Brute Force and Ignorance
A Clydesdale’s View
By Edward L. Ewert
I’m about one third of the way through a nine mile race, and questioning the sanity of my new obsession. A new type of tunnel vision I’ve never experienced before envelopes me as my heart pounds and my mouth goes dry. I’ve managed to get to the front of the pack, and keep most of them behind me for a couple of miles.  Rookie mistake, my exuberance quickly fades as I am picked off by a few competitors in the other classes. No 40’s (Clydesdale 35+) yet, so I relax slightly to get my heart back on speaking terms and try to get into a sustainable pace. Wrong! My competitors are right on my heels and one passes me like I’m going backwards. He goes on to win again with the second fastest time of all beginners.
I went in a bit confident that I could win this race as my times in practice were two minutes faster than his last year. Only one problem, his time was about nine minutes faster! Ok, I will never see him again today, so it’s second place then. Wrong again. I go back and forth with another competitor a few times until he passes me for good on a difficult hill. I keep him in sight for awhile then I realize it’s no use. My goal at this point was just to finish. I’m feeling pretty taxed, and two difficult climbs are still ahead. Man, this hurts. I thought I was prepared. My training rides are always at least double this distance and elevation gain, and I ran the course many times in the weeks leading up to the event. Racing is different.
I’ve trained hard for about five months leading up to this, but it couldn’t prepare me for the real thing. For about two weeks leading up to the race I often laid awake at night obsessing about it. I was told by other team members to just have fun, "... reason; I didn’t make it overly easy on myself as I got the incurable (for me) single speed bug, and decided to muscle through geared classes on a fully rigid steel behemoth." |
and have finishing as a goal this first time. No way was that going to fly with me. Racing is about winning. Maybe it means standing on the podium, or lowering your time, but it is competition after all, and I wanted to do well. Not at all costs, or at the expense of reason, but well nonetheless. Regarding reason; I didn’t make it overly easy on myself as I got the incurable (for me) single speed bug, and decided to muscle through geared classes on a fully rigid steel behemoth. To the chagrin of another teammate who quipped, “So you are going to ride a single speed in your first race against geared competition?” to which I said “it will make it that much more satisfying if I do well.” His tone was subtle, but I could swear there was a hint of fatherly caution/concern/ridicule in his voice. I read somewhere (I think fatcyclist.com) that you’re not allowed to complain, or point out how you picked a difficult/stupid way of doing something when it was your choice. Besides, I rode geared bikes before and it hurt just as bad, but in a different way, so I never viewed it as a disadvantage.
The Bonelli stream crossing has presented no problems for me in practice, but once again racing proves different. I take the worst line possible right into the hole. If I hadn’t been riding a 29er it surely would have been the opportunity the photographer was waiting for. Fortunately, I in-elegantly | "I am sure they heard me breathing though, an asthmatic Darth Vader searching vainly for a misplaced inhaler. " |
bashed my way through without incident and for the next few miles I had the course largely to myself. Occasionally, a pro would pass by without even breathing. I even passed a few people in classes that had an earlier start time. I am sure they heard me breathing though, an asthmatic Darth Vader searching vainly for a misplaced inhaler. By now I was at the foot of the last and most difficult climb. I had made this climb several times in practice without walking any portion, but not today. I picked a bad line and the rear tire slipped forcing me to get off and push for a short stretch. Finally, I reach the top and enjoy a nice downhill to the finish area. I was euphoric to be nearly done. At this point I couldn’t imagine doing additional laps like the more advanced classes. After a couple of curb hops and a grassy runway it was over. I thought I might have finished third, but wasn’t sure. Someone else might have passed me in the confusion of the start. I pulled up to the finish area were my wife excitedly told me I had a podium position. After experiencing my first real race, I was very pleased to have a third place finish. The competition was much faster than I had anticipated, and I was lucky to place so well. All and all it was humbling. Mountain bike training and racing is the most physically demanding undertaking I have ever experienced, and I know much hard work is ahead if there is to be any chance of visiting the podium again
| "I pulled up to the finish area were my wife excitedly told me I had a podium position." |
Being part of the Coates team is an incredible privilege. I am indebted to fellow team members, Mark Sheetz for all his patience and inspiration out on the trails, and Paul Amodie who has been a great ride partner. I look forward to the camaraderie we will share throughout the season and beyond.
|
| Lap by Lap The Old Fart's View
By Mark Scheetz
Sunday was a perfect day for the race with sunny skies and mild temperatures. Arriving early to set up the team pit we were amazed at the numbers of people already there. I was feeling great and very excited about the race and spending the day with our new team. Dad and Lamoyne were on hand for support along with team coach Jon Tanklage who helped with rider start times and the feed zone.
