The Pain Cave

After two good races in Southern Utah, the next ICup race for me ended up being over a month and a half later (I spent two weeks in Europe with The Wife for her college graduation present during the Five Mile Pass Race, and surprise surprise, I got sick the weekend of the 'Sundance' race (held at Soldier Hollow)). I just used parenthesis within parenthesis. Is that taboo?

Though the week leading up to the Soldier Hollow race was absolutely NOTHING but rain, I was still hoping that the race would occur. Sure enough, Ed Chauner (race organizer) used his magic tweets to convince me the course would be dry enough and the race was on.

My rear tire is completely spinning out in mud / water. Yeah, the course conditions were FANTASTIC!

Having spent two weeks in Europe eating too much bread, cheese, fatty sausages, and chocolate, not to mention not getting in too many bike rides, I wasn't feeling too optimistic for this race. Regardless, I'd show up and give it my best.

I reviewed last year's times for the expert class and the winners came in ~1 hour 30 minutes. I'd forgotten, though, that Ed shortened the course last year due to--wait for it--rain. So my expectations for race duration were seriously screwed up. Total race time ended up being ~2 hours 10 minutes.

I have participated in the Soldier Hollow weekly race series many times, so I know the course fairly well, but I never expected the Pain Cave to hit me as hard as it did on this race. We took off from the start (Expert men 19 - 29) and began cranking it on the pavement before the first singletrack. A Kuhl racer got ahead of me and was the first to enter the singletrack, I was the 2nd. I figured I could stick on his wheel for the first little while then try to pass him, but as it turned out, the distance between the two of us kept increasing. The Lindt factory chocolates in Switzerland had gotten to me and I was now slow again!

Trying to catch up to the Kuhl rider early on

The Kuhl racer continued to gap me as we did the initial climbs and descents right around the Soldier Hollow complex, but as we hit the long switchbacks heading up to the top of the loop, I noticed I was making ground on him. Eventually, we got to a short pitch where he spun out in the mud and I was able to pass him. As I passed he said, "Dude, you rock," or something like that. My only response was, "You.reamsdimaldf." I meant to say, "You're an animal." I was red lining it too much to provide a coherent response.

Later on in the race, making the downhill turns in style

My feeble attempt to jump the little stream going across the trail (I made it I think)

Needless to say, that was the last time I saw anyone from my category for the rest of the race. As the race continued and the Pain Cave became more Painful, I'd pretty much passed every Expert 30 - 39 (they started before us) by the end of the 2nd lap. I don't know if it was the mud, the race duration expectations, or the 'interval-esque' type course, but that race immediately threw me in the Pain Cave and kept me there the entire time. Even though I usually finish stronger than I start, I really had to dig deep to keep my pace up for the last lap of that race.

The Pain Cave

Near the end, I found that I'd gotten within 15 seconds of the last Pro rider, so that made me happy that I'd caught up to the tail end of the Pros (I never ended up passing him as he started his final 1/2 lap).

Ultimately, the race ended quite positively for me. I took first place out of all expert men by about 2 - 3 minutes, so I'm feeling that I'll probably do one more expert race at Draper, then move up to Pro so I can get my butt kicked week in, week out. Sounds like fun, eh?

A MUCH more reasonable length of post, was it not?

Carrots

Long gone were the glorious moments of victory I held in the Desert Rampage ICUP race held about a month ago. I had accomplished what I'd set out to do throughout the winter--beat myself down hard enough on the trainer to start the season off strong. It had paid off, but now came challenge #2--Cholla Challenge, that is.

The second ICUP race of the season--Cholla Challenge--was down in Hurricane, UT (read: Hurr-i-CUN, yeah, I know, it's weird). Since the weather up here in Northern Utah has only been so-so, I was very excited to get back down to the warmth of the St. George area. I had kept a fairly strong training regimen to prepare for race #2 of the season. The only thing that saved me during those crappy-weather days in which I had to ride the trainer were the NCAA basketball tournament games. I'm not a huge sports buff, but while watching college basketball, I can just zone out and ride for a couple hours.

I had pretty moderate expectations entering this next race. I wasn't anticipating a victory or anything, but I wanted to have a good showing. I got down to Hurricane on Friday evening to do a quick pre-ride of the course and found it to have short downhills, not a lot of climbing, and plenty of rocks to roll over on the flats. The course essentially played to my weaknesses (especially on the rocky flats since I'm still sporting a 26" bike--the horror!). Regardless, I completed a lap of the course at an easy pace and told myself, "Do what you can chucklehead, cause you're going to get your butt kicked tomorrow." Oh, did I mention race-time temperatures were expected to be ~80 degrees with wind gusts 10 - 20 MPH++? Should be fun.

