“Never, never, never give up.”

“Never, never, never give up.” (Winston Churchill, October 29, 1941, when he visited Harrow School) “I never DNF.” (Me, right after finishing the 2014 Black Fly Challenge)

This race was a challenge right from the beginning. I don’t know what I was thinking when I volunteered to coordinate getting 14 racers to and home from a 40 mile point to point race. After weeks of random affirmation of interest, periodic solicitations for car pooling, and sporadic offers of shuttling service, I decided to look after number uno through cinco first. A backup plan, soon to be the primary plan, was set. Me, Jen, Jon, Rob and Andrew were going to race come hell or high water.

High water was a real concern. Jon and I had ridden the course the previous week. It rained three of the five days following, and the Black Fly Challenge course transverses the Moose River Plains Wild Forest, the "plains" of the Moose and Red Rivers. Hell was also a real threat. ‘Black fly challenge’ is not just a catchy phrase; black flies exist by the billions between Mother’s day and Father’s day and the plains of the Moose and Red Rivers, a zone of grass and herbaceous vegetation is the breeding ground of the black fly who’s main source of nourishment is the blood of mammals.

Jen and I had a plan to ride as a team. The plan was based on the premise that we would both be successful riding the length of the course without mishap; false premise. Fifteen miles into hell my bike ate its own derailleur. Jen was on her own – and doing quite well I might add. I’m pretty sure I was more company than actual help. Now I was chum for the black flies – so I thought. Turns out the black flies weren't the issue. Leaving my chain brake in the car was the issue. Seven hundred and eighty-nine riders started the race. Six hundred were now destined to pass me as I began my endless trek with a shouldered bike, its derailleur hanging like entrails of the slain.

Most were well intentioned; Need a tube? You okay? Anything I can do to help? Sucks to be you were the words I kept hearing over and over as I plodded along. Then just as surprisingly as the derailleur disintegration, I heard magic words – Want to use my chain brake? Doug, from near Syracuse, is a frequent rider of the Black fly Challenge. Lucky for me Doug gets his thrills helping the less fortunate, a Good Samaritan with a chain brake, and our meeting was not a moment too soon for the sag wagon cometh. Back on my bike and back in the battle, I waved off the wagon of the defeated.

Doug and I hadn't given much thought to gear ratios as we reconfigured my drive train. Though I had just spent the last half hour walking and been passed by countless riders, I felt I had a race to win. The speed at which the NASCAR like conversion of my bike was accomplished was totally undone by the gear ratio selected. I spent the next 20-plus miles riding bipolar style; alternating between a frantic spin and a Sammy Sanchez speed tuck. I didn’t have the sense to wait for Doug and try it again.

The race ended in a thousand foot, single file, traffic cone and spectator lined parade. My frantic spin drew encouragement from the crowd. “You can do it! You’re almost there! Just a little farther!” At the end of the parade next to the timing chip receiver stood Jennifer. Jennifer had had a spectacular race. So did I; I didn’t DNF.

Albert Einstein is widely credited with saying “The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again, but expecting different results”

Albert Einstein is widely credited with saying “The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again, but expecting different results”

The Williams Lake Classic trails are on the ‘single largest natural cement deposit in the United States’ – 32 square miles of dolostone. Technically, dolostone has a stoichiometric ratio of nearly equal amounts of magnesium and calcium; a natural cement. The deposit was discovered in 1825 and was used in the construction of the Delaware and Hudson Canal and quickly became the ‘primary impetus for the town [Rosendale] to grow and prosper’. Rosendale cement was used in the construction of several national monuments, such as the Brooklyn Bridge, the Washington Monument, Grand Central Terminal, and parts of the Statue of Liberty and the United States Capitol. The Williams Lake property contains superlative examples of historic room-and-pillar cement mines, as well as other important mining-related relict artifacts (e.g., kilns, chimney, building foundations). An abandoned natural cement mine provides ample opportunity for unique mountain biking features.

Preparing for a bike race is about making choices. This year I expanded the scope of choices to include suspension and gears (e.g., whether to use them). On the eve of the closing bell for Williams Lake on-line registration I chose one gear.  Having settled on the single speed category race, I now had to decide on a gear ratio. 33/18 worked for the Singlespeed-a-Palooza (SSAP) and since I’m too lazy to change the ratio, it should be just right. The last time I rode my SS was in the SSAP and I wasn't completely pleased with my body position and steering. I felt a little too upright and the steering a little too quick. No problem, I’ll swap out the stem and bars. The course is going to be “dry” (mid-Atlantic dry is defined as rock moss having lost the bulk of its moisture and mud not sticking to your bike) so the 2.1 fast rollers, currently on the bike, inflated to 28 psig are the ticket.

Having the bike squared away, it’s time to focus on hydration and nutrition. I’m still hooked on GU products so the only decisions are Strength of mixture and flavor: two Polar bottles of half strength GU Brew; one pre-race and one during the race and three GU gels; a vanilla orange Roctane prior to start, and a salted caramel for each successive lap - all secured to the frame for ease of access. Chatham Brewing has my recovery covered.

