Green Mountain Trails, Pittsfield, VT

2012 Summer Vermont Mountain Biking Extravaganza

Part I: The Green Mountain Trails, Pittsfield, VT

Trailhead Parking for the Green Mountain Trails

As our departure for the Stowe trip approached, we finagled our calendars to take off Friday as well so we could hit the Green Mountain Trails in Pittsfield on the way up.  The weekend weather looked iffy, but we set out with all the optimism we could muster.  Pittsfield is just north of Killington and boasts some fantastic stuff.  I'd been a couple of times to do the Vermont 666 race and adored the course, but had never made it up to hit it recreationally. We pulled into the lot in the early afternoon and chatted with one of the guys at Amee Farm, where the trailhead is located.

The Barn at Amee Farm

Gareau and I were pleasantly surprised to hear the trail conditions, despite some recent precipitation, we outstanding. We were also delighted to receive a handful of squash compliments of the farm.  He called the spiky ones, appropriately, Lisa Simpson squashes.

The Gift of Squash

We headed out to the trails after I'd forewarned BG that we'd be doing a significant amount of climbing right out of the gate.  The farm lies at 880' above sea level and the trails make their way up the side of a mountain to an elevation of 1820'.  Damn near a thousand feet of vertical.  As we came to the river crossing a little ways out from the farm, we were faced with a balancing act across an I-beam instead of the six foot wide bridge I was used to seeing, courtesy of Irene, which devastated Pittsfield a year ago.

After walking across we made our way up The Stairs to Noodles Revenge to Luvin' It (misnomer, by the way).  The nice thing about getting to the top in Pittsfield is that it is swictchbacky as all get-out.  At the top, we were greeted by a newly built, gorgeous stone hut that replaced an existing more dilapidated building.

Gareau has a thing for stone huts.

View from the summit.

The trail we didn't take.

We skipped Devils Throat, opting instead for Labyrinth, which is a super-gnarly, rooty, tight, twisty single track on top of the summit that led us down to Warman, which I would consider the signature trail of this system.  Warman is a series of 20 short switchbacks with high-sided berms that just scream down the mountain.  What a hoot!  Warman dumped us into Stonewall, which was just as fun.  The switchbacks are strung together with longer stretches of singletrack, much of which is benchcut  into the side of the mountain with sharp drops off down.    Here's BG getting a little Stonewall.

As we hit the bottom of Stonewall, we did a quick cost-benefit analysis and decided to schlep up Luvin' It one more time.  Double Luvin'.  BG, mostly because he's a prick, pulled away from me like I was a cootie-infested third grade girl.  Looking back, I'm able to forgive him.  That's how big I am.

As we hit the top there was a dialogue about the route.  I was pushing for Devils Throat.  It just sounds awesome.   Who doesn't want to be ingested by Beelzebub?  Gareau threw some logic into the equation though. This was day one of a three day mountain biking trip and maybe plunging ourselves down Mephistopheles' pie hole wasn't the smartest plan.  Plus Gareau promised April he wouldn't die before the wedding.

So we hit Zebedee instead.  That's the blue intermediate trail that somehow is 100 times longer than Labyrinth, which goes to pretty much the same place.  Lots of fun and totally worth the second trip up to the peak.  We did Stonewall again and then climbed Luvin' It again.  A third time.  Triple Luvin'.  You know, menage a trois.  It'd probably sound hotter if it weren't just Gareau and I.

We only climbed partway up Luvin' It this time before catching the Fusters Connector.  Guess where that took us?  If you guessed Fusters, you're right.  If you didn't guess Fusters, don't worry.  You can read this blog entry again and guess Fusters next time.

Fusters is one of the trails that I've heard about at the two races I've been to, but which the races don't hit.   It's also the only black diamond trail we hit all day.  Labeled as 3.3 miles and losing 760' of elevation, this one was a ton of fun.  There were definitely some fast entrances into hairpin turns that I wasn't sure I'd make, but somehow I eked all of them out.  I would definitely recommend anyone coming here make this part of your route.  So worth it.

Off Fusters we caught The Stairs again and switchbacked our way back to the bottom.

