Yesterday was third day since the W101 and I went for a little ride with few friends. It was supposed to be an easy ride, but it really turned into quite a social ride. We stopped alot, chatted for long bits with friends we met on the trails...
But we still got in some good hard hill sprints and some stretches of nice singletrack. It felt good to be on the bike. And unlike my attempt to do an easy spin on Monday, the legs actually felt really good.
I did notice an interesting phenomenon, same thing I recall happening last year after SM100 for few days. The legs feel almost twice as strong as before the race but can produce that power for half as long.
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Monday, July 28, 2008
Two down, one to go...
So this weekend was my first Wilderness 101 in State College, PA and second time riding in State College...
Holly crap, rocks...
The weather was perfect, warm, but not hot, and cloudy. Anything hotter or sunnier with that much road would've been just brutal.
I traveled to this one again with my buddy Max with a plan to ride it together, giving each other moral support and to kill the monotony or riding the bike alone for 12 hours. It worked great last year at Shenandoah, but no so much at Mohican this year.
Right before the start, we got separated with a last second pre-start pit stop. But I positioned myself close to the front, knowing that at some point in the first couple of miles Max will be passing me and we'd regroup. It worked like a charm. He caught up to me on the first climb maybe a mile or two into the race. From then on we stayed together.
The first split flew by in no time. It was a short, 16 miles stage completely on paved and gravel roads. On the climbs we spun steadily, being happy for our decision to gear down for this race, unlike Mohican, on the flats we grumbled for the low gear, and on the downhills, Max wooped my behind using his weight advantage to do so. I tried to tuck in his draft and that way I could stay on his wheel coasting downhill, but my face was getting pelted by the gravel and I had to let him go, to catch up later when the road level off.
At the aid station #1, we quickly topped off camelbaks, downed few endurolite pills and were off to the first short section of single track. The second split had some little bit of singletrack, but again was mostly gravel, paved and fire roads. So we were very surprised when we suddenly got to the station #2 at 40 miles. Wow, that was one FAST 26 miles. At that point we felt good, and thought we were setting great pace for ourselves. I don't think we had gotten off the bikes to walk anything at that point, which was a great sign. Usually, in these 100-milers, we end up walking way more hills that we normally would on other rides, to save some energy for later in the race. Were we in for a rude awakening and surprise.
After refilling at station #2, we rolled on feeling pretty good. Unfortunately that did not last... The third split had the biggest and nastiest climbs. Some most brutal rocky punishing downhills... Right out of the station #2 it went from 1,000 to 2,100 in about 4 miles, then straight down back to 1,000 in about 2 miles, and back up from 1,000 to 2,400 in another 4 miles. First half of that climb, about 2 miles from 1,000 to 1,500 was not too bad, as it undulated between short steep and then more shallow sections. But the last 2 miles were straight up from 1,500 to 2,400 in 2 miles. That was a LONG hike for us. Not only it was extremely fatiguing, it was also demoralizing. When we finally got to the #3 at 60 miles it felt like the LONGEST 20 miles in my MTB riding experience, ever!
We got to #3 at 1:30, still not a bad pace, 6:30 for 60 miles. Considering the amount of walking we just did, not too bad. Slightly longer stop at #3 to fill up, down a cold coke, more endurolites, and off we went again. Right out of the #3 it went up again. So up a steep dirt trail we walked again. That was starting to get old and really depressing. When would it finally end. I recognised the trail we were on at that point. This section was the same trail as the course of Stoopid 50. And that was the section where I broke my frame last year and had to walk out to the road, so I knew it wasn't too long. We traded positions with few geared guys, when it would level off we would pass them, then it would point up and we would slow down or walk and they would catch up. Got out to the road finally and continued climbing to complete the third long accent from 1,000 at #3 to the last tall summit of the course at 2,400. After that it pointed down again, still on some trails of the Stoopid 50 course, this time in opposite direction, and after descending harrowing section (hike a bike in Stoopd 50, for those who know that course) it somewhat leveled off and then undulated with a bit of singletrack, all super rocky and punishing. Max started hading cramping problems at that point. I, on the other hand, by some magic, emerged from my mental fog and near bonking fatigue to suddenly find my legs again, and able to spin faster on the flat sections and even up the gravel climbs! After a little bit we briefly separated when Max walked for a little bit to recover from cramping, and I kept pedaling at moderate pace to keep the legs moving. I came across a lady on the side of the trail, who said she was cramping badly and to my question if she had any enduralites, she said, no. I stopped to share some of mine, and Max caught up to me again. We started rolling again together, but I slowly motored away again. I felt bad, but was afraid to slow down and loose the "good feeling", so I just kept moving, figuring he'd catch up to me on one of the downhills or at station #4. The second half of the split between #3 and #4 had probably nicest singletrack of the course, not to say it was great, but it was good, much better than rocky punishing downhills or gravel roads.
