Big Bikes

National Championships Mt. Snow, VT What’s The Point of That? Or Bad, Bad Brain

After I’d finished my race on Saturday, I was walking up to check out the Pro Men on the downhill section of the XC course. I overheard a guy telling his friend that there was a whole single speed category, that people rode the Mt. Snow course on one gear. His response: “What’s the point of that?”. After Friday’s Semi-Pro race I was kind of asking myself the same question. I’d pre-ridden the course on Thursday to check out the changes which had been made since the Root 66 series race a few weeks ago, what I saw was good…not necessarily good for a single speeder racing geared guys, but good for humanity as a whole, so I’d have to suck it up. The singletrack at the top was definitely an improvement, and not having to hike-a-bike for the whole first part of the climb was a plus. Problem was, during the race I would be hiking the first sections of the climb while other riders were riding up it in their granny gears.

A couple days before the race, riding in Wolfeboro, NH.

It was hot, the course was more dry than I’d ever seen it, not the way I prefer it, I like my Mt. Snow course served up wet and gnarly…just like my coffee. Just a warning; this is not going to be the most positive, least whiny, wanky report ever, I apologize in advance. I’m not even going to ramble on about all the stupid crap that happened before the race, much like the actual race, I just want to get this thing over with and move on to the next thing. All my prep had gone well, had a vacation week in-between Windham and Mt. Snow, but somehow something didn’t go right, a piece of the puzzle was missing. This was apparent early on and then more apparent later on in the race, things went from miserable to downright depressing.

A car full of crap, and a whole bunch of bikes on the roof, that's happiness to me.

Excuses, excuses, my stomach was full of angry baboons throwing poop, I felt like I was going to puke and, like that horrible song by that Horrible band “Boston” it was “More than a feeling”. Mountain-Berry Accelerade, you are now officially retired. Regurgitating bright blue, looks like port-a-potty fluid stuff during a race is something I only want to do once. While walking up the second tier of the beginning of the main climb, I was doubled over my bike, just letting loose the blue juice, another rider asked if I was alright. “Yup, feelin’ GOOD!” was my response. I was lying and vomiting through my teeth simultaneously. Don’t try that at home.
I think my first couple laps were pretty good, the first was around 30 minutes, the second wasn’t much slower, yet somehow on the latter two laps I was able to find a way to add twenty minutes on to my finishing time, that’s talent! I mean, yes I gave up, but I kept riding my bike, just at a greatly diminished rate of speed. I walked all the steep stuff, hoping to save something for the SS race at 8AM the next morning, and tried to concentrate on descending well. My brain was total crap. I have never had so many negative, self-defeating thoughts during a race in my life. “You suck at Ski area races, maybe you shouldn’t even race tomorrow” was my favorite. It was astonishing how much I was sucking out there though, I mean I had to run a really low gear (32 X 22) but I didn’t realized that a gear like that actually causes you to move backward. I felt like a club rider on the side of Alp d’Huez watching the GC riders of the Tour De France blow by, pushing out enough Watts to power all the Toyota Priuses in Cambridge, MA for a week.
So yes, that went well, finished over twenty minutes down in 40th place, don’t know what else to say about that. Afterwards we did go to the swimming hole of the gods though, and that was a small, good thing.

The descent to the swimming hole in Jamaica (Vermont, uh...Dread), more difficult than the new Mt. Snow course. Miriam wouldn't let me post the photo of her busting her ass three seconds later.

Greg cooling off "The Leg[s]".