Carpe Diem!!!

This past weekend was the main event of our fall race season: The Carpe Diem Mountain Bike Festival! It was better than we could have expected. There was a kids race, the regular AMBCS series races, 3 live bands (5th & River, Damn Bullets, and Starroy), plenty of food (including a pizza from Za-Za's straight out of a portable wood-fired oven), New Belgium Brew, vendors, drum circle, and just lots of fun! Oh, and did I mention I was in charge of laying out the course & the kids race?We had something like 15 kids for the kids race. Most were between about age 5-8, but we had 1 or 2 that were 9 or 10 and of course Thomas, who is 2, was definitely the youngest. Check out how little Maddie is on the start compared to all those other kids! That didn't stop her from making her move right off the start though to try to win the sprint into the tight twisty singletrack in the woods.Both the kids did great! Maddie rode the whole trail like a seasoned veteran to the cross-country race scene. And Thomas rode all the down-hills on his pedal-less balance bike so fast that Amanda had to run to keep up with him. She said he was just bouncing from rock-to-rock but never tipped over! We'll get that boy some pedals for Christmas and he'll be pedaling a regular bike with no training wheels before he's 3!It was also really cool how we laid out the course and the stage. We had the racers make their laps by riding right by the stage! You could here the music for much of the race in the woods. That was an experience unlike any bike race we've ever had!

Natchez Trace Part II

I headed back out tonight for another ride on the Trace. Last night I got back to the hotel right around dark and thought to myself, why am I not still riding? So today I strapped the headlight on the bike with full intentions of going around 40 miles which would take me well after dark. Great decision.

The weather was phenomenal again. 82 when I took off, 77 when I got back to the car. The breeze was slight, the kind that just lets you know it exists, but not hard enough to really count as a head wind as you ride. Flying through the hardwood forests hearing nothing but the whir of wheels, chirp of crickets in late afternoon, and feeling the wind in my face made me feel as alive as I have in a while.

I love living in Arkansas, but the beauty of the forest really made me homesick for my native home, the Magnolia State. Looking down into the forest and seeing dozens of deer grazing on the depressed centuries old Natchez trace was surreal. The forests here are one of a kind. Maybe they just have that familiarity that can only exist when it's tied to countless childhood memories. The glassy reflection of cypress knees on the Ross Barnett, the smell of the pines and wisteria all made the afternoon feel like I needed to pedal in search of a porch swing hung under one of the many Spanish moss draped live oaks.

After dark the reflection of the full moon as I returned past Ross Barnett, the fire flies, the call of the owls, and the countless deer becoming emboldened by the darkness and gazing mesmerized at my headlight was all magic. The slow drawl of the other friendly cyclists I occasionally spoke to reminded me of everyone I grew up with.

The two rides yesterday and today on the Trace reminded me of all I love about this state. I do miss Mississippi and even if I never move back, it'll always be home.

Ain't Pride a Bitch

So I'm in Jackson, MS Sun - Thurs this week in a Performance Management Workshop. I've traveled so much this year that I'm taking extra pains on these trips to find a way to enjoy them. I was able to get a hotel about a mile off the Natchez Trace Parkway in Ridgeland. The Natchez Trace is an old Choctaw Indian trading route that traveled several hundred miles - Natchez, MS to Nashville, TN. Now the NT Parkway follows this old road for the full distance and is a National Park. Speed limit is 40, no trucks or industrial traffic allowed, it's there for recreation first. I.e., great cycling road!

So after work today I went out with a goal of riding ~35 miles at around ~80% threshold. It was a gorgeous day. 80 degrees, no humidity, plenty of sun. Very rare combo for Mississippi in late summer. I even stopped twice to look at historical markers. So after seeing those sites, I got on with the serious business of riding. After about 20 miles I started closing on this guy riding a TT bike. No cars were coming so I passed him with a wide berth on the left. Next thing I know, this guy is out of the saddle and jumps on my draft! We were coming South around the Ross Barnett Reservoir and had the wind to our face. It's not that I'm not a friendly cyclist, but I really wasn't looking for company or a free-loading wheel sucker! I will always love my childhood home of Mississippi, but each time I come back with a bike it is apparent to me that the collective bike IQ in MS is about as low as anywhere, and that includes the cyclists!

So for the next couple miles, I turned myself inside out trying to break this guy off my wheel. I'm pretty sure I could have done it quickly with an out-of-the-saddle attack, but I'd made my mind up that the wheel sucker was going to suffer a slow and merciless pain this evening. I just kept gradually stepping up the tempo with no disregard to the fact that I had turned both of my legs into lactic acid production factories. As we started going up a false flat I could hear his breathing getting more laborious and hear his bike start to sway side to side as his pedal strokes no longer were fluid cycles but now were taking full effort from hips and upper body. As he started to break off of me he yelled, "Good pull dude, I'm not much of a hill climber". Flatlander. In 35 miles I didn't see anything resembling a hill.