#4 was supposed to be only 14 miles from #3, and sure enough it appeared very soon. Nicely located under a bridge in a shade. I took my time refilling, taking on more endurolites, few hits of hammer gel. Asked for time, it was 3:20. Ok, not too bad, 8:20 for 74 miles. I kept looking back at the road but did not see Max. So in the spirit of our pre-race agreement, that if one of us would "feel the legs" he should go ahead to try to make it a decent time, and thinking that I only had 26 miles to go with 3:40 to be under 12 hours, I figured I should head out, which I did. After the finish Max and I compared times and at that point he was full 25 minutes behind.
Once again, straight out of the station it went up a steep hill. It was pretty steep and to my surprise I was able to climb the grade without much pain. But I didn't know how long the hill would last for. And at some point where it was straight, I got a glimpse of it continuing much further up than I could see and I realized that I wouldn't be able to stay on the bike to the summit, and there was no reason to blow up with so little to go. So another hike a bike took place. However, after that it turned into a mix of forest roads and singletrack, with shorter not too steep climbs, and short downhills and undulating trails. I was trading positions with a whole bunch of fully suspended gearies again. The #5 was supposed to be only 15 miles away. But it felt like longest 15 miles. One rocky trail was replaced by another, one rutted out rocky fire road by another. My hands and arms were getting pretty beat up by that point and I just wanted to see the #5 with only 12 miles to the finish. Somewhere half way between #4 and #5, my Perpeteum bottle decided to leave me, and from that point on I had no "fuel" so I continued on solely on HEED and Hammer gel. Which might've been good. Cos my stomach seemed to protest against having to digest Perpeteum for some reason.
There was some really sketchy super narrow and super rocky goat path type of the downhill. I took it fairly slowly, picking my line, making sure I did not tumble down the side, because it would've been a very very long and very very painful way down. I kept thinking about the top 5-10 guys really racing for time and position, having to FLY down that hill and taking real big risks. It scared me to just think about it... Then it leveled off, but didn't get any less rocky. I saw a guy on cross bike that we have been seeing on the course throughout the day, and I couldn't help but be impressed with him. Then the trail popped out on a gravel road and he was gone fro my site. Then there was another long flat fire road that seemed like it would never end, bu finally aid station appeared. And I heard someone call out my name. That was Nate, one of our local Philly riding buddies. He seemed pretty beat, and dejected. I got my camelbak re-filled, downed few endurolites, another swig of the gel, asked what the rest of the course was like, got "about 4-5 miles of flat rail trail, then a 3 mile climb, maybe 2.5, not too steep but definitely at the wrong time in the race, and then another 4-5 miles of flat rail trail with just a tad of fisherman trail and singletrack". That didn't sound bad, and I a chance to pass a local rider gave me a boost and I was off again.
After #5 there is only 12 miles left, so I threw everything at it without caution. The flat rail trail was painful, as it was hard to sustain stead high cadence spin at that point, and most not even because of the fatigue in the legs, but more of mental fatigue of the monotony of it. I wished for some false flats to give my some resistance on the pedals and make it easier to pedal. Does that make any sense?!?!? 90 miles in and I was wishing for harder resistance to make it easier?!?! Yeah, those 100-milers will mess with your head. But then the resistance came, that 2.5 mile climb! At this point it was all or nothing, hell with the caution and I was climbing, standing up, spinning hard sitting down, everything, but no walking!!! Passed several gearies crawling in granny gear or walking. Got to the top, and bombed down the straight super bumping fire road. I did not feel my hands or arms, I was taking chances. I did not care, I was close!!! At the bottom it made a sharp turn and dumped me into that fisherman trail. Holy crap!!! A fully suspended gearie passed me but could not stay on the bike, he kept trying to ride thru it, but kept falling. I decided it was better to just walk. Especially considering my legs and arms were like rubbery gel after the downhill. Soon enough the trail became a nicer singletrack, I hopped back on and was on the last section of rail trail in no time. Now the torture began... It was absolutely impossible to continue pedaling at decent clip, knowing that I was inside 4 miles of to the finish, yet not knowing how far exactly, the trail being tacky soft dirt and gravel, absolutely flat and me having 32X20 gearing and no legs left... I had some visions of maybe coming in inside 11:30, but I started loosing the hopes of that realizing how little I had in my legs.
