Melo Velo

GO! Yelled the race director and we were off. Completing the short run to my bike for the Lemans style start, I quickly made a mental review of my race strategy. Mounting the bike I reached for the bite valve on my Camelbak to wash down the last of the GU I had just inhaled. Being the astute observer I am, it only took me about 10 seconds to realize I had failed to put my Camelbak on! Another proud moment in the life of a highly trained athlete! I made a U turn back into the pit area and retrieved the precious cargo. Watching the field disappear into the distance, I reminded myself that it was an 8 hour race. There was no need to sprint back on just to get bogged down in traffic in a mile or two. I reeled in a few slow riders on the doubletrack sections at the beginning and entered the twisty singletrack with no one in front to slow me down. Despite an idiotic beginning, I was feeling good and enjoying the ride.

Before long I caught up with my trusty racing companion Ryan. I knew he must be having problems if I caught up with him. He’s a pretty strong singlespeeder, and 15 years younger than me, so I generally only see him briefly at the beginning of a race, then again at the end. His chain was dropping every time he torqued hard on the pedals. Seeing me he made a quick recovery and pulled on ahead on a long climb. Before long I caught him again. He was lying on the trail clutching his knee. Once again he had popped the chain off and slammed his knee into his stem. So much for the elegant simplicity of singlespeeding! I figured his day was over and hoped he would leave at least one beer and a piece of pizza for me in the pit area. After making sure he was ok, I motored on through the very technical, rocky section of the trail. I was proud to get through the roughest section cleanly and began the long climbing section on a high note.

Lap one ended with no further drama as did lap 2 and 3. I maintained an even pace and felt fatigued, but not completely wiped out. Despite staying up way too late around the fire on Friday night and sharing a tent with 2 racers who snored all night long, I felt pretty solid. I began to notice the scenery and try to appreciate the views offered on the trail. The forest was a lush green and the singletrack was lined with thick green vegetation. Unfortunately the vegetation was mostly poison oak and ivy! I thought to myself, “crashing into that stuff could ruin your month!”

On lap 4 things got more exciting. About 3 miles in a huge black snake slithered onto the trail in front of me. I was on top of him instantly and bunny hopped just in time to avoid mashing him into the dirt. I laughed at the possibility of my tire snagging him and flinging him into my drivetrain, or worse yet, onto me! I can only imagine the carnage that could cause!

Continuing with the wildlife theme, I came upon 4 deer standing just off the trail on a flat section. The lead doe was dangerously close to stepping in my path. I yelled “stay” as if I were talking to my dog. She just looked at me as if I were an idiot and slowly turned towards the others. I feel sure she was telling them, “hey girls, check out this jackass on a bike!” I’m almost sure I heard them laughing at me as I rolled away.

Being extremely dry made the course very fast in most areas. However, the ground was so dry, several corners were becoming very loose. On one very fast section in a clearcut area the dirt had taken on a consistency I refer to as moon dust. I found that I could carry my speed into the moon dust by pressing forward on the bars, squeezing the saddle between my thighs and letting the bike drift through. It was a little sketchy, but thrilling when I came out of the corner and blasted on down the hill. On lap 4, my prowess as a lunar rover was brought into serious question.

I blasted into the moon dust as usual, but the bike drifted a little too far. In the apex of the turn my tires cleared the dust and found solid ground. This propelled me forward into a pine stump and sent the bike end over end with me still attached. There were a couple of rocks and stumps I bounced across, but luckily the blows were softened by the thick bed of poison ivy covering everything. Coming to rest on my back the silky green leaves gently cradled my body. Attempting to reduce the carnage as much a possible, I tried to keep my bare arms and legs elevated. However, the bike was wedged in a bush and keeping me pinned down. I must have looked like a box turtle trying in vain to get up without my limbs touching the ground. After 7 or 8 reps of what was becoming a major core workout, I finally had to surrender. I rolled onto my stomach and slid myself out from under the bike.

Taking inventory, I found a nice red stain developing on my right hip. Looking under my bibs I discovered a long crooked scratch starting above my hip bone and curling down toward my cheek. The scratch mated up with the older hip wound from the Snake Creek crash earlier in the season. It looked liked a red prison tattoo of an inverted dragon. I would like to say it was badass, but sadass is more accurate. Getting back on the bike my hip hurt with each pedal stroke. I also discovered I had done some damage to my left hand, making gripping the bar somewhat painful. Not to mention the fact that I fully expected to break out in festering buboes before nightfall.

Oh well, that’s mountain biking. I completed the lap and came in to find the other young racer staying with me, Nick Rogers, resting in the pits. He had already done 5 laps in the time it took me to do 4. Pretty soon Ryan rolled in from his fourth lap. I was surprised to see him still riding, but proud that he had not quit. Turns out his chainring bolts were all loose with one missing. He had borrowed a spare and corrected the problem. We decided to take a lap together at a more relaxed pace. They waited for me to lick my wounds and take in some fuel and we headed out.

