My bridesmaid season

I know what you’re thinking…I’ve been conspicuously absent from this blog for several months now. Well, more likely you haven’t noticed at all, but let’s just go with the former anyway. After much soul searching and deep self examination, I have discovered, and am prepared to reveal the reason for my absence. Ok, so I really only had to think about it for 5 seconds to realize why, but let’s go with the former again…it just sounds cooler.

Anyway, I’ve been M.I.A. for most of the summer because I don’t like writing about it when I suck. I'm simply not inspired to tell stories of my own poor performances, mistakes and mishaps. However, therein lies yet another error in judgment on my part. For what is the purpose of writing about bike racing? Is it to tell the world how great a mountain biker I am? Is it to prove that I train my ass off so I can compete at a high level and win races? Is it just to show off??? Fuck no. If anything it’s to be mildly entertaining to the dozen or so people who actually read these yarns, and maybe provide a platform for someone to learn something from my experiences (Again, probably just the former). I am a fairly humble individual; I lose graciously and sincerely congratulate those who beat me. I don’t think I have a terribly huge ego, so why not share my failures?...They’re probably more interesting than my successes.

So submitted for your approval, is a significantly less detailed than usually rundown of my (mis) adventures on the bike since I last checked in:

-Stoopid  50 weekend, State College PA.

Given that I was chasing M.A.S.S. points, this was an important race, so it stands to reason that I’d rest up and be ready for it right? Wrong. Since the Bearscsat 50 two weeks earlier (which was hard as shit), I had done too much training and not enough resting. I rode this race, well...Stoopidly. I went out too hard at the start and by mile 25 was pretty much toast. My team mates Bill and Daniel were well ahead of me, and sport racers were dropping me on the climbs. I limped home in survival mode for the last half of the race, finishing a pitiful 12th in the Masters field. Great course though, and a great weekend with the BTR/EMP team. Trip highlights: Going to a surprisingly good strip club on Friday night (watching RogieRog get motorboated was priceless), and the comedy of seeing all the Joe Paterno gear still on display in town (The JOPA Legacy Pillow…really???).

-Vermont Vacation:

 No tales of woe here…in fact this trip was pretty much flawless from start to finish. For 2 weeks in June and July I hit Vermont and the Adirondaks with the bikes and the dog in tow. I hung out and rode with TJ & Bill, visited with family, ate tons of great food, swam in cool mountain rivers, explored some sweet new trails in Hinesburg Forest and Millstone Quarry and even competed in 3 training races. Training race highlight: demoing a $10.5k Specialized S-Works Epic at Catamount which they foolishly allowed me to race…I brought it back an hour  later after crashing it 3 times and covering it with 3 pounds of Vermud. They didn't seem to care.

The trip culminated with 3 days of fun, fast riding in the incredible Kingdom Trails of Burke, VT with the Black Bear Cycling crew. This trail system is simply awesome. It was as seriously good trip, and totally free of mishaps.

-The Fair Hill classic 50 miler:

 Another MASS points race. After my SaD showing at the Stoopid, I realized that I needed to step up my speed work, which I did during my Vermont trip by doing lots of shorter hard efforts and training races. I was feeling fast and very prepared for this one. But you know what they say about the best laid plans…After a good start I was sitting right on Roger Masse’s wheel at about mile 6, when I overcooked a corner and skidded my face across the loose ground, skewering my lip with a sharp stick. After the initial shock from the sight of my own blood wore off, I realized I wasn’t mortally wounded and soldierd on. But after that crash I wasn’t quite the same… and by mile 22, the Roy Rogers sausage, egg & cheese biscuit I had eaten (against my own better judgment) that morning was turning my intestines into a volcanic battlefield. Let’s just say I didn’t even make it back to the start/finish area without a couple of stops to fertilize the woods. By the time I did, I was in no shape to continue. I had earned my first DNF of the season. Great, just great.

Rattling Creek Marathon, MASS Endurance Series finals.

Obviously, an important race. I’d done the math and I knew that unless Roger DNF’d this one, that he had the series victory locked up tight. I still needed to finish in the top 10 to hold my second place series standing over David Funk if he were to beat me here. By all accounts, this was the best course in the series and I’m now inclined to agree. It’s mostly singletrack and very rocky…usually my kinda stuff, but not today. This race made me realize once and for all that I’m just too damn old to be doing technical endurance races on a hardtail! I vowed, never again.

I had a good start. Bill (Christman, my team mate and fellow Masters racer) were riding together in 3^rd & 4^th when I flatted. Bill raced on, and after some profane outbursts and a little finagling, I got my tire to seal, re-inflated it and got back in the race. I pushed a bit too hard to catch back on though, and the non-stop rocky singletrack was taking its toll on me. By the midway point I had slowed considerably and was reduced yet again to survival mode. I got passed by JW in the last few miles but managed to hang on for 5^th place in the Masters field. It really was an incredible course that truly lived up to the hype. Far from a great performance by me, but what mattered is that I had held on to my Second Place overall in the series…an achievement that I’m pretty damn proud of. Roger took the win and clinched the series victory in commanding fashion. Contrats Rog!