Somewhere on that split there was a long pitch dark old railroad tunnel. Someone say there were no rocks in and it was ok to ride. So I stayed focused on the 10" sized light spot at the end and tried to ride straight not to bump into the walls.
Of note there was also a long skinny bridge. With heavy-duty big ass wooden railing right at the height of my handle bars. My bars are 26" wide, the opening between the railings must've been 27"... I rode the whole length, skimming my hands on each side and bouncing the bars from one side to the other. I have nice sanded off spots on my plastic bar end plugs... Just before that bridge I got passed by a gearie powering hard to the finish, but he fell on the bridge, and then in the following tunnel. So we started talking on the other side. I asked how far there was left, he said we were inside a mile!!! Also he recognized me! Turned out that 2 years ago when Lance and I went up to State College to ride with some locals, he was one of our guides! Small world! He also told me that we were 11:42 into the race, and from that moment it I knew I had to lay it all out to finish before 12 hours. I was questioning myself "can I do 18 minute mile?" Then I tried to do the math to figure out what speed that would translate into, and failed miserable, so I just rode.
The campsite showed up thru the trees... It was sooo close, but there was a creek and we had to go around. Oh what a long way to go around, the last 1/4 or so or that detour around the creek over the bridge and down the street to the finish was torturous...
In the end, it was 11:44:55.
I was beat. I'm done.
To tell you the truth, I don't think I will come back to this one. I probably will do some other 100-milers. I might come back again to Shenandoah, depending on how I feel after it this year. I'd like to redeem myself at Mohican. I would like to check out Lumber Jack 100. But Wilderness?... Neah... There was just now enough fun in it. Too much road. Too little flowing fun singletrack. Too much beating up on boring, straight down descents. Neah. This one, I'm done with.
40th out of 48 SS finishers and 60 starters. 172nd overall out of 251 finished and 321 starters.
The end.
Holly crap, rocks...
The weather was perfect, warm, but not hot, and cloudy. Anything hotter or sunnier with that much road would've been just brutal.
I traveled to this one again with my buddy Max with a plan to ride it together, giving each other moral support and to kill the monotony or riding the bike alone for 12 hours. It worked great last year at Shenandoah, but no so much at Mohican this year.
Right before the start, we got separated with a last second pre-start pit stop. But I positioned myself close to the front, knowing that at some point in the first couple of miles Max will be passing me and we'd regroup. It worked like a charm. He caught up to me on the first climb maybe a mile or two into the race. From then on we stayed together.
The first split flew by in no time. It was a short, 16 miles stage completely on paved and gravel roads. On the climbs we spun steadily, being happy for our decision to gear down for this race, unlike Mohican, on the flats we grumbled for the low gear, and on the downhills, Max wooped my behind using his weight advantage to do so. I tried to tuck in his draft and that way I could stay on his wheel coasting downhill, but my face was getting pelted by the gravel and I had to let him go, to catch up later when the road level off.
At the aid station #1, we quickly topped off camelbaks, downed few endurolite pills and were off to the first short section of single track. The second split had some little bit of singletrack, but again was mostly gravel, paved and fire roads. So we were very surprised when we suddenly got to the station #2 at 40 miles. Wow, that was one FAST 26 miles. At that point we felt good, and thought we were setting great pace for ourselves. I don't think we had gotten off the bikes to walk anything at that point, which was a great sign. Usually, in these 100-milers, we end up walking way more hills that we normally would on other rides, to save some energy for later in the race. Were we in for a rude awakening and surprise.
After refilling at station #2, we rolled on feeling pretty good. Unfortunately that did not last... The third split had the biggest and nastiest climbs. Some most brutal rocky punishing downhills... Right out of the station #2 it went from 1,000 to 2,100 in about 4 miles, then straight down back to 1,000 in about 2 miles, and back up from 1,000 to 2,400 in another 4 miles. First half of that climb, about 2 miles from 1,000 to 1,500 was not too bad, as it undulated between short steep and then more shallow sections. But the last 2 miles were straight up from 1,500 to 2,400 in 2 miles. That was a LONG hike for us. Not only it was extremely fatiguing, it was also demoralizing. When we finally got to the #3 at 60 miles it felt like the LONGEST 20 miles in my MTB riding experience, ever!