Woke up the next morning in Virgin, UT (where I was staying), downed some oatmeal with The Wife's homemade peach jam, packed up my stuff and headed to the course. I arrived early enough to have plenty of time to not only warm up, but also warm up again. And again. And again. One benefit, though, of arriving too early is that I didn't have a long wait in line to make my pre-race deposit in the porta-potties (and there was still TP available).

Unlike the Desert Rampage, the expert men 19 - 29 started 3rd (Pros went first, then expert men 30 - 39). Now comes the clarification point as to why this post is titled 'Carrots.' Starting AFTER the expert men 30 - 39 was actually a very strong motivating factor to race hard and catch fellow racers up ahead. Essentially, I had a pack of 'carrots' (my driving factor / incentive) that I was working to catch / pass the entire race. I think that it actually translates into a faster race time.

Lining up at the start, it looked as though there would be nine of us in the exp. 19 - 29 category (one more than in St. George, even though only four finished that race). A few familiar faces from the last race, but a couple of 'Cole Sports' jerseys stood out--one guy had long, scraggly enough hair and a couple days of facial hair growth to come off as intimidating; and since I am generally a wimp, I knew I'd be in for a big beat down.

5-4-3-2-1. Go! We were off. Sure enough, the two teammates from Cole Sports jumped out quickly ahead in the initial shakeout. I've been working on starting a bit faster so as to not lose the lead group, and I did a good job of trailing these two guys for the first minute or so. Once we got to a moderately long stretch of double track, I felt the pace was light enough that I could pull out in front, so I quickly passed one of the guys, then caught up to and passed the other (scraggly hair dude). Out in front now, I was leading the pace for our group and found out rather quickly that the predicted wind gusts were very strong. Needless to say, the guys who I just passed took the opportunity to draft off me for the next little bit until we hit the technical slickrock section of the course.

An aside: I love mountain bike racing for many reasons, one of which is the fact that it's generally you vs. the mountain. You don't sit in a peloton letting everyone else do the work and then sprint at the last minute to claim victory. In mountain bike racing, victory is achieved nearly 100% through your own merits. Thus, I hate drafting--getting a free ride while someone else pulls.

Me, leading the pack of expert men 19 - 29 on the slickrock--look at scraggly hair guy! He's gonna kill me if he catches me!

Kudos to scraggly hair guy though, cause he stuck on my wheel like glue through the windy doubletrack, the slickrock section, and for about the next ~5 minutes, there he was, keepin' up. At one point, we were about to enter a section of singletrack and the fastest riders of the expert 19 - 29 group were already catching up to and passing some of the expert 30 - 39 men. I saw a fellow UMB rider whom I was about to pass, so as I passed him and jumped onto the singletrack I quietly mentioned "block this guy behind me." If scraggly hair guy was gonna draft, I was gonna use a teammate to hopefully slow him down on a section of singletrack that required much more effort to get a pass in. Apparently it didn't work though, because he also zipped by the UMB teammate and kept on my wheel for the next bit. So much for my attempts at strategy. Looks like my legs and lungs are going to have to carry the day.

Look at the face I'm making. Sometimes I amaze myself at how much of a doofus I am.

It gets even better! Now I'm sticking my tongue out the side of my mouth. Why do I even try to pretend I'm normal...

The next 10 minutes or so of the first lap included a lot of suffering as the racers were pushing it hard to hold position, and in my case, continuing to see those 'carrots' up ahead and keep on passing them. I also began to notice that scraggly hair guy wasn't right on my wheel anymore. I was beginning to gap him and that made me very happy.

At one point, I passed two expert 30 - 39 racers on a section of sandy singletrack, only to have them blast by me once we hit some doubletrack. I was amazed--I felt like I wasn't even moving with how quickly they shot past me. Well, they must have really been red lining it because I actually caught and passed both of them within the next few minutes.

Lap one finished with one expert 30 - 39 guy on my wheel. As we entered the stretch of windy doubletrack on lap two with him still following closely, I jokingly shouted back to him, "Next lap, you pull!" He responded, "Don't worry, you'll drop me on the slickrock up ahead." He was good at prognosticating--I didn't see him again after that.

Midway through lap two, I downed a Gu (Vanilla Bean is the only edible flavor during a race) and kept my race pace up fairly high. In addition to downing the Gu, I found myself munching on carrot after carrot as I continued to catch / pass riders in the 30 - 39 category. I've found that during rides / races, I really get my 'motor' running at a good pace at the 45 min - 1 hour mark. This point came midway through lap two and I just kept pushing it. The temperatures were high, the wind was fairly brutal at times, but I had hit my cadence and I was just cranking it.

