Pre-Race: SM100 Part 2

So I have gotten a  little bit farther on this "race plan" business. I have decided where to put my drop bags, I think, yes I have: at checkpoints 2/6 and 5. I don't actually think it really matters that much, because all I really see putting in them is my drink mix. It really seems that the aid stations will have everything else I could need. I struggled with what to put in my drop bag for the Stoopid 50, and ended up filling it with random stuff because I felt like I needed to put something in it. The only thing I really ended up wanting, and didn't have, was my own drink mix. I will of course put my light in my bag at 5. I am really hoping not to need it, but I would rather have it and not need it than not have it at all of course.

I never really understood the people that were insistent on trying to drink all of their calories and eat nothing during a race. However, I seem to be turning into one of these people, but not by choice. I just don't seem to want food during rides and races. My reliance on powered stuff, gels, and bars goes completely against my quest for an entirely whole foods diet, but it just works so well and is easy to carry and all that. So oh well. Another day of existing entirely on sugar.

I am convinced that someday a study will come out saying that drinking Gatorade for 12 hours isn't exactly healthy, but I can't really take my string bean and ham soup, that I am about to eat here at my desk, on a ride with me anyway. I have tried potatoes, but compared to a PowerBar, they just take up too much pocket real estate for the caloric value. I have also tried Dr. Allen Lim's rice cake recipe, which is really quite fantastic, but I'm not sure if I will make the time for that (even though it doesn't take very long). However, the more I sit here and think about it, the more I feel that I might want some rice cakes. Possible addition to the drop bag.

So my food plan is fairly simple, but simple is hard to mess up. Now all that is left is figuring out what assortment of warm clothes I might need for the morning (I am a wimp for cold), and fretting over if I really trained enough or not and if a 6.5 hour long ride 4 weeks ago was really enough before starting to back off the endurance work. But I think I am done caring about that, and the warm clothes will probably just involve me packing everything and deciding that morning. I should probably be more concerned that I don't have a sleeping bag and that it might be in the 40's at night. Hard to think about that when it is over 90 out right now.

Pre-Race: SM100 Part 1

It is time for me to channel my inner Type-A over achiever triathlete and write a race plan for the Shenandoah 100. Mostly, because every race I have done in the past year or so, I have found a way to be somehow unprepared at race start by over looking something critical. I have arrived at triathlon swim starts without my wetsuit, nearly forgotten money to pay for races, and have been generally unprepared for rain. So this time, I am trying to think ahead a bit more.

The first thing I managed to think ahead on was sleeping on the ground. After my last two camping trips of barely sleeping, I decided that there is no way I can sleep on the ground all weekend without some significant change to my gear. So I finally broke down and bought a self-inflating Thermarest mat. I even threatened to practice sleeping on it at night, figuring that my new inability to sleep on the ground must have something to do with my sleeping technique. I have not yet done that, but I have been using my new Thermarest camping pillow that I only justified buying because it was on sale. Turns out, it was worth the $12 because it is the most comfortable pillow I own. Maybe that just means I need new pillows. Anyway, at least I know that my head will be comfortable the night before the race.

I don't think my bike was this clean when I bought it.

The next thing I managed to think ahead on was making sure my bike was ready to go. This has had mixed results. I bought a new saddle, took it in for a tune up, bought some new grips...and then decided to check on my tubeless tires. I got the tune up done early, but attempted the tires a little on the late side. The sealant was definitely dried up inside, but I also definitely needed an air compressor to get them back on. Which I did not have. I witnessed my boyfriend set his up with a floor pump, so I assumed that I could do the same. Turns out, I was wrong. So days before the race and my bike is back in the shop. Perfect.

Next on my to-do list is actually figuring out everything I am going to eat, and what I am going to put in my drop bags, and where I am going to put them. This is really where the race plan part comes in, because my pacing plan is simple: don't kill myself and just keep going.

Fair Hill Classic

This time, I thought, I won't let everyone pass me right at the start. I'll try to maintain a decent spot...or any spot that isn't last or second to last. I tried to start out a little harder than usual, trying to convince myself that I was better than the people behind me. I didn't really believe myself, and after not very much time on the single track, I had let what seemed the like entire 35 and under Sport class pass me. Shortly after that, the 35 and over Sport women came blazing by me as well. Every time I thought I must be last, another person passed me. The most annoying person who passed me was a women who yelled as she passed "What are you?" What am I? What does that even mean? I thought for a second and said "sport?" I figured she could tell I was a woman. This seemed to answer her question, and after passing me in a hurry, she promptly slowed down to about the speed I was going.