So now 2 hrs after finishing the ride I'm in the hotel room, legs cramped and suffering from the effort I shouldn't have made 2 days after a race. Damn pride! But I'd do it again in a heartbeat!

Gettin' Race Ready...

So not much new to report here. Just thought I'd drop a short note to keep the blog active.

It's time to start hoisting the sails of training and blow out of the summer doldrums. The fall is coming up, and with that is a busy slate of races. There is a jam-packed schedule of AMBCS xc stuff, but the main event will be the Berryman Epic in Missouri. It's in mid-October and I'm pumped! There's plenty of time to get ready, but not much time to waste. I need to get in gear soon. I need just a little more base work, but I also need speed work and hill work.

I raced the Big Ballin' short track last Saturday and felt really good actually. I was right in there with my man Bob and Zane "boy wonder" Jeffers right before I flatted. I was able to get a wheel change though from Curtis and catch my lap back for a 3rd place finish. Not bad considering I've never been much of a crit racer. Check out the pic of me after the race with my jersey off. Why do I hear banjo's playing in the back ground?? Hmm...

Today I grabbed the skinny tires and headed over to the Spa City to hit a hill routine with Zane. That is what I need to do more of! I can hang with him on most hills, but he's so young he recovers way faster than me. So we're hitting the next hill before I've recovered and he already has. Great workout. I need to capitalize on him as a training partner while I can, because he is making so many gains that pretty soon he won't enjoy riding with me. Tomorrow I'll recover by taking the kids for a spin, then Sunday afternoon I'll do some base work at Camp.

This falls gonna be good...

Why Mountain Bikers Should Stay on Dirt and in the Woods

So I went to ride in the local crit series to try to enhance my mountain bike training. Anybody that's spent any time around bike racing knows that are only 2 types of criterium racers. Those who have crashed, and those who will crash soon. They're a full on violent assault on the heart rate anywhere from 20 min to an hour depending on what class you race. Literally, if you don't spend much of the crit in your red zone, you'll get dropped. I.e., great training for mtb racing. It's like group intensity work, or so that's how I looked at it.

Well, as it turns out the last crit of the series we had like 6 of the guys from the MTB team show. So...all hyped up with adrenaline, endorphines, testosterone, and whatever other performance and mood enhancing naturally occuring drugs we had running through our veins we decided to try some group tactics. Realistically, Clayton or Wes Pruitt would have good shots at a win, if not several primes. I was pretty pumped just to be able to call myself a cool word -- Domestique...Admit it, it has a cool ring...

So the strategy was basically every lap or two one of us would attack the field. People would have to respond because even though the other of us (non Clayton & Wes's) weren't the favorites, we still were capable of competing. So one of us would attack causing several of the other strong riders to chase. Then as other strong riders would go to the front of the main group, we'd go to the front, control the pace at a slow enough cadence that it would take more attacks to real in the break away. Essentially we wanted to wear down the fastest guys. Clayton and I actually worked this well the week before and he won several primes with me controlling the pack while he broke away for the goods.

Anyway...About 15 minutes into our race, it was my turn to attack. I started to make my way to the front of the group. Right after we made a lap at the finish line there's a fairly sharp right hand turn. I don't know what happened. I just know my front wheel went airborn and then I was sliding across the pavement. It hurt sooo bad. Jeeze. It happened so fast. I don't know if I hit a rock, road paint, just slid out my front wheel, what. I just know my ass was sliding at 25+ mph on asphalt before I even knew what was going on. I lost a lot of hide on one spot on the back of my arm and on my hip. Several weeks of healing required.
Moral of the story: even when I "think" I know what I'm doing on a road bike, I don't. Stick to mountain bikes. The crashes are much lower speed, and typically are avoidable, unlike this beauty.

The Chief Got His Again...

So I'm quickly learning that Syllamo's Revenge is the most aptly named mountain bike race ever. As if 50 miles of Ozark mountain biking wasn't difficult enough on it's own, the Revenge seems to have it's own sadistic twist each year. Well, this year Chief Syllamo certainly had a bone to pick and he got his. Between the tornado's of Spring 2008, ice storms of January 2009, and 10 inches of race week rain, the conditions were as brutal as can be imagined.

