We competed in the 24 Hours of Moab a couple weeks ago. I maintained a race profile and decided to post this here as well:

Ok, so I wasn't able to post as I liked during the race. Here's a recap:

We started at Noon on Saturday with hopes of a podium finish. Scott started and did the big run in the dust, around the bush, and then hopped on his bike. He proceeded to RIP and I mean RIP his first lap in under 1:12, which is hyper fast. (The fastest laps in our class can be found at: http://www.grannygear.com/realtime/public/class.php?displayfastestlaps_flag=1&class=ME)
) Anything under 1:15 on this course is really strong.

He finished and I went out. All of us race and know our limits pretty well. If you go past your limit too long, you run the risk of “blowing up”, which means that your body will force you to slow down. When a rider blows up, you really hurt and really slow down. It takes everything you have to finish. I know how to avoid “blowing up”. What’s really tough about 24 hour races is making sure I don’t blow up on a lap yet leave something for future laps.

We didn’t know what place we were in, but knew we were in the hunt. So I pushed it really hard. My heart rate shot up and I was rolling really fast. I was flying, About 2/3 around the course, I decided to ratchet down a bit, worried that I would not be able to do 4 more laps at that pace.

The course is super demanding. It has many, many technical sections with frequent, bursty climbs and constant technical descents. That kind of course does not suit me as well as others and puts a pounding on my less-than-burly body. Still, I pushed and took some chances. I finished at just over 1:12 and handed off to Zeke.

After a lap, I have to 1) warm down, 2) get out of sweaty clothes, 3) eat, and 4) eat some more. After the first lap, the adrenaline is flowing and it’s easy. Later it gets really hard. I came in and we were pumped. Zeke finished at under 1:12 and then Jeff rolled a really fast lap too.

We were in second place when Jeff started and he put five minutes on the first place team to put us up. First place! We wanted it at that point.

Night came and it got tough. First, you have to use lights in tough conditions. Second, it gets cold. Third, you get tired. We went through two rotations with few problems. A couple of folks had slower laps, but nothing bad. We were in good shape

We found ourselves competing with a team from Beaver Creek, Colorado. It got really close with just seconds separating us. They passed us on the course and we passed them. It was a dogfight. We felt that we had the upper hand, were faster and would win.

These races usually come down to consistency and a little luck. As I said, if we rode the rest of our laps without problems, we knew we were faster. No one wanted to say it, for risk of a jinx, but I know we all wanted to avoid problems, like a mechanical breakdown or a crash. Either one could cost us the race. And, if the opposition had a problem, we wanted to be poised to pounce.

Well, the 4:00 a.m. lap is called the “bewitching lap.” It’s so cold and late and everyone is exhausted. It’s too early to see the sun. I hate the bewitching lap. I started it and 2 miles in, my rear tire hit a wedge and I heard a something pop and then sputter. My rear tire had blown off the rim. I swore. It took me maybe five minutes to repair it. And dozens of riders passed me.

I assumed that our competition was one of those riders (in fact, he started only 30 seconds behind me and was one of the first to pass me). I knew I had some ground to gain so I pushed as hard as I could. I tried some mental games to keep myself motivated. I pulled out all the tricks but I was hurting. My body kept saying no. My lack of conditioning for this kind of race was hurting me.

Just before the final big climb, I was in a groove and passing people. I stood on the pedals to quickly clear a technical section and my crank stopped and then spun. Uh oh, I thought. I think I dropped my chain. Occasionally, your chain can slip from your cassette and need to be replaced. It’s annoying, but it happens. Unfortunately, I didn’t drop my chain. I broke it.

%$%!, %$%!, %$%*!

I was not PG-13 at that moment. I was way behind my pace, I had lost the lead, and now I had a big mechanical problem. This was bad.

I got my wits and went about fixing the chain. Fortunately, I had the right tool and a replacement link. Still, in the cold, with lights, and in the dirt, it took 7-8 minutes. I rode as hard as I could to the finish. 1:40 lap time. I was 18 minutes behind the other team. It was a disaster.

