being a good teammate

My teammates have saved my butt before. On Sunday at the Michaux Curse of Dark Hollow, I think I got to be a good teammate.  Gave a tube to a friend before the race, loaned a heart rate strap to Bernie (who'd go on to score 3rd in the Master's category).  These things should always come in threes.

My goals for the race were simple.  40 miles.  Make the time cut-off and finish.  Don't go out as hard as I normally do.  I told myself I wasn't going to let my heart rate get above 190 in the first 40 minutes.  For that last one - I succeeded for all but about 30 seconds of a tough climb that I spent a fair bit of off my bike.

Photo: Ralph Brandt

I started by riding poorly in some rock gardens and getting a little mopey that I was probably dead last.  Then I remembered that I wasn't going out too hard, and I passed a couple of guys who'd flatted, so I wasn't dead last anymore (and really, I never was).  By about 5 miles in, I had my rock garden issues worked out and was riding pretty well.  Descending smart.  I came down a tough section near the lake and came up on my teammate Jen.  She's been working her tail off and racing fast, and this was her first attempt at the 40 at Michaux.  We rode together through the tight, twisty singletrack along the lake.  I only hit a few trees with my bars and then we popped out onto a fire road at the first aid station but didn't stop.

A long fire road climb followed.  I heard my bike making some noise.  It sounded similar to some weird brake noises before I caught Jen.  Hmmm... It was getting worse.  We pulled off at the top of a roller, checked my headset, skewer, brake pads. Nope, nope, nope.  The rotor was loose?!  I pulled the wheel off, realized it was going to take a few to get this fixed if I could at all, and sent Jen on - no need to slow her down further seeing as she was nice enough to stop in the first place.

The lock ring on the Shimano adapter on the rotor had worked itself loose.  I hand tightened it, discovered that my duct tape wasn't sticky enough to help anymore, and put the wheel back on.  Grr.  Back up the road.  Still making noise.  Getting worse.  I stopped again, this time using my tool to get the ring a little tighter, but not tight enough.  It was making noise again within a mile.  I was at about mile 12 of a 40 mile race.  I figured this was enough of a setback that I'd miss the 2pm cutoff at mile 32.  Especially if I had to keep stopping.

I thought through the consequences of riding with it that way.  Dirt in the hub assembly.  Possibly a bent rotor.  But the wheel was spinning true and the brake wasn't rubbing.  I kept going.  Until the noise was so persistent on a gentle rocky downhill that I stopped to see the ring was entirely off, spinning around the skewer.  I took the wheel off again, rethreaded it and tightened it by hand.  For some reason, it worked.  I suspect that dirt had worked its way in there and added a little friction to keep it from loosening.

I kept riding.  Refilled my camelback at mile 20, ate a twizzler, and rolled upwards again.  Honestly, I don't remember much of the middle section of the race as very remarkable.  I enjoyed the spring trails more, except the last 10 miles, of course.  I was riding pretty consistently.  Oh, there was that really horrendous hike-a-bike section, though.  Frickin' steep, loose dirt and rocks.  Not easy hiking, let alone with a bike in tow.  A couple of awesomely long downhills.

About 29 miles in (I'm guessing, my cadence sensor was mistaken about the distance... again), I came up on Jen.  I wasn't thrilled to see her - she should be at least 10 minutes ahead of me after my mechanical issues.  But she was cramping.  I told her to get on my wheel and we'd go.  Up. Up. Up.  To the last aid station.  I figured we were going to miss the cutoff.  But my little disagreement with the Garmin meant that we had fewer miles to go than I knew.  We celebrated with some tasty snickers bars, fresh water, and a few miles of fire road.

Jen the cramp fighter.  Photo: Ralph Brandt

Jen was still cramping.  I pulled us down the fire road into the singletrack.  We traded places a couple of times, but were working together.  I was pretty certain that the woman ahead of us was out of reach and felt good but not strong enough that I was going to attack my own teammate to find out.  Plus, Jen was in rough shape.  The cramps were moving around - she was hanging in there but wasn't very talkative.  I waited for a minute at the top of a powerline climb/hike.  She waited for a minute when I stopped to put a couple turns on the rotor lock ring.  When we got to the finish, I told her we had to finish strong.  I nearly puked for the effort, even though I don't think either of us went all out to sprint each other at the end of 40 miles in the woods.  Officially, we finished 4th and 5th, 1 second apart.  I'm not telling you in which order.  Because the thing is, it simply doesn't matter.  We both finished.  In the top 5.