Here's the money shot that makes up for how stupid I look in the other pictures: shooting around a turn, cloud of dust in my wake--I'm cruisin', and looking good doing it (ok, ok, looking ok doing it)

By lap three, I had a couple more leaders of the exp. men 30 - 39 group passed, and I'd figured that I had gapped them all 1/2 way through the lap. As I neared the finish line, I cranked it up the last hill and sped across the line. As I rode back to check on my time / pull tag, I noticed that one 30 - 39 racer had come in ~20 seconds before me. But due to the fact that he started a minute before me, my overall time was 40 seconds faster than him. (Though I was told he wasn't pushing it very hard on the first lap and just sped away at lap two. Thus, he probably could have gotten a faster time. But he didn't, so I'll relish in this.) I'd gotten first out of all expert men. Last race, I took fifth overall. All of those nights of riding the trainer / Lambert Park are still paying dividends!

Don't know what my next steps are. I plan on keeping the training regimen up and doing my best, but The Wife and I have a two week trip to Europe planned at the end of April, so I'm hoping I don't lose too much fitness out there (I plan on riding as much as I can--Tour of Tuscany, around Lake Zurich, etc.).

Also, for the first time while riding my bike, I enjoyed a head wind. With the temperatures so hot, when we had a tail wind, it felt as if the air were standing still, so the heat became almost overwhelming. The headwind was cooling and nice. Now, I'll never state that I enjoy a headwind again.

Are these posts getting longer? I need to find a way to shorten them.

Mt. Ogden 100K

I don't know what drives me to keep waking up at insane hours on Saturday mornings. Last week was a 50 mile, 8500 ft elevation ride (woke up at 4:00 AM), and yesterday was 3:45 AM to prepare / travel to Snowbasin Resort for the Mt. Ogden 100K bike race. Sadly, the pain associated with waking up early was only the beginning for me as I finally experienced my first endurance bike race.

Since I have been doing plenty of riding this season and did the RAT King last week (Ride Around Timpanogos--the King suffix is there to simply stroke my ego--I make the RAT a lariat loop by starting at my house, riding to / from the trail head and adding Grove Creek to it), I was feeling very confident in my abilities to knock out the Mt. Ogden 100K. The course is two 50K laps with approximately 5000 feet of climbing per lap. Having ridden part of the course several weeks ago at the Intermountain Cup Race at Snowbasin, I knew the type of riding to expect--very rocky, not too steep, but very fun. I was psyched.

Aside from narrowly missing running over a skunk on the drive up Ogden Canyon, the trip to Snowbasin was rather uneventful. The Wife and I rolled into the Snowbasin parking lot at 5:30 AM and everything was still completely dark with few cars in the parking lot. I was a bit surprised as registration was supposed to end at 6:15 with the race starting at 7:00. Oh well--early bird means no lines. Yes, no lines, but because I'm a doofus, I originally registered at the volunteer table before realizing my error. Oops.

After completing a few pre-race preparations (namely, taking four dumps in the glorious Snowbasin private bathrooms--don't be grossed out, EVERY racer does this) I checked my tire PSI to make sure it was just where I wanted it--it was a little high, so I let some out. I let too much out. No worries, I'll just pump it back up to the 27 PSI I wanted. I got out my pump, and the presta adapter was broken. Wonderful. Thankfully, I bummed a pump off a fellow rider, but over inflated my tires. Over inflating my tires alone equated to a LOT of pain during the 2nd lap. More on this later.

I dawdled after the pre-race meeting so I just barely made it to the starting line as the Pros took off. Thirty seconds later, my group took off with the resounding 'boom' from the shotgun.

Race conditions were practically perfect. It had rained the night before so the trail was very buff / tacky with practically no dust. The lower section of the first lap was a bit muddy, but had dried nicely by lap #2. It was generally cloudy with a nice breeze throughout the first lap of the race, so the weather definitely cooperated for the start. I got into my cadence quickly, and I was passing several riders very early in the race. I made a mental note to pace myself as I knew this wasn't going to be a 1-2 hour ride--6+ hours pushing it would definitely kill me. After the initial shakeout, we were greeted with some quick downhill, after which the real climb began. This climb was actually quite nice, and I continued to keep a good pace--passing all but 6-8 non-Pro men. It was at this point where I made my one wrong turn of the day that cost me ~1 minute. Ironically, the fellow racer who followed me was the same guy with whom I crossed the finish line at the end. Did I use ironically correctly? Was that even ironic? I don't want to say something is ironic when it isn't. People tend to do that (I'm apparently one of them). Update: it wasn't ironic. It was coincidental. Kudos to The Wife for pointing that out.

After getting back on the main course, I continued my climb up into the nether regions of the Snowbasin resort where the wind grew strong, the trees grew scarce, and the course became ever more rocky. No worries though--I was still fresh, eating / drinking calories at good intervals and I felt good. An aside: do NOT eat peanut butter sandwich crackers on an endurance (or ANY) ride. I ended up chewing half of the plastic wrapper as I was trying to get them out, and because the crackers are so dry, with every breath I would wheeze out half of the remaining crackers in my mouth. Oh, don't eat Chocolate Brownie Clif Bars either, those are gross too. Free advice.