We got to #3 at 1:30, still not a bad pace, 6:30 for 60 miles. Considering the amount of walking we just did, not too bad. Slightly longer stop at #3 to fill up, down a cold coke, more endurolites, and off we went again. Right out of the #3 it went up again. So up a steep dirt trail we walked again. That was starting to get old and really depressing. When would it finally end. I recognised the trail we were on at that point. This section was the same trail as the course of Stoopid 50. And that was the section where I broke my frame last year and had to walk out to the road, so I knew it wasn't too long. We traded positions with few geared guys, when it would level off we would pass them, then it would point up and we would slow down or walk and they would catch up. Got out to the road finally and continued climbing to complete the third long accent from 1,000 at #3 to the last tall summit of the course at 2,400. After that it pointed down again, still on some trails of the Stoopid 50 course, this time in opposite direction, and after descending harrowing section (hike a bike in Stoopd 50, for those who know that course) it somewhat leveled off and then undulated with a bit of singletrack, all super rocky and punishing. Max started hading cramping problems at that point. I, on the other hand, by some magic, emerged from my mental fog and near bonking fatigue to suddenly find my legs again, and able to spin faster on the flat sections and even up the gravel climbs! After a little bit we briefly separated when Max walked for a little bit to recover from cramping, and I kept pedaling at moderate pace to keep the legs moving. I came across a lady on the side of the trail, who said she was cramping badly and to my question if she had any enduralites, she said, no. I stopped to share some of mine, and Max caught up to me again. We started rolling again together, but I slowly motored away again. I felt bad, but was afraid to slow down and loose the "good feeling", so I just kept moving, figuring he'd catch up to me on one of the downhills or at station #4. The second half of the split between #3 and #4 had probably nicest singletrack of the course, not to say it was great, but it was good, much better than rocky punishing downhills or gravel roads.
#4 was supposed to be only 14 miles from #3, and sure enough it appeared very soon. Nicely located under a bridge in a shade. I took my time refilling, taking on more endurolites, few hits of hammer gel. Asked for time, it was 3:20. Ok, not too bad, 8:20 for 74 miles. I kept looking back at the road but did not see Max. So in the spirit of our pre-race agreement, that if one of us would "feel the legs" he should go ahead to try to make it a decent time, and thinking that I only had 26 miles to go with 3:40 to be under 12 hours, I figured I should head out, which I did. After the finish Max and I compared times and at that point he was full 25 minutes behind.
Once again, straight out of the station it went up a steep hill. It was pretty steep and to my surprise I was able to climb the grade without much pain. But I didn't know how long the hill would last for. And at some point where it was straight, I got a glimpse of it continuing much further up than I could see and I realized that I wouldn't be able to stay on the bike to the summit, and there was no reason to blow up with so little to go. So another hike a bike took place. However, after that it turned into a mix of forest roads and singletrack, with shorter not too steep climbs, and short downhills and undulating trails. I was trading positions with a whole bunch of fully suspended gearies again. The #5 was supposed to be only 15 miles away. But it felt like longest 15 miles. One rocky trail was replaced by another, one rutted out rocky fire road by another. My hands and arms were getting pretty beat up by that point and I just wanted to see the #5 with only 12 miles to the finish. Somewhere half way between #4 and #5, my Perpeteum bottle decided to leave me, and from that point on I had no "fuel" so I continued on solely on HEED and Hammer gel. Which might've been good. Cos my stomach seemed to protest against having to digest Perpeteum for some reason.
There was some really sketchy super narrow and super rocky goat path type of the downhill. I took it fairly slowly, picking my line, making sure I did not tumble down the side, because it would've been a very very long and very very painful way down. I kept thinking about the top 5-10 guys really racing for time and position, having to FLY down that hill and taking real big risks. It scared me to just think about it... Then it leveled off, but didn't get any less rocky. I saw a guy on cross bike that we have been seeing on the course throughout the day, and I couldn't help but be impressed with him. Then the trail popped out on a gravel road and he was gone fro my site. Then there was another long flat fire road that seemed like it would never end, bu finally aid station appeared. And I heard someone call out my name. That was Nate, one of our local Philly riding buddies. He seemed pretty beat, and dejected. I got my camelbak re-filled, downed few endurolites, another swig of the gel, asked what the rest of the course was like, got "about 4-5 miles of flat rail trail, then a 3 mile climb, maybe 2.5, not too steep but definitely at the wrong time in the race, and then another 4-5 miles of flat rail trail with just a tad of fisherman trail and singletrack". That didn't sound bad, and I a chance to pass a local rider gave me a boost and I was off again.
