Time for a new glass

My Mohican 100 pint glass from last year's race became the beer glass of choice in the weeks leading up to this year's race. Maybe it helped to make for a good mojo this year; maybe it didn't. The result was much better than last year, so in hopes that a trend will develop, it was time for a switch.

I took last week off the bike, so the pint glass saw some pretty extensive use. Not being one to rest too much, we went to Boyette for a little trailwork action. My assignment involved digging up and carting big rocks to a new section of trail that was open for business at the end of the day. I also got to tour the start of the next new trail which will add another 2.5 miles of swoopy singletrack to the great inventory of trails out there.

Sunday we took a family trip (Lauren, Fontana and I) to Santos for some riding. I really did take it easy. I rode with Lauren and Fontana the entire time, except for a few detours onto the harder red trails.

I'm ramping the saddletime back up this week. I always ride early in the morning during the week to minimize exposure to heat and summer thunderstorms. I think it was already 85 degrees at 6:00 this morning. So much for escaping from the heat. Canada, anybody?

Mohican 100

Last year I was one of the many racers who went off course multiple times. The first time was spent wandering around a campground with a big group of racers after some miscreant camper removed the sign pointing us up the gas line climb. The second time was when Trish Stevenson and I missed a turn off a road. Garth got us back on track. The third time I was near the finish, closing in on a top-10 finish, and I had ripped it from the last aid station through the Mohican State Park singletrack. I was on the road heading for the covered bridge, going downhill at 30+ MPH. I shot over the covered bridge, started climbing and turned into singletrack when I saw a marker. 20 miles later I was back at the last aid station. I missed the tiny marker indicating a right turn at the covered bridge and rode most of the opening singletrack again. I was cooked from the "end of the race" effort and dropped out. I was pretty disgusted with the entire race, but in the end I thought "shame on me" for not carrying the course map and paying close enough attention.

The bad memories eventually faded and the good ones stuck: The great singletrack, the crazy cuts across private property, and the Amish scenery (where else can you see a pet donkey trotting alongside its horse-riding owners?). The Mohican 100 was back on my 2007 calendar and I was intent on redeeming myself.

Despite gas being over $3 per gallon, it was still much cheaper for me to drive solo from Tampa than it was to fly, ship my bike and rent a car. Luckily Patrick and Peter jumped in with me in Atlanta and made it even cheaper. I left Thursday morning and we made it to Lexington KY that night.

We had an easy driving day Friday, so we stopped at England-Idlewild Park south of Cincinnati for a spin. It was fun rolling singletrack with some very interesting structures and teeter-totters thrown in.

The change of race venue to Camp Nuhop was a good one. The main lodge served as the start/finish and dinner hall. The dorm rooms we rented were attached to the lodge. There was a big field for campers. Step out of your room and onto your bike to race, and at the end, step off your bike and get whatever you want first: shower/food/beer/sleep. It was all right there.

I shared a dorm room with Jeff, Andy and Harlan. If we keep surrounding Andy with green it's bound to rub off. The rooms were small but adequate and a bit warm. Jeff and Andy scored an unused fan from a cabin that made a huge difference in the quality of our sleep.

We woke up at 5AM to begin the caloric ingestion process. Our hosts were kind enough to let us haul our camp stoves up onto the decks around the lodge for our breakfast. They were great. They essentially gave us the run of the place.

I missed the part about the neutral start pausing to re-group at the dam, so I wasn't surprised when we started hammering away without the pause. We had a bit more pavement and doubletrack before hitting the singletrack this year, which thinned the crowds some. The lead group was gone, but I was in good position entering the singletrack and began the process of working my way up.

I rode with a few guys through the singletrack and out onto the gravel, but they all eventually faded, leaving me to race alone. I'd be alone for the rest of the race, except for brief moments when I'd pass another rider.