All that said, I finished, and arguably finished fairly well, so did the Chief get his revenge on Big Head? Or did I finally foil the 19th century Creek Indian Chief? Let's take a brief recap of Saturday's suffering:

Maddie & I drove up with Ellie (new Comfort Retriever puppy) Friday to camp. Blanchard Springs was full, so we went to Gunner Pool. Fantastic camp ground! You gotta see this place, it is gorgeous...

After a surprisingly restful night Friday considering I weathered 2 inches of rain, thunderstorms, and high wind in a tent with my 5 year old and a puppy, I woke up Saturday with the usual race-day enthusiasm and excitement. I got to Blanchard and met the wife who took over kid & puppy duties so I could warm up. I decided to warmup with a brief stretch then a hard climb up that mile-long 8+% fireroad climb that starts the race. It was muddy & loose. A precursor of the day.

At the start I worked fairly hard to get into the top 50 up the climb and into the woods, but tried to keep it reasonable. This was the first marathon race where I made a conscious effort to go hard out of the gate. I liked it and sort of wish I would have gone a tad harder. Within 3 miles of singletrack it got wet, sloppy, and nasty and I was stuck behind a train of roadies who could climb that first hill like scalded dogs, but honestly had not business riding Syllamo even in good conditions. I spend a good hour working my way around 2 dozen or so of these guys. Tally: Chief Syllamo 1, Todd 0.

That first section of Jack's Branch trail was indicative of the damage done this year by the ice. There was down lumber, face slappers, and huge mine-holes left by the evacuated root balls of old growth hard wood toppling over. It seems like you'd ride 3-4 minutes, then slam on brakes and scurry over or around an obstacle. That being said, all racers had to ride the course, so I don't feel this was a huge disadvantage to me and I feel like I managed it well. We'll call it a draw. Tally: Chief Syllamo 2, Todd 1.

I rolled into the first aid station 20 minutes after expected and was covered in mud, but otherwise unscathed. I slowed down just long enough to jettison my camelback, and put on a new one handed to me by my lovely wife Amanda. Man she's the bomb...

I rolled onto the green trail feeling great. I spun slowly up that first climb so I could eat a little something, then rolled back into race pace. I chatted with a few guys who clearly were suffering worse than me. I started to have good feelings. The mental state is as important as physical in this thing. I gotta take a point here. Tally: Chief Syllamo 2, Todd 2.

Up at the top of the green trail in the midst of the big rocky tech stuff, my fork decided not to move any more. This is bad. I have at least 30 miles of this think left. I just had it rebuilt recently. Must have already blown those new seals, now it's running dry as a bone and not moving. Ouch, this will hurt. As I rolled out of the green trail and into the big orange downhill, "The Polish Dozer", it did hurt. Man, I tried to bomb that downhill like I always would so I wouldn't lose any time and by the time I got to the bottom I was exhausted. What a drain on the core and upper body without a working fork! I could really feel the fatigue as I struggle through the lower end of the orange and blue trails. I was having a hard time keeping a good pace and good cadence. I crossed the very cold and swift Livingston Creek and into aid station #2. There I swapped camelbacks again, and Greg Jeffers helped me lube my chain. I needed a break and was using any opportunity to rest. Tally: Chief Syllamo 3, Todd 2.

Now comes my least favorite part of the race...the section of blue trail east of Hwy 5. That trail is already in my head. Throw in the additional fatigue, anxiety of my bike not working right, and the conditions, and I was having serious doubts as to whether I could even finish the race. I certainly wasn't thinking about my performance. The Chief was playing mind games with me. This was so bad, and I was so discouraged, I have to give him 2 points here. Tally: Chief Syllamo 5, Todd 2.

Crossing Hwy 5 again helped out mentally somewhat because I knew that if I just got up the big blue trail climb, the worst of the race would be behind me. That, of course, is easier said than done. I was beat. But I persevered on this one. I was able to talk myself into a better mental state, and I climbed sections of trail so steep I've only walked them before. Tally: Chief 5, Todd 3.

After finally making it up the blue, I now had that 3 miles or so of Jack's Branch (yellow) to get to aid station 3. I started to get some pain in my right knee, but was able to find a new position to keep it from hurting so much. I got into the aid station, and Greg & Carol Jeffers passed me a new bottle, took the weight of the camelback off me, and told me I was #39. #39! Are your frickin' kidding me? That's actually a good place. I felt like I should have been competing for DFL, how am I Top 50? For the first time it occurred to me that maybe the conditions were hard on everyone. This put me in a new good mental state. Tally: Chief 5, Todd 4.