After #5 there is only 12 miles left, so I threw everything at it without caution. The flat rail trail was painful, as it was hard to sustain stead high cadence spin at that point, and most not even because of the fatigue in the legs, but more of mental fatigue of the monotony of it. I wished for some false flats to give my some resistance on the pedals and make it easier to pedal. Does that make any sense?!?!? 90 miles in and I was wishing for harder resistance to make it easier?!?! Yeah, those 100-milers will mess with your head. But then the resistance came, that 2.5 mile climb! At this point it was all or nothing, hell with the caution and I was climbing, standing up, spinning hard sitting down, everything, but no walking!!! Passed several gearies crawling in granny gear or walking. Got to the top, and bombed down the straight super bumping fire road. I did not feel my hands or arms, I was taking chances. I did not care, I was close!!! At the bottom it made a sharp turn and dumped me into that fisherman trail. Holy crap!!! A fully suspended gearie passed me but could not stay on the bike, he kept trying to ride thru it, but kept falling. I decided it was better to just walk. Especially considering my legs and arms were like rubbery gel after the downhill. Soon enough the trail became a nicer singletrack, I hopped back on and was on the last section of rail trail in no time. Now the torture began... It was absolutely impossible to continue pedaling at decent clip, knowing that I was inside 4 miles of to the finish, yet not knowing how far exactly, the trail being tacky soft dirt and gravel, absolutely flat and me having 32X20 gearing and no legs left... I had some visions of maybe coming in inside 11:30, but I started loosing the hopes of that realizing how little I had in my legs.
Somewhere on that split there was a long pitch dark old railroad tunnel. Someone say there were no rocks in and it was ok to ride. So I stayed focused on the 10" sized light spot at the end and tried to ride straight not to bump into the walls.
Of note there was also a long skinny bridge. With heavy-duty big ass wooden railing right at the height of my handle bars. My bars are 26" wide, the opening between the railings must've been 27"... I rode the whole length, skimming my hands on each side and bouncing the bars from one side to the other. I have nice sanded off spots on my plastic bar end plugs... Just before that bridge I got passed by a gearie powering hard to the finish, but he fell on the bridge, and then in the following tunnel. So we started talking on the other side. I asked how far there was left, he said we were inside a mile!!! Also he recognized me! Turned out that 2 years ago when Lance and I went up to State College to ride with some locals, he was one of our guides! Small world! He also told me that we were 11:42 into the race, and from that moment it I knew I had to lay it all out to finish before 12 hours. I was questioning myself "can I do 18 minute mile?" Then I tried to do the math to figure out what speed that would translate into, and failed miserable, so I just rode.
The campsite showed up thru the trees... It was sooo close, but there was a creek and we had to go around. Oh what a long way to go around, the last 1/4 or so or that detour around the creek over the bridge and down the street to the finish was torturous...
In the end, it was 11:44:55.
I was beat. I'm done.
To tell you the truth, I don't think I will come back to this one. I probably will do some other 100-milers. I might come back again to Shenandoah, depending on how I feel after it this year. I'd like to redeem myself at Mohican. I would like to check out Lumber Jack 100. But Wilderness?... Neah... There was just now enough fun in it. Too much road. Too little flowing fun singletrack. Too much beating up on boring, straight down descents. Neah. This one, I'm done with.
40th out of 48 SS finishers and 60 starters. 172nd overall out of 251 finished and 321 starters.
The end.
Monday, July 14, 2008
When does racing feel good
I've been racing on and off since I think '05, when with bunch of friends, we completed almost entire MASS series... Then in '06 I did 12 hours of Allamuchy endurance race solo. And last year SM100. Topped it off with a pathetic showing in Mohican 100 this year...
I liked the 12 hours of Allamuchy and last year's SM100 for the shere sense of accomplishment and personal achievement. But other than that, I did not particularly enjoy recing. I guess I'm not competetive enough. Most races turn into some longish, fastish ride, or into some masocistic survival-fests...
But not the Fair Hill Classic of MASS this year. On the 12th day of antibiotics treatment from Lyme disease, on the still new Ti bike I lined up in SS sport open class for the 22 niles of super fun flowy trails.
