It’s a bitch of a sport, but it’s worth a try...

“It’s a bitch of a sport, but it’s worth a try, because if you accomplish something that you never knew was possible, you’ll always have a reason to swing for the fences.” Phil Gaimon wrote in his epilogue to Pro Cycling on $10 a Day. Phil’s book is an account of his incredible and successful pursuit to be a pro cyclist. I finished Phil’s book the weekend of the ADK 80K.

This was the second year of the ADK 80K. Jen and I, again, raced in the cyclocross duo category. Last year we were the only cyclocrossing duo; this year we were the only cyclocrossers, period! When this race factoid was mentioned at the award ceremony, there was a comment from the peanut gallery – “That’s because they didn't learn last year”. Things I remember:

There was a guy, who I caught on my first lap, with a jersey that proclaimed “train with purpose”.  Wait a minute, I just wrote in my last race report that my ski coach, Joe, always tells his students to “ski with purpose”. For some reason, like yellow shoes, I found this bothersome. I thought to myself – I’m going to make this guy lose with purpose.  I passed him cresting a hill, out descended him on my cross bike and then dropped him like a hot potato (“potatoe” if you have presidential aspirations) on the next climb.

There was a maple tree sap line (plastic hose) partially unearthed and nearly parallel with the trail; to the mountain biker – non-issue; to the cyclocrosser – issue.  Nuclear fission and resultant neutrons coursing through a reactor core popped into my mind.  To the mountain biker the sap line was like most materials where Neutrons readily pass right through. To the cyclocrosser the sap line was Hydrogen, hit it and you’re instantly changing direction and loosing energy.

On the last climb up Main Street, I asked myself “why am I doing this?” I’m finishing the last half of the last lap, I’m racing no one and I’m in pain – Sisu came to mind. A Finnish word with no direct translation used to express stubborn determination. That’s what I had, a stubborn determination to finish strong and respectfully. Turns out Jen and I had a very respectable finish time.

 

I was glad to have had disc brakes on my cross bike. More than I want to admit, rattling down the rocky descents, I lost my grip on the bars and break levers. The rate of acceleration resulting from loss of control of the brake levers was panic attack invoking. Being able to stem my acceleration with one brake saved me more than once.

“That’s because they didn't learn last year” is what the peanut gallery responded. I’d like to think that Jen and I continue to “swing for the fences.”

It was my first Ididaride! and it was a race.

Message from the Ride Hosts:

On behalf of EVERYONE at the Adirondack Mountain Club (commonly referred to as ADK), thank you for riding with us this year.  For some of you, it was your 9th time (you know who you are!) – We are deeply grateful to you for participating in this event.  Together, we raised almost $35,000 for ADK's wilderness protection programs.  We LOVE the Adirondacks and want to spread the love – outdoor recreation is key to this love.  So, here's what the 9th annual Ididaride! group was comprised of:

495 riders total

405 75-milers / 7 bike escorts/sweeps

80 20-milers / 3 bike escorts/sweeps

70% male / 30% female  

GEOGRAPHIC: hailed from 21 states – AL, CA, CT, DE, FL, GA, KS, LA, MA, MD, MI, NC, NH, NJ, NM, NY, PA, RI, SC, TX, VT;  CANADA – Quebec and Ontario (14 of you!)

Time of first riders in:  4 hours, 6 minutes. Timer malfunctioned just after noon, for which we apologize.  That system is only there for the riders' interest.  Ididaride! IS A TOUR, NOT A RACE!

Reality:

It was my first Ididaride! and it was a race – a 76 mile race with 6,840 feet of climbing.  I work at an

engineering design laboratory that was, at one time, managed, for the Department of Energy, by GE.  Over the last couple years a “friendly competition” has emerged between our design lab and our old workmates at GE.  The friendly competition involves a yellow jersey for the person with the fastest time, and a trophy for the team with the fastest average time of all their riders.  Like I said, it was a race.  We won the jersey and kept the trophy for a second year.  This is the first time I've ridden a road race as a team and I'll admit I was pretty anxious over not being the one to lose the trophy. 