I rolled onto the 14 miles of red trail and it felt like 80. It would never end. This time, the fatigue was real. This wasn't a perceived mental state. My legs were out of gas and my wrists, arms & upper body were sore from the rigid fork. The only thing that kept me going hard was I kept hearing a bike behind me and I made a deal with myself that I would NOT let anyone pass me on this trail. I was actually able to pass a few guys on this one myself. Towards the end of it, however, some dude was breathing down my neck. He finally passed me on the big downhill going back into Blanchard. I was doing about 35 over incredibly loose & muddy terrain - I could barely see because of all the mud and grit flying in my face - and he passed me doing at least 10 mph faster.

Once I finally rolled in, I my time was 6:42 - 10 min slower than last year. However, I was 35th place compared to 53 last year. So statistically I improved. However, I was still disappointed. Everyone kept telling me I was crazy to be disappointed, but I still was and still am. I know I just didn't have my best legs. Yeah, I had a top 10% finish. Yeah, I improved. (Not sure where I was in my age group.) But I still know I was pedaling slower than I should have had to at some points. I know the conditions played a part, but I think I left as much as 30 minutes out there that I should have been able to crank out. Oh well, there's always next year.

For the final tally, let's do some bonus points: Riding without any mechanicals, flats, etc: Todd +1. Winning the mental game, making me believe I was defeated for most of the last 30 miles: Chief +1. Breaking my fork and wearing me down: Chief +1. Riding with a broken fork: Todd +1.

Final Tally: Chief 7, Todd 6. He got his revenge, but not by much. And as with each race, I've learned a lot and will be better prepared next year. I still had a blast, what a great race!

Ouachita Challenge Update

Well, it's been almost a week since the race. I suppose it's time to post my race report...

I rolled into Oden Saturday afternoon in time to see many of the Tour finishers coming through. It really was cool to see the look of joy, relief, satisfaction, and of course pain, on the faces of the finishers. I suspect that for many of them, this was their first time finishing the Big Ride. I have to give a shout out to our teammate Brad Curtis. Nobody on the team has worked so hard as him. And this year he finished the 60. Finishing that thing is such an accomplishment. Those that don't ride, or just ride road or groomed trail really don't have an appreciation of how difficult it is to do 63 miles in this part of the country. It's physically & mentally draining. There are several stretches in the Ouachita Trail segments where you can never get into a rhythm because of the jagged Martian surface rocks you're riding on. It seems like there's no way to keep momentum. It's cool to see those folks accomplish this. Two years ago I finished it for the first time. Since then I've been on a never ending quest to improve my performance each subsequent marathon event I do. For the most part I've been successful. But I digress...

Anyway...back to Oden...Got there in time to see Brad roll across. High 5's, pats on the back, gave him a little knuckle, then it was time to join in the spaghetti chow fest in the cafeteria. Ahh...cafeteria food. That brings back memories as well. After dinner I had planned on just sleeping on an air mattress in the back of the Suburban in the school parking lot that night. I was talking to Richard & Lee Bell--the best team owner/sponsor/captains ever--and they would have none of it. They had an extra bed in the cabin they rented and insisted I use it. Sa-weet! The good night sleep I would have in the cabin would pay dividends the next day fo sho.

I woke up the next morning feeling pretty fresh. I had a few butterflies in my stomach, but they were the good kind. They were there because I was itchin' to ride! I ate my breakfast of a banana, yogurt, LaraBar, and handful of Fig Newtons and was rolling back to Oden. I've gotten where my pre-race routine is less and less regimented for these marathon races. I barely even stretch now, much less do a real warm-up or time my nutritional intakes. I don't know if it's good or bad. But I think it is psychologically good because I stay more relaxed. And for a race like the OC with such a long road lead-out, it has a built in warm-up I guess.

My biggest concern was actually the weather. I got to Oden and it was drizzling rain and in the 50's. This is a tough temperature for me to dress for. Not quite cold enough for a jacket, but a little chillier than I like with just arm warmers or long sleeve jersey. I finally settled on my short sleeve jersey, arm warmers, and windproof vest. Lot's of options in that wardrobe for adding & removing layers.

Now it's race time! In years' past I've been real good about lining up in the front quarter or so of the mass pack for the start. Didn't happen this year. I got stuck a little more than halfway in the rear of the 375 or so combined riders. This was partially because they started us in a different spot, partially because I had my head up my ass not paying attention. Luckily, this was probably the biggest mistake I'd make all day. (A little foreshadowing there.)