Nick’s “relaxed” pace proved to be rather taxing for me. I held his wheel for the first half, but had to let him go as we entered the climbing section. Ryan continued to be plagued by mechanical issues and fell off the back. This time it was a brake problem keeping him off the pace. We all managed to get around the course intact. However, we did encounter another racer who was not so lucky. In the same section where I had crashed, this gentleman took a hard fall and wound up breaking his hip. The first aid crew was already there when we rolled up. They wound up having to drive him out on a 4 wheeler to a waiting ambulance. It’s always depressing to see a fellow racer have his season ended in such fashion. I hope he makes a speedy recovery.

Back in the pits Nick and Ryan decided they were done for the day. No amount of pleading or questioning their manliness could convince them to do another lap with me. (Of course, Nick had already done 6, so he had a valid excuse.) I rolled out solo to complete my sixth and final lap. I feel sure Ryan and Nick were cheering me on as I departed, but it was hard to hear them because they had a mouth full of pizza and beer! I used the image of them relaxing in my chairs enjoying a picnic to motivate me through the course.

Completely exhausted I rolled back into the pits after lap 6. There were 10 minutes left before the cutoff to go back out. I briefly entertained the thought of attempting a 7^th lap. That thought was quickly erased by my inability to get off the ground when I collapsed by my bike. Although my left hand had been quite sore since the crash, I found it was still capable of gripping a slice of pizza. I quickly loaded both hands with several slices and dropped into my chair. Happy with my effort I began wondering if I was capable of making the long drive home.

My 6 laps put me in my usual position in the standings. Seems no matter the category I enter or the distance of the race I always end up right in the middle of the pack. I was 16^th out of 33 racers in the solo men’s division. Had I done a 7^th lap I would have moved to 10^th, still a long way from the podium. Truly I excel at mediocrity!

It took a while to type this report. I was continually interrupted by my new hobby; scratching the several spots of poison ivy rash in numerous places on my body. Apparently the gestation period after exposure for me is around 3 days. I thought I was in the clear, but continue to find new little itchy spots daily. I feel lucky not to have a worse case then I do. Hopefully it will clear up before my next event this weekend.

Next up is the Xterra off road triathlon at Fort Yargo State Park in Wnder, GA. I’ll get to show my skills in all 3 disciplines; drowning, bleeding and limping! I’m planning for another stellar finish somewhere in the middle of the pack.

Biking makes your butt look good. Get out and ride!

As many of you may know, the last several weeks have been interesting for me to say the least.  I know that many people would look at everything and say that I’ve had a lot of bad luck.  I would rather say that I’ve just had several life situations happen all at once.  I could ask myself, and more important, someone higher up many life affirming questions to figure it all out.  Instead of this approach I’ve chosen to understand that it is all part of a bigger plan and to focus on the positive in my life.

The first fact of my life is that I am a father of a very wonderful 8 month old son.  One thing you learn about life with a child is that there are not many things more important than your child.  Of course I haven’t ridden my bike as much due to this, but it’s not because I couldn’t.  As much as I love to ride (and occasionally race) my bikes, I have realized that the years like I have now you can not get back or relive.  Precious moments begin to come less often the less you look for them.

One of the more recent “situations” is the closing of my bike shop.  The interesting thing about the bike community is that it’s similar to the Hardee’s in Pickens, SC.  If you go to Hardee’s for breakfast you’ll be inundated with the filling you just walked into a senior citizens home, sure it’s only 8:30am but everyone else there is already finished with their breakfast.  They’ve been up since 5am and it took them long enough just to drive there from home.  They don’t talk about weather, they’re talking about what all of their friends have happening in their lives.  Pickens, of course, is a small town and everyone knows what’s going on at any given time.  Don’t get me wrong, this means that my hometown is a tight knit community and everyone does truly care about your well being but it’s hard to move through your problems when you have to relive them every time you see someone you know. I love cycling for this very reason.  As much drama as you would expect from the sport we all love, you know that they will rally around you in a time of need.

Hopefully the last “situation” for a while would be my incident with a car.  Yes, I was hit by a car.  Before you get out of your seat and grab that pitch fork, it wasn’t the driver’s fault (the one that hit me).  This all happened almost a month ago and i’m happy to say that I believe that i’m healing well.  One thing that will never leave your mind after a car strike is the forces applied to your body.  I’ve ridden mountain bikes for many, many years and those can be some very tough crashes (trust me on this one).  But to know that you had a 2 ton vehicle put all it’s force into moving you from your intended location….well that’ll make you lye in the road and pray.  I was lucky enough that I only ended up with a separated shoulder albeit a serious separation.  Let’s just say my collarbone isn’t where it once was.  My one experience that day put a sour note on what should have been great day for anyone outside.  I try not to get too wrapped up into the whole, What If? scenario but I know what could have happened and I’m glad it didn’t.