When I reached the top I knew I had several guys ahead of me in my category who I wanted to catch in the downhill section of lap #1. As I began the descent, I quickly passed a singlespeed rider who was very gracious and let me pass (more on him later). I felt very good on the downhill, which seemed to last forever, but I never caught the wheel of any of the riders ahead of me. I was a bit surprised as I am pretty good on the downhill sections and figured I could make up some time. Oh well. I was down at the bottom of Art Nord?!? (I don't know the course names well) and had some climbing to do to get back up to the starting line. This climb wasn't too bad, and I kept a pretty good clip to get up to the starting line / feed zone. I rolled in to the feed zone where The Wife was cheering me on as I briefly breezed past her to refill my bottles.

After a quick refill, I headed over to The Wife to send the remaining peanut butter crackers in my jersey back from whence they came and to get a banana / Clif Bar for the 2nd lap. The first words out of her mouth were "You have a massive booger hanging out of your nose." And that I did. When I ride hard, I generally don't care too much about my physical appearance--very frequently I have snot running down my nose, drool coming out of my mouth, and my teeth are covered with dirt. No biggie--I'm a hard core rider. But this dangling modifier out of my big nose was definitely embarrassing. But no time to worry about that! I had just noticed two of the racers with whom I had been jockeying for position on the uphill roll into the feed zone. I gotta split! (I didn't even say good bye to The Wife or anything I found out later. Oops.)

With temperatures rising as the sun came out, I wanted to get through lap #2 as quickly as possible. Sadly, I was beginning to feel the effects of riding 3+ hours already. The second climb up to the top of Snowbasin was definitely not as fun as the first. My body was aching, I could feel fatigue setting in, and the two guys who had caught up to me at the feed zone were on my tail. Drat.

For the next hour+ I exchanged positions with a few different riders as we each had our own moments of energy during the brutal climb. As we neared the top, I had re-overtaken 'American Flag Jersey Guy' but 'Autoliv Guy' (who seemed to come out of nowhere) passed me quite easily. Oh, and that singlespeed guy from earlier? He was happy to jump on my wheel for the remaining climb as he knew I'd pass him again on the downhill.

At the top, I had the first jump on the downhill as 'Autoliv' guy seemed to be dropping his seat post down for the long descent (probably was a good idea). It didn't take long for me to realize I was in serious pain, however. I had tightened my Sidis a bit TOO tightly at the get-go and the extended downhill was wreaking havoc on the outside of my soles. Over inflating my tires also came into effect here as I felt every little bump and rock on the trail (so much for a full suspension bike, bah). Downhill #2 was the most agonizing part of the race. Trails I would normally bomb down I had to gingerly maneuver my way through. 'Autoliv Guy' passed me easily. I had to frequently unclip from my pedals to try to stretch out my feet so as to alleviate the pain. Chock this up to an inexperienced racer.

At LAST, I had made it to the water station near the bottom of the downhill in which my foot pain could be numbed down by my general fatigue as I began the long climb back up to the finish. The day had finally become warm enough to become uncomfortable and this section of the trail doesn't have very much coverage, so I was hot, tired, and very achy, especially with each pedal stroke. Lo and behold, 'American Flag Jersey Guy' passes me as I am slowly making my way up the trail. His pace isn't much faster than mine, but enough to make me realize how slow I am going. Then comes the singlespeeder--he cruises past me on the trail like I'm not even moving. Definite kudos to him for doing the ride and having that much energy at the end. As I reached the pavement for the last ~2 miles back to the finish, the only thought in my mind was, "I don't care what my time is, I just want to finish. This is terrible." I look behind me and recognize 'Orange Jersey Guy' (he's the one who followed me on the wrong trail) closing the gap between us. I don't care. Let him beat me!

As it turns out, he catches up to me and we just hold the same consistent pace for the last little bit, chatting as we make that last push to the finish. I really like 'Orange Jersey Guy.' He mentions before we get to the finish line that we will likely make it under 6 hours. I really don't care at that point, but that seemed nice. As we rolled in to the finish line, we see the official time: 6:01:xx. Drat--we didn't make it under six hours, but hey, I survived, and that is what mattered.

I got my finisher's glass, ate a few orange slices, and walked gingerly to my cheering wife. I was done. Thank Jeebus, Buddha, the Flying Spaghetti Monster, and all other omnipotent beings for that.

Overall, I had a great time, learned a lot, and will definitely be doing more endurance races in the future, but I am glad that my trial-by-fire 'Ogden 100K' bike race is now in the archives.

6:01:43 finish time and 7th place out of all open men isn't bad either.

Don't be fooled by the smile, I was in serious pain.