Let me refer to previous posts on this blog and statements I've made to numerous people about my strategy. In years past, even a month ago at the 6 hr race, I let adrenaline get the better of me and I start too fast. Remember, this is not an XC race. This is an all day affair. Conservation and distance or the words to remember. Well...I did it again. I give up. Once that gun goes off I have horrid nightmares of being stuck behind a gajillion slow pokes in the single track. That was compounded by my poor starting position in the back of the pack. So once we were underway, I found myself rapidly trying to work my way up through to the front of the pack. To make matters worse, within a mile or two, the group broke into 2 pelotons. The front one, appeared to be about 75 riders strong. I was too deep in the second peloton to jump in with the A-group until they had a sizable gap. I badly wanted in that group. I figured that would buy my 5 easy minutes by just squeezing in the middle of that big mass of riders and riding the draft. So I kept pushing until finally I was at the head of the "B peloton". Then I decided I needed to bridge that gap, which by then was about 200 yds. What was I thinking? Wasn't going to happen. I worked my ass off for about 2 miles out in no-mans-land and finally reallized I could not ride solo across that gap. So now, instead of sitting in the B-group conserving energy, I was in no-mans-land working alone. Sheesh...

Finally we jumped onto this notorious dirtroad climb they said would separate the mass group before we hit single track. They were right. Suddenly I was instantly thrust back into the rear side of the A-group as they strung out for what seemed like miles on this rock, unstable, loose climb. This was a brilliant idea by the promoters. I hope they do it again. It adds more climbing to the course, but served the purpose well! My legs were feeling light and springy. Zane and Curtis jumped back on with me. We were keeping each other "sensible" by not pushing too hard up the climb. But I know we were all feeling good because it felt like we passed 50 people on that climb.

Once we finally ducked into the Womble, I was having a blast. The weather was improving with the sun coming out, my legs felt good, I was riding smooth, the trail was great. What a fun day! The first 5 miles or so of the Womble we were flying! Finally I had to holler up to Zane to slow the pace some. He said he was feeling it today. I reminded him that the race really doesn't even start until the first 25 miles and the Womble are behind us. He agreed and we dialed it down a half notch.

Coming down the East side of Mauldin Mountain, on the benchcut stuff with the big drop to the left, we come on this dude that was like 200 feet down the ravine with his bike. I stopped briefly and yelled to see if he was ok. He said he was cool so we kept rolling. Jeeze...if he went down with his bike, he was like another 20 feet from the cliff side...

We rolled into aid station #1 in good time. I debated not stopping, then opted to swing in and top off the camelback and my bottle. I opened them both and had barely touched either. It dawned on me I better start drinking!

I hit the road again and immediately hooked up with 3-4 guys and we decided to work together to cut the 20 mph winds. Then we picked Zane back up and also grabbed Robert Newcome. We kept this group together until the start of the Ouachita Trail at the Chalybeate Mtn base, and most of us hit the mountain together. Zane and I were riding the perfect pace for each other so far in the race. It's nice to have someone else that is riding your speed. I topped Chalybeate pretty smoothly cleaning everything and riding through stuff other guys were crashing on. However, I now could feel in my legs that they had worked. I decided to take some Endurolyte tabs to fend off the cramps.

Once we got to the next aid station, I took some fluids, ate some oranges, and then headed up Blowout Mountain. My nemesis. I was determined it wouldn't beat me this time. Whether it won or I did is up for debate still. I cleaned stuff I never cleaned on it before. I pretty much road everything that was not boulder covered. Even the long sustained climb to the peak I stayed on the bike. This made me feel good. The downside--I was anaerobic by the time it was finished.

On the way down Blowout I lost Zane. I think he was cramping up. I recovered some on the short flat roll-in to the last aid station. There, I cut up to Chuck Emmons. Now I was really pumped! Chuck is way faster than me usually. He's a bachelor and rides a lot! It was at this point that I first let the thought enter my head that I was having a good day and that a 6 hr time was actually within reach! Chuck and I rolled out and decided we'd try to pace each other the last 15 miles or so over Big Brushy Mtn and down the last road stretch to the finish. I hung with him for 2/3 of the way up Brushy. Then I was cooked. My legs were cramping, everything started to hurt. That was ok though. I just kept telling myself, drag yourself over this mountain, get on the road, and time trial it out to the finish. Unfortunately, I found my pain cave and couldn't get out. I lost a lot of time on Brushy. By the time I rolled off of it, Chuck probably had gapped me by 2 minutes. No worries though. I'm home free!

After time trialling with every last ounce of energy in my body I rolled in just over 6 hours. I think my official time was 6:08. My computer said 6:04. But who cares, either way I didn't break 6 hrs. But I'm not disappointed, that still was a fabulous time for me. Harder course this year, more climbing, and no recovering on the roads with the wind. I got 35th overall. I'm where I need to be in preparation for Syllamo's revenge. I think (hope) 5:30 is possible at Syllamo.