Mooch Madness:

This was really more of a long XC race (28 rocky miles) than and endurance race, held in one of my favorite local riding spots, Allamuchy State Park. In looking at my calendar, I thought this might be one of my last bids for a possible win this season, but I went in without any real expectations. In keeping to my own self promise of not doing any more long, technical races on my hardtail, I borrowed TJ’s Rumblefish for this one. The ‘Fish has 5” of downhill crushing, rock garden devouring travel and it’s a pure joy to ride. Of course at around 30 lbs, it’s also a complete dog on the climbs, but at ‘Mooch I felt the pros would outweigh the cons, so to speak.

I had been riding the bike all week and loving it; unfortunately, TJ had the wheels set up with tubes, and because you can ride the rocks so aggressively on it, I was flatting on every ride. So Bill kindly let me use the wheels from his own Rumblefish, which were set up tubeless (or so we thought), for the race.

Bill and I got out to an early lead in the Masters category, and before long we had a sizeable lead on the rest of the field. A few miles in his SPD cleat fell off and he had to stop and secure it; I gave him my multi tool and raced on, feeling very strong. The ‘Fish was eating up the rocky course and I was all alone in front with a good lead until about mile 20. I bottomed out in a downhill rock garden and flatted the rear tire. I tried to get it to seal but nothin’ doin” FUCK!!

It was then that I realized, in what is by far the most brain-dead maneuver of my entire season; that I had forgotten to put my spare tube in my jersey pocket! I started prepping the wheel while I waited for someone with an extra tube to pass by. In doing so I realized that the back wheel had a damn tube in it all along! My stupidity and unpreparedness was compounding itself by the minute. The 2^nd place Masters guy went by after about 4 minutes. TJ was right behind him and he stopped and gave me his spare tube. By the time I fixed it and got rolling again, I knew there was no way I would be catching the Masters leader. I’d lost too much time, and the lactic acid had build up in my legs during the 10 minutes I was off the bike. I pretty much soft pedaled the last few miles, and crawled in for…you guessed it…another second place finish. It was a comedy (or maybe a tragedy?) of errors, but still a fun day on a really great course.

So now that summer is nearly over, it’s time to review my season so far and make some observations.

Tuscarora Endurance: 2^nd

Michaux Trail Cup: 2^nd

Iron Hill Endurance: 2nd

French Creek Endurance: 3rd

Bearscat 50: 3^rd

Stoopid 50: 12th

Catamount Training Race #1: 2^nd (40-49, on a sweet demo S-Works Epic)

Onion River Training Race #1: 2^nd (to some Vermont guy)

Onion River Training Race #2: 2^nd (to Dan from Black Bear)

Fair Hill Endurance: DNF

Rattling Creek 50: 5th (after flatting)

Mid Atlantic Super Series Masters Endurance overall standing: 2^nd

Mooch Madness: 2nd (after flatting)

Overall it’s been a pretty good season. I started strong, faded, rebounded, made some stupid mistakes, learned from them, and most importantly, I’ve had fun. But come on, 7…that’s right, 7 second place finishes???!!! And not one victory!!! I couldn’t feel more like a bridesmaid if I put on a blond wig and an ugly pink chiffon dress.

Looking forward, there are a couple more possible endurance events on the horizon, plus maybe some XC races and cyclocross. I foresee several more second place finishes in my near future. Who knows, maybe I’ll actually win one!

-G

The Bearscat 50

The Bearscat 50 is significant race for me for a number of reasons. First, it’s my home turf. Waywayanda State Park, where the race is held, is less than 15 minutes from my house. These are the trails that I ride for fun and training more often than just about anywhere else. Second, I’m a former member or Black Bear Cycling, who puts on the event. I’m still friends with many of the members of that team, and still ride with several of them. Third, my entire new team, with the exception of Monte (who placed 12^th in the open at the Mohican 100 the previous day) was in attendance for this one. Finally,  I was on my way to a 7^th place finish in the open class there last year when I flatted, and ended up just outside the top 10. I wanted revenge.

As a Masters racer this year, I was shooting for another podium finish. I’ve ridden Waywayanda so many times that I know every newt, bear, and turtle in the park by name.  I know all the best lines through the numerous rocks gardens, and the right spots to recover,  reach for bottle or take in gels. In other words, in my mind I have the home field advantage.

Since my teammate Bill Christman was racing in my class as well, we talked strategy before the race. The plan was to sprint off the start so we could get a good position going into the singletrack and from there try to work together for the whole race, or as much of it as humanly possible. Bill is a local too, and since I’m chasing points in the M.A.S.S. Endurance Series (of which Bearscat is not a part), I would give Bill the nod if we were still together at the finish. In exchange, he would do the same for me at the uncoming Stoopid 50 (which is a MASS race).

