Well, I should have got the hint when I walked out into the garage at 5:30 in the morning to find the rear tire of the bike had gone flat. This kind of concerned me and made me wonder if relying on a couple of CO2 cartridges and a patch kit was such a wise idea. I didn't plan on carrying a tube (due to the fact that I had completely forgotten to buy one while at work), hoping that my luck would hold up on the thorn infested course. The location of the 3rd race of the Rocky Mountain Endurance series took place in Castle Rock, Colorado. It was a loose, fast, and relatively flat course with only 2 substantial climbs in it. The second climb was a short 20 foot section that was just a quick grunt. It was the first climb that was the major concern for me, and had me second and fifth guessing my gear ratio selection.
The previous month I had been trying to pre ride the course. Trying to gauge my fitness, and determine if riding a single speed for 60 miles was going to just destroy me. Laps were 10 miles each, and the course was very open, providing very little relief from the sun. My first recon of the course was done with a 32x20. Two miles into the course the trail drops about 300 feet off the ridge. It was the climb back up for the next mile or so that I new was going to crush me by lap 4. The climb went well enough, the gear ratio allowing me to spin to the top without blowing myself up. The problem is that this spinning wasn't much fun on the remaining flat 8 miles of the course. Think of a hamster on crack in the exercise wheel.
Round 2 of singlespeed silliness. Next up 32x18. Apparently all the cool kids in Colorado run this gearing. Funny, cuz this is the favorite gearing of Pisgah locals, and I had specifically switched out to the 20 in anticipation of mountains of the Rocky kind, as opposed to ours of the Blue Ridge variety. I fire off another two laps, figuring that I'll be able to recover from the grunt of the climb on the remaining 8 miles. The weather is somewhat coolish, so I was unable to replicate the heat that I anticipated for the coming weekend. I can definitely push the gear, but it looks like I will be setting up shop in the pain cave. This short stretch of climbing along with dumb choices I make will come to kick me square in the nuts.
Day of the race starts with a flat, buying a spare tube from wal-mart because all the shops are closed (how come their ultra light presta tubes look like everyone else's regular tubes?), failing at filling goo tubes without making a complete train wreck of the process, and spinning laps up and down the parking lot to warm up before the start. Singlespeed class gets called up, and 20+ riders stand around making the usual greetings, discussing the course, and gear ratios. General consensus, 32X20. Shit. Count down counts down, and wheels begin to roll. 2 mile neutral start on the road up to the trail head. I'm feeling good and holding third place SS while not working too hard. We hit the dirt and the race has begun. Up, down, and around. Over and over for the first two miles. Nice tight left hand hairpin, and we start the descent. Man, this course is loose, slacked out head tube angle with a bald as front tire makes steering exciting. The front end keeps wandering and pushing through the corners. Yep, new front tire was definitely on the list of things I didn't remember to do before the race.
Ok, here we go. Make the pedals go around. Up, up, up. Shit, I can't get on top of my gearing. We're stalling. Oh my god, kill me now. Head down, use that visor to block the view of how much farther we have to go. It will be worth it, we can make up the time on the flats and descents. Ok, we're at the top. Man that hurt. Gotta spin. Next 4 miles go smoothly. All of a sudden, a gigantic porcupine comes out of the scrub oak. Jeez, those things are a lot bigger than I thought. You definitely get right of way buddy. Up the second climb and back down the other side. Oh crap, we're going down! Front end washes out so quickly that I'm still clipped in and holding on to the bars. Ouch. Quick assessment reveals a bruised hip and mild wrist sprain. Back also is decorated with some new abrasions. Pick myself up and push for two more laps. The climb is killing me. Quads keep trying to lock up despite tums, and plenty of liquids. I'm blown up. Hip hurts, knee hurts, wrist hurts, quads screaming. Wahh.
Before the race, I had expectations of placing well, maybe even podiuming. At the sight of 60 percent of the field riding carbon singlespeeds, that aspiration turned to mid pack. In my current predicament, we have now come to survival mode. Lap 4, mile 40 something. I'm doggin. Pedals keep going around. If I keep moving forward, I'll be ok. Just finish, then I can stop pedaling. Another descent, another front end wash out and crash. I'm starting to get lapped by the pro riders. This sucks. Gotta finish. Can't DNF, I've never DNF'd. Lap five, seriously starting to accept defeat. Mile fifty something. Knee no longer works, can't even hike the bike. I realize I'm not going to finish without doing serious physical damage to myself (as opposed to the already damaged bits.) I now know where I'm going to bail. Mid point of the lap in a subdivision. Should be able to ride the road back to the start under my own power, I hope. The paved path comes into view. I have come accept my fate. The number plate gets pulled off. I limp back to the van. It takes 20 minutes to ride a paved road back. The doubt already has set in. What if. Back at the van I realize I have nothing less. I can't stand, let alone walk, or pedal. It takes another 15 minutes to load up. I dread having to answer the question of how the race went. First DNF. Atleast the scenery was pretty. Off to Village Inn for Strawberry Milkshakes, Peach Rasberry pie, and a healthy dose of self pity. Oh well, there is always next race. Rampage Rage adventure race, and 24 hrs of sage are coming up. Just gotta get back on the bike. Big thanks to Mountain Moon Photography for the pics.