I spent about half the next several miles stressing about being last, and trying to tell myself just to enjoy the ride. In my head, I was plotting out my letter to the Bike Lane telling them how I am not as fast as maybe they thought, and that they can in fact kick me off the team with no worries. I also devised a letter in my head to the guys that made me think I could be fast in the first place, basically telling them that they were wrong, and when we ride together, that I must be farther behind them than they realize.

Eventually, I started really forgetting about being last, and started to really just have fun riding. Around mile 15 of 20, we came out of the woods and turned up a long, hot, grassy hill. Everyone was slowly grinding up and some people were even walking. I think that may have been where I had my turning point: the point where I realized that everyone else was getting tired and I wasn't. I picked it up on that hill, passing several people, including some women.

Knowing that there were only 5 miles left, and that I may not be as far behind as I thought, I started summoning my end of ride cycling motivation--most often used at the end of road rides when I am  (1) clinging on the much faster wheel in front of me so I don't have to get back on my own, (2) trying to catch up to my boyfriend who dropped me AGAIN at the end of a ride, or (3) just really trying to get the ride over as quickly as possible. This caught me up to a few more women, most notably, one who took off in second place at the start. Around the last turn to the end down a gravel road, I took advantage of a draft from a pretty big guy and passed one more woman as we flew into the finish.

Somehow, I snagged 4th place. After a second to last and a last place Sport class finish at Wakefield in the previous weeks, my goal was simply to not to be last, and I was not last by several places. I was pretty ecstatic. I was even pretty ecstatic before I learned that I came in 4th because I finished the race better than I had started.

Really, I think I am just too consistent for my own good. I lack a faster speed to use in shorter races, and I can only ride as fast as my poor cornering will allow. However, I am still going the same speed when everyone else is slowing down. I guess that I just need to do longer races...

12 Hours of Cranky Monkey

I was nervous. I hate to admit it, but even the smallest mountain bike races seem to make me nervous, I guess because I have barely been doing these things for a month. As the raced neared, the enormity of it began to dawn upon me. This was a 12 hour race that I decided to do a week ago. I was responsible for half of it, as I would be alternating laps with my teammate. I can handle 6 hours of riding, but 6 hours spread out over 12? Not sure how that was going to work out. But I would soon find out.

As we arrived in the pit area of the race site, some pretty fancy set ups were starting to take shape. Pop up tents, real tents, grills, lounge chairs, bike stands, tables, and people driving up in large trucks, SUVs and vans. We were the only ones to arrive in a MINI Cooper and rig up a backpacking tarp.

My teammate, Jared, rode the first lap. Good thing, because I probably would have let everyone pass me. When it was time for my lap, I was in place with all the fast guys and fast guys teammates because Jared is just too fast. That resulted in me getting passed a lot, and doing my first lap a little faster than what was probably best, and me getting a little stressed out.

Between laps it was HOT. It was already HOT and it was only 10:00. I already completely lost my appetite, and I was already dehydrated. Not looking to be a good day. By my third lap I was sure I was done. I thought about how I was going to totally let Jared down, making him finish the race on his own. I had a headache since lap two and it pounded over every bump in the trail. I figured I could squeeze out one more bad lap, but it wouldn’t be pretty. We were planning on 11, me doing 5 and him 6, so if I at least did 4 I wouldn’t be a complete failure, if I could even do 4. I thought about the people doing the solo race and wondered how I could be such a baby, and I pictured Jared looking at his watch wondering what was taking so long, and suddenly doubting my worthiness as a teammate. Finally I returned, and as I gave him our timing chip, I expressed my feelings of death and trudged back to the tarp to stew in the heat.

However, when I got back to the tarp some marvelous things began to occur. The school behind our tarp was starting to produce some shade, shade that was much cooler than what was under the tarp. I changed out of my wet clothes, finally got out one of my two frozen water bottles, drank the entire bottle, and for the first time washed off my arms and legs with the nearby cold hose water. I was a new person. I scarfed down what food I could (still not hungry), took some ibuprofen for my headache (didn’t want to but couldn’t avoid it), fixed my squealing brake pads, changed back into riding clothes, and scurried back to transition. I told Jared that I felt better, we chatted for a bit, and I was off.

