Big Bikes

Root 66 Holiday Farm Classic Dalton, MA

Gut Feeling

Last week the promoter of this race posted a message on the Root 66 forum declaring that this event was canceled, I gotta say I wasn’t disappointed. Don’t get me wrong, I like this race…a lot. It’s a great race, at a great venue. My deal was that I was burnt (here come the excuses, watch out). I didn’t race the weekend after Nationals, didn’t really ride that week either, I was burned out on riding (and blogging for that matter). It took me until a week after the following Tuesday to get my legs back under me. I built up a new ride, an old Lemond Maillot Jaune set up as a fixed gear, which you can pull off due to it’s micro-horizontal dropouts. Spun into work from the cabin in Wrentham on Tuesday AM and the love was back. Sometimes you have to switch things up to get motivated again. I plan on logging some serious miles on this thing in preparation for The Vermont 50.


Wednesday I decided to get some climbing in to get ready for the 1800 feet of climbing per lap at SSWC in NAPA in a few weeks, so I left the shop mid-day and rolled over to Blue Hills for a few laps of the access road which allegedly boasts 460 feet of climbing in just under a mile. Got lost on the way back in a little broken glass strewn slice of Hell on earth which may or may not have encompassed areas of West Roxbury, Hyde Park, and Roslindale. Thursday I went on a wild goose chase looking for a rental truck to take to that Pan Mass Challenge for the shop. I rode my new fixed gear bicycle from Somerville to Newton, back to Somerville, over to the other end of Somerville, then up to The Meadow Glen Mall, which is apparently the center of the universe if you live north of Broadway in Somerville. Quality endurance miles. Friday I worked about twelve hours doing tech support for the PMC, my arms and back giving out half way through due to all the tire pumping and flat fixing.

Hey, look at me, I'm a single-speeder, I have whacky sideburns!

Yes, Saturday I half-assed the work day, clearing out the repairs then cutting out early to return the Rental truck. The real problem was how I spent Saturday evening. As a result of a logistical nightmare related to trying to schedule birthday parties for both my girlfriend and my mother, and the total incompatibility of the lives of my siblings, we ended up having the parties an hour and a half apart at restaurants which are fifteen feet apart. I’m not a super-geek about my pre-race diet but I definitely went above and beyond what would be considered safe fare. Raw Oysters, fried Trout cakes, Mac and Cheese, and beer at The Independent. Then it was over to The Cantina for Gorditas and Margaritas, and back to The Independent for the after party which went until after midnight. Midnight is a good time to begin getting ready for your race the next day. Obviously.
So blah, blah, blah, I’m an idiot, I do stupid things before races sometimes, if not always, but man, it was tough getting out of bed. If I didn’t still have the series lead by the slimmest of margins I would not have been going to this one. Oh ya, back up, race was back on, things got worked out I guess. Too bad because the EFTA race the same day in southern New Hampshire is one of my favorites as well, and it’s a hell of a lot closer to home. If you are pretty sure you are going to a race to suck ass in the most spectacular manner, it’s better not to drive five and half hours round trip to do so. Generally.
Thing is, I didn’t even suck that much, maybe I’m just talking all this yang about my rickety race prep because I want to go back and see why I suffered so immensely post-race. My punishment seemed disproportionate to my crimes, as we shall see in a moment.
So yes, I get up, it hurts, I drive down the street to pick up Colin and Linnea, on the way I snag a Venti ice coffee from Starbucks with a double shot (if you happen to be some sort of trained dietician or nutritionist or simply someone who’s less of a moron than myself, please feel free to point out in the comments section what I did to destroy my gastrointestinal system). We leave late, I have to stop no less than three times to empty my bladder. Something to do with over-hydrating in the AM to offset alcohol induced dehydration, something to do with drinking an inordinate amount of coffee to offset the sleep deprivation, and a whole lot to do with having the bladder the size of a capuchin monkey’s. Thanks to these issues we landed in Dalton with no time to spare. I knew it was going to be a long race so I wasn’t sweating it really.