A great day one of this three days of mountain biking.  16.9 miles and no appreciable rain.  Plus we made it back in plenty of time to finish the trip up to Stowe and set up camp in preparation for day two.  More on that to follow.

Between Luvin' It and the summit.

2012 Vermont Mountain Biking Summer Extravaganza

Pure ecstasy.  Adrenaline-pumping, goose-bumping, perma-smile inducing, unadulterated joy.  I had the mountain biking summer of my life and without hesitating, I would tell you and anyone else who would listen that Vermont mountain biking is the holy grail of New England riding.  The end-all-be-all.

Mooove to VT and ride bikes!

It all started with learning that Bryan Gareau would be getting hitched to April Warren on September 22nd.  That was some fantastic news.  Made better when I learned Bryan selected me (yes, me) to be his best man and that the wedding would be in Stowe, VT.  I can't begin to tell you how much it meant to me that Bryan asked me to stand by him as he promised the rest of his life to April.  I can tell you what it meant for me and mountain biking in VT, however.  It meant three separate trips to Vermont in which we rode some of the best terrain around.

Back in August we took our first trip up to VT and staying a couple of nights in the Smuggler's Notch State Park Campground.  Apparently to take care of some wedding odds and ends in Stowe.  When I look back, I think most of those wedding odds and ends were stopping for a drink at the places the wedding weekend would hit.  I super like wedding odds and ends, as it turns out.

Then there was Part Deux of the Gareau bachelor party.  Which doubled as a Oktoberfest.  This trip led me through three rides in three days.

The final trip was the wedding weekend itself, where Bry and I managed to tie together some sweet single track up at Trapp's before he tied the knot with April. 

I hope to, over the next week, put together some of the highlights of my summer forays into Vermont and the mountain biking that ensued. 

Stay tuned...

Rally in the Valley of the Treasure

Woo friggin' hoo.  TVR time again.  This was going to be year three for me and I was pretty stoked.  I was a week off the Hampshire 100 and was looking forward to a mere 17 miles of the most technical terrain in the area.

And the weather.  I know it's been a rough year for lots of folks with not enough water, but it's been a dream come true for this mountain biker.  Last year the whole race was postponed a month and a half due to Irene.  This year, with no hurricanes looming on the horizon, we were clear for take off. 

I took a couple of days off after the H 100, but had a solid 14 mile ride through Uxbridge Wednesday night with the gang and then did a hard 41 mile road ride Thursday night.  Two more days off and ready for the race.

The pre-reg list grew quickly at the end of the week leading into the race.  I think my Cat, Vet II Sport, was up to 15 by closing.  Including Nathan Elder.  Another chance to try to edge him out.

Brett Russ and his team of dedicated Bums put a LOT of time and effort into getting this race off the ground every year.  Brett works tirelessly.  Trails are cleared, bridges are constructed, intersections are ribboned and trees are arrowed.  On top on the trail work there are logistics to work out with the scout reservation, shirts to order, sponsors to line up, volunteers to coordinate and registrations to handle. Thanks Brett!  And even more, thanks to Kelly and Jake.  It must be hell living with you as the race draws nigh.

Chandler Directing Traffic

Bodybuilder Directing Traffic

The course is on the Treasure Valley Scout Reservation with proceeds from the race going to the same.  The full course is not open outside of race day, so I always get pretty stoked for some local riding at different venue.   Plus the course is really varied.  There's grueling climbs, super gnarly technical, grueling climbs, super gnarly technical, grueling climbs and super gnarly technical.

I arrived at the race venue with my son, Harry, around 8 am to help out in whatever capacity I might be needed before the race.  My wife, Cori, was off doing the swim leg of an Olympic distance triathlon that had been canceled last year due to Irene.

Harry race-ready!

 After assisting with some set up for a bit, I got Harry together for the 10:00 start of youth race.  The race was a two mile lap and whoever made it around in under 25 minutes was able to head back out again for a second lap.  After Brett provided some instruction to the future of the sport, they were off.  The kids race follows the beginning of the regular TVR course.  Harry should have experienced some nice single track and a pair of pretty serious stream crossings before climbing up to North Field and then cutting out the lung busting climb up to the Pebble.

No, that doesn't mean winner.