After my miserable hydration pack experience at the Cohutta 100 where I ditched the heavy beast mid-race, I worked on a revised carrying strategy. I bought a 50-oz pack with virtually no storage. It would carry water and no more. Tubes and tools were in my seat bag or taped to my Deluxe. Food, gel, chain lube and other frequently needed items went into jersey pockets. It was hot, which meant I'd be stopping at each aid station to top off fluids. The strategy worked great. My stop times were minimal and I never felt like I was carrying too much. I did run out of water once, but that was because of my own miscalculation. I'd planned on re-filling bottles at each aid station, and re-filling the water pack at 2 and 4. When I filled up at 2 I hadn't used much water out of the pack. I rolled through 3 and just topped off my bottles, then sucked my water pack dry about 5 miles later. I had about 1-1/2 bottles of fluid, but it was hot and I wasn't sure I'd make it to 4 without running out. I started looking for water spigots on the sides of houses along the road. I saw a couple of well pumps but didn't want to take the risk. I saw a hose next to a house - score! - only to find it not attached to a spigot. I gave up, started conserving and kept the pace high. It worked out well because I was on that mind-numbing section of rail trail, and running low on water kept me motivated to ride fast. I took my last swig as I rolled into sight of the aid station.

After aid station 4 I encountered a lot more racer traffic because the 100K race had re-joined the 100-mile route. I could usually recognize the 100K racers before I got to them. The mid-packers were all sporting HUGE hydration packs and many were walking up the steeper pitches. I did pick off a few more 100-mile racers, but most of it was 100K traffic.

At aid station 5 I topped off all my fluids even though it was only 10 miles to the finish. Last year's memories were obviously still fresh. I had no issues as I picked my way through the technical, muddy trail that ran along the river up to the dam. At the base of the dam, there were a few riders walking up the trail to the stairs. Putting on my best game face, I charged up the steep trail, past the riders and dismounted right before the steps. One of them was a 100-mile racer. He kept pace with me up the stairs, but I got to the top and dropped the hammer, leaving whatever I had left on the climb back toward the finish.

I crossed the line in 8:22, about 1:15 off of Eatough's winning pace, and good for 12th place. Harlan crushed it, finishing less than 7 minutes behind Eatough! Jeff had a great day, finishing 8th about 12 minutes ahead of me, getting back all the time I put into him at the Cohutta. Andy came in about 10 minutes behind me, putting in a solid day after some early gastric issues.

Then came the post-race party, which after the ride is my favorite thing about these hundies. Eat lots of good food, drink lots of good beer, hang out with all the great friends I've made, and make a few new friends.

This year the course was impeccably marked. The signs were bigger. There were "wrong way" signs where you weren't supposed to go. The orange ribbons between turn signs were plentiful. I didn't go off course one time. Most other racers reported the same. The few who did get off course probably did so out of mis-judgement.

The organizers outdid themselves with the post-race party. The food was plentiful and even the hardcore drinkers couldn't kill the last of the 4 kegs. Add that to the new venue and the vastly improved course markings and you have the makings of a great race. Big props go out to Ryan and Garth for putting this race right up there with the best-run races around.

12 Hours of Tsali

Even though this race has been on my schedule all year, I didn't decide to definitely go until the Monday before the race. If the weather was going to be bad I would've bailed. The memories of the Knobscorcher were still very fresh and I couldn't imagine trying to keep a bike running for 12 hours in those conditions. The forecast looked good, though, so I went for it.

I left Tampa Thursday morning so I could snag a campsite at the world-famous Tsali trailhead. The campground is usually full by noon Friday, so I decided to beat the rush. That left me with a full day to kill Friday and plenty of chill-time. I was up pretty late Thursday setting up camp, so I slept in Friday and went to ride the course around noon. There weren't many people around, but I did run into one familiar face. I saw this guy and Bob McCarty from Florida on the pre-registration list and knew that getting on the podium was gonna be tough.