It was a good day in the woods.  Despite eating less than I should have and probably not going as hard as I could have, I maintained a pretty steady effort all day, handled my bike well, rode smart, and dealt with the mental challenge of thinking I was going to miss the cutoff due to a mechanical (and the fact that we actually didn't start until 9:20, gotta love Michaux!).  My body was trustworthy.  No revolts, even though it was humid and warm.  Dusty rocky goodness.

I even managed to eat afterwards! Photo: Ralph Brandt

tough enough

Two years ago... on a little old cannondale with a headshock that had seen better days... I tackled my first Michaux race.  In the rain. 40 couple degrees.  I was not a happy camper.  At all.  Shea won his division.  I took over 2 1/2 hours to ride 10 miles.  Sloppy mud.  Wet, rocky climbs.  I wanted to put my bike on the side of the trail, leave it there, and never ride it again.

Yesterday - I rode my ass off to get a chance to ride those same 10 miles - they would be the last 10 of the 40 mile race.  A field of 9 women started, and with the advertised cut-off of 2pm, I knew I'd be close.  We started at 9:15 - that gave me 4:45 to ride 31 miles.  Sounds easy, right?  Ha, then you've never raced at Michaux.

We started in the middle of last year's 20 - a fire road climb then a rideable rock garden climb and descent.  I was feeling really good on the bike.  Got behind a BBC rider who was a bit slower on the downhill, but it worked ok to keep me riding in control.  Through a preview of the mud to come.  Sloshy Michaux mud.  Last year, I learned that at Michaux, it's always better to ride in the running water than the peanut butter glop on the sides.  The water runs on rock or clay.  Wet feet.  Wool socks were smart.

Up up up a fireroad climb.  I passed a woman who mentioned I was cooking along - yeah, but I have a healthy respect for Michaux and putting the hammer down on the fire roads could make up for the hike-a-biking I was sure to do later.  I didn't see her again.  And hike-a-bike I did.  Somewhere, probably mile 8-10, but maybe it was mile 16ish, maybe both... a contour line trail that was a bit off-camber and strewn with large rocks, angled logs, mini rock gardens.  I'd hike thirty yards, get back on the bike, and be back off of it very shortly later.  There were a couple tough climbs, too, but I've come to expect that. 

I wound up chanting to myself to trust myself on the bike.  It worked, and I got a bit of flow back.  Then I dismounted for a totally rideable rock drop-off.  I commented that it was rideable, to which the guy nearby who was fixing a flat said, "Yeah, but I've seen 3 people crash there, including me".  I felt better. 

I'd been warned by teammates about two downhill sections - one of them I'm sure I knew what they were talking about.  There were pretty substantial boulders, and so many leaves that you couldn't really distinguish the rocks underneath.  I scrambled down it very carefully.

I waded through the deeper streams.  They washed off the mud on my legs, so I was clean mid-calf down.  For a while, anyway.

I knew I had to pull out of the 23 mile aid station by 1pm to make the cut.  As my GPS counted up to 23 miles and a bit beyond (they have a special way of measuring at Michaux), I still wasn't there and 1pm came and past.  Shortly thereafter, I was handing my camelback to an awesome volunteer to fill, scrabbling through my drop bag for a cookie, and back on the bike.  I had 7 miles (it would add up to 8 according to my math) and not enough time.  I decided to put the hammer down and go for it.  Either I'd get pulled having finished strong, or I'd make the cut.  Helped by some of the flowiest sections, I was on track, then we started climbing and I wasn't.  It started raining lightly.

But I made it - this is probably the first negative split I've ever managed in a race.  They were pulling the tape across when me and the PVC guy I'd climbed the fire road with came up to it.  They let us through to the last 10 miles as the last ones through.  He didn't finish - not sure what happened.  Then, predictably, I bonked and it took me nearly 2 hours to finish in a cold, persistent rain.

I have not many words for those last 7 miles.  I got cold.  Stopped to put on my shoved-in-the-pack-at-the-last-minute-jacket.  I rode some stuff okay.  I crashed.  I found the mental drag that always comes at some point in a long race - flashed back to 2 years ago and laughed at myself.  No quitting now.  I hiked.  Through the mud.  Uphill.  Special Michaux mud.  I worried about my brakes, which weren't working great, had a ton of grit in them, and were squealing loudly.  I smiled at the moto guys, who were pulling arrows and waiting for me.  I almost crashed on the wet roots coming into the finish.  But when I pulled into the tent, everyone stopped race cleanup for a minute and cheered.