At the start, it was perfect race weather; 60 degrees going up to 75. More than 100 open men took off while the Masters riders waited. I saw Ken Welch and Terry Blanchet on the line, who were the two biggest threats to our 1-2 podium hopes. After 5 minutes we were off and racing. Ken and Terry got the hole shot into the singletrack with Bill and I in 3rd and 4th. I was shocked at how wet and slippery the rocks were…it had been perfectly dry in yesterday’s day’s pre-ride. In what seemed like a bad dream, we caught the back of the open field just as we were about to cross the Pumphouse Trail rock bridge. It was a traffic nightmare on par with the LIE at rush hour…with of big groups of racers walking the rock gardens that I’d spent months practicing to clean. We were passing riders by the dozen once the trail opened to doubletrack. We had gone by Terry and kept Ken in our sights. The acceleration needed to make all these passes was keeping my heart rate in XC race territory.

As soon as we turned onto Cherry Ridge road, Terry made an aggressive pass on the climb to get back into 2^nd. We were in that order when we hit the most technical 4 mile stretch of singletrack of the race…the dreaded Lookout/Pickle/Rattlesnake threesome. Terry bobbled in the rocks on Lookout and Bill and I flew by. We passed dozens of racers in the next few miles of mud and rocks. Somewhere along the way I lost sight of Ken in front of me and Bill behind. When I popped out on the Cabin Trail fire road, I was strangely alone. I kept pressing forward, not wanting to Ken to get away, but held back a little in the hopes that Bill would bridge up to me. By the time we hit the Pines singletrack, Bill was back on my wheel and we were working together again. I stayed in front and set the pace and Bill sat on. We never saw Terry again.

We rode the majority of the course that way, slipping and sliding through the rocks, jumping off and running when it got too sketchy or when we hit traffic. On the Porcupine trail at about mile 17, we passed Ken who had pulled off for a “natural break”. It felt good to be in the lead. Ken jumped on with us and we rode together for a while. Ken got back to the front and pulled for a mile or so until we turned into the wet and loamy Plymouth Lane trail. On a short, steep climb laced with slick roots, I slid out and lost sight of Ken. He was drilling it and I didn’t want to risk blowing up to stay with him…there was a lot of racing left to do.

We ground our way through the deep mud holes and short, rocky climbs of Hofferline trail, where we caught our teammate Daniel.  He was riding well, but clearly having some mechanical issues with his bike. Tough break!  After bombing down Black Eagle to the park road, we took turns pulling into the start /finish area. Ken was there taking on new water bottles and we did the same. 25 miles down and another 25 to go. I was feeling ok, if not great, and Bill was in about the same state.  

Ken rolled out about 20 seconds ahead of us but we could see him as we climbed the park road towards Pumphouse trail. The rock gardens on Pumphouse were easier this time around without all the traffic but we still ran the snotty little uphill and one other gnarly spot. Ken was out of sight, but the heart rate display on my Garmin kept telling me not to push any harder for fear of cracking before the finish, so I just rode my pace while Bill stayed close.

We caught up with TJ on the climb up Lookout;  he had been stung on the hand by a bee and was having trouble gripping the bars. I was psyched to have another teammate to ride with, but by the time we reached Cabin, we had lost him. It was business as usual for the next 10 miles. Then just as we reached the start of the boney Sitting Bear trail, the thunder rolled and the skies opened up. Thick sheets of rain came down and washed over us. At first it was actually refreshing, but after a few miles the trails had turned the trails to streams, and rocky sections that had started to dry out were now icier and more treacherous than ever. Jim’s rock bridge, which I can almost always clean, had to be walked, and Porcupine was slow and slipperier than I’ve ever seen it. This was going to be a slower lap for sure.

 Bill and I rode wheel to wheel for the rest of the race without major incident. There we some small victories along the way, like cleaning the slimy roots on Plymouth that caused me to lose Ken on lap 1. We flew down the last decent of Black Eagle and hit the road for the home stretch. Bill came around on the final road climb and gave one final push to the line that was so hard I nearly puked. But I managed to stay with him and we finished looking like a black and red, Skull & Bones streak. Being able to do a race this long and brutal with Bill made it so much more fun… it can get pretty lonely out there after 5+ hours. The plan to stay together had worked flawlessly...well, except for the part about Ken Welch beating us both. Kudos to him for riding a very strong race!

After washing mud and sweat off bike and body, we grabbed some tasty BBQ and caught up with our other teammates and friends, sharing the day’s war stories. It was a mixed bag of a day for the team. We had a few DNF’s but Rog pulled a solid 8^th in the open and Bill occupied the 2^nd and 3^rd steps on the Masters Podium. Bearscat was one very tough race… with arguably the highest percentage of technical singletrack of any endurance race in the east. We’ll be looking to repeat our podium performances this weekend when the team travels to State College, PA for the legendary Stoopid 50!

Iron Hill Challenge

Unlike all of my previous races this season, at Iron Hill, the “challenge” for me was less about the course and competition, and more about logistics. For over a week prior to this race, I had been down in Maryland recording vocals with a certain very talented singer at my friend Josh’s Ambience Recording Studios. As usual, I had taken up temporary residence in Josh’s spare bedroom for the duration of the sessions. The plan was to make the 5 hour drive home on Thursday night after my last session ended, meet up with Monte early Sunday morning, and head back down to Delaware for the race. It was a good plan, but a short lived one. Monte texted me and said he would not be recovered from the previous weekend’s Cohutta 100 and needed a week off from racing.  Then I got a call from another client of mine to do a gig in DC early the following week. There was no way I was going to go back to Jersey, then to Delaware for the race, then back to DC, then back to Jersey…too much driving, and a logistical nightmare. So…I juggled my plans, contacted Rob Campbell and secured a place to sleep on his couch for a couple days. He agreed to drive up to the race. Then I’d come back and get a hotel before the DC gig.