Setting up my pit required some thought. I was going self-supported and the pit area was on a fireroad where no cars were allowed. Usually I'd just pull my car into the feed zone and work right out of the car. Before I left home I picked up a couple of big plastic storage bins (thanks to Dicky for that tip) to keep all my crap in. Parts went into one box, food and clothes went into the other. I mixed up enough bottles to hopefully get me through the day and put them into 2 coolers. Throw it all around a folding picnic table and that was my pit. My IF teamie Patrick was gonna be around riding on a team with Shey Lindner, Peter Joski and Ed Mooreadith, so I could tap those guys for help if needed.

I think I got 10 hours of sleep Friday night. That rocked.

It was pretty chilly Saturday morning, but by the time 11AM rolled around it was beautiful. The layers came off and I started with just a base layer under my jersey. The run was mercifully short and I was on my bike in less than 2 minutes. Chris Janiszewski from Florida (the guy I battled with at Razorback was there supporting some friends and gave me splits all day. Brandon put 5 minutes into me on the first lap and I was in 3rd. I assumed Bob was in 2nd.

Things stayed like that for most of the day. Things started getting weird for me kind of early, though. I started feeling hints of cramps in my quads about 4 hours in. I'd put 2 Endurolytes in every other bottle and figured that would be plenty with the cool temps. Thankfully I had a film can full of them in my jersey pocket and started eating them like candy. I was keeping the cramps at bay, but my left knee started hurting. It got pretty bad, especially on the climbs. I had another film can of vitamin I at my pit and started eating those up. Those 2 issues started the self-doubt creeping in. Why was I cramping so early when i was managing my efforts? What's going on with my knee? Should I really push through this and risk hurting myself before Mohican? I shut it all out and just concentrated on one lap, one at a time. By the time the 6-hour race was finished, all self-doubt was gone and I was just churning out laps. I was feeling great and it showed in really consistent laps.

Chris had quit giving me the ridiculous splits to Brandon, but he was telling me how far off of 2nd I was. At one point I was 10 minutes back, then it started: Chris: "You're 4 minutes back." Me: "Really?" Chris: "Yup, you took 4 minutes out of him that lap." I just kept doing what got me through my dark period: Spinning up the climbs, bombing the downhills and cruising the flats.

As I started my 10th lap I looked to Chris for the split. He motiond down a few tents and said "That's him. You're now in 2nd." It was a guy in a Virginia Tech kit whom I didn't know. I kept at it, not changing anything yet. I figured that keeping up what got me past him would be the ticket at this point. He caught up to me on the 10-minute fireroad section before the singletrack. We talked a bit and he thought he was a lap or two up on me. I told him I didn't think so because no solo racers had passed me all day, and I was thinking that he had no idea what he was talking about. With that, he attacked up a climb. He put a bit of a gap on me but wasn't really pulling away. When the trail narrowed to singletrack and pointed down, I was right on his wheel, riding my brakes. I'd bombed this downhill all day with reckless abandon and wasn't ready to give that up. I got around him at the earliest opportunity, attacked the downhill, then settled back into my pace. I put 5 minutes into him that lap.

The rest of the race was pretty uneventful. I only rode 2 night laps since it was light until 9PM. I suck at night riding and hadn't ridden at night since Razorback, so I was happy to only see my lap times drop off by a couple of minutes.

Though the results show that Brandon and I both finished with 13 laps, he actually lapped me during my 12th lap. While riding with me, he figured out where he stood and realized he didn't have to go out again, so he called it a day at 13.

Huge thanks go out to Patrick for pitching in on my self-support effort, and to Chris for giving me splits all day and keeping me motivated.

Now, for an equipment report:

First, the biomechanical part: I suffered blurry vision in my right eye again. It happened at Razorback and hadn't happened again until Tsali. I thought it was the cold. Now I think it's dust in these lap races. I've never worn glasses because I sweat like a stuck pig, but I think some clear lenses are in order for low-intensity lap races.

I think my knee issues are from the new pedals I put on my road bike a couple of weeks ago. I had the Ultegra SPD-R pedals with that stupid plastic insert that wears out in a month. I replace them about every 3 months and the pedals were toast. The aluminum was worn down around the plastic and support was non-existent. I replaced them with the new Ultegras with a metal plate in place of the plastic one, but left the old cleats on my shoes. I immediately noticed that my right foot didn't feel right, but rotating the cleat a bit seemed to fix that problem. Hopefully replacing and re-aligning the cleats should solve the problem. If not, it looks like I'll be riding my MTBs for the rest of the year.

