A Full Weekend of Racing

CER Team member Joe Sheets recounts his whirlwind weekend of racing:

This past weekend marked my last week of competition before I tackle the ToughMudder in Frederick, MD.  I wanted to make sure I was fully recovered from a nasty crash last month and in good enough shape to take on a beast like the Mudder.  The 12 miles of running that await are not that intimidating, but as I found out earlier in the year at the inaugural Wild Warrior Challenge in Morgantown, running with obstacles (and more importantly upper body involvement) is a whole new ballgame.   What better way to put myself to the pregame test than to enter a sprint distance Triathlon (Morgantown’s own Sprint, Splash, and Spin) and a cross country mountain bike race (The 25th installment of the Henry Clay 30k at Cooper’s Rock State Park).

First, a word about triathlons (sprint or otherwise).  They involve swimming, biking, and running.  I consider myself an above average cyclist, a decent runner, and a sub-par floater.  I cannot use the word swimmer in any way, shape, or form to describe myself.  I often tell people that I can’t swim and get the same reaction.  “You’re joking.  Everyone can swim.  Besides, you’re entering a TRIATHLON!  You’re just being modest.”  That is, until they actually witness what I do to get through the swim portion of this one triathlon that I dare enter.  This particular triathlon is held in the Marilla Park swimming pool, with competitors going off in heats every ten minutes.  The reason this is the only triathlon I do is because over half of the swim is held in 5 feet of water, with the remaining portion crossing the “deep end”.   My method for completion of this part of the race goes as follows:  Push off the wall at the whistle and look like the rest of the people swimming.  Unlike the others, I immediately put my feet down and “shimmy-shuffle” to the deep part.  I then employ a combination of dog-paddling, free-style, butterfly-flailing with some backstroke thrown in until I hit the wall.  I hang out there until I can breath again, and repeat the process in reverse.  5 times up, 5 times back, and it’s on to the bike where the race actually becomes enjoyable!

As bad as the swim went (I was the last person in the pool by a fair amount... something I’ve gotten used to in my five times entering this event), the bike went far better.  This was my first year using a road bike, and I felt completely at home once I started turning the pedals.  I knew I wouldn’t catch many of the folks in my heat as I somehow had gotten into the 7 am heat... which is the first of the day.  This heat is usually reserved for the elite of the elite that enter the race.  Suffice it to say, elite does not describe my triathlon skills.  The longer I went, the better I felt.  When I got near the turnaround, I saw one of the guys in my heat heading back toward me.  He had made the turn about 200 yards before, and I knew that if I could focus I could have a shot at catching him and salvaging a little pride that had disappeared in the pool.  I pressed hard on the return leg, and caught him in the last mile of the bike course.

In my early attempts at this race, the transition from bike to run had always been a difficult one.  My legs were always tight from pedaling and I would often stop to stretch in hope of relief.  This year, however, I have done a lot more running than in years past.  The transition went smoothly and the run felt great.  The guy I had passed on the bike caught up to me at the turn around and we ran most of the final half of the race together.  I had saved a little more than he had and was able to sprint in the last 200 yards to at least not be the last finisher of my heat.  My time wasn’t what I had hoped for, but it was a minute faster than I’d ever done it before.  For me in a triathlon....  I’ll take it!

Sunday marked my return to cross country mountain bike racing.  No silly  swimming/splashing/transitioning or any other such nonsense.  Just a group of guys, mountain bikes, and a great course in one of my favorite places to ride awaited!  Sadly, it had been quite a while since I last had a good mountain bike race.  I had suffered mechanical issues at North Bend StatePark that cost me about 10 minutes and any decent shot at a finish and endured a nasty crash in the Race to Little Moe’s in Philippi that cost me most of July in downtime and recovery.  Fortunately, this race went great!  I had a perfect breakfast of buttermilk chocolate pancakes and eggs, followed up by a pb&j and some Honey Stinger waffles right before the start.  I found myself feeling good and strong the entire race.