This week is the first time I’ve been able to get back on the bike.  I wished I could say that I came back miraculously in short time and won a race or schooled people on a 100 mile ride.  No, I’m realistic.  My shoulder hurts now when I ride.  I can only ride about an hour and half now before I have to return home or to the car.  I can’t climb up a hill on my single speed like I did before and I had to put a suspension fork on my bike (if you know me, you know that’s a big deal).  No I can’t do those little things.  This past Friday though was a great day in my bike life.  I was able to ride again and even though it hurt for that little bit the joy from friday’s ride is still here.  How did I celebrate that ride?  I rode today for my 1.5 hours till I had to stop.  My plan tomorrow? Ride my bike for 1.5 hours till I have to stop.  I plan to keep this pattern up as long as I can.  When I can’t make that next 1.5 hour ride I’ll be experiencing my life one situation at a time…Good or Bad.

Race #1 Donaldson Center

First of all let me start this report off by saying that I joined the MeloVelo Team as a Triathlete and Time Trialist. Triathlon season doesn’t start until mid March and the Tunda TT was just a little to far for me to drive for such a short race. With my wife Ashlan working all weekend I thought, what the hell, I’ll give the Spring Series a shot. So I tuned up my old road bike and put on my race wheels (which i wasn’t even sure if they were legal). I contacted a few other team members as well as my coach  to ask for pointers and see if they knew about the deep dish Sram S80 wheels. Jeff Marshall, Ryan Robinson (fellow team members) and Jamie Church (Triyourbest.com) all assured me that I would be fine out there and that they thought the wheels were fine too. Everyones advice was pretty much the same…”stay up front and you should stay out of trouble.” I guess Cat 5′s are not known for our great bike handling skills.

I showed up really early on the first day of the series, not having a race day routine for road racing. I got parked and went over to register (no turning back now). Aired up the tires and went out for a warm up lap with Jeff and Vance Roland (another fellow teammate and first timer). Jeff told me that even though we were all Cat5′s they split the field up 35+ and 34- . I thought well this sucks, I don’t have any teammates out there with me for my race. Cat5 34- had a 9am start so I hustled back to the truck and dropped my saddle bag off and headed to the line. I luckily saw another MeloVelo kit and pulled up next to Zach King who told me this was his last race before he would be catting up. Well at least I’m not out here on my own, right? A few last minute instructions from the head ref and then the whistle!

The start was a little faster than I expected but I was right there in the mix of it and it wasn’t as fast as I imagined. On the back side of the course there are a few rolling hills and Jeff had warned us a wreck that happened on the first one. It was like clock work, at the bottom of the hill the front of the back checked up and with a 50 man field the back of the back didn’t check up fast enough. The sound of carbon crunching is bad! Just bailed left as hard as I could and didn’t look back. The pace was pretty consistant for the next lap and half. The last lap it pick up quite a bit especially when we approched the last 3 miles.  I looked over and asked Zach how he felt and if he thought he was going to make a move. He said he felt good but still was going to play it by ear. Approching the last mile I see Jeff, who had flatted and pulled out of the race behind us, standing on the side of the road and it gave me a spark. The peleton checked up once again and I know now this was my rookie mistake but I found myself pulling out left at the 1K sign. I thought Zach was just behind me but he got cought up and was forced to go right. Once I realized I was out there all alone leading out a long line of riders I thought well I’m a time trialist I can hold this! Wow was I wrong! I made it almost to the 2ooM sign before I blew up and got swallowed up by the pack including Zach (who placed 3rd). I finishing 17th over all. I was very happy with my first race especially since I didn’t get caught up in the big crash in the first lap!

Race #5 River Falls

Friday night the forecast for Saturday morning was raining and 50 degrees. I told myself, if it wasn’t raining when I woke up I would go. My alarm went off and I looked outside and no rain. So I loaded up the truck and headed toward Greenville. Following the directions I had it dawned on me that I was headed up toward the mountains!?!? Had I looked up the address earlier, I probably would have stayed home! I pull into the parking lot of the church and went to register (again no turning back). The road was wet but it still wasn’t raining but the temp was in the low 40′s (not expecting that but at least it wasn’t poring rain). I headed out for a warm up lap with a few other Cat 5′s. We took that lap easy mainly just checking out the course and any debrie from the storms from the night before.

