Category: The Comeback

It was a beautiful day in Cartersville, VA. I headed out before dawn since it’s a 3-1/2 hour trip. Arrived with plenty of time to spare (for a change).

The layout of this course was interesting. There’s an infield area where the course is marked off with tape. When you enter it coming from the woods, you hit a flat straightaway for maybe a hundred yards or so, then a very muddy 180 hairpin, back up about 75 yards, through the scoring tent, then out through a large piece of storm drain pipe, down a bit and then over some truck tires endurocross-style, back around and then over the pipe, around a large, fast sweeper, through a couple more mud puddles and finally up a big hill and into the woods. (couple of vids here and here)

In other words, plenty of opportunity to be either a complete hero or total dork in front of a pretty large crowd of spectators.

The start was dead engine, front tire over a log with 30-second intervals between classes, so it went quick.

My plan was to hang back and tail the back end of my class for the first lap and then start actually racing come lap 2. I hadn’t competed in 11 months and needed to get my racing legs back under me before mixing it up with other riders.

Starting flag went up and we were gone. I got a great start, somewhere in the top 5 or 6. This 300 is a beast off the line; there was plenty of throttle left if I needed it. BUT, I backed it off because up front was not where I needed or wanted to be at this point of the race. I let several of the faster guys by, but realized that waiting for the rest of the pack – who were in no apparent hurry to get past me – wouldn’t do. I picked the pace back up and got into the woods somewhere mid-pack.

Once in the woods, it got nasty, quick. Almost immediately we were in some super tight, rutted, rooty, rocky and worn-out single track that had obviously seen more than its share of races. The massive bottleneck that followed took probably a couple of miles to clear, but I was able to make a few passes for position as riders in front of me went down or tried shortcuts that didn’t quite pan out.

Once the bottleneck cleared, I was in with a pack of about 8 or 9 riders and settling into a decent pace. However, this is when I began to realize a couple of things – a) my front suspension was still awful, and b) this may have been the wrong race at which to to try and stage a ‘comeback’.

Ooops…..

Anyway, catching and passing this group in front of me wasn’t too difficult, staying in front of them was. The front end of my bike was skating all over the place; no sooner would I get the last of this pack behind me than the front wheel would either deflect off a root or pop out of a rut in the middle of a turn and down I’d go…and right back by me they went. This pattern would repeat itself several times over the first lap and a half.

Lap 2 was more of the same. I was getting beat up pretty bad, triceps and shoulders felt like rubber and I had fallen way off the lead pace. Finally, near the end of the 2nd lap and tired of hitting the ground and fighting – rather than riding – the KTM, I’d had enough. Pulled off to the side of the course, took a few minutes to adjust the forks (slowed the rebound a bit to help it stick better in the corners), take a B-I-G pull from the Camelbak, and then got back to it.

The third lap was better. Decent actually; I’d gotten my second wind, and along with it, a better feel for how to get around this course. My speed was better, I was smoother, but the forks were still killing me. I was getting tired.

About 3/4 of the way through this decent-but-relatively-uneventful lap I came upon a rider who was off their bike at the side of the course and yelling like crazy for some help. Typically, when a down rider calls out for help from another passing rider, it’s because of something major – broken bone, medical emergency, etc… so of course, I stopped. What was this persons emergency? Their bike was stuck on a root and they couldn’t get it off by themself. Yes, I was a little irritated, but I’m nothing if not chivalrous…..

Anyway, back on the bike, I finished off the lap and took the checkers 17th in class (out of 22).

I was a little disappointed in both my finish and overall performance in this race, but as my wife reminded me, I was off the bike completely for nearly 9 months and hadn’t raced in 11, so all in all I really didn’t have much to complain about. She’s right, of course, but the competitor in me just can’t swallow a 17th place finish. Ah well, I’ll have another shot at it in two weeks when we race Birch Creek on October 30th.

The best part of the day? The big, greasy, gooey cheeseburger I allowed myself after the race. Screw the diet….for today, anyway. 🙂

There was a bit of good news to be found though once the lap times were posted. On my last lap I was shown as 9th fastest in class. But, remembering that I stopped and helped that stuck rider, which easily took a minute if not more, and which when factored in means I was running a solid top-5 time for the last lap. Yes sir, I’ll take that.