I was even able to win a little side bet with fellow Consol Energy racer Jason Stewart.  Stew and I often place little wagers on the outcome of our races.  Typically we’ll wager a six pack of a favorite beverage while handicapping the course depending upon whose skills best fit the terrain.  I typically give Stew time at Big Bear Lake (my favorite place to ride and race anywhere!) and he gave me time here because he always rides me into the ground when we ride at Coopers together.  We also added a little twist to this wager... instead of the winner receiving a favorite beverage at the WVU/Marshall tailgate this upcoming weekend, the loser would receive a least favorite beverage for consumption.  I thought this would be a great motivator for me, as I REALLY dislike the beverage of choice for the wager.  Suffice it to say...  I see nothing Natural about it.  Fortunately for me, I was able to fuel my second lap with visions of Stew toasting the Thundering Herd in grand fashion!  Bottoms up Stew!

Suffering and Silliness That is XC Bike Racing

Another installment from CER's resident wordsmythe, Jason Stewart.  Enjoy!

My chest heaved up and down in time with my pedals as I inched my way up the crumbling sandstone face of Rhododendron Trail.  I wiped the sweat out of my eyes and caught sight of House pulling away over the crest, vaporizing whatever time I just put into him through the last descent.  I had pushed right up to the edge of good judgment on the downhill, keeping off the brakes and powering through the turns, but I was all out of downhill and it was time to pay up.  I normally look forward to the climbs, but not today.  Definitely not today.  I hadn’t put the training in to make a move on the guy.  My first trip up Rhododendron had put me in my pain cave and now I was back in it again, only deeper.  I took a warm swig of orange/vomit flavored water from my bottle and tried to find a strong gear to turn over.  I couldn’t spin much more than granny gear.  

As I plodded up, up, up, a thought started to form; a description of the suffering and ultimate silliness that is cross country mountain bike racing.  To my oxygen-deprived mind came an imagined conversation in which I tried to explain to my wife exactly what I have been doing with my evenings and weekends for the past five years:  

“Honey, I'm going to go out in the woods and beat myself about the head, neck, and chest with a stick.  This will be painful, but my plan is to keep doing this a couple times a week until I can go for hours and hours on end without stopping.  Then, when I get really good at it, I’m going to get together with a bunch of my friends and pay some guy named Gunnar $35 to let me run around in a circle in his back yard while I beat myself up with my stick.  First person to make two laps around the yard wins.  Except for the really advanced self-whackers; they have to go around three times.  ‘Wins what’, you ask?  Why, wins the big race of course.   

Further, this won’t be cheap.  As my stick swinging skills improve, I will need to buy special whacking gloves, shoes and a jersey.  Some bibs and a fancy plastic hat would be nice too.  And this stick, this stick is almost a year old.  There isn’t anything necessarily wrong with it, but my friends all have these new, super light sticks.  If I had a stick like theirs, I bet I could beat the hell out of myself at a fairly high level.  I found one I like, the sticker price is $3500 but I’ve been spending a lot of time in the stick shop and the owner is going to knock $500 off, just for me.”

Pretty much sums it up.  I entertained myself with my little delusion past Rock City and down the Ridge Trail chute to the Mont Chateau bridge.  Just before crossing, I heard somebody behind me say “good lines back there, man”.  The rider in the Pro Mountain Outfitters kit then pulled away from me on up the rocky creek bed, steady and strong, just like I would have done if I could have. 

Past the Iron Furnace for the second time and up the Rail Grade trail to the finish.  Warhorse and House were both there, looking cool and composed.  “Good job Stew” somebody said as I collapsed into the grass and gravel, sucking the bottom out of my Camelbak.  I composed myself just in time see Joe climb up past the finish tent; crushing the 5:00 handicap he hustled out of me right before the start.  Damn, I mean, “good job, Joe”.   

My only shot at a small victory on the day would now depend on whether or not I beat my nemesis.  The dude had trash talked me at the Big Bear Classic earlier in the year and I had never forgotten it.  It was the first time anyone had ever said an unpleasant word to me on any course.  I actually had people say something to me twice out there this year.  Anyway, I remember passing him on a long gravel climb about halfway into the Classic on that cold April morning.  As I started to pull away he wheezed “you’re breathing hard”.  I grinned and replied “well, I’m working hard”.  “That’s stupid” came his retort, followed by “it’s a long race, see you in a few miles”.  Not exactly hard core stuff, but grudges are light and I carry them easily.  I ended up beating him that day and if I beat him again today it would be a sweep for the season.   