Strategy:

Describing anything I do as a strategy is a stretch, unless being random (as my kids describe me) is a strategy.  What I've been doing that turned out to be beneficial, is reading road riding how-to books and articles, and tagging along on the Dreamgirl’s training rides.  The books I've read discuss race strategies that capitalize on particular strengths of individual teammates.  My initial interpretation of this strategy is to figure out who is the strongest rider on our team and glue myself to their wheel.  Potential problem: what if our strongest rider attacks and breaks away early, I follow, get ridden into the ground and dropped without the strength to hold onto the follow group – lots of risk in that strategy (unless you're the Cannibal).  Better strategy: get to the staging area early; mill around and get to know the other riders; plant the seed that we all should ride together, and pace line to share the load and keep as many riders as we can in the lead and chase groups.  This is the strategy that I stuck with. 

Getting Ready:

I got lucky here.  I followed (sort of) the Dreamgirl as she trained for a Solo performance at this year’s Hardcore 24.  At the HC24, I road with a team of five and therefore didn't kill myself.  All I had to do in the two weeks between the HC24 and Ididarid! is maintain fitness, then at the T-minus-one week point, redo what Dreamgirl did prior to the HC24.  And of course keep reading.  An article by Selene Yeager, “How to Climb Faster”, caught my eye just in time for me to apply the principle to the Ididaride!.  The article’s side bar entitled “Stay Fresh to the Top” was of greatest benefit.  The sidebar emphasized “… rotating through muscle groups to give some a break while others are on duty”.  This can be accomplished by scooting forward and aft on the saddle to engage quads then glutes and shift to alter your cadence.  Timing should be adjusted to meet the situation similar to a pace like.

The First 37 Miles:

As planned, I got to the staging area early and started conversations with teammates about the benefits of riding together.  I was able to coax a couple to join me at the front of the neutral start.  For the most part, however, our team riders were more comfortable mixing in nearer to the middle of the 400 starters.  The ride started with a climb up Pleasant valley Road.  I’d ridden Pleasant Valley Road recently and knew my limitations.  Luckily, they weren't tested.  Taking the advice of more than one article on pace lining, I settled

into spot four for most of the first climb, letting the big guns do the work and only did short pulls when feeling obliged.  At mile ten, we started a fifteen mile descent.  What a blast.  I was in a group of nine that was more comfortable going fast than I, so I had a fifteen mile lesson on descending.  Still attached at the bottom of the descent, with virtual high-fives all-around (I’m not comfortable enough to physically high-five on a bike at speed), the group now really coalesced for the next twelve miles of climbing to Speculator and the first “rest” stop.  Around the half-way point of the climb, a threesome of strong climbers broke off the front.  The rest of us didn't have the wherewithal to pull them back in so we became the chase group.  I looked at this an opportunity to eat.

The Difficult Decision:

Approaching the rest stop, my group quickly reached consensus to stop.  I was not on board and silently wrestling with what to do.   I didn't want to undermine the group decision, but I didn't need to stop; I had just eaten and had plenty of water.   I also fully understood the consequences of continuing alone.  Then opportunity knocked.  The three climbers, that had dropped us six miles earlier, had stopped to fill their water bottles and where rolling out of the rest stop just as we rolled up.  I had to decide to stop and stay with chase group or attach to the lead group, knowing that there is still a lot of climbing to come – and soon – and these guys were strong climbers.  I chose to go with the lead group and take the risk of getting dropped, knowing that if I did get dropped, the chase group would not far behind.