The forks were in pieces on my workbench within an hour after arriving home and unloading the truck. The problem still continues to be massive stiction from these crap seals (they’re red, triple-lip style, which makes them either All Balls or MSR) someone else installed, so I sprung for a set of the new SKF seals that everyone’s raving about and should have them by the weekend. If these don’t do it, I’m gonna bite the bullet (and break out the checkbook) and send the whole suspension out to Trail Tricks in Ca for a full rebuild and revalve.

-Bob

I spent the week leading up to this race with one eye on the weather forecast and the other on the VCHSS site for whatever information I could glean on the condition of the course. Rain was in the forecast but times and amounts kept shifting. All I cared about was that this wouldn’t be a mud race.

I hate mud. No, wait, that’s not nearly strong enough; I loathe mud with every fiber of my being.

Don’t get me wrong, I could care less about getting dirty, but riding in the mud is difficult. Not the fun, challenging, ‘climb every mountain and sing a fucking song at the top’ kind of difficult, but the ‘damn, this #^%$@*&!# suuuuuuuuckkksss, I’d rather be forced to sponge-bathe Hillary Clinton, and now I’m soaked from head to toe and will have to spend the next six hours washing this crap off the bike, and for what??” kind of difficult.

The suspense ended Saturday though when the reports were that the rain was coming down heavy and there was standing water throughout the Birch Creek facility.

So, this was going to be a mud race. Wonderful.

We arrived at Birch Creek around 8:30am Sunday morning and my first impression was that the place looked to be in great shape – a little damp in spots but nothing too crazy. Then we saw the motocross track – the mud had to be at least a foot deep, without exaggeration.  We actually watched some kid leave the starting line for a last-minute trip to the porta-john, and his bike just stayed there. Upright. By itself. Without using the kickstand.

Aaaanyway, the course layout was actually pretty cool – part motocross track, part supercross track, part grass track and part woods, with a total combined length of right around five miles. Most of the mud was reserved for the motocross and supercross tracks; the grass sections were relatively dry, and the woods would turn out to be not all that wet at all and very rideable.

We watched the start and the first couple of laps of the mini race to get an idea of where the lines would develop before heading back to the truck to get geared up for my race.

Got to the line a few minutes early. I wanted to get an idea how the bike would react and whether I’d have any traction in this slop by running up and down the start area a few times, but there was no way to do so without kicking up roost and covering everyone else with mud, so I had to forget about it and just hope for the best.

There were 18 bikes (including me) in the 45+ class today. As the rows of bikes in the classes in front of us took off, big ol’ globs of mud were getting roosted back all over us. I thought it was going to be ugly when the guy directly in front of me took off, but he (mercifully) feathered his clutch and kept the revs down.

I, on the other hand, gave no such consideration to those behind me. When the flag went up for our class, I was on the throttle hard. Got a good jump off the line but got passed by a whole lot of bikes by the time we got to the first turn. I’d never really ridden or practiced on anything like this and my inexperience was now paying off for the other guys. Coming down the first big hill on that motocross track with the front wheel plowing through the mud while desperately searching for a rideable line and the bike dancing all over the place underneath me was…well, it was white knuckle time. Big time. I did manage to keep up with the tail end of my class though, and when things sorted out, was somewhere around 15th

By the time we came around to the supercross track, I was wondering just what in the hell I had gotten myself into. BUT, no sooner had I asked myself that question than I started to make some passes for position. As much as I’d like to say the passes were a result of my superior skill and finely-honed reflexes, the truth is simply that these guys were having just a bit more trouble than I was. No complaints from me though… Once out of the supercross section (and out of the mud) we hit the first grass section. This was my first taste of traction and I pinned the big 300. Man this bike is fast. Several more passes – I know at least a couple were for position – and then we were finally in the woods.

From this point on, I can’t really tell you the order of things. I know we came in and out of the woods a couple of times with some more grass track in between, then some rock obstacles, then finally back onto the motocross track and through scoring.

First lap I came through 10th, a surprisingly good position considering the freight train that passed me by on the start. At the end of lap 2 I was 9th, having picked up another position in the woods somewhere.