I took the line feeling a little more confident than I did a few weeks ago. The first few miles were fast but nothing I couldn’t handle. We even dropped a few guys right from the get go. And then it was my turn! We hit the climbing section of the couse and I was off the back. I’m not your typical cyclist weighing 130lbs. I am a bigger guy weighing 200Lbs and climbing just isn’t my stong suit. But I thought I’ll  be fine, just use the rest of the race as a training day and maybe I would pick off a few others that get dropped along the way. Finish the climb and the first lap and start my second about 1 min down on the peleton. On the back side of the second lap I felt my right shoe come unclipped. I looked down to get clipped back in and realize the entire pedal is still attached to my shoe. My Crank Brothers pedal broke. I stopped and tried to assess the damage but I wasn’t real sure about standing up and cranking up the back side of the climb, so I decided to with draw from the race and save a little for the next day!

Race # 6 Dondaldson Center

Robbed the Speedplay pedals off my TT bike the night before and I was ready to roll. I got to the Donaldson Center early and got registered. I took a warm up lap with a few guys from the parking lot and pulled up to the line and did a quick head count, 27 a much smaller field. At least I know the course and I have a game plan this time. Stay tucked in the pack, try and stay on two wheels and make an attmept for the sprint! The wind was very nasty so I think everyone elses game plan was to sit in the pack as well. It felt like we were crawling along. I looked down to my Garmin several times to see speeds of 14-15mph. Finally a big surge and I jumped on there wheel and we split the field up. There was 2 guys who went off the front about the same time but we let them go since it was just the first lap. The speeds slowed again I was getting frustrated because only 3 of us were willing to do any kind of work on the front especially on the sections where there were strong head winds. On the last lap a few other guys start getting worked up and want to track down the break away. We made a few attempts to get organized but still had guys that weren’t willing to do any work. Within the last 3 miles we could see the break away up ahead and we finally got everyone lined up and working together. Just as we get to the 1K mark two guys right in front of me get crossed up and touch wheels! It was like it was happening in slow motion. I just jerked my bike hard left and some how avoided the massive pile up! I knew I had tried hammering out the last 1k before and it didn’t workout so well for me. I knew there were 2 in the break and 3 just ahead of me that were in the front of the pace line when the crash happen. What I didn’t know what how many the crash took out. So I just put my head down and tried to hold my pace. I slowly started to build and I was over taken by 2 guys just before the line but since they had been riding my wheel for so long I didn’t have an answer for them, but thats racing I guess!

       The rider can select either the 17 mile event, or if you are tough enough you can choose to do the 34 mile event . These events are truly epics, the 34-mile distance is quite an epic to complete. Over 90% of it is on single-track trails. These will not be your normal 17 or 34-mile epic rides. They both will require extreme physical condition, so please use good judgment if you decide to ride!

Lacking “good judgment” and “extreme physical condition” I ignored the warning on the race website as I found myself rolling to the start line of the 34 miler in the mountains above Dalton. The wind was howling and the choice not to bring my arm or knee warmers was one I was severely regretting rolling away from the starter’s table. This was my second ride here this season. Completing the January installment of the race in 4:36 was a new PR for me. As has always been the case in the 5 times I have ridden here, I swore off the Snake that day saying I would never return. Yet there I was, looking for my next fix, feeding the addiction.

     Torrential downpours and intermittent tornado sirens the night before had eliminated any chance of a good night’s rest. The first few miles of the course were a sloppy mess with peanut butter mud and huge puddles to navigate. Tired and freezing, I was not having fun. I looked for a valid excuse to turn around and catch a ride back to the finish line. Knowing a DNF would send me into week long depression, I rolled on. Since a good time was out of the question, I carefully picked my way through the muddiest sections, trying not to throw too much earth and water on myself and my drivetrain. This would be a day for simple survival.

A major creek crossing comes early on the course. In January it was rideable and I had powered through it with no concern for the wet feet I would have for the next hour or so. Today it looked like a roaring torrent of chocolate milk. A volunteer at the creek warned that it was knee deep and unrideable. Deciding not to add to my misery, I took off my shoes and socks before shouldering my bike and wading across. Apparently knee deep on most riders equals thigh deep on me!  After a brief inspection to see if the rocks had cut my numb feet, I rolled on, trying to prepare myself for the unrelenting singletrack climb that lay ahead.

As one of the last riders to roll on the course I found myself alone for several miles. The mud was creating havoc with my drivetrain. Every shift would lead to chainsuck requiring  me to spin backwards to prevent the chain jamming against the frame. I cursed the mud, cursed my bike, cursed myself.  Warming up as I climbed I gave myself a little pep talk. “Jerry, quit your whining!”  “The sun is shining, the view is great, and you are in the mountains riding your bike.” “Do you realize how lucky you are to be here?” “Now harden the &$%@ up and climb this hill!”  From that moment forward I decided to just enjoy whatever the ride brought. I no longer cared what my time would be.

Nearing the top of the climb I began catching other racers. I fell in with two others for a couple of miles. They would pull me up the climbs, then move over for me to lead the descents. The screaming downhills offered redemption for the painful climbs. Finally in the zone, I felt like my bike and I were one, flowing through the woods. Despite the shaky start, I was having fun. At the end of a particularly long downhill I turned around and found myself alone again. I pressed on, enjoying the solitude. Miles passed without me noticing and I soon found myself rolling into the half way sag stop.