Shea handed me a towel.  Someone handed me a bottle of homemade coffee liquor.  Love Michaux - one sip and I was buzzed within about 30 seconds.  A huge quantity of french fries appeared.  I shoveled my bike off to Shea then discovered he'd prewarmed the car for my muddy disrobing.

This year, one of my written goals was to finish a Michaux 40 miler.  I did.

20 miles of michaux... without the rain!

I've been riding, racing, working, training, and generally enjoying life so much lately that I haven't been blogging much.  But I promised myself when I started it that this blog isn't really about other people reading it... it's about reflecting on my experiences and races, thinking, feeling, remembering...

Last weekend was the Michaux Maximus race.  Last year, it was a mud fest.  In the rain.  Cold rain.  It was one of the two times I can ever remember considering putting my bike on the side of the trail and leaving it there.  The best and pretty much only good part of that day was rolling in and seeing that Shea had won the 10-miler overall.

This year was WAY better.  Weather was perfect - a bit misty at times, overcast, and warm.  Trails were perfect.  A great field of 9 women showed up for the 20 mile race - including a few local expert riders.  Michaux is a little different in that instead of Beginner/Sport/Expert categories, they go by distance.  There's an unspoken rule that Expert racers don't race the 10 mile race, but other than that, people do what they want. 

My goal was to ride, just ride it, finish it, ride smart in the technical sections (okay, so at Michaux that's pretty much everything except a couple miles of fire road).  I definitely wound up at race pace for most of the race, with an overall average heart rate near what I've put out at other races this year.  Even better - I finished the first 10 miles nearly an hour faster than last year and came in well under my soft goal of 4 hours, partly because they cut out a tough section at the end.

Here's the thing - it was a blast.  A total fun day. Early on, a guy was on my wheel and commented that "that 29er just takes off downhill" - I don't always do the Superfly justice, but I love gravity.  I rode with a teammate Phil for a few minutes until he crashed and then got a branch stuck all in about 5 minutes and had to slow down for a bit. I passed some guys while we were hike-a-biking uphill. I passed a few hike-a-biking while I was still riding (!). 

About 15 miles in, I found some guys, including a Winchester Wheelman or two that were happy hanging on my wheel and with my pace.  That makes me ride faster but within myself.  I was surprised to see a few of the guys I'd been back and forth with stop at the aid station about 3 miles from the finish.  I had plenty of Heed in my camelbak still and wanted to keep rolling.  Turns out it was 3 miles uphill, but all fire road - I still had a bit left in the tank when I saw the sign for the turn to the finish.  I'd been thinking I was in for some more tough singletrack.  I was thrilled to finish. 

Truly thrilled - like tears in my eyes as silly as that is.  I finished in under 3 hours to wind up in 4th!  One of the really strong riders wound up DNF'ing with a busted derailleur, so that was pretty much middle of the pack and happy with it.

I was sore for a while.  Not as sore as I am after this weekend's adventures, but definitely fatigued.

Funny math: 2 + 2 + 2 = 1

Yesterday - Terror of Teaberry at Michaux.  Series finale.  Although I prerode the course, felt pretty strong aerobically and wasn't one of the ~30% of riders that flatted (go tubeless and check your tire pressure, people!), I was a bit disappointed in my race.  Last week I ripped a ton of rock gardens in Frederick, the week before I rode a lot of yesterday's course, before that I was in West Virginia rolling over their rocks.  But yesterday, with just a little bit 'o slime on the buggers, I froze up.  By the last mile or so, I conceded, walking pretty much every rock garden stretch.  Oh well.

On a good note, the singletrack descent early in the race was sketchy.  Like - lock up your rear and glissade down it.  I was terrified but survived.  With limited front braking available (bubble in the hydraulic discovered 10 minutes before race start) - in retrospect that might've been a good thing right there.  Spent some time very close to trees and lots of time feeling my rear wheel slip sideways over rocks, logs and bumps, but no true crashes.

I wound up 2nd.  Rode for a while with Mindy, who was about the same as me technically but having more success in the rock gardens.  I couldn't seem to drop her, then she passed me and I hung on for quite a while, but got caught in the wrong gear and couldn't catch her after that.  As a show that I was in fact trying, I did catch a guy wearing the same shade of red, but realized as I was passing him that my brain must not be working so well - how does one mistake a 180lb male for a 125lb female even if they are wearing the same color?  I made it in under my goal time and even onto the first 'page' of 10 miler results - pleased with that.  Shea smoked everyone again with a strong ride on the new bike and was super-psyched.