Getting Dropped:

Did I mention that I was taking a risk? There were two fairly major humps with some of the steepest grade just following the Speculator rest stop.  I fell off the back on the first hump but managed to stay close enough to reattach for the second hump by sprinting down the backside.  Unfortunately, this was too much effort for

me to maintain and I had to let go before I died.  Time once again to eat and clear my legs.  I race cross-country ski marathons in the winter.  X-C racers are into paring performance food, such as gels with “real” food.  Another thing I've learned from the X-C ski racing world is to include food with a high moisture content to bolster hydration.  The Dreamgirl and I have been experimenting with these ideas and created a wrap that is tasty, meets our nutrition needs and is easy to eat and digest.  Paired with GU products I find that I can extend my performance window.  I start every race with GU Roctane and supplement with a GU gel every forty minutes; the stuff works.  At this point in the Ididaride! however, the trusty old PB&J was the “real” food of choice as I spun and watched the leaders extend their lead.

Riding with Jim:

“I caught you.”  Jim, a teammate and one of the chase group, noticed that I had cruised through the Speculator rest stop so he wasted no time grabbing a full water bottle and headed out after me.  That was ten miles ago.  Damn, had I known I would have let off the gas much earlier and pursued the leaders with Jim.  Lesson learned–vocalize your intention, someone may be like minded.  I pulled while Jim ate.  Then it was time for a monumental effort to catch the leaders.  We actually did it–it was a killer effort for me and somehow as we pulled into their draft, I dropped my chain.  Majorly demoralized and dropped from the leaders for a third time at the fifty mile mark, I settled in with Jim to finish as a chaser.   Jim and I were later caught and passed by a second chase group of three at sixty miles, just before the Indian Lake rest stop.

The Finish:

The Indian Lake rest stop was the last rest stop.  Jim and I decided to go for the finish with everything we had and passed the second chase group, putting us back on the tail (quite a long tail I’ll admit) of the leaders.  The finish was fifteen miles away; the first five miles had three grinder climbs, the second five was the steepest descent of the day, and the final five was flat.  One rider from the second chase group caught and passed Jim and me again on the last grinder climb of the day, leaving Jim and me to chase him to 5^th and 6^th place finishes.  The best part of finishing with Jim was sharing the pain.  Jim was cramping and I was simply and at the end of my endurance rope.  WHAT A GREAT TOUR.

What Worked:

Having a strategy: riding as a team, eating on a regimen, combining GU performance drinks and gels with real food, cycling through muscle groups on the climbs, taking time to spin the legs on the flats, suffering to hang on when needed, and knowing when to let go all worked.   My unofficial X-C ski coach, Joe, would call it ‘riding with purpose’.

I’ve watched the Gripped Film cycling movie, 24 Solo 37 times and I just don’t get the interviews.

Problem Statement:

I've watched the Gripped Film cycling movie, 24 Solo 37 times and I just don’t get the interviews:  Travis Brown, “I’m never going to find out how fun 24 hour racing is…”; Todd Wells, “I can barely finish a 20 minute short track let alone a 24 hour race…”; and Alison Dunlap, “24 hour racing is something I’d never do again… not for a million dollars… the people who do that are crazy…”

Resources:

To help me "get it", it seemed reasonable to turn to Jung and the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator (MBTI).  The MTBI assessment is a psychometric questionnaire designed to measure psychological preferences in how people perceive the world and make decisions.  These psychological preferences were extrapolated by Katharine Cook Briggs and Isabel Briggs Myers from the typological theories proposed by Carl Gustav Jung, and first published in his 1921 book Psychological Types (English edition, 1923).  Jung theorized that there are four principal psychological functions by which we experience the world: sensation, intuition, feeling, and thinking.

My Hypothesis:

I’ve worked at an engineering design laboratory for 34 years and believe my type to be well engrained.  My recollection is that the bulk of the laboratory, where I work, to be a personality type INTJ. Hallmarks of the INTJ include independence of thought and a desire for efficiency though seeking new angles or novel ways of looking at things.  We are generally well-suited for academia, research, consulting, management, science, engineering, and mountain biking.  We have a talent for analyzing and formulating complex theories and ride lines.We are often acutely aware of our own knowledge and abilities—as well as our limitations and what we don't know (a quality that tends to distinguish us from ex-mountain bikers).  INTJs are strong individualists.  We tend to be insightful and mentally quick; however, this mental quickness may not always be outwardly apparent to others.