Desperation with the the hydration situation.

I have just enough time to slap my number on my bike and check out just the very first section of the course, then line up. Adam Snyder was there, as was Greg Carpenter, John Foley, Nate Rinquist, John Rowe, and some dudes I didn’t know. We were given convoluted instructions about the opening lap, none of us really got it, especially me. As we rolled around the field, me spinning like a blender, it all stayed together, things didn’t split up until we hit the woods. I didn’t know how my legs were going to react to the tough week they’d had so I laid back a little, knowing I couldn’t follow the early accelerations of Carpenter, knowing my only hope was that he’s pop, and Snyder…no way I can beat the guy unless he was attacked by a sasquatch and maimed horribly during the race. I knew I had to try to cover Foley to retain the series lead, but I wasn’t too confident that I could the way I was feeling.
Greg, Nate, Adam, and a NAV rider disappeared up the road, Foley was actually behind me, not sure why. My stomach was distended like a dead raccoon baking on the highway, I felt like I was going to Ralph. But I was pedaling alright. I wasn’t terribly lucid throughout this one so I won’t attempt to reconstruct what happened when and whatnot. Basically I chased the NAV guy around for half the race, Foley would gap up, I was able to stay on him, and then attack him on the slightly uphill singletrack section in the first part of the course. I eventually passed the NAV guy on the climb going into the latter part of the course, he and Foley shadowed me going into the final lap. John Rowe was also there, having slashed his sidewall first lap, he had jumped back in just to ride around for a while. I started to turn the screws a little just as we began to climb out of the field, knowing that I was much faster in the that half of the course. In the second section I had to do a lot of running due to the steep, muddy, rooty bits.
Ah, I forgot to mention my sick crash going into lap three? I don’t know, maybe it was four. I was leading Foley into the field coming back toward the start/finish area, I had just come out of one of the corners and straightened out, I guess I was kind of lightly draping my hands on my bars as I spun wildly along. I hit a bump or something, my right hand came off my bar and next thing I knew I was flipping into the tall grass on the side of the trail, coming to rest abruptly with a massive thudding of my head on the ground. It was enough to make John stop and make sure I was alright. I got back on the bike, knee bleeding from two places, right side flaring up, head ringing like a bell display surrounded by small children at a bike shop on a busy Saturday. I gapped back up to John and we pick up where we left off.
Something that did go well was my tire choice. I’d opted to go with some new Bontrager XDX 1.75’s. They are a hell of a lot less burly than my Jones ACX 2.1’s but they weigh a hell of a lot less too. I tried to think of them not as a very small mountain tire but more as a very large ‘Cross tire. Bontrager’s been out of everything but these for months now, which may have influenced this gamble somewhat. I haven’t had time to experiment with other tires and all the Bontrager Tubeless ready stuff as been working great for me so far this year. I could feel the difference climbing and y’know what? They weren’t too shabby everywhere else neither. I’m thinking they’ll make a great Vermont 50 tire. They do make my bike look a little too much like a hybrid. Maybe next season I’ll just bag it and race a Trek 7200.
Alright, gotta wrap this puppy up in a trash bag and throw it in the river tied to a cement block. My gap over Foley increased throughout the last lap, I tried to go ‘Cross pace on it, maniacally “humming” Ace of Spades through my teeth. The course was really a whole of fun, incredibly diverse terrain, kept you guessing throughout, too complex to ever really get it dialed. I love three hour races, lots of climbing, long laps, it was perfect. I came across the line in 4th. I was way down on Rinquist and Carpenter, and further still on Snyder. I didn’t have a good ride but it wasn’t a bad ride either, I think that Foley may have had an off day as well which keeps me in the series lead for a little while longer.
Unfortunately after the race my gastrointestinal system mutinied. I spent the award ceremony huddled in a stinking blue box, and the car ride home mouth-breathing and trying to choke down a sleeve of Saltine crackers while sipping Ginger Ale. That’s more than enough detail I think. This week I am going to try to treat myself better, I swear.