Overall - yeah, I won.  That's where the 2 + 2 + 2 = 1 math comes in.  Three 2nd places, but I was the only one to finish the series.  Scored a jar of Heed and a new pair of gloves for my efforts yesterday.  Fun races - next time I resolve to bring my A-game for the rock gardens.

Not one of the cool kids...

I never was one of the cool kids. But this weekend, I'm still not. Over 600 (yes, 600!) people are racing cyclocross within 2 miles of my house, including some people who are sleeping here tonight, but I'm not one of them. I'm a bit sad - Charm City was my first cross race and I was immediately hooked. It's been a year - I know I'm still addicted but have to wait a week to join the 'in' crowd.

Tomorrow (Sunday), I'll be taking the Superfly out for a little spin that we'll call the Michaux Terror of Teaberry. I'm racing the 10 miler still - if I finish, I'll be the only female to do so for all three races and therefore will win the series. A bit of a hollow victory if it happens, but I'm hoping for a good race. And really, I'm the only one who came back for more after the mud and rain soaked fest that was Michaux Maximus this year - I probably deserve it just for finishing that one.

Anyway, we pre-rode there a couple weeks ago, so I have a good idea (barring mechanicals) of a goal time. No, I'm not telling. Sometimes, I just don't want to broadcast my failures. Or my own mental sandbagging by setting goals that are too easily achievable.

Speaking of goals - I'm having trouble setting some for cross. I know I'm a ton more fit than I was last year going into the season and my skills are way better. I've even mostly deleted the double-hop from my remounts - last year I barely even had a remount. But where to set my season goals?

I'm planning to race the local series, which has a Cat 4 only women's field. Can I make it consistently into the top 10?  Do I shoot for the earned upgrade to Cat 3? Then I'd have to race with the big girls next year... will I be ready for that if I do? Will I even want to? Does that mean I'll have to take this bike racing thing more seriously - like, get a proper training plan and such? Is it even realistic to think that I can podium in a reasonable field of Cat 4 women on a good day? I'd like to think so, and hot laps at practice the other night with some other Cat 4's were encouraging, but I tend to think they were not pushing as hard as I was. So in all this nebulousness, I'm forced to be patient. I won't know a reasonable goal until I go out and have a decent race. Or two. Or three. I'm not good at patience...

Catching up, playing hard

Seems like it's been a while since I've blogged and I guess it has. I can't seem to keep up with writing about all the awesome end of summer riding that we've been doing. So this is going up with no pictures, links or anything useful. Briefly:

Terroring the Teaberry - last weekend - pre-ride of Michaux Terror of Teaberry course. This was a blast for me. The group was huge (think 50?!), split quickly and I eventually got dropped back to where I needed to be for the first ~12 miles. Great tight single track, rocky fireroad descents, reasonable climbs. Very fun. We regrouped in the parking area and went out with a smaller group to ride the next 12 or so miles. This time, it was mostly LSV guys led by Kent and Jes from Gettysburg Bikes. Last year, my first ride with LSV guys was about this time and I got dropped so far off the back that Bernie came back looking for me. This time, I got dropped, but never more than by a minute or two. Thankfully and unfortunately, a few of the guys flatted, so I even got a couple of chances to breathe. Fun. Quite a bit of hike-a-biking on the ridge trail, but fun. Afterwards, we bonded all campfire like over beers and zucchini muffins. I'll look forward to racing the 25 miler next year. For now, the last race of my mountain biking season is next weekend on the first 12 miles.

Singlespeeding it (intentionally) - when I got the Superfly, I planned to convert my Cannondale 26er with a headshock to a singlespeed for training (especially when riding with newbies) and mucky days. Last week we finally got it put together (Surly singleator, geared at 32x18) and took it out Monday night to our local haunt. Shea wanted to test ride my Superfly properly anyway... beautiful Loch Raven ride and I really think my Cannondale and Superfly handle pretty similarly, so I wasn't totally screwed by having smaller wheels. Except the part where I went to jump a curb on my way out of the parking area and had the timing a bit off for my rear wheel. Luckily, I was running pretty high pressure, so twas embarrassing but at least we didn't have to change a flat.

Crossing the red line - last week we dropped over to cross practice at Druid hill. Where the grass is tall and the acorns are aplenty. I properly crashed on a remount in front of Kris, who was leading practice. Mounting onto back wheel = bad. No double hop before doing so = progress. Hot laps were tough on me. The run-up was sapping all my limited strength and speed - I really need to start doing some consistent running or at least a few running hill intervals. The guys set it up so that the downhill off of the run-up/barriers had a nice wheel-sized hole in it. I nearly lost my late lunch a few times. We rode until it was nearly very dark - good workout, but I have a feeling that first cross race is going to kick my butt in a mere 13 days...