This was all well and good except for one little wrinkle; I didn’t have my race bike with me! What I did have was my training bike; a Trek rig with mostly stock parts, built up with 1 X 9 gearing. It’s a bit of a tank…but I love to train on this bike because it’s heavy and when I get on my Superfly after riding it, I feel like I’m floating. It’s hardly the ideal race bike, but better than an extra 10 hours of driving…I’d have to make due. Fortunately, the Iron Hill course didn’t have any climbs that would require anything other than my lone 32 tooth front chainring. I was lucky enough to have my BTR clothing kit with me, so at least I would be able to represent the team.

Fast forward to Sun AM. A pre-ride of the Iron Hill course revealed it to be slick and muddy…not too technical, but with enough rocks and roots to weed out any true roadies. There were some cool dips and drops, two longish, moderate climbs and a few gnarly sections where the mud was like peanut butter, and packed up on the tires. The start was a bit of a clusterfuck. They sent the endurance open men and singlespeeders off in one wave, then the women, and then my group (Master men) behind them. This amounted to a huge traffic jam on the first lap. I got the hole shot and was out front, trying to pick my way through dozens of women, singlespeeders and open riders on the first lap. As expected, Dave Funk was right on my wheel and I saw Jesse Kelly of Team CF in the hunt as well. I knew I was burning more matches than I wanted to making the repeated accelerations necessary to pass the slower riders…I had to back it down a bit. I managed to shake my competition on a muddy run up near the end of the lap that I was able to clean without dismounting.

I rode alone for 3 full laps, feeling good and really enjoying the variety of terrain and conditions of the course. Suddenly Jesse was on my wheel. We rode together for a while and then he slipped by me on the short paved road section. I sped up and kept him in sight, and passed him at the start finish when he stopped to pick up fresh water bottles. A few hundred yards later, I slid out on a slick wooden bridge, flipped over the handlebars, and landed in a thorn bush. Scratched up and shaken, but unharmed, I was back on the bike in a few moments, chasing after Jesse, who was in front of me again after the crash. Once I was back on his wheel I spoke words to this effect:

  Me: “Hey, did you see me crash”

 Him: “No, but I heard it…it sounded bad”

Me: “Nah, but I bet I looked great…too bad you weren’t wearing a helmet cam”

Before long Jesse had pulled away again, he was looking very strong, and I felt myself starting to fade. The over-the-top efforts from the first lap had taken their toll, and the extra 4 pounds of bike I was lugging around was starting to hurt on the climbs. I lost sight of Jesse, only to pass him again as I came through for my sixth and final lap. For some reason he was stopped again at his pit area. I popped every supplement and energy substance I had in the hopes of getting a second wind but Jesse came by me again on the open field downhill. He opened up a big gap and was soon gone from view. It was a full half lap before I started to feel some power come back to my legs. I was able to lift my pace and finish strongly, but not strong enough to reel Jesse in. He took the win and I grabbed second…AGAIN!

Now I don’t want to seem like a douche by complaining about 3 consecutive second place finishes, especially since my ultimate goal is to win the overall MASS series in my class, but come on…I’m starting to feel like a friggin' bridesmaid here (minus the horrible pink chiffon dress, of course)!

I’m not a fan of the lap format for endurance racing, as things can get a little boring. Iron Hill is a fairly small area, and the organizers did a great job of setting up an excellent 7 mile loop that made the most of the limited space. Congrats to Jesse for a great win…he rode a very smart and strong race.  Rob also kicked ass, with an impressive top 5 finish in the open endurance class. I had a blast, even though victory continues to elude me. No worries. It’s a long season, with much more racing to come.

Michaux Trail Cup

There is a certain phrase I often hear passing from the lips of mountain bike racers after an event: “Damn…that was a brutally hard race!” I’ve said it many times myself… as recently as this past weekend when I competed in the Michaux Trail Cup.  The MTC was one of the toughest races I’ve ever done (another phrase I’ve used before). But it got me thinking about just what makes one race hard in comparison to another. The answers are fairly obvious…first is the course itself. For most racers, the difficulty of the course comes down to how much climbing it has, and how technical the trails are. The second factor is level of competition, and how hard you have to push yourself to try and win. When I reflect upon my history of racing mountain bikes, which is getting close to 9 years, the races I rank among the hardest all have various combinations of the aforementioned elements.

Where the course is concerned, it’s safe to say that even if you enjoy it (which I genuinely do), climbing is still hard…when the hills get steep, long, rocky or all three,  it puts a hurting on your legs and often forces you to push yourself into the red to keep from dismounting and losing time. Technical trails (also a favorite of mine) are tough on your bike and your body, causing everything from flats to crashes to hand, arm and shoulder fatigue in the long run. The toughest courses force you to ride harder and beat you up regardless of who you’re racing against.