The pre-ride was especially important. I needed to decipher the course in terms of my ability on the SS; e.g., which sections was it more advantageous for me to run than to ride and at what point on the technical climbs do I cyclocross-style dismount to avoid over-exertion and stalling. After all it’s a race; i.e., how fast can you get from point “A” to point “B” with your bike, not necessarily on your bike?

I neglected to mention one factor in my race category decision making process, which may have skewed the process to the point where all common sense had been thrown out with the proverbial bath water. Someone had said that so-and-so, who happened to be registered in the single-speed category, had gotten faster than me. The gauntlet had been tossed – it didn't matter that it had been tossed by a third party. Nor was it particularly important that so-and-so would never know that he and I were in a death match. It was probably better that he didn’t.

The death match death blow was craftily administered during a period of confusion. I waited in the shadows until our fully geared counterparts harkened to pass. In one swift calculated act of death matchness I blended into the geared ones, passed my foe and blocked obstacle riders between the two of us to prevent an immediate counter-pass. All that was left to do was execute the race to plan by staying out-of-sight and out-of-mind; his mind, not mine.

In the end, I had raced the Williams Lake Classic differently than ever before, definitely gotten different results and had one of the most satisfying second from last place finishes I had ever accomplished. Just don’t tell so-and-so.

Event Photos

The chase is on… or "how to make the best of a two hour training ride"

The chase is on… or "how to make the best of a two hour training ride"

HRRT has been patronizing the annual Hike-a-Bike mountain bike race for years. Maybe it was the race moniker or maybe the time of year; I’m not sure why the race never seemed like something I wanted to do. This year was different. The organizers had added a cyclocross category, an eight mile (short course) option, which Jen decided to ride as part of her training regimen. Why not give it a try?

Jen figured on a forty (40) minute pre-ride coupled with a six (6) mile-per-hour short course lap to fill out the two hours of required endurance training. The short course was entirely within Lippman Park and the forty minute pre-ride afforded us a two (2) mile out-and-back preview of the short race course. The first two miles were perfect for cyclocross bikes and there was no reason to think the other six miles would be any different. The pre-ride warning from the course marshals that ‘it gets really rocky once you get to the top’ had to be an exaggeration.

Jen and I started the event towards the back of the pack – we were just out for an endurance ride. That soon changed with a bunch of targets ahead of us; we started to pick them off one by one. We caught the first of the two HRRT junior racers. The junior was a smooth rider – very competent in the turns and across the bridges. We decided that we were probably pushing her harder than she needed, so we complimented her riding, said our goodbyes and moved on. We caught the next junior in the first more technical section of the course – experience trumps youth in the technical sections – we moved on to the next targets. The next two targets to fall turned out to be the course marshals who started with the 40 mile group with the single purpose of reflagging the course where the short course splits from the long course.

Our pre-ride proved to be invaluable at this point; we had gotten specifics on where the long course splits off from the short course – ‘Do not pass any State Forest signage!’ was the bottom line warning.  The mandatory pre-race meeting was not so specific on the signage point, but emphasized not crossing course tape even when the course tape blocks the only perfectly manicured single track in sight (i.e., the “Hike” in Hike-a-Bike.) At the critical juncture where faced with the choice of ducking a tape or passing a State Forest sign, Jen and I had sufficient information to make the right choice.  We ducked the tape.

I had been keeping count and was quite sure that there was one racer left to beat. I knew this racer. He had bested me in the Tour of the Battenkill Grand Fondo, which made it so evermore sweet that the gap was closing; he was no more than a switchback ahead when we reached the top of the short course. At the top the course (a little slice of the Shawangunk ridge), the topology changed from a ribbon of highly manicured singletrack undulating along the picturesque hillsides of a creek hollow punctuated with nicely crafted bridges and berms, with a few totally nonsensical hikes throw in for good measure, to a rock and roll hell for a 32mm tire, curly bar bike – flashback to the ADK – 80K race. Focus transitioned from solely catching the leader, to survival while catching the leader. I started to call out hazards as one would on a road ride. Entering a particularly gnarly section of Shawangunk Conglomerate, a broken up silica-cemented mixture of quartz pebbles, sandstone and Martinsburg Shale thrust upward about 270 million years ago in asymmetric folds for our enjoyment, I dismounted – Jen flatted.

I couldn't see the leader. I should have been able to, for the race course fell from the ridge down a hillside

through a set of switchbacks affording a look-ahead view that way exceeded the last observed gap to the leader. Suspicious that the leader must have missed the critical turn and was now back-tracking or hopelessly lost, I thought we might be in first place. The flat took four minutes to repair – a tube upgrade to the side-wall cut cross tire. We had, however, lost the buffer we had on the next racer, forcing us to push our speed on the two mile rocky descent to the finish. As we scrubbed altitude, the rocks became more rounded and less of a threat. Now the trail pitch steepened and keeping your weight back while breaking from the hoods of curly bars became the challenge.

Jen and I were the first to cross the finish (pun intended). My suspicions were on the mark. The used-to-be-lead rider had blown the critical turn, and continued onto the long course.  By the time he realized his mistake he was out of contention, lost his spirit, and left course for a DNF.

It'll never be known if Jen and I could have caught the leader, passed and hung onto the lead. But then, does that really matter? It was a training ride and we weren't even racing in the same categories… hell ya!

Links to additional Photos: HRRT and friends at the Hike-a-Bike