This was my first big test of my new Ergon GX2 grips. I'd played with them for about a month and thought I'd finally found the sweet spot, so I decided to leave them on for the race. I'm happy to report that my hands were the one contact point that didn't hurt during the race. That's a first. These grips rock.

Shimano has never thrown swag my way, but their stuff just works and I stick with it. I put some new Dual Control levers on my ti Deluxe this year and knew they were a huge improvement over the previous generation. This race confirmed that. The ergonomic improvements are huge, especially with front shifts. It used to be that late in a race when my hands were tired, it took two fingers to shift into the big ring. Now it's a flick of my index finger and it's there. Gotta give the Big S props for listening to their customers and delivering a vastly improved product.

Now I've gone and done it...

Dear Harvey Minton,

The following request to change your NORBA category has been approved and processed by USA Cycling: harveyminton - 2007-04-27 8:07
Member: Harvey Minton
License: Cross Country Racer
Request to change category from Expert to Semipro

Member Explanation/Resume:
9/17/06: Florida State Championship Series #1, Reddick FL: 2nd, Expert 40-49
2/17/07: 12 Hours of Razorback, Reddick FL: 3rd, 12-hour solo
3/11/07: Southeast Regional Championship Series #1 (AMBC), Reddick FL: 2nd, Expert 30-39
3/18/07: Georgia State Championship Series #1, Macon GA: 2nd, Expert 30-39
4/1/07: Southeast Regional Championship Series #3 (AMBC), Bryson City NC: 3rd, Expert 35-39

Request was approved on 2007-04-27 14:49 by Stuart Lamp

Thank you for supporting USA Cycling.

--USA Cycling Support

I have to shell out $15 to re-issue my stolen license so I thought I'd make it worth my money. I've podiumed every XC race I've done this year, plus the 12 Hours of Razorback must've counted for something since it's on the National Ultra-Endurance Calendar. Endurance is really my thing and XC is just a tool to work on my top-end, so I might as well step up and race guys who are faster than me.

The podiums were fun while they lasted. Here's to getting my ass handed to me.

Cohutta 100

It was the worst week leading up to a big race that I've ever had. While riding at Croom last Saturday (my last long ride before the race), my car was broken into and I lost a lot of stuff. The lowlifes busted out my window and made off with cash and wallet, 2 pair of sunglasses, my gear bag (which was full of stuff priceless to a cyclist and worthless to a lowlife) and my Sirius receiver. The scumbags even took my clothes! At least they left my towel to put between my sweaty bike shorts and car seat.

It was Saturday afternoon. I had no cash, credit cards, ID or travel gear. My car had no driver's side window. Somebody had the keys to my house and my home address. I was supposed to leave to head to the Cohutta 100 Thursday morning. My stress level immediately went through the roof and stayed there until I was finally on the road Thursday.

Thankfully I have an understanding boss, because I only made two brief appearances all week in my mad rush to get my affairs in order. It didn't look good a couple of times, but Lauren, Fontana and I were rolling out of Tampa at 6:30 Thursday morning.

We rolled through Atlanta and stopped at Blanket's Creek north of town to spin the travel out of the legs. We were supposed to meet Jeff and Andy there, but Andy's bike was delayed at the airport (how they can lose a bag on a nonstop eludes me), so we rolled out alone so we could finish the drive to Blue Ridge and get our cabin keys. We found a nice pet-friendly cabin very close to the race venue last year, and made sure we got it again.

Our cabin mates were Jeff, Andy, Harlan, Elk, Eddie, Namrita and the O'Dea dogs. Harlan showed up with a brand-new Ti Deluxe 29er with a Lefty fork, partially assembled, a box full of parts and my new Ergon grips. He went right to work, intent on riding the new bike in the race. He was so sure it was going to work out that he didn't even have his old bike with him. The boy's got some cajones.