Competition?  If you’re the fastest guy (or girl) in your class by a wide margin, you need only go so hard to stay ahead of your competition, but if your field is stacked with other racers who have the potential to beat you on any given Sunday, trying to best them can force you to go deeper into your pain cave that you thought possible. That, my friends, will make even the smoothest, flattest race course seem like  a painfully hard affair.

This brings us to the Michaux Trail Cup, which for me was a perfect storm of a brutally hard course, and very stiff competition. The mere mention of the name Michaux is enough keep some riders from even showing up. The races held in this massive PA State Forest are widely known to be some of the hardest on the planet, and for good reason. The courses here are epic, point to point monsters with tons of long, steep climbs, scary white-knuckle descents, and endless miles of singletrack, laced with sharp rock gardens and rock features. This is why I love the place, it appeals to my sense of adventure. When you complete a Michaux race, you really feel like you’ve accomplished something on the bike.

The MTC was a brand new event but the pre race info on the website told me it was going to be more of what we’ve all come to expect from Michaux. 42 miles, 6000 feet of climbing, and lots and lots of rocks (which, thanks several hours of light rain, promised to be wet and slippery). What I wasn’t expecting was that it would be on two separate 20ish mile loops…an interesting new format for the course layout. Nor was I expecting to see NUE Masters champion and former 29er Crew Teammate Roger Masse in the parking lot when I pulled up (he wasn’t on the pre-reg list). Roger is in my class and when he’s on, which he usually is, he’s a full gear faster that I am. Oh well, I thought…maybe he’ll have an off day and I’ll have a shot. Dave Funk was there too. He almost beat me at Tuscarora, and may very well have if he hadn’t flatted.

So the stage was set. I had a very tough competition on a very tough course...this was not going to be easy day in the saddle. As expected, Roger, Dave and I were alone at the front for the first few miles. After trading spots in the lead we came to a long stretch of fire road that had some rolling climbs. The pace was very high and though I could have held it, I didn’t want my HR to be in the high 170’s for too long. It was going be a long day and I knew I needed to conserve my strength, so I backed off and let them get a gap of 100 yards or so. The course turned onto singletrack, and by the bottom of the first rocky downhill I was right back on with my rivals. Hmmmm….food for thought.

 We we’re picking our way through some heavy traffic of Open Class and Single speed racers when I got stuck behind a rider who slid out on a short steep climb, and had to dismount while Roger and Dave rode on and out of sight. Damn, they were really moving! In the next technical section I was back on yet again. I was sitting 3^rd wheel we came to a narrow, rocky power line descent. Rog attacked and at that moment, Dave did not have the testicular fortitude to stay with him. Unfortunately, I could not get by Dave so we both lost sight of him.

On the first big climb, the pattern with Dave solidified itself. He was flying up the hills, and for me to stay with him I’d have to push my HR into the red, so I just let him go, thinking I’d catch him when the trails inevitably got nasty. This cat and mouse game continued, and we were riding together with no sign of Roger, when we hit the long fire road climb back to the start/finish area. We tried to work together to reel Roger back by taking turns doing pulls, but Dave was just too fast for me to keep pace with him…this guy can climb! I told him I needed to back off and away he went. I settled into a comfortable tempo and watched as Dave gradually disappeared from sight. After a quick stop at the Start/Finish area feed zone to replenish my bottles, I was off again on the second (and much harder, we were told pre-race) of the two big loops, This one started with at least five miles of gnarly technical single-track. I felt like I was in a nice groove at this point and was comfortably floating over the rocks. Sure enough, it wasn’t long before I caught Dave. All the time I have spent training in the rocky parks of North Jersey had prepared me well for the perils of Michaux. I passed Dave in the singletrack and rode the rest of the race nearly alone, taking gels and sodium tabs when appropriate. The remainder of the course had two seemingly endless fir road climbs and countless miles of technical singletrack. The last 7 miles may have been the toughest for me both mentally and physically. I knew I couldn’t let up at all…for all I knew, I could be gaining ground on Roger or losing it to Dave. The last few miles featured a sick 45 degree loose, rocky downhill that was pretty terrifying. That was followed by a big creek crossing and a long gradual singletrack climb to the finish that sapped the remaining strength from my legs. I gave one final push to the finish and was rewarded for my effort with a searing cramp in my left quad as I crossed the line. So much for looking cool.

Roger was already in so I knew he’d won, I took second and Dave rolled through about 4 minutes behind me to round out the Masters podium. I checked my average HR and found it to be an incredibly high 164bpm…the highest average HR I’ve every achieved in an endurance race. One of the first things I said to Roger after congratulating him on getting the win was “Holy shit that was hard!” He agreed. Michaux as always, lived up to its reputation, and with the competition level this high, it was truly a race to remember. Promoter Zach Adams put on a great race with a beautiful course that was well marked and incredibly scenic, if you took a moment to look up from the trail. The prizes and post race food were also excellent. Every mountain biker owes it to themselves to come race Michaux at least once…if for no other reason than just to say that you’ve survived it!

A Dragon's Tale...

The Dragon's Back, from the valley below.