I was upset, a bit, but my teammates and friends were great. It’s part of racing and everyone understands. Still, it was horribly disappointing to lose first place like that. Lose head-to-head? No problem. To a mechanical? That’s tough.

We rode well through the rest of the morning, keeping the third place team comfortably behind us and quietly hoping for some bad luck to strike first place. It didn’t. We finished second.

We were thrilled to be on the podium. We got a great medal and some really nice bike gear. The team exceeded our expectations, had a ton of fun, and rode safe. All in all, it was a great race.

Check it out. I'm now blogging with the big kids. I'm going to bring a bit of an inside perspective on Cre8buzz.

http://www.cre8buzz.com/blog/2007/09/10/sharing-or-showing-off/

The details: It’s a 7 mile course with 800 feet of climbing per lap. We do four laps. It’s got a nasty long rocky, rooty climb, the kind I struggle on. Oh, I’ve always struggled on this course.

Race starts. Buddy at the line gets slammed into me. My front tire goes perpendicular to the trail. I go into the grass and stop. I have to steady myself and restart. I’m dead last 30 seconds after the start. Signs of things to come? Yes

Despite the horrible start, I decided to follow my strategy of really pressing it on the first climb. Unfortunately, I wanted to be near the front, now, I'm trying to just get back into the mix. Fortunately, the race starts with a good climb. If I'm good at anything, it's a sustained climb. I push it real hard and get into the front group of ten or so as the course flattens out. I even slingshot past some of the top guys.

The course flattens out. I need to keep the pace. No legs. I can usually push a bigger gear than this. Where are my legs? And my heart rate is really high. What the…? I have to ratchet it down. I'm getting passed. This is not going well. I have to be near the front or I won't even sniff the podium.

Ok, here's the nasty climb. "Go!" I tell myself. Pain. "I said GO!" Pain. No legs. Help me. Should I quit? I wanna quit. More guys are passing me. He’s passing me? Him? I always beat him.

I'm in big trouble. I've cracked in the first lap. Insert picture of nuclear cloud here.

Just keep spinning I say. So I spin.

What the heck? There's my buddy Jordan on the side of the trail. He's fixing his bike. "I'm out" he says as I pass him. "Mechanical". That sucks. Jordan is out. Maybe I should just end it too after this first lap, I think. Besides, I have three more laps to go.

Finally, the downhill. I relax a bit. I finally can pedal a little harder. I make it through the start/finish. I've got to do this three more times. Crap. I'm in trouble.

There are the guys in front of me that I always beat. Well in front of me. I suck today, worse than anytime all year. Let's see if I can increase the tempo. Ok, better. Getting closer. Time for the big climb. I hate this climb. Oh, hey, there's Jordan. "Grab my wheel" he says, "I'll pull you up." Sweet! I'm bound to go faster with his setting the pace.

He sets the pace. I can't keep it. He looks back. "Come on" he says. I stand up on the pedals. Did I mention that I'm hurting? We do this for the entire climb. He goes, slowly increases the pace to a point where I struggle and then we try and settle in. He's a saint for doing this. I just wish I could take full advantage of it by going faster. Nothing.

We roll down the big downhill section then through the flats and rollers. We catch a few of the guys that I always beat. We pass them. Fast. I still got nothing on the punchy climbs so they hang pretty close.

We make it through the start finish again. I kinda expected him to pull out there, but he keeps pulling. Jordan is my hero. We cruise up the first hill, again yo-yo-ing a bit with my lack of power. We roll through the flats and hit that nasty climb again. He pulls off. His mechanical problem is back. He says he'll catch up. I'm on my own again. 1 1/2 laps to go, I tell myself. I see a couple guys ahead that I need to beat. I try and settle in. Damn, I'm going slow. I refuse, however, to go to my granny gear in the front. I know if I do that I'll just spin and have no chance of pushing any kind of pace.

I make it to the top. Thunder, lightning, rain, hail. Wonderful, I think. The downhill section is filled with roots, which, when wet are treacherous as heck. So, rather than going over them, as I usually do, I have to pick my way through them. Slowly. This race is a disaster I think.

I make it through the muddy sections and see three guys, including two that I have to beat, ahead of me. I can tell that they are suffering too.