That would have him following more sweet singletrack that would eventually lead him down along the pond and back to the start/finish area.  Hmmm?  Sweet singletrack?  No lung busting climbs?  I think I know which race I'm signing up for next year!

Harry coming up the hill.

Harry came through looking happy and strong, but just over the 25 minute limit.  He took third place in the one lappers.  Awesome job Harry Paton!

Harry Paton (3rd) and Jack Beaupre (1st) on the podium!

Max Beaupre takes 1st in the two lap race! Someone give that kid a sandwich.

So while Harry was doing his race, I was getting on with my race preparations.  I suited up in my best Bums kit, popped the bladder out of the cooler and into the CamelBak and did some minor pre-riding, much of which consisted of running around trying to get a glimpse of the boy.

As I was riding around, it seemed that my rear tire was a little low.  It was pretty close to race start, so I had to make a decision - put a little air in the tire or swap out the tube.  I chose the former.  But as we are to find out, I made the wrong call.  This is not surprising.  I am often wrong.  You would know this if were were married to me.  Not that I'm proposing.  Someone was already dumb enough to say yes.

The beneficent Beckie Beaupre had graciously agreed to be in charge of Harry while I did my race. That was super and Harry was stoked because he was able to hang out with Max and Jack Beaupre.  Thanks (again) to Beckie and her family!

 So it's 10:45 and we're taking in the racers' meeting.  Nothing surprising here.  Follow the arrows, listen to the volunteers, turn around if you see a "W", hold onto your hat if you see an "X".  Next thing we knew, we were queued up and waiting to go.

Once the elites and single speeders were off the experts took off.  I'm not sure who exactly was in the first group of experts, but there were a lot of them.  Maybe too many.

Expert Race Start

Once these guys disentangled themselves from one another and were able to get going, things ran pretty smoothly.  Category by category I drew closer to the starting line.  As I looked around at the competition, I did a double take to a guy in the back line of my field.  Holy moly.  I'm used to all sorts of folks at a race, but I think this is the first time I've ever seen someone in a t-shirt and Chuck Taylors in a Sport race.  As it turns out, these particular Chuck Ts were not SPD compatible.  Straight platforms.  Not even toe cages.  I talked to him following the race and he was a pretty cool dude.  More on that later.

Next thing I knew, we were off and racing.  The course starts through a short path away from the lake and across the entrance road to Treasure Valley.  I was, in typical fashion, not out front of the pack.  Probably somewhere in the middle, but closer to the rear.  As we hit the first couple of climbs by the park restrooms and up until we made the left onto the singletrack, I was gaining a few spots.  I was ramping up speed and cadence slowly and by the time we hit the double stream crossing, I was feeling really good.  The streams were running, but were not bad to cross this year.  I made them without even getting my feet wet.

After that it's a climb up to North Field, where I managed to take two more places.  That was boosting my confidence and my head was in a pretty good place.  I soak in some words of encouragement from the race volunteers stationed there -- Russ Stearns, Mike LaPlante and Pete Dunn -- as I pass through the field.  Those guys are okay.

Out of North Field there is a pretty long schlep up and up and up to Sampson's Pebble.  I was still picking people off, but by this time wasn't 100% sure if they were my Vet II group or the laggards of the group in front of me.  Everyone was super cool and just looked happy to be racing.

At Sampson's Pebble the Sport group hangs a left and heads down to the water.  I say down to the water, but the track is so technical that it does not feel like down at all.  As I'm headed down I saw at least three folks flatted on the side of the trail.  Those rocks were just eating up tires and spitting them out.  I managed to negotiate my way through somehow on the rear wheel of another racer who is making it, but barely.

As we empty out onto a short stretch of double track, I make my move and am by him as well, but as these things go, he is hanging on to my wheel as we head right back into some more techy single track.  Great.  Now I can feel like a complete jerk when I crash in front of him and screw him up after having just passed him.  But that's not what happens.  I ride clean and well and he fades into the distance behind me.  As we get to the bottom at the water, we take a left on a double track.  I thank a couple of volunteer emergency personnel standing there waiting to carry my carcass away should my carcass need carrying and manage a quick look back over my left shoulder.  I'm alone.