No, this is not a children’s fairy tale, or even an episode of Game of Thrones... Dragon’s Tale is the real deal…an epic 40 mile endurance MTB race set in the picturesque mountains of the Shenandoah Valley in Southern Virginia. Back in 2006 when I lived in Maryland, my good friend Rob Campbell and I did an earlier and shorter incarnation of this event called Dragon’s Back.  In those days the XC race was only 20 miles but it still had some of the biggest climbs and most technical ridge-top singletrack I’d ever ridden. I also took a wicked spill that day which left a permanent scar on my right forearm, a reminder of the fact that Dragons can be extremely vicious when they’re pissed off ( I affectionately refer to that scar as my Dragon Bite). When I saw this event on the calendar this year…with double the distance, and Chris Scott (of SM100 and Wilderness 101 fame) as the promoter, I knew it was a must-do. I called up Rob and hounded him mercilessly until he agreed to make the trip with me again.



Saturday morning I packed up the car and made the 4.5 hour trip from North Jersey to Rob’s house in Rockville, MD. He had agreed to drive the second leg of the trip (another 4 hours) to the race in the tiny town of New Castle, VA.  Saturday afternoon we were joined by our good friend and longtime riding buddy Fernando, for a 2 hour “tune up” ride on the new Seneca Ridge Trail, in Germantown, MD. What was supposed to be a mellow warm up, quickly denigrated into a mini pre-race race…funny how that happens when friends with similar abilities ride together. It was a blast, but not exactly a smart game plan for the Dragon Tale. Oh well, I wasn’t too concerned…Rob and I had agreed that because the race had no classes or age groups (just open men and open women) that it would be utterly laughable to even consider finishing near the front, let alone making the podium. This notion was further compounded by the cast of heavy hitters that usually attend this race. We also wanted to explore some nearby trails the next day, so we agreed to just use this race for training; ride together, have fun, and not worry about how well we finished. I even decided to bring my camera along to capture some of the incredible views from the spine of the Dragon.



Startt/Finish Area



Neutral lead out



The race began at 10am Sunday morning with a 5 mile neutral start; a group of about 125 riders was led through the streets of New Castle by vehicle escort. It was a perfect day for racing…sunny and 58, going up to the 70’s. Among the bad motherfuckers in attendance were none other than former National Marathon and Short Track Champions, Jeremiah Bishop, and Sue Haywood. Rob and I were somewhere near the middle of the field when the pack turned left towards the mountain, the lead car pulled off, and the real racing began. The front of the field tore off at and incredible pace down the rocky dirt road. It didn’t take long for the carnage to start, as several riders were stopped with flats in the first 2 miles. The road crisscrossed a large very creek at least 5 times…huge groups of racers were riding or running their bikes through the frigid, knee deep currents. I was able to ride all of them except one, when another rider slipped right in front of me.  For the next 7 miles, the dense field of riders slowly spread themselves out as the fire road snaked its way along the base of the ridge, over plenty of rolling, punchy climbs and descents. Rob and I were riding together and chatting about how so many people went off guns blazing like it was an XC race.

Climbing and more climbing

 At mile 11 we made the left turn onto the Grouse trail, a 3 mile switch backed singletrack that climbs 1400’ to the top of the ridge.  I dropped into my granny gear and spun my way up. At various points I’d accelerate, get a gap, and use the opportunity to pull out my camera and snap some images of the action or the incredible surroundings….not something I’ve ever really had the luxury to do during a race. Rob would catch back on and we’d continue the climb, most of it could be ridden, but there were several switchbacks that were just too steep to stay on the bike. As I pushed my bike around one of the nastier turns, I wondered aloud to Rob if Bishop was riding all of them cleanly…nah…not humanly possible!

The final turn at the top of Grouse Trail

When we finally crested the ridge, we turned right and rode a mile of rocky, technical ridge top singletrack with spectacular views of the valleys on either side. Next was a right turn onto the Deer Trail which plunged us back down towards the base of the ridge. It was a tiny bench-cut singletrack with more tight switch backs, some that could be ridden by slowly inching yourself around them, and others that were far too hairy to even attempt. The bottom half of Deer could really be bombed, and at the base I caught my breath and sat up, as Rob and a few other riders caught back on. We hung another right back onto the fire road and rolled our way back to the 1^st aid station, where we filled our bottles and grabbed some snacks. From there it was back up the massive grouse climb a second time, where again I rode ahead and took more pictures.



Rob navigates a tight switchback on the Grouse climb.



When we summited the second time, Rob asked me for some Endurolytes. I wasn’t cramping, but with this much climbing a little preventative medicine couldn’t hurt. While I was handing them out, Sue Haywood rolled up and we gave her some as well. She must have been having an off day…she should have been well in front of us.  The next section of the course was a beautiful yet punishing 10 miles of narrow, undulating, ridge top singletrack, with jagged rocks protruding from the ground (Dragon scales?). I was constantly jumping from my granny gear, straight to my big chainring and back again…From this point on the notion of taking it easy went out the window, as the trail demanded very hard efforts to clean the climbs and rock features. Some sections were just too steep and had to be walked…and at mile 27 we hit a massive wall that may have been the longest, most grueling hike-a-bike I’ve ever done. Again, more speculation between Rob and me as to whether the top guys could ride it…as my calves cried for mercy.