Eight from our team would be racing today. We have several others who are beginners and didn’t feel they  were ready to race yet. This was Jeanne’s first XC race of this caliber. She and some of the others were sharing how nervous they were. I almost forgot what it’s like to race for the first time; I sure don’t miss those “butterflies in the stomach”.
Lap 1
I was so ready for battle by go time. The sprint up the first hill was frantic and I quickly red-lined my heart rate. I couldn’t see who was in my class with all the dust on the first short descent. On the second climb we hit some hard packed dirt and, looking ahead, I could see a couple of Single Speeds in the pack. I couldn’t do anything about it anyway with my heart rate at 178.
After a couple of more hill climbs I started to back off a bit to recover from the start. Then I caught up to Coley King who was obviously riding strong. By the end of last season Coley was one of the strongest Expert Single Speeders. So off I went trying to drop him and hitting my red-line again. I did manage to put a little distance on Coley but I knew I would have to back down if I wanted to finish this thing. It was too early in the game to be making big moves.
After a long flat section the course winds up a very steep, loose hill called the “corkscrew”. Looking down I could see Coley in pursuit, climbing very fast. It didn’t take him long before he was on my wheel. At this point I decided that if he got pass me, I would let him lead and I would try to stay with him and make a move later if I had it in me. We were only on our first lap and I was over cooking it.
On the final climb Coley passed me along with another Single Speeder, Ed Dinger. Where was he hiding this whole time? I think these guys know a little more about good race strategy then me. While I’m about to blowup they’re just patiently waiting to make their move. Ed is a very strong racer and when he shows up for a race, he usually takes the win.
Lap 2
I was concentrating so hard on my race strategy that I didn’t even acknowledged the absolutely perfect bottle handoff from Dad. That’s the way it should be. All the handoffs went so smooth that it didn’t distract me one bit from the racing. Jon Tanklage was also at the feed station with encouraging words for motivation.
Over the next few hills I just hung back behind Coley and Ed hoping to stay with them and recover enough to pass them later. Then I screwed up. On a short steep, out of saddle climb, I pushed real hard and the back tire suddenly broke loose sending my knee into the stem. It didn't hurt the knee structure but it bruised the large muscle towards the inside of the knee. I don’t know what it’s called but I sure found out how it’s used. I could no longer use that leg out of the saddle, which is a big problem on a Single Speed.
I was hoping for some good recovery on the following long flat section. It did help, but once I hit the corkscrew the pain and lapped riders forced me to hike up it. By this time I lost sight of Coley and Ed.
I passed Jeanne here and she was looking good. Most of the beginners were walking their bikes up the hill. But not Jeanne, she was running! What an animal.
On the final big climb I began to cramp up on the other leg from compensating for the injured leg.
Lap 3
By the time I started my third lap I was in survival mode. I constantly adjusted my riding position to avoid cramping pain. After a while I stopped trying to compensate for the injured leg and just pushed right on through the pain. It worked ok, my pedaling became more balanced and the cramping was going away. It hurt like hell, but it wasn’t as bad as the cramping.
Just before the corkscrew I passed up Ed Dinger sitting there with a flat. At this point I thought I was in 2nd place. This time I rode up the corkscrew and kept up a fairly decent pace to the finish. In fact by the time I crossed the finish line, only the injured muscle was bothering me. I had recovered fairly well.
Results
It turns out I ended up in 3rd place with a time of 2:11:50. A guy named Michael Kent kicked our butts at 2:03:14. He would have place 2nd in the Pro Single Speed class. I was very humbled by Michael, Coley and Ed. These guys are amazing athletes and are going to be very tough competition this year. |
|