Side note: I really learned this year that it's really hard to really crank up any kind of "makeup" speed in the second half of a race. Everyone is tired, and for the most part, going at their chosen pace. Sure, you can go faster, but a 30 second gap is really hard to make up if you are going roughly the same speed as the person you are chasing. Kinda obvious, I know, but again and again I passed people later in a race and 99% of the time they won't catch me if I can put 15+ seconds on them. I’ve gotten a bunch of places in the standings by passing people in the second half of the race.

So, I decided that I had to find a place and hit these three real hard and real fast. I didn't want to. Fortunately, I knew the course real well. I knew that if I hit them late in the third lap that I could keep a high pace through the start/finish and then climb faster than them on the first climb. I got climbing skills. And some bowstaff skills. So, I got behind them and at a punchy little climb, I just went. Hard. Really hard. I passed all three really, really fast. (Kinda like I was getting passed earlier). I put it into the big ring and just pushed as hard a tempo as I could for the next 1/2 mile or so through the start/finish. The course looped back and I could see them at least 40 seconds back. Finally, one success.

I settled in for the final lap. It was still pouring and I had mud everywhere. I ate everything I had left. I drank two cups of water at the aid station and half my waterbottle. I knew that I needed to avoid cramps and crashes and I could finish the race.

I only saw guys in younger age groups who were spent. I passed them. I didn't see any of my competitors for the final lap.

The last lap was tough, but I knew I was almost done. I cruised in and rode past the group of finishers who gather to tell their stories. I was wet, I was really tired. And, I was pretty disappointed and probably a bit embarrassed. I wanted to do well at this race and didn't.

My friends met me and were great. Some nice congratulations and atta boys helped a little. I bummed a beer, got cleaned up, and made my way back to the start area. Time to have a sliver of humble pie. Seriously, the guys I race with are great. Everyone is cool and knows that they will have a bad day sometime. And, there’s something really genuine about most mountain bikers that I really like.

Oh, 9th out of 25. Respectable, I guess

Epilogue
Disappointed is the right word. I can't explain what happened, so I couldn't be mad at myself, or the conditions, or other racers. At the same time, I really prepared for this race, so I didn't find any consolation in finishing. Finishing wasn't good enough.

I was as tired as I've been all year that Sunday. I suspect that the back-to-back races were part of the problem. I am not a "power rider", so putting out that much effort in the Short Track race on Saturday may have had a big effect on Sunday.

I got back on the bike and spun a bit on Tuesday. Today, Wednesday, I’m going to do a long fun ride with the fellas. That will cure my ills, I’m sure.

Ok, It's Monday and the dust has settled a bit. Two days of racing, so two race reports. This should be good therapy.

The race weekend started on Saturday with a short track race. Short track is a pretty accurate description of the course but does not do justice to what this race is all about: Suffering. You basically ride this fairly short loop for 20-30 minutes, then do 3-5 more laps. There's typically a straightaway, some climbs and some descents. Add 20+ guys, all going flat out, and you have a hammer fest. It hurts. People go really hard at the start and then try to hang on. Your heart goes to your throat and stays there. I usually whimper loudly at some point in the middle of the race.

About 30 minutes before my race time, the skies opened up. There was thunder. There was lightning. Half the melted polar ice caps dumped on us. Some other group was out racing and I felt really bad for them, as I watched them from inside. I probably snickered.

The rain stopped as quickly as it started. So, my race started with about 45 guys all lined up, maybe six deep. I got there late and rather than start at the back I took a chance and went to a far edge, with hopes of getting to the front. I got a good jump at the start. This course almost immediately funneled to a piece of singletrack that seemed about the width of a bike tire and then went up. Best analogy that I can come up with is having four lanes of traffic merge to one at full speed with no one willing to yield. The folks who squirt out in front have a good shot at a good result. Those who get pushed to the back have to work much harder. I expected that folks would quickly squeeze to one or two abreast but we didn’t. Instead, it was about four abreast. So, I growled loudly, ate some elbows, possibly a bit of someone’s helmet, and held my spot. We did this for the first quick two turns and then hit a punchy nasty loose, muddy climb. It was carnage. The guy to the left of me and the guy in front of me spun out and both had to dismount. It was pure luck that I was able to find a line through them and keep pedaling (preview: I’m not so lucky at the start on Sunday’s race!). The result was about 15 guys still pedaling, with me near the back, all stretched out. The rest of the group was behind us squawking at each other like a bunch of geese.