I drop it into a bigger gear and hammer to the left hand turn that takes me back up to Sampson's Pebble.  I say up to Sampson's Pebble but I mean straight up.  How can that last piece of trail brought me this low without me having noticed it?  The climb is sandy, steep and never-ending.  But I'm having a good race and I'm making progress.  A pass by a couple of racers, but I'm obviously in mixed category company now as some of these riders are riderettes.  As I get back up to the Pebble, I see the Novice group that had started after us was now making their right at the Pebble.  They don't have to do the descent to the water and climb the hill of suck.   So now there are some racers from the Novice class in front of me as we head into another pretty technical section.

What I find with the Novice class is is that they are some of the classiest racers on the course.  They are there to do the best they can, but most of them carry the mountain bike spirit with them.  Not only do they pull over and let me pass when they can, but they seem to be saying things like "Have a great race" and "Looking strong."  I think we could all learn something from these folks and I'm trying to reciprocate the best I can.  I am, after all, wearing the Bums jersey and feel I'm somehow an ambassador of the club.

At some point I realize I've caught another Sport rider and that we are passing Novices together.  Pretty quickly I realize that it's none other than Nathan Elder.  I've been chasing this guy all season and losing to him by one or two places.  In the last couple of races I've done I've watched him pass me as we head into the home stretch and just edge me out.  I'm hoping maybe today will be the day that maybe I edge him out.  We exchange some niceties and keep on pedaling.

At some point I get by him when he gets caught up on a short steep passing a young racer and I manage to get by on a different line.  I realize after I pass that the young racer was Brett Russ's son, Jake, who is racing Novice for the first time today. He was looking super good out there.

Now I'm in front of Nathan Elder.  This has got to be good.  Nathan's strong and I'm in front of him. Today is the day!  I'm just going to keep on pushing while I soak it in.

A short time later I begin to realize that my rear tire feels a little too squishy.  No!!!!!  I ride a little while longer, trying to work out how to deal with this.  The tire feels softer. 

Eventually I decide that my best bet is probably to try to handle it now and hope that it holds through the rest if the race.  If I don't do it now, I'm undoubtedly going to pinch flat sometime very soon.  I pull over and pull out the only CO2 cartridge I have.  It's only 12 grams.  A 29er tube usually takes a little more than 16 grams, but my tire doesn't need to be fully inflated.  As I hit it with the CO2 I am passed by at least six riders.  Probably closer to 10.  Including, of course, Nathan Elder.  Many of those who passed me though may have been some of the Novice group I'd recently passed.  I just don't know. If they were nice they would have yelled out their age and category as they passed by.  Bastards.

I'm back up and riding well.  I'm passing people, but they are likely a mix of people I'd just passed and Novices I had not yet passed.  I am impossibly confused as to where I stand in relation to my category, but know that all I can do is keep riding as well as I can and hope for the best.

After a little while I hear some yelling ahead and come up to a spot on the trail where there are about eight bikers completely stopped.  I can't  figure it out. Nathan is one them.  I learn that at a bridge crossing ahead someone has stirred up a hive of bees and people are getting stung.  Somehow we have the understanding that some folks may have been stung a lot of times.  Double digits.  No one knows how to proceed.  A guy that has come up behind me decides he's going to go ahead and risk it.and I follow behind him.  I've passed Nathan again, but this doesn't seem right.  As we approach the bee bridge we see a riderless bike abandoned on the trail just after the bridge and several folks bushwhacking around to the right.

The guy in front of me doesn't bother bushwhacking and heads straight over the bridge.  No screams.  No cursing.  I follow him over the bridge.  Both of us made it without getting stung.  A little more single track before we pop out at North Field again.  I let the guys know about the bees, but they are already keenly aware and working on it.

I pop back in the single track and start swooping my way back to the start/finish area hoping to have a strong second lap and regain position.  As I'm heading down my rear tire goes completely flat.  Oh no!  There's nothing for it.  No CO2 left.  I pull the wheel off, yank the tube out, get another in and start working my handheld pump.  It's a process, but I get it aired up and am back on my way.  I don't have enough fingers and toes to count the number of places I lost though. I do know that that was the last time I saw Nathan Elder during this race.  2013.