I searched the results table, ate some pizza, changed clothes, checked the results, used the facilities and checked the results again.  No sign of the guy.  I was certain I had seen him there, I even tried to tail him for a while until my group left his group behind.  I couldn’t find his name anywhere and it was time to roll out.  I congratulated my teammates and friends and headed back home for a nap and a reevaluation of my chosen leisure activity.

I checked the results online the next day and found that I got the dude by over twenty minutes.  Yes.  Undefeated against the forces of evil on the year.  Maybe that race wasn’t so bad after all.  If I could just put in some more base miles and not take my customary post XTERRA break, I bet my fitness would improve.  Some new grips would probably help too.  And a fancy new plastic hat.  So forth and so on…   

Cooper's Rock 30K Prelude to a Showdown Part II

Part II of CER team member Travis Olson's epic quest for the WVMBA series championship:

After watching first place slip away from my grip last weekend at the Valley Falls Challenge, I made it a point to at least have my game face on come race day for the Cooper’s Rock 30K mountain bike race.  This was to be the 25^th anniversary of this race, and this year saw some big changes to the course.  Recently Cooper’s Rock State Forest has undergone some “managed” timbering near some great sections of trail, so race promoter Gunnar Shogren opted to design a new course that would eliminate those sections of trail, most of the pavement of years past, and include only a small portion of the roadside trail that is popular with hikers and recreational cyclists.   The course he designed was a doozy…screaming-fast descents and long steady climbs with a few steep pitches and technical sections thrown in for good measure.  I was actually a little intimidated by the course, at least one steep climb in particular that starts at the remnants of the Henry Clay Iron Furnace and climbs to the top of the ridge in less than a mile…brutal!  I wouldn't be alone though, CER teammates Jason Stewart and Joe Sheets would be suffering with me.

A group of us pre-rode some of the course in the rain on a stormy evening the week preceding the race.  After the pre-ride, I felt a lot better about the course.  It was roughly 16 miles divided into 2 loops, so racers would be riding the same terrain twice during the race.  I felt good despite the muddy, slick conditions, even after I laid my bike over and slid across, and nearly off of a slick wooden bridge.

I was really familiar with most of the trails and the direction we would be racing them, so my stress level was back to normal race jitters and not from racing a course for the first time.  If I could claim a trail system as my home course, it would have to be Cooper’s, with Big Bear Lake and Watters Smith State Park right up there too, but Cooper’s is where I frequent the most for mountain bike rides.

I was coming into this race the underdog, well, at least in terms of series points.  I was 2 points behind my series rival Scott from Blackwater Bikes, you know, our good friend BBG from previous posts.  He’s made this series an actual competition for me.  Neither of us has a finish lower than second place and when I’m not winning, he is.  The Valley Falls Challenge was our closest race as we battled neck and neck for over a lap and I expected nothing less from our next meeting at Cooper’s Rock, so it came as a shock that I hadn’t spotted BBG or his truck before the start of the race.  His usual racing buddy, Pete, had gotten really sick and wasn’t racing Cooper’s but I didn’t think BBG would stay home and give me a race at this point in the series.  As the race director shouted instructions for the course, the start, and the finish, I scanned the horde of racers standing around and still didn’t spot my competition.  Then finally, I noticed him at the registration tent, just barely making it in time to get registered and catch the last few orders from the race director.  It was going to be a race after all.

After the pre-race meeting, all the racers grabbed last minute items.  I chugged a little more water from a water bottle I used for my warmup and pedaled down the paved road a half mile to the start line.  I was one of the last ones there, which is part of my strategy to ensure my muscles are warm and ready to go when the starting whistle blows.  I realized then how many racers showed up.  There were at least 50 sport riders and I had no idea how many were in my category.  I lined up third row back, not really because I wanted to be that far back, but mainly because I got there later than my competitors.  For this start, it didn’t matter much that I was third row back since there was over a mile of paved road and wide trail to pass folks before the trail narrowed on the long descent to the Iron Furnace.

The starting official started giving us warnings at 40 seconds out, but chose random numbers to update our time away from the blow of the starting whistle…but that’s a rural dentist for you. 