Always being guilty of spending too much time at the sag, I decided this time I would keep it brief. There was a large crowd there commiserating about the mud, mechanicals, and general fatigue. A quick stretch, filled the camelback, shoved some fig newtons down and I was off. As I started up the hill I yelled out, “bring the pain!” This elicited a laugh from the crowd and prompted a couple of others to head up with me. Four of us navigated the tight switchbacks of the climb and headed for the top of the ridge. Before long one of the group passed me and headed on up while the other two fell off the back. Once again I was riding alone. I pushed what felt like a pretty hard pace and actually began thinking about time again. One by one I reeled in riders that had started before me. The more I passed, the more I thought I may actually be turning in a decent ride.

Entering the rock garden I was feeling good again. I was picking good lines cleaning some sections that had stopped me in the past. Cresting a small hill I passed a rider and launched myself down the rocky descent. It felt great reading the terrain and maintaining my speed. My mind was working overtime analyzing the trail as I flew down. “Look though the corner, don’t focus on that rock, you’re already moving past it, roll over the big rock, it won’t move under you, protect the sidewalls from that sharp edge, scrub a little speed before that next turn, stay off the brakes in the loose rocks…” About that time a rock the size of one of Bob Chamber’s calves decided to break free under my rear wheel. (In case you don’t know Bob, it was a big rock.) My rear tire shot to the right and the bike veered left. I found myself screaming through the trees heading down a steep slope. I thought it was no problem since the leaves were slowing me down. I picked a line through the trees to lead me back on course. About that time Sir Issac Newton appeared  dropping a little inertia knowledge on me. My front tire found a solid rock under the leaves and stopped abruptly. I remained a body in motion as I flew over the bars! Still clipped in, I snatched my bike from behind the rock and flung it gracefully over my head. The two of us were separated by the shocking return to earth and my bike bounded several feet on down the ridge. I lay still for a second taking inventory of my extremities. Everything seemed to be working, so I retrieved my bike and pushed back up the hill. A brief check inside my bibs revealed a nice strawberry on my right hip framed by a remarkably colorful bruise. Feeling lucky not to have more extra stuff in my bibs than the bruise, I remounted and rolled on down the hill.

The crash and impending fatigue had me riding sloppy for the next few miles. I was still cleaning a lot of obstacles, but it was far from a graceful performance. As I passed another racer he commented, “damn these rocks are nasty!” I guess it was the combination of my sloppy riding and his nasty comment that led the hip hop song “Ridin” Dirty” to pop into my head. “Trying to catch me ridin’ dirty, trying to catch me ridin’ dirty, trying to catch me riddiinn’… Dammitt, why am I singing hip hop, get out of my head you stupid song! I stopped, ate a GU, and bashed my head against a tree until my mind cleared. I knew I had about 3 tough miles left and then a screaming 2 mile gravel and pavement descent to the finish line.

A radio tower at the peak of the ridge marks the end of the technical section and the beginning of the sweet downhill finish. As I rolled up to the tower I said out loud, “hello beautiful radio tower, I’m so happy to see you, you are the most gorgeous thing I have seen all day!” Yeah, I had pretty much lost my mind by that point. My granny gear breathed a sigh of relief as I shifted to the big ring and took off down the hill. Once again, I had been bitten by the Snake, but I had survived. As I rolled into the finish I swore I would never come back again.

After a bowl of chili and some peach cobbler provided by the race promoters, I decided to go to the scorer’s tent to see if I had managed to break 5 hours. I gave the timekeeper my number and he said, “your time was 4:31.” “I’m sorry, you must be reading the wrong line, I’m Jerry McClung.” After checking 3 times, he verified that the time was indeed 4:31. A new personal record! Guess I was maintaining a better pace than I thought during all those miles alone.  Suddenly the wheels started turning in my twisted mind.  “When I come back here next year…”

Life is better on a bike! Get out and ride, even if it’s just a spin around the neighborhood!

-Jerrry

Bizarre. One word captures the last three weeks of racing during the Spring Series.

Week 1: Race #1—a flat tire and I’m out. Such is life. Race #2—the postman delivers—driving rain, cold temperatures, and windy conditions summarize the day, but the day was not all a loss—a victory helped make the glum conditions feel a bit better.

Week 2: Race #3—windy conditions set the stage for a nice five-man breakaway—the day ended with a second place. Race #4—the crit at BMW was slow and not a great setup for me, so I took my 16^th and moved on to week three with a 1 point lead in the omnium.

