Childhood Memories - USS Silversides

Last weekend my wife and I drove from Chattanooga to Manistee, MI to race in the Lumberjack 100. It was a long drive and sent me back to the family vacations of my childhood. My dad’s plant would shut down around July 4^th for 2 weeks so we would load up the car and see how far we could go. Often we would go to Florida or the Outer Banks. One particular year, when I was around 10, we drove to Canada. We had no destination, only to breach the border into Ontario and stay in a regular hotel, maybe to buy a couple cokes with Looney’s. On the way back we drove west across Michigan to Muskegon because Dad wanted to see a WWII era submarine, the USS Silversides. I do not remember being excited about the experience. Following the educational visit aboard the old diesel sub, our car promptly started spouting smoke and running erratically. Amazingly, we were able to limp into an open ford dealership. It turned out that a computer controller had went out and it would be around $400 to repair and they would have the part the next day. In those days, $400 went pretty far with my family so, from my 10 year old perspective, it seemed to cause quite a crisis. I do not remember what I felt but I think it was fear that we might be stuck in Michigan. Fortunately, the worst of it was just that we had to carry all our luggage onto a dirty public bus for a ride to a local motel. The upside, to me, was that we got to spend the day in the motel instead of the car and I was still young enough to get a thrill out of hanging out in a large bedroom with my family and jumping on beds other people had done God-knows-what on.

The point of this telling is that on the way up to the race we detoured into Muskegon and revisited the place that was the source of chaos for one of the summers from my childhood. To stay true to my lineage, I was too cheap to purchase the $15/person tickets to actually board the ship so I just posed awkwardly next to it for a picture.





It was enough for me. It was a reminder that, good or bad, our experiences are what make us who we are. I still remember that little boy who was scared of being stuck in Michigan. A lot has changed, but a lot hasn’t; going outside to ride my bike is still my favorite thing to do—speaking of, I’m late to meet the wife for a bike ride.

Lumberjack 100 - “Learning to Race My Race” and “Too Much Chocolate”

Some bill this race as the ‘easiest’ NUE race because it only has 9000 feet of climbing without a single, distinctive, climb to fret over. I would actually claim this as one of the harder ones I've done. Although there is no singular climb, there are also no places to descend or coast and recover. Essentially, you start off pedaling hard and Never. Stop. Pedaling. L put it best when he said it was like being on a trainer for 8 hours. Also, since all of the climbs were short (though steep) I was teased into ‘powering’ up and over them rather than easing over them with a steady pace. If Mohican was 'death by a thousand cuts', Lumberjack was 'death by 100 punches to the stomach'.

Race My Own Race

The start of the race was fast and furious with about 2 miles of pavement. Excitement is not the best word to describe what it is like to take a group of riders 10 wide by 60 deep at 30mph and force them into a single file line into the woods, but it is the best that I can think of. I continued with the theme from prior races and tried to hang with my friends, L&B, as long as possible which ended no different than past attempts, with failure and disappointment. The trail is flowy and fast in a thick forest with tall, thick, leafy canopies and fluffy fern covered floors. Like Napoleon D. and his Liger(lion/tiger); Its basically my favorite trail. Through the first 20 miles I was easily able to stay on with B leading the charge through the swooping singletrack. Unfortunately, I made some mistakes on the ascents leading up to the fire tower hike-a-bike. Our group got separated by another group of riders and, while trying to pass, I expended way too much energy. I was not able to recover before the Fire Tower Hill Run-up and had to walk.

This is what death looks like

L&B ran up the hill and were out of sight before I could get to the top. I could not catch back on and it was then that I realized that I had pinned my motivation to staying with them. It was such a disappointment to be dropped that I almost completely lost the courage to go on. Apparently my spirit is so delicate that if I get put behind by a minute I will throw my hands up and want to call it. This is probably going to be the hardest lesson to learn and biggest obstacle to overcome: To find motivation from within.  To remember why I’m doing this: because it’s fun and exciting to see how far and to find out what I’m made of; To meet a challenge head on and push through with sheer perseverance and determination; and to know that I will not be able to do this forever and realize how lucky I am to be out here. All that sounds great but none of it really speaks to me as well as "getting to ride with my friends L and B."  Learning to 'race my own race' is going to be a long term project.

Single Track is Like Chocolate: Too Much Will Give You a Tummy Ache

On lap 2 and 3 I slowed down considerably, with lap times of 2:38, 2:56, and 3:02. During the back half of the race, while dragging my beat down mind and body through the sweetest single track I had ever experienced, I could not help but visualize a small, round Dutch boy (like the one from Willy Wanka) holding his belly and groaning “Too much chocolate.”

I had indeed had too much chocolate. I was sore and beat and wanted no more of the sweet single track. I looked forward to the borring double track road that, while its thick beach sand provided its own obstacles to forward progress, at least promised a break from the nightmare of the steep hills. What several of us independently named “the wall,” a short and steep but rideable climb that promised to make you hurt in your bones, provided me with much dread in the pit of my stomach for both of the last laps.