I took it easy from the start, letting most of the group spring ahead for the turn into the woods. One guy managed, what looked like, a pretty nasty OTB on the dirt road inthe field before we even hit the trail. Few guys got hung up and slowed down on the first slight incline in the woods. So I had a chance to pick few guys off and start looking ahead to working my way up the field, as the front group of 5-6 riders separated from the field and disappeared in the distance.
I grabbed a wheel of a group of three riders, who kept a decent pace I could maintain without over exerting myself too quickly. We picked few more slower guys. Then one of them got dropped. For few miles it was three of us, cruising a nice fast pace, picking off occasional rider. Legs were feeling good, and I was enjoying the fast pace, and making mental notes when they had to stand up on short climbs while I was able to make the same climbs still seated without burning out my legs (see, here's the lack of competiveness, a real hard core racers would dig a little deeper, pass them right there and push harder) but I wanted to make sure I had enough to finish strong, I saw that their pace was good to keep slowly reeling in riders who went out too hard and were now slowing down, yet, I knew that I could kick it up a notch when the time came to pass them. Good times.
We came out to a long smooth gravel road gradual uphill, with I think another SSer not far ahead of us and couple of gearies. The front guy of my group picked up a smooth steady uphill pace, I followed, we dropped our third guy, and passed everyone who was in sight ahead of us. I thought about trying to pass him, but only managed to mark his pace without blowing up. All good.
For the next 10 or so miles it was just two of us, nice steady fast pace, passing occasional rider. Few times I led for short periods of time, but most of the time Holt, that was the guys name, was setting the pace. Few times on longer smoother down hills he'd open a gap on me but as soon as the trail would point a little up in the singletrack I'd quickly find myself on his wheel again.
There was one pretty steep climb. I was leading at the time, rounded the corner and saw the steep uphill, with few people walking way ahead, including some SS guy. I decided to save the legs a little and walk it, since it wasn't too long and I figured I'd gain more by saving the legs than loosing time by walking. Holt stayed on the bike and passed me. However, as soon as I was back on, I passed the other SSer, and few other gearies, and caught up to Holt. Within couple of miles there were 2-3 more climbs like that, this time I didn't see anyone walking, and the legs felt good, so I didn't have the temptation to walk, I stayed on the bike, glued to his back wheel (actually once I got too close in a techie section and buzzed his tire. :-) ) and we passed a bunch more people.
I started to think that we would come into the finish together like that. Felt strange. On one hand I'd love a strong sprint for the finish for an exciting end of the fun race, on the other hand, I felt thankful to him for setting such a good pace for so long and leading me, so I wouldn't want to pass him in the last few yards.
Miles were ticking off. The legs started feeling a bit tired, and fatigue with lack of electrolites started setting in. We came out to a gravel road thru the field. I usually can settle into a nice spin on the climbs like that and spin steady but hard, there were 2-3 SSers around us, I got by Holt and the rest of them, but as we were turning back into the woods, he was right there on my wheel again. All good, back to our 1-2 trading positions.
At this point I was trying to figure out where were we in the course mileage-wise. The water stations were setup every 5 miles, but for my life I couldn't figure out if we had passed 2 or 3 stations... Finally, we got to a water station, I asked the guy which one that was, he told me that there was just one more. Great, only 7 miles left. There was another tent just few yards down the road with few guys with water guns and cups splashing everyone, I set up on the bike rolled up to the hands free with my both arms up in the air to get maximum hit rate of the water guns! It felt great to cool down, and energized by the thought of nearing finish I passed Holt and couple of more riders along the way right there and kept pushing.
I expected him to catch up soon, but he never did, I learned after the finish that around that time he cramped up badly and had to slow down a lot, actually letting by 3 guys... :-(
From this point on I had to do my own pacing, and let me tell you, I'm not good at it. Pretty soon, I was starting very fatigued and I was afraid of falling off the pace. But I was glad to see that no SSers passed me. The entire race I was doing most of passing, with the exception of few really fast vet geared riders who started behind us.