Week 3: Race #5—I was ready to go for broke at River Falls. The course fits my strengths, so I hoped to do well. We roll up to the starting line. Right before the starting whistle, I ref said, is #614 in line (never a good sign to be called out at the line). I acknowledged, and he said, get out of line—you are not eligible to race with the Cat 5. I said that I turned in my paperwork to cat up earlier in the week and made it clear that I desired for the change to go effective after this weekend. I guess that is my fault, but my last communication to the USCF took two weeks to get a response, but they gladly increased my racing Category in 48 hours despite my request—go figure. Why would I have put in my paperwork in before the series finished you ask? Well, I wanted to be Cat. 4 for the Upstate race in two weeks. Anyway, the ref’s response—tough luck, welcome to the 4’s, now get out of line. Unfortunately, there went my omnium chances as well. So after a bit of frustration, I got ready to race Masters 40+. Welcome to a new world—the pace was 2 mph faster and the race was 50% longer. Needless to say, it will be quite some time before I compete for an omnium title at the Master’s level. Some very impressive riders in the field. I placed 21^st out of a starting field of about 60 (39 finished). I do have to say it was nice to race with some riders that were in control for a change. Cat 5 is notorious for being squirrelly. Masters 40+ is an intense pace comparatively, but the riders are respectful and know how to handle a bike.

Race #6—Should I or shouldn’t I? I awoke not knowing if I was going to ride the final race of the series. The wind was 20-30 mph and my legs were sore from a tough race the day before. But, I decided to give it a go—hoping to just not be dropped. The race was 6 laps or 42 miles vs. 3 laps for the Cat. 5. We started with the wind at our backs then quickly discovered the crosswinds on a big chunk of the course would be the true test. Quickly everyone was forced to the yellow line and began to string out. Then, the problems started—people kept jumping over the yellow line in an attempt to grab a wheel for a little wind advantage. This lasted one lap and then on the second lap the ref stopped his motorcycle in the middle of the road and stopped the pack that was rolling at 30 mph. He warned the entire pack, but many became irate at how he went about the reprimand—it allowed two breakaways to get even further up the road. The ref threatened to stop the race again on lap three but everyone just rode onward trying to obey the yellow line rule. The sixth and final lap ended with several packs of riders riding in together. I was in the third group and finished 16^th out of a field of 60 or so riders—much better than expected for a tough day in a new Cat. So…the Cat 5 saga ended with me placing 4^th without even racing the last weekend—bummer, but that is life.

Six races—six different stories to tell—each with an oddity of some kind or another. Glad to see that racing is so predictable!

I think bike racing must have at least one thing in common with golf – there are those moments where you wonder what you’re even doing out there, and then those moments where things come together for a momentary glimpse of something good.  For me, this weekend was just that.  Saturday was a good day….. Sunday – not so much.

For Saturday, the course was the River Falls loop in northern  Greenville County.  5 miles and change made one lap, complete with a solid 2 minute long hill +/-, then a gradual descent, and some riding in the river bottoms before starting it all over again.  For the Pro 1,2 field it was 10 times around.

My intentions were to not linger around the back too much, thus risking being on the wrong side of the inevitable attrition that always happens on that course.  I wanted to ride at or near the front if I could, putting myself in a position to respond when the need arose.  I went ahead and took the line at the very front, next to Andy Baker (always an aggressive rider) from the Bissell team.  We started on top of the hill and headed down.  It was a confidence booster to be in that position.  However, I do find myself being drawn to one side or another of the field, on the perimeter of the pack.  I think I’ve realized that, being a smaller rider, I don’t have the line of sight that one wants to have when enveloped by a 100+ strong peloton.  On the sides I can see around and anticipate moves just a little bit better.

On lap #1, 2 riders got away without any protest from the field.  I must’ve been feeling pretty good at that point, as I actually thought about taking the risk and trying to join them.  Then I thought about how unmercifully I would get spit out of the back if or when we got caught!

I had originally wanted to ride my climbing bike with my Power Tap, a much lighter and superior machine for the climbs than the converted TT bike that I’ve been using.  Unfortunately, some problems with my hub put that out of consideration at the last minute.  So I rode the QR, but threw on a lightweight front wheel for some consolation.

After the race, I spoke with a few different guys about the day and, interestingly, they each commented about a hard lap or hill, but all different laps.  For me, it was lap 7 where a moment of easing up the slightest bit through a curve led to an open gap on the rolling descent.  I went into the red momentarily, but got some help in closing it down and getting back in the fold.  For me, the hills on the other laps seemed hard, but very manageable.  No power meter for me as reference, but I would guess I was in the 380-420 watt range for most of the hills, similar to the hill repeats I do in training.  The base of the climb was in the 20 mph range, and it might’ve dropped to 16 or so on the steeper section in the middle, before easing off near the top and then ramping it back up on the descent to bring it all back together again…… so long as you made the selection on the hill.  I saw guys going off the back on just about each time up.  I was thrilled to not be one of them!