In lieu of an enduro race - I seriously considered heading down to Poor Farm to race a 5 hour lap race yesterday. But decided not to when some smart teammate pointed out that, in fact, I'll be racing almost every weekend between now and ski season. Instead, I assembled a small group of 6 crazy souls and headed out to Frederick for some rockin' and a rollin'. After about 8 miles on rocky, rolling doubletrack, we looped back toward the car and found some singletrack so sweet that several times it was noted, "I don't care how we have to get outta here, this is awesome". I rode some features I didn't think I had in me - and dabbed on a bunch more. Big ramped logs, big rocks, little logs, rock gardens galore. I did manage a header over a small log and a near face into stick/ditch event. Sense of direction was good, and we were generally heading toward the car, but after finally finding the road, talking to a stoned driver who said, yeah, 'that's a gravel road', we started a seemingly interminable climb on said gravel road. Mike, who was riding away on his Singlespeed Niner, claimed "it's a good way to spin out the legs"... I was thinking I was just throwing a bunch of lactic acid into them. And in fact, I was - I'm sore today despite some of the Luna recovery stuff, watermelon, and beer. So, I didn't do an enduro race of 5 hours on smooth trails - instead I rode 5 hours with friends on a gorgeous day, getting lost in the rock gardens. It was a near-epic ride and fabulous revitalization... gotta love it when I get to use the fitness I've got to enjoy the stuff I didn't think I could even ride let alone dig.

Michaux madness...

Michaux, ah Michaux. Curse of the Dark Hollow. Yup, that's right, another Michaux race. Only this time, it was put on by Jes and company of Gettysburg Bicycle - the guys who know the trails inside and out and how to best torture everyone racing on them. I was racing the 10miler (no beginner, sport, experts categories here - just distances... that are often off by 30% or more and never do they err on the side of too short)... turns out it was more like 13.

This was my first time out on rocky terrain on my new ride, so I figured racing would help me get over my fear of breaking my bike. When they were lining all the women, juniors and masters up together to start, I inched toward the front in order to hit the singletrack in a respectable position. What I didn't count on was getting the hole shot (really, I wasn't even starting that hard!) and gapping all but one or two riders by a couple hundred yards by the time we got to singletrack. Yummy, delightful, downhill singletrack. With some little drop-offs. Awesome good fun. I really enjoyed that section... until I had a little seatpost issue and it changed the angle of my saddle. Okay, no biggie on the downhill - I was off the back for much of it anyway.

At the first uphill, I stopped briefly to fix said seatpost and was passed by one woman and a few of the others then... bummer. Up next was a long section of rideable rocky climbing that I wound up walking parts of. The switchbacks were tough on my not-yet-used-to-turning-radius-of-new-bike self and we were catching groups of riders ahead who had started a few minutes earlier in other categories and were off and walking.

I had a pretty good ride from there until the next time we saw fire road - really fun single track. At one point I saw but did not manage to pass the chick in front of me. Lots of rocks and a bit of walking through them. On a section of singletrack near the reservoir, I heard my seatpost go again, and stopped and fixed it. But I was truly enjoying the ride - the trees were tight enough that I nearly took a swim at one point when I caught handlebars on a tree trunk.

I hit the fireroad again and realized that I was at the 8.5 mile aid station. Kool. Only 4+ miles to go, and I knew much of it must be gaining back the elevation we'd lost on the first descent. Thankfully, it was all on a fireroad, so I left my legs and lungs out there, spinning hard to make up time lost going slow in the tight sections and fixing seats. That was a significant climb for me - about a 11 minute effort. Onto a patch of singletrack under the powerline when I heard the dreaded seatpost noise again. By this time fixing it, my multitool had disintegrated (I knew the bolt was loose on it last week but failed to do anything about it). But I got it working again long enough to make it through the climb onto the next section of flat-ish singletrack.

And again it adjusted itself for me. How long could I make it standing... I was near the end... After a few hundred yards of standing all the way - legs on fire, I stopped and lowered the seat so at least I could relax a bit when I had momentum. I pushed hard to the finish for 2nd. Good thing I pushed, too, because third place was less than a minute behind.

All in all a very fun race. I love the new ride and will definitely race Michaux again. It's hard. Character building. But really really fun.