Up to this point we were neck and neck with another co-ed duo team. Jared was faster than their guy, but I was slower than their girl. She had actually passed me in the exact same spot on my last two laps, and before our next lap, she declared that the race was on. This time, however, she did not catch me. Lap 4 was like a different world, I felt like my time was so much faster that I was worried Jared would not be at transition if he was going off of my terrible Lap 3 time. Being one of the most prepared people I know, he was of course there. We had officially opened the gap. The next lap was a similar story, with us gaining a few more minutes, thanks again to a frozen water bottle and a hose. I was not exactly going faster, I was going about the same (except for Lap 3 of death), but as results would later prove, she got a bit slower with each lap. As Jared went off for his 6th and our 11th lap, I knew we secured 2nd place. Turns out, he really didn’t need the 6th lap, we would have gotten second with 10, but 11 looks WAY cooler.

I will not even mention the people who beat us...ok I will. They were insanely fast. 13 laps. I didn’t even think that was possible. Apparently, the girl on their team is going pro. Hopefully, that means that next year she will be doing a fancier race and I will not have to race her...or ride really far behind her. I don’t think you can even call me and her racing.

As the pain of enduring the day subsided, and we sat and had a beer, and then went on to the awards as the sun went down, I started to realize that it was a really fun day. And as I could barely walk up the hill for a bagel the next morning because every part of my body hurt, I started to think how I was glad that I only had to wait three more days for my next race. This mountain bike racing stuff seems to be highly addictive.

Rock Soup: The Stoopid 50

Today's special: Rock Soup. Our Rock Soup is made of various sizes and shapes of never ending rocks, bathed in a delightful mud broth. Our lovely soup is severed to all types of mountain bikers that enjoy visiting the Rothrock State Forest. If you are lucky, your Rock Soup may even be served with a face-full of azalea bushes.

I do not know why I was surprised when  it started to rain. I lived in State College for four years and carried an umbrella with me every single day because I knew that on any given day, rain was a possibility. Not only was it a possibility, but it was likely. I actually have specific memories of sudden showers. One was so torrential, that I arrived to work with my corduroys completely soaked up to the top of my legs to where my jacket started, even with an umbrella. I think maybe my head stayed dry, but that was it. Once in the summer I just gave in to the downpour and walked home barefoot in the pouring rain, and on 4th July I watched the fireworks outside of my apartment building with my friends in the rain while singing patriotic songs. We were, in fact, singing in the rain. I do not think that any other 4-year span of my life resulted in so many "rain" memories. So again, I am not sure why I was surprised when it started to rain.

Maybe I wasn't surprised, but instead it was the realization that yes, this race was going to be every bit as hard as I expected and perhaps more. I had ridden most of the single track sections two weeks before. I considered to to be just on the edge of my ability level. It was a challenge, but very doable, and still fun. I did not factor in, however, if it rained. Which would potentially make it just enough more difficult, to be completely out of my range of technical skills. Sometimes, I hate to admit, I do not think things through fully. Like when I majored in architecture, and then part way into my freshman year I remembered that I did not like drawing buildings. Opps, oh well. At lest I didn't shoot down a hill head first into a tree because of that one.

By the end of the race, I felt like I had been placed in a can with rocks and shaken around for an entire day. All that and I didn't even finish the stoopid race. I was "sort of" cut off. "Sort of" because as I approached the road crossing before the last section of single track, the volunteers stationed there informed me how many miles and how much time I had to reach the aid station before the cut off. Since the math didn't quite add up, I took the short cut back to the aid station, expecting them to be really cutting people off at the cut off time.

Turns out they were being pretty liberal about it. Being used to triathlon and road race rules, I was not exactly expecting this. I felt that I was somewhat misled, and the thing that bugs me, is that I had already finished the hard part, the rest of the race was all roads. However, had I taken the real trail, I probably would have been there late enough to be cut off for real, but I don't really know. And had I gone on, I probably would have wished that I had stopped.

On the brighter side, or possibly the even darker side, I learned that I can run 31 miles faster than I can mountain bike the same distance. And now, somehow, ideas of the Shenandoah 100 have made their way into my head, replacing my previous thoughts of Ironman Lake Placid. However, just because I have an idea, doesn't mean that it is a good one.