Testing:

To validate my recollection, I took the free on-line personality test. Results validated NTJ but indicated that I am borderline E/I leaning towards E. What this means is that I have to accept that I am a Fieldmarshal Mastermind rather than a Mastermind Fieldmarshal.  However, all NTJs (Rational Judging types) whether an I or an E share in common: pragmatic, self-contained, focused problem solving, pride themselves in being ingenious and strong-willed when faced with an technical climb, and trust logic over emotions dropping in. All attributes of an accomplished mountain biker.

Analyzing the Data:

But why mountain bike for 24 hours? A paradox to most observers, the NTJ is able to live by glaring contradictions that nonetheless make perfect sense – from a rational judging perspective. NTJs are simultaneously the most starry-eyed idealists and the bitterest of cynics, a seemingly impossible conflict. This is because the NTJ type tends to believe that with effort, intelligence and consideration, nothing is impossible, most people are just lazy, so why not ride a mountain bike through the woods for 24 hours. After all, mountain bikers are not the only ones doing it for 24 hours. I've heard of 24 hour dance marathons. Once in high school I participated in a 24 hour football game. And let’s not forget the 24 hour Cold Water Challenge – now that something that I wouldn't do for a million dollars; that’s just crazy.

Highly Unscientific Conclusion:
The Hardcore 24 mountain bike race appears to the casual observer (i.e.; non-NTJ-type) as a crazy hard endeavor complicated with rock, roots and trees not only in the light of day, but also in the pitch blackness of night. All topped off with totally uncontrollable and barely predictable weather. To the NTJ mountain bike rider, it’s the perfect problem in need of a solution.

In Closing:

It was another great year at the Hardcore 24 race. Major kudos to the gang at Park Ave bike shop and whoever at Ontario County park and recreations that allows this event to take place at the ever popular Ontario County Park in Naples NY. Word is that this is the first time in eight years that Mother Nature took a pass. Some actually missed the maelstrom like competition of heavy weather, reminiscing about trails turned to organic soup, impenetrable fog, the frog plague and the clinging, gluey, gooey, gummy, tacky, tenacious, viscid, viscous mud. Terra Mater, the common enemy, was replaced, I believe, by more fierce head-to-head and team-to-team competition this year. The increased completion, however failed to detract from the vibe of the Hardcore 24 – We were having a party and a race broke out.

“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

One all…

The only thing that seems to be coming early this year is the race season. It was the day after the Tour of the Battenkill, the Singlespeed-A-Palooza was in a week, I hadn’t yet this year been in the woods on a mountain bike, and I was ordered to attend a business meeting in Pittsburgh. That’s just great, my first mountain bike race of the year is in six days and I’m going on a four day business trip. Getting ready SSAP evidently is going to involve riding some new trails. I was advised that if you are traveling and you don’t know if you will be riding roads or trails – bring a cyclocross bike. Into the car went my cross bike along with the bulk of my cycling gear, one pair of business trousers, and two business shirts. Monday night I was in Pittsburgh scouring the PTAG (Pittsburgh Trails Advocacy Group) web site for riding possibilities with the hope that someone at Tuesday’s meeting will have firsthand knowledge of current trail conditions.

At the close of the first day of business meetings I was off to ride South Park. The South Park trails, for the most part, are flowy singletrack with some roots and logs crossing and moderate climbs – overall fun tails that were perfect for a cross bike. I was able to get in two hours of saddle time riding and re-riding the trail network – a great way to acclimate to riding in the woods.

Day two I was able to squeeze in another two hours of saddle time at Frick Park of Squirrel Hill, a tight network of nicely maintained singletrack and fire road trails. The park is not big; the mountain bike loops begin and end at the Lower Frick parking lot and use a fire road as the main climb. Repeatedly climbing the fire road, I rode each of the three loops – then re-rode the best lines. It was a 10+ mile ride with 1500+ feet of vertical with significantly more climbing and technicality than day one.