I figured if Harlan can race a brand-new bike, I can race some new grips, so I installed the Ergons, played around with the fit in front of the cabin, then we all headed to Tanasi for a spin around the trails. We took it easy, let the dogs have fun and took in the views we wouldn't see much of during the race. I couldn't get the positioning on the Ergons to feel right, so the experiment ended until I can figure them out. I love how they feel but didn't want to risk something going wrong and affecting my race. I like to leave the experimentation for training rides anyway.

I knew that since the race was now part of the NUE series, and since the NUE series seems to have gotten more peoples' attention this year, my results were not going to be quite what they were last year (10th overall, final podium spot). With guys like Eatough, Juarez, Price and others showing up, the podium was going to be elusive. I settled for personal goals: a top-20 finish and shaving 1 hour off last year's time.

The weather was looking great. The high was going to be in the mid 70s with no chance of rain. I could've done without the sub-40 degree start, but it would warm up quickly. I added a base layer, arm and knee warmers and a vest to keep warm. I should've gone without the vest. This would cost me an early stop to ditch the thing barely 1 hour in, and a possible bridge up to a faster group. Hindsight.

We rolled out right on time, starting with 2 miles of pavement before hitting the dirt. I stayed near the front, but didn't get too aggressive yet. I seem to have a problem ramping my heart rate really high early in the starts and my breakfast (which last year's experiments taught me needs to be big) was still digesting. I have to work through that, because being up there at the start is necessary if I ever want to shed the role of the guy with the steady pace who feeds off the guys who roll out fast and blow up.

My race strategy was to stop at aid stations 2, 4 and 6. I'd sent bottles up with drink mix so I could just add water and go. I thought about going without a pack, but needed someplace to carry the layers I'd be shedding. I wish I'd thought about this one more.

Things went well, except for stopping when I exited the singletrack for the gravel to shed my vest, and when I checked the water level in my pack at aid station 2. I didn't put the bladder all the way back in and the hose was hitting my knee with every pedal stroke. This was in the heavy climbing part of the course. It was like a Chinese water torture. I had to stop to fix the offending hose.

I went back and forth with the eventual singlespeed winner and a Cannondale guy all day. I stopped at aid station 4, ditched all my layers, got my chain re-lubed (those guys at that aid station totally rocked!) and my belly filled. It was showtime, with a bunch of flat road and a couple of big climbs back up to Tanasi. I'd already caught one guy who cracked and I was sure there would be more. I caught the singlespeeder and the Cannondale guy again (they rolled through aid station 4, passing me again in the process) and finally put them behind me for the last time. I was feeling great, except for my recently filled-with-water pack. It was killing my back, so I took a calculated risk and dumped it and its contents off at aid station 5 without stopping. I was sure that I'd have enough fluids to finish and that I wouldn't need anything that was in the pack. I also had one more aid station to re-fuel at before the finish.

I started to reel in another rider, but he was proving stubborn. By the time I reached aid station 6, he was still out front. I stuck with my plan and grabbed one last bottle. While the volunteer was filling my bottle, I stuffed my face with some Oreo knockoffs. I usually stay away from the junk food during races, but pretty soon the sugar rush had me flying and feeling even better! The singletrack started with a nice grunt of a climb. I saw my elusive rider up there, walking it. Sweet! He was mine. It took a while to reel him in, but I got him and a few others as I flew through the singletrack. I was flying and most of them were cooked, and they'd hear me coming and just move over to let me by.

I made my final pass at the bottom of TR Express and had to pin it on the pavement to make sure I held the spot. I ended up 19th overall with a time of 7:40. Last year's time was 8:35. Mission accomplished. I ate a hamburger that tasted like a hockey puck (but I didn't care), cleaned up and began the vigil waiting for the drop bags to return. In between, we indulged Harlan's desire to get back to his southern roots with a trip to the McCaysville Family Diner for a plate full of fried catfish, fried veggies, fried potatoes and sugar-water, er, sweet tea.