By the time the tenth lap came around, about half the starting field was gone.  As we rolled along the river bed, I chatted up a kindred old guy, as we took notice that we could just roll in and still beat half the field.  Nonetheless, I had a little left, and had no intentions of letting anyone beat me without a fight.  I left it out there on the course in the finale which corresponded to a top-25 finish (25) for Melo Velo.  I’ll take it!

After a celebratory bagel and a slow drive back towards Anderson (I was soooo close to running out of gas and needed to get about 50 mpg in order to make it to the first station in Traveler’s Rest), it wasn’t much time to recover before the final race of the series at Donaldson on Sunday.

It was great to see my teammates out there flying the colors.  Once again, we had a guy or more in most of the day’s fields.  We all had our work cut out for us.  Winds were steady 20+, with gust inevitably much higher.  In my race, the ref. warned us that there would be instant DQ for crossing the center line.  Apparently there was blatant disregard in some of the other races, hence the severity of rule enforcement.

Off we went.  I think I got 30 seconds in when a rider comments to me that something was loose on my wheel.  I looked down to see a cap that had come off the Zipp hub and was dangling, jingling, and jangling.  I hesitated to consider whether or not to pull off.  In the interim, it was hammer time at the front, just as we hit the backstretch and the ferocious crosswinds.  Not a good time to find myself on the back.  A crosswind like that with no escaping its wrath is a great thing for a time trialist…. not so much for the rest of us.  The fast flatlanders seemed to be the survivors of the day.  I wasn’t one of them so it made for a quick exit and cool-down spin.  Oh well, that’s racin’!  Live to fight another day.

Rolling down I-85 on Saturday morning I was treated to a beautiful sunrise. Since the forecast all week had called for rain it was a relief to see blue sky. I entertained myself by watching vehicles loaded with road bikes passing on the northbound side. I’m sure they were all heading to Greenville to do battle with my Melo Velo teammates. As I got closer to Lawrenceville I began seeing more mountain bikes headed my way. If you have ever sped up to see what kind of bike is on the vehicle in front of you, you may be an addict like me. With an hour and a half to spare before the start, I rolled into to Tribble Mill Park, got registered and set up my pit area.

Nothing like going on a group ride with 265 friends! Lining up for the mass start it became apparent that things would get messy as the race entered the singletrack. Luckily there was about a half a mile of grass field and pavement to cross before we entered the woods.  I stayed away from the cluster of aluminum and carbon as long as possible, pedaling circles around the pit area to warm my legs and settle the butterflies.

As the promoter began the 1 minute countdown I rolled over to the outside edge of the pack. 3,2,1, GO!  Merging with the mass of bodies flailing on their machines was tricky. Two riders in front of me banged wheels and went down hard. I had to call on my incredible technical skills to loft my bike gently over the front wheel of one of the victims. (Ok, here’s the truth, I snatched up on the bar, closed my eyes, and somehow managed to get my rear tire high enough not to hit him.) I would not exactly call it a bunny hop. It was more of a rhino flop. I accelerated hard and found my usual spot between the real racers and the rest of the pack. Just where I wanted to be going into the singletrack.

There was the usual first lap traffic jam on the singletrack. One person slipping on a root or failing to clean a climb would grind things to a halt momentarily. A steep gully with a tough run out claimed several victims early on. If you didn’t enter with some speed and crank hard going up the back side, you would not get out. As I passed through I had to dodge 2 riders lying in the bottom who had not made it. One of them shouted, “go on without me!”  I replied, “I’ll be back to check on you in about an hour.”  Luckily everyone else ahead of me was fairly skilled and I experienced few delays in finding my rhythm after that. With no pre-ride I was getting a crash course in what Tribble Mill had to offer. It was a pretty tough lap with some technical rooty climbing. Two of the downhills had some great flow, but most of the others had several tight turns and switchbacks that required a lot of slowing and accelerating. The course was run counterclockwise. It was a good course, but I definitely prefer the clockwise direction they have run in the past. As I rolled out of the woods and across the timing mat I checked the clock; right at 53 minutes for lap one. I set a goal of 6 laps as I refueled in my pit.

Lap 2 was enjoyable. My legs were coming to me and I had no problem navigating obstacles on the course. It always amazes me how I find myself riding alone in races with so many people participating. I think I only passed 3 or 4 people on lap 2 and I think only 1 or 2 passed me. I enjoy the solitude of my mediocrity. Can’t hang with the fast crowd, but can at least stay ahead of the rest of the pack.

My young singlespeeding friend Ryan had come out to work my pit and ride a few laps of the course with me. Although I saw him before the start of the race, he was nowhere to be found as I finished laps 1 and 2. As I prepared for lap 3 he came running over. Turns out he was in another pit talking to an attractive young woman who was racing as part of a team. Her name was Heather Holmes and it just so happens that she was the winner of the Single Speed World Championship for 2011 in Ireland. Her teammate was the equally impressive Namrita O’Dea, world class endurance racer and member of Team Topeak Ergon. I can’t fault Ryan for his disappearance at all. Had I been 28 and single I definitely would have chosen to hang out in their pit instead of mine.