By the third lap, some decent lines were developing on the motocross track, but there was still a lot of the deep mud left and it was starting to take a physical toll. Upper body was starting to ‘rubberize’, but the layout of the course was such that every time the muscles seemed about ready to give out, here came a smooth section that allowed me to regroup enough to get through the next bit of nastiness. However, by the end of this lap I was regrouping less and less and starting to make mistakes.

Lap 4 was not pretty. My strength was almost sapped but I was still keeping up a decent pace. The bike was handling really well but I was starting to drop it occasionally due to my rapidly increasing fatigue. At one point I came across a 5 or 6 bike bottleneck caused by one racer stuck on a hill. I saw a clear line through the woods that would have taken me cleanly around it, but I didn’t have the energy to pop the wheel up and swing it around the 90 degrees necessary to point me in the right direction to take advantage of it. I scouted an alternate line and took it instead, and promptly got stuck behind another rider who had the same idea but then got themselves hung up on something.

Once clear of this bottleneck, and having lost all track of how many laps had gone by, I pressed on with everything I had left thinking this was the last lap. When I came around through scoring, there was my position – 9th – on the board, but where were the checkers?

Oh. Shit.

I was, at this point, more tired than I’ve ever been in any race. Flat-our exhausted; I had absolutely nothing left, having used up the very last of my ‘reserve’. My heart was pounding, the sweat was pouring off of me in sheets, there was mud in my mouth and my goggles, I was barely able to steer the bike through the tape at the scoring tent….and I had to run at least one more lap.

The thought of bailing out briefly crossed my mind, but just as quickly, it was gone. I’ve done that before in the past, and the shame of going home a quitter is not a pleasant thing. I came here to race, and as long as I could still hold the bike up, that’s exactly what I was gonna do.

This last lap was like no other I’d ever run. Ever. In fact, I don’t even remember running most of it. I was in pure 100% survival mode, the body and mind just doing what it knew how to do with no real conscious input from me. The most prominent recollection I do have is of coming around the motocross track that final time, seeing the scoring tent not 50 yards in front of me and wondering/hoping/praying that I’d make it.

Funny thing, not only was that my fastest lap of the day, but I also managed to pick up another position. Took the checkers 8th in class.

Back at the truck, there was a bag of pastries sitting on the dash which I had bought a little earlier in the day from the Horizon Riders (young racers 4-11 years old) bake sale. That half-melted cream cheese-filled cream puff was quite possibly the best thing I’ve ever tasted in my life.

A big, big shout out to my friend Bruce Lyttle, who gave me possibly the best, most timely advice I’ve ever received with regards to racing. Having coached his son through a few years of motocross, he told me to stay loose and let the bike do what it wanted to do in the mud on the MX portion of the course. So I did, and it saved my ass more times in those five laps than I can count. Thanks, dude.

Oh, and the forks? They kicked ass.

Next up: Pipsico 100 on November 13th. Woo-hoo!

What a day.

There were 29 riders lined up in the 45C+ class today, probably the biggest turnout in this class all year. The entire C-class field was 201 riders strong.

The start was short and intense – an abbreviated run off the line to the first turn – a 180-degree hairpin followed by a relatively short s-turn before funneling down to the entrance to the woods.

My strategy for the starts is simple, and borne more out of a sense of self-preservation than any attempt to score well: try to stay out of trouble and not wreck or get caught up in someone elses wreck. That means, for me, starting on one extreme end of the line or the other and getting going quickly. If you can make it to and through the first bottleneck – in this case, the first 180 – cleanly and ahead of the pack, you’re usually home-free.

Getting into the woods first is another matter entirely, and something I need to work on.

The flag went up and the KTM started on the first kick. Dumped the clutch, pinned the throttle and it was on. Got off the line near the front of the pack but lost a bunch of positions at the 180 and ended up getting into the woods in around 10th or 11th.

The first lap was a bit rough, but my first laps are always rough… It was a short one, under two miles and through scoring before heading out for the first full-length (7-mile) lap.