My race is run, but I'm going to keep going and enjoy the ride.  I have a moment of elation as I clean the power line crossing.  It's a 40 yard section of large, uneven, super-challenging rocks.  I'm happy to have made it.

I come back through the start/finish area and head out for my second lap.  I feel good and it's pretty uneventful.  After climbing out of North Field and up to the Pebble I am feeling thankful that the organizers decided to cut out the descent to the water and the climb back up for the Sport group on lap two.  I hit the singletrack out of the pebble and ease into a nice rhythm.  I'm still riding well and still gaining back places, but know that my two tire issues have taken me out of contention.

When I arrive at the bee bridge there is a re-route and Pete Dunn is standing there making sure everyone goes the right way.  I almost make the re-route while Pete heckles me that Matt Chandler made it.  Of course Matt Chandler made it.  Of course I dabbed once I hear that.  Just hearing the words Matt Chandler is enough to make a Sport racer dab.

I make the power line rock crossing a second time.  Probably because Pete wasn't there to tell me Matt cleaned that too.  Then I just sit back and enjoy the flowy single track that wends its way toward the finish line. I edged one guy out sprinting into the finish line, but as it turns he wasn't in my class. I still felt good when it was all over.  Just a little disappointed with my mechanical issues.

The results show I took eighth place.  Two spots and less than three minutes behind Elder.  There were 19 folks in the Sport Vet II, but two were DNFs.  All in all a good day of racing.


As I was wandering around after the race, I came across the guy I'd mentioned in the Chuck Taylors.  Turns out this was his first race.  He was from up in the Keene area and was used to doing about 15 mile rides up there, but he was astounded by the technical terrain here in Treasure Valley.  Astounded by it, but not ready to hang up his racing career over it.  He said he managed to finish in just over three hours, about twice as long as he was used to doing his 15 milers back home.  He loved the challenge and was looking forward to more races.  This guy epitomized the spirit of the sport.

I went for a quick swim with Harry after the race and was happy to wash the dust and grime off.  Great lake and the water was like bathwater.

Harry and I grabbed some grub at the barbecue being dished up by Cub Scout Pack 306 after the race.  I had a cheeseburger and Harry had the pulled pork sandwich.  Great grub and a complete meal for around $5.

John Beaupre enjoys a sandwich made of the hearts of his defeated competition.

Here are the results of other riders I know:

Karen Potter.  1/2. Female Elite.
Paul Simoes.  3/11.  Male Elite.
Chris Beriau.  2/3.  Female Vet.
Jon Modig. 3/6.  Male Junior Expert.
Matt Jalbert.  5/12.  Male Vet I Expert.
Matt Chandler (flatted).  9/12.  Male Vet I Expert.
John Beaupre. 1/13. Male Master Expert.
Nathan Elder.  6/19.  Male Vet II Sport.
Brian Spring. Wrong turn.  Male Vet II Sport.
Bill Lawless.  5/12.  Male Master Sport.
Mike Tuttle.  Wrong turn.  Male Master Sport.
Kes Roberts.  1/1.  Open Touring Division. 

Modig!

Beriau!

Beaupre!

O'Neal!

Potter!

Simoes!

Next up: Millstone/Kingdom Trails Road Trip!

Hampshire 100 Hurt-fest

It seemed like a good idea.  The Hampshire 100.  Back in May.  When I signed up.  I'd raced 50 miles through Wompatuck last year at the Landmine Classic.  I've done the Pat's Peak 12 hour two man twice.  The Pittsfield VT six hour race twice.  How hard could it be?  I was going to find out.

The day after we did the Vermont 30 (AKA the 666 race) last year Karen Potter, Steve Segenchuk and Brian Spring all took off to NH to do the Hampshire 100.  I was very impressed given that the Vermont 30 alone was a testament to ones mountain biking wherewithal.   It's six hours climbing and descending the same mountain as many times as you are able.

I now realize that very impressed was not nearly impressed enough.  These nut jobs live in their own world.   I think it may be some form of damnation to the Underworld.  Tantalus has his grapes.  Sisyphus has his rock.  These guys have their bicycles.  It makes you wonder what they did to deserve this.  I have some theories.  Ask me sometime.