We settled in a line and it didn’t take too long for me to realize that we were going really hard. The pace was fast and no one was slowing down. I worried that it was too hard for me. Still, I aggressively passed a couple guys and then felt great relief to slide in behind my number one target for the day. He had his regular team jersey on and his leg was marked to verify that we were in the same age group. Sweet, I thought, I’ll just hold his wheel and jump if he cracks or out sprint him at the end. I did this for a lap and a half. I recovered a bit. Then someone yelled to him: “Go Eric”. The guy I wanted was not named Eric. I panicked looked to the left, past the next turn and saw my guy leading the entire group, maybe 60 seconds ahead of me. I said a very naughty word. Out loud. I was not in a good spot. I was about at my max and pretty far back. Maybe 13th.

Now in the movies, the hero will find that deep well of strength and inspiration as the cheesy dramatic song (“Eye of the Danger Zone” or something) starts to play. He’ll think about his kidnapped daughter or dead coach or captured buddy, and stand up and go, the wind at his back. He’ll be brave and handsome and superhuman and win at the line with his fist pumping. His gorgeous costar will meet him and, as the song hits a crescendo, they’ll kiss.

Um. I am still waiting for my theme song to start playing.

Oh, and did I mention that it had rained earlier? And I snickered? Karma. It started absolutely pouring. I was afraid I was going to have to stop and swim. I focused and found my next target. Caught him. Next? Caught him too. Then, surprise of surprises, the top racer in my group was right ahead of me. Not my guy, but I wanted to beat him. He must have cracked and faded. We had one and one-half laps to go. Did my song play? What do you think? Still no song. I chased him. I got close. He stood up and beat me at the end.

I was soaked and covered in mud. The crowd was not surrounding me yelling my name. (Hell, they were all inside staying dry). I puckered but no kiss. At least the cooler of beer was there.

I finished 8th out of about 40+ starters and 5th in my group. Pretty good. I would have preferred the theme song finish though….

My dabblings on this blog caused me to take a little different approach to this morning's ride. I decided to grab a few shots along the way and write a little bit about it. It's interesting, that little change in mindset made me look at the day entirely differently.

I got up slowly this morning. The internal clock seems to ring around 6:00. Coffee, check email, check Cre8buzz and started gearing up. (Side Note: I think the launch of Cre8buzz has added another 15-20 minutes to my early routine!). I headed outside planning on an easy 90 minutes on a local trail.

A tangent: My buddy and neighbor Dax helped me put my yellow Yeti hardtail back together. It had been canabalized for parts and never reassembled. We had a few Dale's and he shared his race experience at the Leadville 100. Dax is an extremely strong rider and got 15th out of, oh 20 million riders. Hopefully, he will join soon and give us a full race report.

All right, got on Yellow and started pedaling the pavement to Heil Ranch, a local trail. It started raining. It rarely rains that early here. Oh well, I was feeling great. Legs were strong and the bike felt great. I had a new playlist in the Ipod too.

It struck me that these roads are filled with tourists this time of year. They all come to see the sights just out my door. Hmm.

I came across a group of deer near the crest of the Old Stage Road climb. These deer are always out and I've had a near miss once or twice on the decent. We ignore each other, like usual. Again, I smiled knowing that they are always there and I get to see them whenever I haul myself out.

By the time I made the trailhead, the rain had stopped. Not a car in the parking lot. Very nice. I noticed the "Beware Mountain Lions" sign that I usually ignore. I've never seen a mountain lion. I took a shot, though. It makes mountain biking seem Extreme. Like Mountain Dew and Ford Escapes. I rode a lap and another at the top. I missed my rear suspension. Very loose and rocky but a great trail. I cruised home.

My old standby was a little different today. I really enjoyed it and am grateful that it's there. Ok, 8:30. Time to start work. Smile.

Check the shots in the gallery