Well, that's about it. Soon there was a course marshal who told me that there were only 3 miles left, which really lifted my spirits. Around the same point, I was closing in on another SSer, and at the sharp switch back turn there was another course marshal pointing the way, I thanked him for job well done, and I think the SSer heard me and thought I was in another class, because he pulled over to let me pass, but as soon as I did, I heard something that sounded like "oh darn, should've not done that" LOL
That was it, the signs for 2 miles and 1 mile, came quickly at that point. Some where between those two signs, a small group of faster gearies caught up to me, two passed me, and one or two were just behind. The two who passed me, couldn't pull away after the pass. And there was 1-2 other gearies whom we caught up to right within 2-300 yards of the finish.
I must've been high on endorphins, cos within 200 yards I decided to sprint and passed all of them, one withing only 2-3 bike legths of the finish line. Yeah, that was pointless and stupid, since they weren't even in my class, but it felt good! :-)
I must say, after this race, I can understand why people LOVE racing. If you're strong enough and have competetive strike in you, being able to push all the way to the finish, ride hard, see people ahead and reel them in and pass and keep the pace and the effort all the way to the finish line feels good. I don't think I ever had a race like that! Think this was my first race ever when I did not blow up at some point and did not shift into "survival mode" hating the life and not knowing who, where and why I was...
I hope this marks the end of the Lyme for this year and I upcoming Wilderness 101 will feel just as good.
Tho, 22 miles in 1:57 is a pretty slow pace for a 100 miler. At this pace without any stops it would translate into only 9 hour time. But I know there is no way in hell I'd manage this pace.
I liked the 12 hours of Allamuchy and last year's SM100 for the shere sense of accomplishment and personal achievement. But other than that, I did not particularly enjoy recing. I guess I'm not competetive enough. Most races turn into some longish, fastish ride, or into some masocistic survival-fests...
But not the Fair Hill Classic of MASS this year. On the 12th day of antibiotics treatment from Lyme disease, on the still new Ti bike I lined up in SS sport open class for the 22 niles of super fun flowy trails.
I took it easy from the start, letting most of the group spring ahead for the turn into the woods. One guy managed, what looked like, a pretty nasty OTB on the dirt road inthe field before we even hit the trail. Few guys got hung up and slowed down on the first slight incline in the woods. So I had a chance to pick few guys off and start looking ahead to working my way up the field, as the front group of 5-6 riders separated from the field and disappeared in the distance.
I grabbed a wheel of a group of three riders, who kept a decent pace I could maintain without over exerting myself too quickly. We picked few more slower guys. Then one of them got dropped. For few miles it was three of us, cruising a nice fast pace, picking off occasional rider. Legs were feeling good, and I was enjoying the fast pace, and making mental notes when they had to stand up on short climbs while I was able to make the same climbs still seated without burning out my legs (see, here's the lack of competiveness, a real hard core racers would dig a little deeper, pass them right there and push harder) but I wanted to make sure I had enough to finish strong, I saw that their pace was good to keep slowly reeling in riders who went out too hard and were now slowing down, yet, I knew that I could kick it up a notch when the time came to pass them. Good times.
We came out to a long smooth gravel road gradual uphill, with I think another SSer not far ahead of us and couple of gearies. The front guy of my group picked up a smooth steady uphill pace, I followed, we dropped our third guy, and passed everyone who was in sight ahead of us. I thought about trying to pass him, but only managed to mark his pace without blowing up. All good.
For the next 10 or so miles it was just two of us, nice steady fast pace, passing occasional rider. Few times I led for short periods of time, but most of the time Holt, that was the guys name, was setting the pace. Few times on longer smoother down hills he'd open a gap on me but as soon as the trail would point a little up in the singletrack I'd quickly find myself on his wheel again.
There was one pretty steep climb. I was leading at the time, rounded the corner and saw the steep uphill, with few people walking way ahead, including some SS guy. I decided to save the legs a little and walk it, since it wasn't too long and I figured I'd gain more by saving the legs than loosing time by walking. Holt stayed on the bike and passed me. However, as soon as I was back on, I passed the other SSer, and few other gearies, and caught up to Holt. Within couple of miles there were 2-3 more climbs like that, this time I didn't see anyone walking, and the legs felt good, so I didn't have the temptation to walk, I stayed on the bike, glued to his back wheel (actually once I got too close in a techie section and buzzed his tire. :-) ) and we passed a bunch more people.
I started to think that we would come into the finish together like that. Felt strange. On one hand I'd love a strong sprint for the finish for an exciting end of the fun race, on the other hand, I felt thankful to him for setting such a good pace for so long and leading me, so I wouldn't want to pass him in the last few yards.