I didn't train for this race as hard as I should have,  I have plenty of rides under my belt this season, but most in the 12 - 18 mile range with a handful into the 20s and one 36 miler.  Oh, and I live in Connecticut and this race, as it's name would suggest, is in New Hampshire.  We have hills, but they are bumps compared to what this race has to offer.  The Hampshire 100 had two options for 2012 - 100 miles or 100K (62 miles).  I was signed up for the 100K.  As it turns out, it was more like 64, but whatever.

Anyhow, I was super stoked to see all the familiar names signed up.  Karen Potter, Matt Chandler, Jon Modig, Brian Spring, Steve Segenchuk, Chris Beriau, Paul Simoes, Brandon O'Neal, Liz Chabot Allen and Dan Biscup.  Why, it was just like going for a ride right here at home.

It had rained overnight Friday into Saturday.  The weather looked like it would clear and things would dry up for the Sunday race, but there was still a chance of showers on the weather report when we left home Saturday.  As it turns out, the weather held the rest of the weekend and race day was absolutely gorgeous.

The racer's meeting was 6:15 am Sunday with the first of five waves going off at 6:45 am and all five waves on the course by 7:00 am.  That didn't seem to leave much of an option as to whether to arrive the day before or the morning of.  I wisely elected to take advantage of the free camping Saturday night and was joined by my two favorite spectators, Cori and Harry.  I showed up around noon on Saturday and was pleased that registration was already open, two hours earlier than publicized.  I signed the waiver, picked up my schwag bag (which included both a race t-shirt and a pint glass!) and then we headed up to the Peterborough Diner to grab a bite.


After lunch we came back and set up camp.  We were there early enough to have a nice selection of sites. We grabbed one on the tree line and were set up in no time.

Lap of Luxury

 We started seeing folks we knew pull in shortly thereafter.  I spent the evening talking with other racers, going through my bike one last time and enjoying the $5 pasta and salad meal available on site.  I only brought two beers with me lest my prudence leave me with the last sips of a second beer.  After the two beers, I went to bed around 9 pm.

Saturday night was downright cold. Cori and I were set up with two sleeping bags on our air mattress, but laid out as blankets one on top of the other.  My toes were frozen whenever they'd pop out the end. Despite this, I got a decent night's sleep. I awoke at 5:10 am with the sounds of riders getting ready.  I lay in bed until 5:30 and then got myself up.

There was a pretty nice breakfast buffet included for the racers replete with fresh fruit, bagels muffins, pastries, donuts, coffee and juice.  I had my fill and next thing I knew, the racers' meeting had started.

Should I be wearing riding clothes yet?  YES!!!

 As I was taking in the racers' meeting, I started noticing nearly everyone already dressed for the race.  Everyone except me.  I wasn't super worried at first, because the meeting was a half an hour before the race went off.  But then the meeting started taking a worrisome long time.  Before it was over, I bowed out and went to get my riding clothes on.  Good thing I did.  I got back to the start line with less than one minute to spare before my heat (the fourth) went off.

Haven't I bummed around enough?

I like to think of the sport class as a lot of pretty experienced racers who simply don't have the time or conviction to put in the hours needed to take the leap to Expert.  Now I think maybe sport is biker code for bumbling idiot.  Before we got out of the opening field, the front runners had made a wrong turn and we were all backed up to the point that we were practically stopped.  Oh man.

And I'm off!!!

We sorted ourselves out and continued on.  The first eight miles or so were pretty much all on dirt road, steadily downhill.  The roadies in the group were having a field day.  I'm geared two by nine so don't have a big chain ring.  I spun as well as I could, but was definitely losing more spots than I was gaining.  I decided it was a long race and blowing myself up on the open road sections in the beginning would not be a wise long term strategy.

Between all the waves, there were 378 people who showed up for the races (100 mile and 100K combined).  There were also 43 DNS entrants, including, unfortunately, Mr. Segenchuk, who was laid up with a stitched toe from a swimming mishap a week before the race.

Rising along a disused railroad track I caught up to Chris Beriau and had the pleasure of her company for little while.  It's super nice to have a familiar face with whom to converse at an event like this.  After a little bit we parted company and I was on my own again.