14, 11, 10, 8, 5, 2, WHISTLE!!! 

We all shot up the pavement, over a short rise, and hammered down to a sharp left-hander to a small bridge to 150 feet of singletrack…BBG and I hit the bridge side-by-side and I nudged him out barely before the next right-hander up onto the roadside trail.  We were all hammering away on the roadside trail, which is wide enough for 2-3 riders to ride abreast, but not in the chaos of a race start.  Everyone was cutting corners and weaving back and forth under the pressure of trying to hold their position or pass slower riders.  My buddy Scott House shot past me like a bullet and I was cheering away for his break and hoped he would hold that pace and get on the podium in his category.  Next to barrel around me was BBG.  I saw him coming and let him go by me so I could latch onto his back wheel and try to put some pressure on him to ride outside his comfort zone.  I hung on BBG's wheel for the entire ride to the pond on the roadside trail.  We passed the pond and jumped on the gravel road that starts the downhill to the furnace.  I followed BBG for a while then when he slowed the pace I clicked down 3 gears, stood up and hammered past him.  I heard a resounding "Ahh, S--T!!!" as I went by which gave me that much more motivation to keep on the pedals.  I was able to get around a few more racers before the trail got too narrow to pass safely.

Hammer down!

I tried to look back and catch a glimpse of who was behind me and more importantly, where BBG was, but I was going way too fast on that narrow strip of trail to take my eyes off the trail ahead for too long.  The long descent turned to true singletrack and leveled out a bit through some trees and a few little rocky sections before it turned steep again and kept shedding altitude.  I passed a few more racers on the side of the trail fixing mechanical issues or flat tires as I followed Tim G. down to the furnace, through a "flat" section, then up the steep, relentless climb to Rock City on the top of the ridge.  As I followed Tim, someone bobbled in front of him and he lost traction and came to an abrupt halt right in front of me.  A couple hard pedal strokes and an evasive turn toward the edge of the dropoff on the side of the trail and I narrowly avoided having to stop which would have forced me to walk and lose precious time.

As the trail got even steeper and more rocks and roots jumped out at me, I struggled to keep traction on the rear tire and enough power to the pedals to keep moving faster than the guys pushing their bikes.  I yelled "Rider Back!" more times than I can recall to warn those walking to move out of the way for folks still able to ride.  Some make a great effort to get out of your way, while others pretend not to hear you yelling at the back of their head and remain walking on the most rideable part of the trail.  I could hear another rider a few feet back, but I knew it would be a mistake to look back to see who it was.  I've learned there are times to look back and times where it doesn't matter because I won't be able to pedal any harder anyway, so why add more stress.

I caught up to my good friend Chris who was racing Expert Class which meant he had one more lap than me to complete.  I like riding with Chris, he picks incredible lines and rides smoothly so I enjoy just following his lead, which I did to the top of the ridge and down past the stone picnic shelter into Rock City.  Rock City is pretty much just what the name implies; two sheer walls of course sandstone that narrows to a little over 4 feet wide at the end.  It's choked with old, thick Rhododendrons and rocky sections that make you scrape the rock walls as you ride through.

My handlebars got wedged as I was riding a really tight part of Rock City and although I didn't have to walk and was able to ride out of my jam, everyone behind me came to a halt.  To escape Rock City, you have to dismount and climb up and out with your bike.  After all the effort and all the climbing, the long downhill back to the Iron Furnace begins with some flowing swoopy trail, blasts through a small rock garden, turns hard left onto a steeper, but really fast trail broken up by a flat sections and some tight, rocky turns, then the bottom just drops out of it as you ride off a small rocky ledge at speeds way faster than you really want to be riding.  I had a horrible experience years ago on this little steep section and every time I ride it, I just take a deep breath and hope nothing bounces me over the steep dropoff to the left of the trail again.

 

The rest of the downhill from here takes very little time if you’re not on the brakes too hard and spits you out onto Mont Chateau Trail, which is little more than an incredibly rocky low-grade climb up to the Iron Furnace.  Mont Chateau Trail is tough to ride quickly because of all the exposed rocks, but since it was relatively dry on race day, “smooth” lines through the roughest parts were evident if you paid attention.  I hammered as best I could up that part and once again latched onto the back wheel of my buddy Chris.  We chatted all the way up that section until we hit the Iron Furnace.  I kept looking back, and to my surprise there was no sign of BBG behind us, or anyone else for that matter.