Knobscorcher (Bike Destroyer)

Things came together and I made it to Tsali last weekend. The weather forecast looked pretty bad for Sunday, but I went for it anyway. I figured I usually do well when conditions get bad, but I didn't think about the effect mud has on a bike. Not that I worry about mud when I'm racing, but geez, this race wasn't even a priority for me.

I got there late Saturday morning and even though it was beautiful and dry, I decided to commit to it being muddy and mounted a Hutchinson Bulldog on the rear. The pre-ride was awesome. Tsali is just so fun to ride fast.

My next dilemma was what class to race in. I'm 41 this year and have stayed in 30-39 expert. This race was broken up into 30-34 and 35-39. Not a big deal, except for how they started it last year: The 35-39 group lined up 10' behind the 30-34 group and they went at the same time. If I registered in 35-39 I would be immediately be in traffic no matter how good my start was. I really wanted the win - the whole 10-year group - and thought being able to start in front would be best. Greed got the best of me, however. The 35-39 pre-registration was twice that of 30-34, meaning a bigger payout for a good finish in 35-39. The decision was made.

The rain started Saturday night, but wasn't too bad - yet. It wasn't even bad when the Beginner wave started, but then the skies let loose and conditions got worse as the day wore on. The Expert wave was scheduled to start at 1:30. I warmed up in the rain on the road, just to postpone the inevitable, and lined up 15 minutes early. At 1:30 they announced that an injured rider was on the course and we wouldn't start until he was hauled out by EMTs. At 2:00 they told us to go ride around and come back in 15 minutes. At 2:30 they decided that to get things going, the course would be the right loop backward, instead of the right loop/left loop combo.

I should've gotten some food, but instead I hung out catching up with people I hadn't seen in a long time, and made the observation that a lot of the people who I wanted to see how I'd stack up against had upgraded to semi-pro.

What a way to start. I hadn't had any signifigant food since breakfast and was hungry. We were about to ride a sloppy course that we hadn't seen run in that direction. I was about to wreak mechanical havoc on my bike in the name of age-group glory. What was I thinking?!?!

We were called to the line at 2:45. As I lined up behind the line, they said all 30-39 experts would start on the line. Sweet! I quickly got a spot. We got to vote for 2 or 3 10-mile laps. It looked pretty even, but 3 laps it would be. Sweet, still 30 miles. When the horn went off I almost went down spinning my rear tire in the mud, but recovered and started working up the fire road. I was pretty flat due to my warm-up being eons ago, but I worked the climbs to my advantage and dropped into the singletrack near the top 5.

Half way through the lap I came upon a rider down. As I got closer it was Earl Bradley, a pro from the east coast of FL who races for Trek. A couple of people were already stopped helping him. I slowed up to make sure things were under control. They assured me that they were and encouraged me to stay in my race. When I came around on the 2nd lap and he was still there I was thinking "WTF are we doing??? There's a guy laying here, obviously injured, and we're finishing a race??? Crazy.

Back to my race. I was riding really well, cleaning all but two sections of the course. At the end of the first lap was the biggest climb on the course, which was super-slick. I had caught a bunch of the 19-29 expert group, who were all walking up the climb, slipping in the mud. Not wanting to risk chainsuck, I stayed in the big ring, stood up and mashed up the climb, picking my way through the carnage. That was probably the highlight of my day.

I had worked my way up to 4th by the end of the first lap and had 3rd place in sight. I reeled him in on the climb up the road, but once he hit the singletrack he was gone. He either had some mean skills or total disregard for his safety. Either way, he was gone. I couldn't bomb the downhills because I couldn't see - my eyes were filled with mud.

With about 2 miles to go in the 2nd lap, I got to the place where spectators hike in from the finish and got word that the race had been cut to 2 laps. That sucked from the standpoint of an endurance racer, but was probably good for my bike. One of my rear brake pads was totally worn down and it was metal-on-metal. Another lap and I probably would've worn right through to the piston.