Regardless of the emotional lows (which I’m sure everyone experienced) and my personal pity party through lap 2, I managed to finish with an adequate time of 8:42 that I will call ‘just ok.’ I will give myself a break because I know I am still learning and, though I know I will not ever see the front of the race, I am building my arsenal of weapons to fight the demons that I will meet on the trail when I am by myself in a day long endurance race. See below for awesome video of the highlights.


Watch more video of Lumberjack 100 2012 on thom.cyclingdirt.org

As Peterman said patronizingly to Elaine, "Kudos to a job… done."

Mohican 100

Two weeks prior I was in the lowest point of my racing experience. For a couple days I seriously considered the idea of giving it up, with ‘it’ being the time, effort, and money that I put into preparing and traveling to these races only to be crushed, both mentally and physically. After those first few days in the doldrums, I decided to pick myself up and look forward to the next event, the Mohican 100, in central Ohio.

I used to think Ohio was flat and boring. In the Mohican State Park, Amish country, there are short, steep hills and they are painful. Somehow they managed to string enough of these hills together for a total elevation gain of 11,000 feet over 100 miles.

In past races over the years, both on and off the bike, I have paid close attention to my heart rate and pacing. I tend to have a higher heart, with a race pace of around 170-180, and the ability to burst up to 200-205 quickly which can be bad in a long race. At Mohican, I decided to try something new and just ride by feel and try like hell to hang on to L&B's rear wheel.

The start is a field sprint up a steep climb for about a mile before rolling down some double track and into the woods single file. Luckily we were all able to get into the woods safely without too much trouble; only one crazy jack leg buzzed B’s rear tire before crashing out. Our 100 mile race started at the same time as the 100k race. They both sound similar in difficulty and length (what’s another 38 miles, right) but the fact is that the 100k race will often draw in individuals who have never raced such a distance and will go out of the start gate a little overly ambitious. In the 100 mile crowd, we generally know each other and, although we only see each other a couple times a year, have shared respect and exchange some common courtesies on the trail. Not so with the 100k new comers, who breathe fire and think they can pass through whole field in the first 5 miles of single track. L&B and I had particular trouble from a guy in a Marian Jersey. We named him, uncreatively, Marian. Marian tried to do his best to put us all out of the race before it got started.

I’m trying to work on the aforementioned common courtesy in these races and not tailgate racers in front, unless I’m looking to pass. As a result, I tried to leave about a 10 yard gap between myself and L. Unfortunately, Maid Marian did not share my view and saw the gap as something that needed to be closed. This sequence was repeated about 6 times; Marian would pass me, almost immediately bobble on a root or crash into a tree, then I would pass back. On one such event, Marian got in front of me, tried to jump a tree and get around L, immediately flew over his handlebars and narrowly avoided t-boning B. L passed back but I could not get around before the knuckle head jumped up and started running with his bike. In my moment of frustration I unloaded on the guy with some colorful language. It’s funny, in that moment I was so pissed that I was ready to throw my bike down and go to blows with the guy. What’s more funny is that, unlike road rage where you can yell at someone, roll your window up and be on your way, this guy wasn’t going anywhere. Almost immediately I regretted my outburst and when he managed to make his way back up to us, I apologized and made amends. L says I handled it well enough but it is important to remember that this is just a game that’s supposed to fun. If a guy wrecks in front of me I shouldn’t be pissed that he’s slowed me down, I should see if he’s ok. I need to maintain the perspective that I’m doing these races to for fun and to learn important lessons about myself like patience, perseverance, that when it gets bad, the bad never lasts. Marian did manage to pass l and I one more time before unceremoniously crashing off the trail. Like In tennis, if you bobble the ambitious ace attempt, you need to go for the lob. I don't think Marian plays tennis.

The rest of race is mostly a blur. I got dropped by L&B about mile 30 (they’re too fast in/out of the aid stations and just too fast in general). However, somehow I managed to stay within 9 minutes of them through to the finish, though I never saw them again. I did make a friend shortly after the L&B left me to fend for myself: Brian Collier. Brian talked just enough to keep me distracted but not so much that I wished he’d shut up. Brian set most of the pacing and provided me with the moral support to keep the pressure down. It’s amazing how much simpler it is to allow my mind to shut down and just focus on sticking to his wheel. Instead of the constant, “Am I going to hard? Too fast” argument in my head, it’s just, “stick to his wheel and don’t fall off.”

The cool weather definitely helped in keeping me from overheating and allowed me to eat more regularly but I’m hopeful I can build upon this experience and continue to improve. I’ll never see the front of the race, but I don’t think the NUE has seen my best. Next Up: Lumberjack 100 in North Michigan next week. I’m looking forward to see what the future holds. Here's a great highlight reel from the folks at cycling dirt.


Watch more video of Mohican 100 2012 on cyclingdirt.org