Elizabeth Furnance: Round 2

Friday night, with a beer and a map of George Washington National Forest in hand, I was ready for some serious mountain biking planning. I spread my waterproof, tear resistant map out on the floor, as it was bigger than any of our tables, had some beer and did some studying. I studied the map for almost an entire beer. After my extensive analysis, I decided that John and I would do the route that we had already decided on before I bought my map.

Our last trip to Elizabeth Furnace started out well. However, we apparently took the wrong trail, ending the ride in "scree and unridable misfortune," according to the book I bought after we returned. So we were making another attempt. Again, the beginning started out well. We even checked out a few extra trails and fire roads, that went nowhere at all of interest. Finally, tired and ready to be finished, we arrived at the turn we were supposed to take last time. My trusty map labeled this section as "moderate." The trail we took last time was labeled as "difficult" and according to my interpretation of the map legend, while you are technically allowed  to ride the trail, it isn't exactly recommended. So I felt pretty good about "moderate."

I was soon cursing the map creator. The trail quickly started heading up a very steep and extremely rocky hill. There wasn't even ground between the rocks, just rocks, and rocks, and even bigger rocks. Many bordering on the classification of "boulder." The uphill may have been ok on its own (but probably not), and the rocks may have been ok on their own, (but probably not), but the combination was impossible. I would have to become no less than 100 times better and completely perfect rider to make it up that hill. I would have to quit my job, move into one of the nearby back country campsites in the forest, and attempt that hill everyday to even have a chance of making up without stopping. And the map creator labeled it as "moderate."

After we finally made it to the top of the ridge, the trail slowly became more rideable. But at this point we were starting hour four of being out on the trails, my legs were tired before we even started, and things that should have been appropriately challenging, were unnecessarily intimidating. So it was still a slow and difficult trip down, but at least I rode most of it.

We finally made it back to the campsite, where the showers were closed and not functioning and the only running water was one hand pump by the entrance. Somehow, I think I was expecting that. No part of Elizabeth Furnace seems to be for an easy day. The trails are crazy rugged, the fire roads are long steep climbs, and the camping is really camping. But luckily, there was a 7-11 not too far away, and of course, they had plenty of beer.

A Message to My Job

Dear Work,

I am writing  you to let you know that my cycling habits are of great importance to my health and well being. I will be participating in a mountain bike race in about six weeks, and without adequate time to improve my skills, I will surely hurt myself. I assure you that I can respond to twice as many data calls, write better proposals, and look more presentable at meetings if I am not in a full body cast typing with a pen that I hold in my teeth.

It is often easy to assume that more hours spent working will result in more work being completed. However, the rocky steep trails of Pennsylvania are going to be far less forgiving than my Northern Virginia desk chair, and 50 miles of mountain biking requires a bit more activity than walking to my car. As a result, I need to be adequately prepared, and more than 8 hours at my desk does not improve my chances of successfully navigating a serious set of rocks, tight turns, or clearing giant logs. An hour or two less time working today could be all the extra time that I need to perfect that wheelie or manual, which will directly reduce my chances of going headfirst over my handlebars, breaking my collar bone, and missing hours of work because I am in the hospital.

As a result, I am sure that you will agree, I should leave work early on sunny days.

Yours truly,

Karen

A slow start, but at least it's a start...

This season has gotten off to a rather slow-feeling start for me. First, there were feet of snow and time consuming renovations that caused me to miss my first two trail runs of the year. Finally ready to get back on track, new trail shoes in hand (which I've never had before), I twisted my ankle on the first 100 yards of a mountain bike ride.  Several weeks later, it is still sore, but has not really slowed down my riding too much. It did however, cause me to miss my next and favorite trail run, the Mt. Penn Mudfest. While I was still technically able to run, I figured that with the current state of my ankle, and the typical state of the trails in that area of PA, I would likely leave the event with one less foot on my body. It was hard to skip this race, but hopping around on one foot for who knows how long, would have been harder.

I'm not exactly 100% better yet, but I am going to say once again, as I say just about every week, that I am finally ready to really get serious. However, this time I have no choice, I just signed up for a 50 mile mountain bike race in PA in June. I have a lot of work to do...