View from the Dragon's Back

After what seemed like an eternity, the trail finally shot us steeply down another hair-raising decent to the 2^nd aid station. Again we took our time..filling our bottles, and eating some gels etc before getting underway. The folks at the aid station told us there were 7 miles to go to the finish, and that the remaining trails were the best in the race. But as we soon learned, “best” is not synonymous with “easy”. Right away we were climbing…another narrow side-cut ribbon of trail that snaked it's was up Broad Run Mountain for 700 vertical feet.  Although it was only half the length, the fact that we already had 4 hours of racing in our legs made this climb seem even steeper and harder that Grouse. For our efforts, we were rewarded with the sweetest downhill of the day. Buff, and fast…with only a few switchbacks, this was the one where you could really let it rip. I can’t be sure but I may have been yelling woo-hooo! on my way down. At the bottom, it got rocky again and dipped through a couple stream crossings. The trail leveled out and I pulled over to wait for Rob. A minute passed, then another, then a third. When another rider came passed and 2 more minutes went by I started to worry. Then just as I was about to start hiking back up the mountain to investigate, Rob slowly rolled around the corner, his front wheel bent to the point where the tire was rubbing the inside of the fork. He told me he had crashed hard at high speed, with his wheel kissing a tree at the same time his hip kissed the ground. He was bruised and scratched but clearly in one piece, and eager to keep rolling. He’s a trooper!

Rob’s bike was ride able so we were off again. I really wanted to see if I still had some hard efforts left in my legs after all this climbing, so I accelerated and did hard tempo for the last couple miles of paved road. The legs still felt pretty good! I came through the finish feeling strong physically and great mentally..  Rob wobbled in 5 minutes later, with big grin on his face, happy to have survived the Dragon’s wrath. Not being in any kind of rush, we chilled out, consumed copious amounts of post race chili, and shared stories with our fellow racers. I learned later that I had finished 48^th out of 125…which was perfectly fine, given our plan to use this event for training, and enjoy the ride.  This is exactly the kind of event that reminds me why this is my chosen sport… an amazing course in a beautiful setting, that challenges you and provides a real sense of adventure…along with the knowledge that you’ve really accomplished something. Total elevation gain for the day was a whopping 7300 feet in in 37 miles....that's hardcore! I’ll be back next year for sure!



Tuscarora MTB Enduro (M.A.S.S. #1)

Sunday was the first race of my 2012 season, and the first time I'd officially be riding for my new team, Bicycle Tech Racing/VTC/Eleven Madison Park. With our team kits still being designed and manufactured by Panache in Boulder, CO, I donned some borrowed old school BTR threads from Rog and TJ (Rog's jersey smelled like body odor...thanks for that!) so I could represent the team. Little did I know that by the end of the first lap that the team name would no longer visible anyway, but more on that later.
Fellow racer Dave Caster and I drove down to Mechanicsburg, PA the night before the race and stayed in the obligatory cheap hotel. Like most competitive cyclists, I am certifiably obsessive about the weather, and I had been checking the forecast and Doppler radar every hour for the past week. It had been stunningly warm and sunny for the past 10 days, a pattern that would, of course, break just in time for the race.
When we arrived at the race site and took a quick warm-up on the first climb, it quickly became clear just how bad the conditions were going to be. The ground was saturated; every pedal stroke caused the back wheel to spin in the thick, slippery mud, even when seated. We didn't pre-ride any of the single track sections, but Castner posited that if the fire roads were this bad, then the single track was probably far worse.
At the start, I lined up with 25 other Masters racers, most of whom I didn't recognize from the pre-reg list, which left me with no idea who my main competition would be.
Promoter Zach Adams sent us off with the crack of his bullwhip (a nice touch), and I began grinding up the first fire road climb of the 6.6 mile loop. I had the holeshot, and was first going into the singletrack after coming down the other side. It took all of about 50 feet to realize just how right Dave had been; there were huge, hub-deep puddles the entire width of the trail that couldn't be avoided. My feet were soaked instantly....luckily it was just barely warm enough for it not to be an issue. As the trail turned upwards again, it became a muddy stream, strewn with roots and loose rocks. It was somehow mostly ride able...well, at least until it got too steep. There was a 100 yard stretch at the top that pointed skyward; it was tough just to walk it without my feet sliding out from under me. I was pushing my bike up this liquid ravine in a parade of Open Class class racers that I had caught, when my competition was revealed. Two Shirks riders in my class ran past me carrying their bikes, and I reluctantly began to run (if I wanted to run with my bike, I'd do cyclocross) to stay with them.
As the trail leveled out the conditions deteriorated even further; the mud was so greasy that I couldn't steer my bike...at best I had to use a combination of body English, gravity and luck to navigate the slop. Soon the trail turned downward and morphed in a series of giant slimy mud pits and puddles, with rocks and roots hiding in the murky waters. It was here that I actually felt the most comfortable, and I was able to slip past the two Shirks guys and regain the lead. The next climb was steep and greasy, but I was able to clean it without dabbing. It started on single track, then dumped us out on a fire road before continuing upwards to the summit. The Shirks  guys had caught me by then, and we rode together for the rest of the lap, which was mostly downhill on fire roads from that point to the finish.
As we started the climb for the second lap I started chatting with my new found rivals, bonding over the horrendous conditions. I introduced myself, and learned their names were Dave and Pete; they seemed like very cool guys. It was clear that they were both riding strongly and that I'd have to work hard to stay with them. By the time we reached the second big climb, the mud on my drive train had accumulated to the point where I could no longer use my granny gear (My Superfly still has a 9 speed triple) without getting chronic chain suck. With 900 feet of climbing per lap, this was not an uplifting development...as it looked like we would probably be doing 5 more of them.