Miles were ticking off. The legs started feeling a bit tired, and fatigue with lack of electrolites started setting in. We came out to a gravel road thru the field. I usually can settle into a nice spin on the climbs like that and spin steady but hard, there were 2-3 SSers around us, I got by Holt and the rest of them, but as we were turning back into the woods, he was right there on my wheel again. All good, back to our 1-2 trading positions.
At this point I was trying to figure out where were we in the course mileage-wise. The water stations were setup every 5 miles, but for my life I couldn't figure out if we had passed 2 or 3 stations... Finally, we got to a water station, I asked the guy which one that was, he told me that there was just one more. Great, only 7 miles left. There was another tent just few yards down the road with few guys with water guns and cups splashing everyone, I set up on the bike rolled up to the hands free with my both arms up in the air to get maximum hit rate of the water guns! It felt great to cool down, and energized by the thought of nearing finish I passed Holt and couple of more riders along the way right there and kept pushing.
I expected him to catch up soon, but he never did, I learned after the finish that around that time he cramped up badly and had to slow down a lot, actually letting by 3 guys... :-(
From this point on I had to do my own pacing, and let me tell you, I'm not good at it. Pretty soon, I was starting very fatigued and I was afraid of falling off the pace. But I was glad to see that no SSers passed me. The entire race I was doing most of passing, with the exception of few really fast vet geared riders who started behind us.
Well, that's about it. Soon there was a course marshal who told me that there were only 3 miles left, which really lifted my spirits. Around the same point, I was closing in on another SSer, and at the sharp switch back turn there was another course marshal pointing the way, I thanked him for job well done, and I think the SSer heard me and thought I was in another class, because he pulled over to let me pass, but as soon as I did, I heard something that sounded like "oh darn, should've not done that" LOL
That was it, the signs for 2 miles and 1 mile, came quickly at that point. Some where between those two signs, a small group of faster gearies caught up to me, two passed me, and one or two were just behind. The two who passed me, couldn't pull away after the pass. And there was 1-2 other gearies whom we caught up to right within 2-300 yards of the finish.
I must've been high on endorphins, cos within 200 yards I decided to sprint and passed all of them, one withing only 2-3 bike legths of the finish line. Yeah, that was pointless and stupid, since they weren't even in my class, but it felt good! :-)
I must say, after this race, I can understand why people LOVE racing. If you're strong enough and have competetive strike in you, being able to push all the way to the finish, ride hard, see people ahead and reel them in and pass and keep the pace and the effort all the way to the finish line feels good. I don't think I ever had a race like that! Think this was my first race ever when I did not blow up at some point and did not shift into "survival mode" hating the life and not knowing who, where and why I was...
I hope this marks the end of the Lyme for this year and I upcoming Wilderness 101 will feel just as good.
Tho, 22 miles in 1:57 is a pretty slow pace for a 100 miler. At this pace without any stops it would translate into only 9 hour time. But I know there is no way in hell I'd manage this pace.
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
Lyme
This will be short and sweet... Well, maybe not sweet.
About a week ago I was diagnosed with Lyme disease. I had a classic bull's eye marks, yes, I had three, and some of the fatigue, pain, lack of concentration symptoms, as well as the blood test which was positive.
They say that on average the bull's eye marks show up 7-14 days after infection and the blood test becomes positive 4-6 weeks after infection. But of course there are variations.
My completely unscientific guesstimate is that I had it for 2-4 weeks. Counting back from the June 26th when the blood was drawn for the test, puts the infection date somewhere between end of May and mid-June. So it's entirely possible that I already had it during Mohican and now I have a plausible excuse for my pathetic showing at that race...
Hopefully, the antibiotics I'm on now will clear it in the next week or so and I'll be back to normal by the 26th for the Wilderness 101.
About a week ago I was diagnosed with Lyme disease. I had a classic bull's eye marks, yes, I had three, and some of the fatigue, pain, lack of concentration symptoms, as well as the blood test which was positive.
They say that on average the bull's eye marks show up 7-14 days after infection and the blood test becomes positive 4-6 weeks after infection. But of course there are variations.
My completely unscientific guesstimate is that I had it for 2-4 weeks. Counting back from the June 26th when the blood was drawn for the test, puts the infection date somewhere between end of May and mid-June. So it's entirely possible that I already had it during Mohican and now I have a plausible excuse for my pathetic showing at that race...
Hopefully, the antibiotics I'm on now will clear it in the next week or so and I'll be back to normal by the 26th for the Wilderness 101.
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