I held the 4th overall spot. It translated into 3rd in 35-39 and would've translated into 2nd in 30-34, but with a smaller payout as predicted. My teamie Patrick bagged 5th, putting 2 IF riders on the 35-39 podium.

When I finished the lines for the showers/bike washes were so long that I just put my bike on the roof, hoped for more rain to clean it, and cleaned myself under my Sun Shower. Upon arriving home Monday and tending to the filthy beast I tallied the damages: Brake pads and rear rotor. A complete dismantling and cleaning of the brake calipers had them working like new. Not bad, but there goes the $100 I won.

Georgia State Series Opener

I had to do it. I had to see if my early season has been a case of home-course advantage. It was also the end of a rest week. It all made sense. Drive 6 hours to Macon GA for the Georgia State Championship Series opener, throw down for a couple of hours at the end of a rest week and see if the speed I've been displaying would follow me into hostile turf.

I wanted to ride for a couple of hours, so we left at 6AM Saturday and got to Arrowhead Park at noon, which wasn't bad considering that the entire province of Ontario was making the exodus north on I75 from their winter roosts in Florida. I started with an easy lap with Lauren and Fontana. Lauren was nursing a foot injury and only wanted to ride one lap, but with the temps in the 50s, Fontana was up for running all day, even keeping up when I was doing some race-pace openers.


"Will you quit futzing with that gadget so I can run?!?"


Sunday was near freezing in the morning, as predicted. It made the warm-up for the 9:30 start fun, with frozen fingers and toes. It was sunny and the wind had died down, so it felt pretty nice by start time. A lot of people really bundled up, but I opted for a base layer under my jersey, arm and knee warmers, and toe booties and thick gloves to keep my digits happy.


The start suited me well. It was nice and wide, immediately taking a sharp right turn up a steep hill, then right back down the hill and into the singletrack. It would give me plenty of time to ramp up the pace and hopefully hit the trail in good position.



I lined up on the far left with the thought of taking a sweeping turn up the hill, maintaining speed and staying out of the 24-man fray if things got silly. It was a good plan because things got silly. I started to see and hear bars locking and hit the hill off the left side of the gravel as riders piled up to my right. I was the last person in a 5-man group that broke free of the pack once we hit the singletrack. The first 2 riders peeled away and the 3rd rider was just ahead. I sat behind #4 and made my move near the end of the 1st lap. I maintained my spot through the 2nd lap, then at the start of the 3rd lap the singlespeeder that was just in front of me broke his chain on the start climb. I was now in 3rd. An uneventful 3rd lap led into the 4th and I was greeted by fellow Floridian Robert Bounds in the feed zone. Apparently he pulled a hamstring and it was bad enough that he pulled out while in the lead. Bummer, but that put me in 2nd. One rider left.


Rolling through the feed zone to start the 5th and final lap, I asked Lauren if she new how far ahead he was. She didn't know, but as I went up the hairpin climb, he was coming down. 30 seconds. I started pushing harder up the climbs and keeping the pace higher on the flats and downhills. The climbs were starting to hurt, but I finally spotted him near the end of the lap. He saw me and started a series of small attacks, which I responded to and kept him in sight. There was a paved climb right before the final singletrack section that was going to be my only chance to make a move. He had other ideas, though. He hit that climb about 50' in front of me and dropped the hammer. I stood up to attack the climb, but my legs would have no part of it. The climbs were starting to hurt during that lap and it appeared I'd run out of turbo fuel.




I had victory in my hands and let it get away. I started second-guessing myself, wondering if I really gave it my all. When I saw this picture that Lauren snapped of me crossing the finish, I knew that I'd left it all out there. I looked like I was about to drop dead on the spot.


A trip out of state resulted in one of the best XC races I've put together. I think I'll do it one more time before enduro season kicks in, heading to the Knobscorcher at Tsali in a couple of weeks (as long as work doesn't get in the way). Maybe that'll be the one that gets me onto that top podium spot.