For the next four laps, I stayed together with Pete and Dave, taking turns accelerating, and then backing off. They showed no signs of weakness. It became clear after a while that they were a bit quicker slogging up the Mud-Run, while I was a little faster on the technical downhills. Here I could get a small gap, but they would always close it down on the next climb, where I had to grind it out in my middle ring or walk. This was definitely going to be a close finish.

The course conditions got worse with every lap, and with rain now falling, it wasn't going to improve anytime soon. Things got interesting on lap 5...On the second big climb, the 4 previous laps of having to grind it out in my middle ring finally took its toll....both my quads started to cramp. I jumped off my bike and started pushing, and popped some Endurolyles while stretching out my quads. The Shirks closed down the gap I'd opened on the technical downhill, but my cramps released and I was able to jump back on the bike and stay with them. On the last single trackdownhill, Dave pulled off with a flat tire, and Pete kept going. Tough break! Race time was about 3:50 and it was clear that we'd have to go out for one last lap. By the time we came through the start / feed zone, I was struggling with glasses that were so caked with mud that I could no longer see, plus I needed water, and I really had to piss! I had no choice but to stop. Pete didn't. By the time I was rolling again,  he was barely visible up the climb. I was feeling ok, but not strong enough to reel him back in. Eventually I lost sight of him and just rode out the last lap at the best pace I could summon. I rolled through the finish to take second place. Pete earned the well deserved win, and Dave fixed his flat tire and was able to hold on for third.  We were the only Masters that made the cutoff and were able to go out for a 6th lap. I talked to both of them after the podiums and congratulated them on a great race. In conditions that miserable, they were very good company. If they show up at the rest of the M.A.S.S. endurance races, I'm definitely in for some tough competition this season! 

When I saw Dave Castner after the race, I learned that he had tweaked his knee in a race ending crash on the 2nnd lap. Another tough break, but thankfully he was not seriously hurt. As I was cleaning myself up, I realized there wasn't a single inch if my body that wasn't covered with mud. 3 days and 3 showers later I'm still finding flecks of dirt in my eyes. We dug into some great post race food, and relaxed a little before the long drive home. Despite the abysmal conditions, this was a well run race... with clear course markings, accurate timing, quick results, and really cool prizes and food. Kudos and thanks to Zach for that! I'm happy with my 2nd Place finish and I'm looking forward to the Dragon’s Tale in VA this weekend.

See you on the trails,

-G

Pete, Dave and I on the Podium with beer and hatchets

Spots!!!....

...I see spots!!!

New year, new team, new goals.

For the past two years I have been of racing mountain bikes for the Trek/Gary Fisher 29er Crew. In 2012, Trek decided to change it's marketing tactics and the Crew was disbanded. Racing for the Crew was a privilege, but because it was a (inter) national team, with only two or so members from each state, I never really got to train and ride with my team mates. Fortunately, most of my frequent riding and training partners were riding semi-officially for VTC (our goofy made up team) and a great shop called Bicycle Tech in Lincoln Park, NJ. My good friend and training cohort Walker had the idea to take the team to whole new lever this year; he got some great new sponsors on board, including Catbridge Machinery, Jackson Private Tutoring, Singletrack Audio, Jackson Private Tutoring and Eleven Madison Park, one of NYC's (and therefor the world's)  finest restaurants.
In addition to Walker Jackson and Roger Foco, the Bicycle Tech Racing / VTC / Eleven Madison Park team roster has been expanded significantly with the addition of  Kris Brokaert (formerly of Salsaspurters), Daniel Humm (formerly of  the Swiss Junior National Team), Bill Christman (formerly of MTBNJ) , local legend Mike Montalbano (formerly of Dark Horse Cycles) and myself. The team's main objective is to have fun, but with such a strong cadre of riders, expectations of victory are pretty high.
My personal goal this year  is to win the Masters Endurance class in the Mid Atlantic Super Series. It's not an easy one, as there is some very stiff competition in that series, but I feel that if I train hard and recover intelligently, I have a pretty good chance. I'll also be seeking out some other choice endurance races for fun and adventure like the mountainous epic Dragon's Tale in the Shenandoah's and the rocky Bearscat 50, right here in my backyard of North Jersey. Who knows...I may even throw in a couple of shorter XC races to gain some speed, and maybe even a multi-day stage race in the fall, just for kicks.
This blog will be my new home for my ramblings on the races, and any other random crap the floats through my head. So tune in when you can, and get out and ride... and be sure to say hello when you see the black, red and white of Team BTR/VTC/EMP out on the trails.