I came through scoring in 9th place and, once through the scoring tent, got on the throttle hard. Although there was a lot of new trail cut for this race, the route in and out of the scoring area has apparently remained unchanged for years, which means ruts, roots, and all other sorts of general nastiness. I mention this because about a hundred yards or so out, I lost it in some of this nastiness and crashed hard. Highsided right into a tree. Did a quick “am I dead/paralyzed” inventory to make sure fingers, toes and other important stuff still worked, picked up the bike and got back to it. Several guys had gotten past for position, so I had some serious work to do.

The forks had gotten tweaked in the wreck (bars pointing one way, wheel pointing another) so hopefully this wouldn’t pose a problem.

The first thing I noticed is that this wreck didn’t slow me down at all. In fact if anything, it knocked some focus into me. I started picking off positions almost immediately to get myself back into the game.

Came through scoring at the end of lap 2 still in 9th place, but had now caught the tail end of what I call the “S Train” – a group of riders in my class who were all running nearly identical lap times and were well within striking distance of each other. I was right there…

Got past 37s (Tony Carthan) for position somewhere on this lap, moving me into 8th by the end of lap 3. I was still in the S Train, but laps were winding down and if there were a move to be made, it would have to come on this lap.

On the 4th lap, I picked up two more spots when both 59s (Andy Vasquez, who I had been following for a while earlier in the race – I could catch him but could not get past him – dude is s-m-o-o-t-h) and 50s (Mark Coolidge) went off course. That put me in 6th and directly behind 82s (Kevin Dillard) who was in 5th. I was right-freakin’-there, but once again found myself behind someone I was a bit faster than but not quite good enough to get around. This guy made zero mistakes that I could capitalize on.

Within the next few minutes, the S Train had reassembled. It was Dillard, me, Vasquez and Carthan wheel-to-wheel, hauling ass and each praying we didn’t screw up and that the other guy would. At the same time I was trying to stay focused, I couldn’t help but think how cool it was to be running competitively with these guys after the kind of year I’ve had.

Then it happened. Coming around a turn, I either missed a shift or stalled (don’t remember, doesn’t matter, sucked just as hard either way). Got passed almost immediately by Vasquez but got fired and moving again just in time to keep 37s from getting by also. I set off after Vasquez hard,  but a slower bike from another class was between us, and the guy wouldn’t give me any room.

It’s generally accepted practice that if someone not in your class is in your way, you can yell – typically something like ‘woo-wooooo’ – and they give you room to pass cleanly. This guy wouldn’t move, and instead sped up to try to stay in front of me and ended up riding over his head and beyond his ability. I think I saw the trouble he was getting himself into before he did, but still not quick enough. Before I could preemptively adjust to the crash I knew he was about to have…he crashed, and I slid into him and came to a stop.

So, here comes Carthan with 24s (Ken Plotz) right behind him. Carthan cuts right and tries to short-cut through the woods to get around us but got hung up himself.. In the mean time, Plotz comes around my left and almost takes the spot from me, but I got clear of the crashed rider at the last possible moment and throttled out of there before he could complete the pass (hats off to Plotz, he could easily have pressed the issue and made it ugly for one or both of us). You can see this last-lap mess unfold here courtesy Tony Carthan’s helmet cam @ about the 2-minute mark.

We were maybe a mile or two from the finish; I knew that barring any mistakes by the riders in front of me, the chances of picking up any more spots were slim. With Plotz on my ass and Carthan close behind him, all I could do was ride hard as possible and protect my line, which is exactly what I did.

Through scoring the final time, took the checkers in 7th! Plotz finished 14 seconds behind me and Carthan 4 seconds behind him.

This was an awesome race, and I couldn’t think of a better way to end the season….except to add a few more races to the schedule – It feels like I’m just getting warmed up 🙂

To top it all off, this race also doubled as a fundraiser for Lincoln Charities. We were able to raise over $1000 via pledges on my performance today. My heartfelt thanks to all who contributed and made this possible.

The take-away from this race: If I’m to finish any closer to the front of this highly competitive class, I’ll absolutely have to to get better at passing, and get more aggressive on the starts.

And with that, I think this will be the last post in the “The Comeback” category; it’s safe to say after this run that the road to recovery is fairly complete.