To redeem himself Ryan went out on lap 3 with me. I was feeling strong and we pushed a hard pace. If I subtract my time in the pits, I think lap 3 was my fastest. I felt sure that 6 laps were possible. As I rolled in from lap 3 I had Ryan check the leader board. It looked like I was in a good position to get in the top 10 if I completed 6 laps. I rolled out on lap 4 feeling optimistic.

Once Ryan realized that Heather was out on the course, he immediately decided to go back out with me. On the first big climb I was going too hard. I backed off and tried to recover. Ryan went on ahead. He looked a lot like a bird dog with his nose in the air and his tail wagging as he mashed up the climb. Suddenly I began to feel the old familiar twinge of my lower back beginning its mutiny. I had to stop and stretch to keep things from locking up. As I got back on my bike and started the downhill I heard a rider approaching from behind. This prompted me to accelerate and take on the downhill with a renewed vigor. It felt great and I pushed the bike hard through the turns. After railing that section I was again optimistic about my chances at 6 laps. I headed up the next climb with enthusiasm. Before long the rider behind me was back on my wheel. I think she was part of a 3 person team doing the 9 hour race. Not wanting to hold her up on the tight climb I accelerated as best I could. She hung on to my wheel and started a casual conversation with me. “Man, you destroyed that downhill!” “ I was going to try to pass you before we headed down, but I’m glad I didn’t.” “I wasn’t even close to keeping up!” My fragile male ego prompted me to attempt a response, but my heart was blocking my vocal chords at the time. I think I managed a weak “thanks,” between the snorts, grumbles and whimpers. As soon as the trail widened I slid over and told her to go on past. She powered on up the hill and out of sight. I fumbled on through the lap and limped to my pit.

While Ryan cleaned and lubed my chain I stretched and ate a sandwich. We headed back out together, but by the second climb I could no longer hold his wheel. I told him to ride on while I recovered. At some point during lap 5 a raccoon jumped on my lower back and proceeded to bite and claw my muscles with terrible intensity. Eventually the coon wrestled me off the bike and onto the ground. I had to lie there for a couple of minutes stretching before I could ride again. Despite my best efforts to spot the angry beast, I never actually saw the raccoon that caused my downfall. If it wasn’t a raccoon, it must have been an opossum. That is my only explanation for the sharp and sudden pain I experienced.  I soft pedaled the bike back to the finish line, secretly hoping I did not have time for another lap.

As I checked the clock I realized I had and hour and five minutes left to do one more. Any lap not completed before four o’clock and one second would not count. There is nothing more devastating than pushing hard for a last lap only to come in a couple of minutes late. Been there, done that. With my back in its current condition I knew it would be tough if not impossible to get it done. Knowing I still had to drive myself home, I headed to my pit for a beer and a BC powder.

I was disappointed that I did not complete 6, but happy with the way I rode overall. The final results had me in 14^th place out of 24 riders in the solo sport category. Had I done the 6^th lap I would have only moved up to 11^th place. Not what I had hoped for, but it was a good day on the bike.

Now get out and ride! You don’t have to be fast to have fun at a mountain bike race.

-Jerry

The fields continue to be huge in the Pro 1,2 field for the Spring Series, and the racing intense!

We had 5 laps and around 77-78 miles of racing on Saturday.  The strong teams again were there in full force, pushing the pace.  Numerous attacks went away in the early going, but all were brought back.  Again I found myself further to the back of the pack than I probably should’ve been - especially so given the winds that by lap 3 or 4 were gusting very strongly.  As the course is mostly square-ish, we had 2 sections of cross-wind (one from each side), a headwind section, and a tailwinds section.  The headwind section was of course the easiest in terms of being able to get shelter and conserve energy.   On the tailwind sections and the crosswinds, the pace was very fast.  35-38 mph with the wind and 28-30 in the crosswind sections.  Many found the gutter, impossible to echelon without sufficent road.  Nonetheless, I was feeling strong and never felt like I was ever in jeopardy of popping.  I had figured on a war of attrition, and my plan was to survive the selections and at least be around for the finale and have a go at it.  The plan worked great until about mid-way on the 4th lap when some sort of minor scuffle happened a few bike lengths ahead of me in the pack.  The road was quickly blocked in that section.  I hit the grass, had to put a foot down, then got back going, but now 10-15 seconds delayed.  We were dead into the wind at that point and the pack was full bore in chase of a small break.  I found myself hooking up with a Team Type 1 rider who must’ve been European and we chased hard for several minutes.  No dice.  70 or 80 against 2 and it was game over.  Bummer!  The legs were good, but the luck not so much.