Empty trail behind me!

 

Chris and I passed the furnace and began the mile and a half climb up the cross-country ski trail to the start of the second lap.  The ski trail is not at all steep, just long and the rocks and roots make it anything but an easy ride if you’re trying to keep your speed up.  About two-thirds of the way up the ski trail Chris and I passed two of his teammates, Derek and Anne, who were cheering us on and taking photos.  Someone cheering for me always helps me pick up the pace a little, and even more when I know them.  Chris also got some motivation and pulled away from me, but was still in sight.  I didn’t want to lose Chris just yet since he was giving me a visible goal to chase after.  After another three minutes of climbing, we approached the top of the climb and the horde of spectators cheering racers onto their next lap.

Throw out some “thank you”s to the crowd for the encouragement, make a sharp right-hand turn and hammer the singletrack that leads to the pond and the big downhill.  I caught up with Chris again and we killed the long downhill and started the steep climb out to the ridge together.  My legs still felt good, but I could tell I was slowing down on my second lap.  Chris, despite having raced 60 miles the previous day, and racing one more lap than I would for this race, was still riding faster than I could up the climb and would slowly begin to pull away from me.  I wouldn’t see much of him until the end of the race.  On the last steep descent to the Iron Furnace, I caught up with one of the fastest guys in Sport Class.  He was having a rough day with cramping and was riding a lot slower than usual.  He followed my wheel on the rest of the downhill and up the rocky trail to the furnace.  We started the ski trail together, but he only made it a quarter mile before cramps forced him to stop and stretch them out.

At this point, all I could hear was my heart pounding, my rhythmic breaths, and the sound of my tires rolling across the rocks and dirt of the climb to the finish.  I knew the climb was 1.5 miles long, so I was able to keep track of my progress on my Garmin bike computer.  I also knew the trail well enough to know where I was and how far I had to go.  The power in my legs was waning, but I kept the pedals turning for fear that BBG would catch me on this last long climb.   

 

Every 30 seconds or so, I would glance over my shoulder to see if anyone was behind me, and finally I saw another rider coming up fast.  I saw the tell-tale blue and white jersey of a Dynamic Physical Therapy cycling team rider and saw the red and white bike and knew it was Brian D., whom I had passed on the first long downhill.  He’s an incredibly strong rider and I was surprised I had stayed in front of him for so long.  We were about half-way up the ski trail to the finish and he passed me looking really strong.  I tried to hold his back wheel and keep his pace, but he was really putting the hammer down and was soon out of my sight.  Oddly enough, this made me feel great, because I knew how strong a rider Brian is and that there was a safe bet that BBG was not holding that kind of pace.  I was pretty comfortable that if I kept my current effort, I would capture the win.

Gunning for the win!

I passed Derek and Anne again and they were still cheering like crazy.  I knew then I only had a few more minutes of racing, so I dropped a couple gears and finished strong.  I crossed the finish line alone and draped myself over my handlebars gasping to catch my breath.  After pushing my lungs back into my chest, I pulled over and stood with some guys I knew that had already finished (the really, really fast guys) and waited to see who would cross next.  My buddy Gregg, who races the Grand Masters (55+) class, came in a minute or so behind me, then a couple minutes after that BBG finished.  He was close…closer than I thought.  He must have had really good legs for the climbs.  He came over and we congratulated each other on another good race and wished each other good luck on the series finale. 

When the dust cleared I came in 1st in my category finishing the 16 mile course in 1 hour 47 minutes, which was good enough for 7th overall out of 57 racers in sport class.

This win brought me within 1 point of BBG in the series.  I still can’t believe the series is so close and the series championship will be decided by who wins the last race, the White Oak Challenge at Watters Smith State Park, at the end of September. 

It’s a must-win for me, so time to rest a little, then really amp up the training and lose few more pounds before race day ‘cause there’s gonna be a showdown at Watters Smith!

Click here to see the results, and here to see the point series standings.