leaving the trail to the right and had been taken off gaurd by this section myself before. I decided to see what would happen if I just followed him as close as possible into this corner. No touching, no yelling, no real intimidation besides the knowledge that this guy didn't like to be passed and obviously assessed himself as a competent bike handler with limited regard to those he felt where not.
Sure enough, slow guy cranked over the summit of the rise and started to "fly" down the other side. I couldn't pass him now even if I wanted to and with the next hill approaching rapidly I wondered if I had missed my opportunity to make some time on this final lap. Sure enough, my memory served me well and that corner just showed up out of nowhere as it had done to countless riders before. With a cloud of dust and the words "Oh DAMN!!" emanating from my fellow racers mouth... he was gone off the side. Blowing through underbrush and erosion channels until he most likely stopped rather abruptly. I was already gone however, through and away and somehow felt a little vindication for the woman he had bumped shoulders with just a few moments ago. Plus it helped pass some time and increased my pace just enough to clean the last hill and pick off a few more racers along the way to the finish.
Trail miscalculation ejectment:
Past the trailer for the last time now I made the final bend to the timing tent. Beth from work was snapping photos and cheering away, I am sure very happy that her Dad and team mate had shown up to relieve her from the solo riding duties. Final key chain medallions were given and just like that the race was over. 9 hours and 43 minutes for One Punch Racing.
Final turn:
Brad very hungry (I mean happy) to be done:
Lap count tags (green for 7, orange for 1 more):
Twin mud-flap / angel / devil girl detail:
I met up with Jeremy and Meg. Took a little while to locate my racing partner Micki, but once found we sat in the trailer a bit and told the stories of the day. While I spoke of the foes I had vanquished and battles I had waged, she spun wonderfully pleasant tales of encouragement and friends she had made out their on the race course. We both were tired but had a good time. As we broke down camp, we listened over the PA for our names to be called for any free giveaways or better yet a top 3 race finish. Alas, our names were mentioned for neither. I am not really sure if the goal of an endurance event is to win or simply live through the experience. We've done a couple now and I'd have to say it's the challenge itself that's the biggest reward... although victory does sweeten the memories a bit.
Who knows, maybe we'll give it another shot next year.
I dug through the race results and came up with the following:
- One Punch Racing completed 8 laps in 9 hours and 43 minutes.
- We took 6th place out of a class of 22 mixed double teams.
- We finished 32 minutes off of first place pace, and about 20 minutes off of second for our division.
- The fastest lap we pulled was 1 hour and 4 minutes and the slowest was 1 hour 19 minutes.
- I manged to ride for 5 laps or 75 miles and Micki was able to complete 3 laps or 45 miles for a combined total of 120 miles.
- Brad racing for CycleQuest completed his goal of 7 laps (105 miles) solo on his singlespeed and raised over $600 dollars towards cancer awareness.
- The fastest lap I could find in any class was 54 minutes and the slowest lap was 5 hours and 21 minutes.
- If you added up all the participants efforts listed in the results, 1398 total laps were completed for a combined distance of 20970 miles.
- The United States coast to coast is about 3300 miles, so we could have crossed the nation just over 6 times.
- With the circumference of the Earth coming in at about 24900, miles we almost went around it once.
All this in just 10 hours on the dirt... amazing group effort for sure.
We'd like to thank Jeremy and Meg for coming out to support. Was nice to see friendly faces from work such as Beth and Sarah as well.
Overall it was a well run event and a lot of fun.
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