Day three was a travel day. I woke at 2:59 AM and was on the rode by Pi (3:14). My target was the trail called American Standard outside the Pennsylvania town, Jim Thorpe. A trail categorized as “Intermediate Expert - Real Rocky Single track” and seemingly appropriate challenge for my third day of my cross bike training program. I found this review online which I consider fairly accurate.

“Loop starts out [on Route 93] with smoothish nice level singletrack.  Then singletrack turns to gonzo rock gardens that are very slow going.  Next there is a stretch of grassy fire road, to rocky fire road downhill [where you pass a urinal nailed to a tree (trail namesake)], back to grassy swampy fire road with lions and tigers and bears (Ok mainly just bears and dear), after you get chased around the woods for a while [and ford a creek], back on the grassy fire road, to the end, left on short section of fire road and right onto LOTS more single track. Rocky single track.  Suck the life out of you rocky single track. More single track up some hills, left on more rocky single track, to [Route] 93”

Summary: three hours of exhilarating trail riding – a perfect capstone for the hard part of the training week.

Days four and five are a rest day followed by the year’s first HRRT club road ride with 100, 50 and 16 mile options. I opted to swing by the club ride stage area to socialize a bit before doing my own thing; chasing the Dreamgirl for an hour of easy riding with a few intervals scattered about. I was feeling pretty good.

Race day starts early with a two and a half hour drive to a 9 AM start. Pretty much everything was new. New pro-level kit form Squadra, new helmet from Cannondale, new flavor of GU (Shout out to Yuri for introducing me to the ‘Abominably delicious’ Salted Caramel GU at Interbike – goes down smooth and those amino acids keep me cranking) and a newly rebuilt single-speed.

One thing that’s not new is the competition. Don Rice is here. Don and I didn’t know each other at the time, but Don passed me in the last 100 yards of last year’s SSAP to finish a couple seconds ahead of me. Don and I lined up side-by-side. We shared stories of our rideless spring season, how new it is to be in the woods and how we hoped we remembered how to ride. Neither of us spoke it, but we each considered the other our mark.

As Mike Ferrentino puts it in his latest Grimy Handshake ‘Familiarly strange’ ...for a while there it feels like I am learning how to ride all over again. [After a short trail session, however,] … my bike didn't feel like a stranger anymore. It felt like the same old predictable workhorse it had always been.’

The first couple miles of the race follows a gravel road before turning onto the first singletrack and snaking up and over Major Mike. Don took off like a shot. I chased, slowly losing ground, confident that I’d see him in the technical sections. The backside of Major Mike is a fairly technical downhill, especially when it’s wet and today it is wet. There’s Don. The race course is punctuated with short steep punchy climbs. Don is the third rider of four negotiating one of the earlier punchy climbs that happens to be comprised of a relatively shallow slope around to the left and darn near vertical to the right. Don followed conventional wisdom and the conga line of riders to the left. Seizing opportunity, I hammered straight at the steep on the right and with a surge of one… two… three single speed stomps I was up and over the steep and past Don’s group. I stayed out of the saddle, giving it my all to put distance between me and Don, hoping he hadn’t seen me pass - he hadn’t. In retrospect, the most challenging aspect of the pass was keeping my mouth shut. It was neither the time nor the place to goad Don – no matter how much I wanted to. The move was my interpretation of la course en tête - defined by Merckz as ‘Attack becomes the best form of defense’.

Both Don and I spent the balance of the race looking over our shoulders; me looking for Don, Don looking for a ghost. I was able to stay sufficiently ahead and out of Don’s field of view thereby avoiding a chase.

My two minute finish ahead of Don evened the score, one SSAP each. Next year’s race will be the first tie-breaker. I cannot wait.

Links to additional Photos:

HRRT and friends at the SSAP