Because the beginning was a spin-fest, by the time we made the first trail, we were all pretty cohesive still. At one point pretty early on, we took some infrequently used jeep roads up and up.  At some point during that I saw a rider who must have just passed me who looked form behind strikingly similar to Dan Biscup.  Seemed impossible since he was in the mens' 100 mile open three waves before me.  As sit turns out, I heard rumor that Dan was one of the many dawdlers who started about 10 minutes or so late.

Next thing I knew, I was passing the top of a chairlift on my left.  We had climbed to the top of one of Crotched Mountain ski area's lower chairs.  I think it was the triple that services their terrain park. 

As we came into the woods just after I was amazed to see that because we were still so tight, we were actually STOPPED waiting our turn to hit the new singletrack down the mountain.  The trail was awesome, but technical.  All those guys in front of me who had superior road technique were now dabbing like crazy on all the tech.  Ugh.  I then realized it was up to me to try to take as many spots as I could back on the roads and fire roads so that I wasn't caught behind these guys on the singletrack.  Not a thought that I relished.

We caught some more road and rail trail after that.  The rail trail went on.  And on.  And on some more.  Countless road crossings (assuming you can't count higher than maybe eight or ten).  Every one with a volunteer helping the racers safely cross.  Toward the end of our stint on the rail trail, we came into a sandy area I'd read about before the race simply called "The Beach".  It sapped a bit of energy and worked it's way into the drivetrain a little bit, but wasn't horrendous.

Finally we hit a crossing that wasn't manned by a volunteer.  We kept going across.  Thirty seconds later we saw a couple riders coming back at us on the road paralleling us to our right and realized we'd missed the turn off the rail trail.  My small group (we were finally thinning out a little) turned around and headed back,

That's when we hit the real climbing.  The first test was up Hedgehog Mountain and then Wolf Hill.  3.25 miles gaining over 700 feet of elevation.  The first section, Hedgehog Mountain, was pretty loose and rocky and very few in the group I was riding with, including myself, were willing or able to expend the necessary energy to make it up.  Maybe with fresh legs and without 42 more miles in front of me I would have tried harder.

After that we rolled through several more hill sections and even started to hit some really fun singletrack.  I was felling pretty good, although the miles were catching up with me.

I had blown past the first aid station and the first self-serve water stop, still having enough liquid to keep me going in my Camelbak.  I tried something a little different than usual this time and was filling my Camelbak with Heed to make sure I was taking in not just hydration, but also some nutrition and electrolytes.   Heed and water were provided at the start and all aid stops by the race.  It probably wasn't the smartest move on race day as I hadn't tested it before, buy, hey, you only live once.   I stopped at the second full aid station and was pretty impressed. Fresh fruit, some sort of pre-fabbed PB& J product, trail mix, cookies, soda, chips.  Everything.  I tried one of the PB&J things, but only ate the edges as mine was still frozen.  Filled up the Camelbak and was off to the races.

I don't recall all of the details of the full route, but remember hitting some really techy stuff and making it through quite a bit of it.  I definitely got caught up behind some folks here and there, but for the most part was able to get by them, although sometimes only to be passed again and then caught up behind them at the next tech spot.

One of my less favorite highlights was around mile 36, where I had just climbed a pretty good hill and made a right at a self-serve water station.  I didn't stop and passed a few guys who did.  I went to grab a drink out of my Camelbak by putting the hose in my mouth with my right hand only to realize that there was an immediate left I hadn't counted on.  My previously occupied right hand did not make it to my brake as quickly as my left hand.  I ended up jacking the front brake with my left and going down hard.  So rookie.  Especially since I did it right in front of all the guys I'd just passed at the water stop.

Somewhere, and I can't be sure where, I came across the "Caution - Babyheads" sign.  Babyheads, for any non-mountain bikers reading this, are typically a sea of small rocks the size of a baby's head covering the trail.  In this case, however, I was actually greeted by a sea of ripped off dolls heads planted across the trail.  I'm pretty sure I laughed out loud.  Until I came across the rocks.  That stopped my laughing.

So the miles went on.  Endless power line climbs followed by endless jeep road climbs followed by endless road climbs followed by endless singletrack climbs.  All interspersed with some awesome singletrack rolling trail and downhills and some great descents on road and jeep trail.  At one point I was doing 41+ mph down the road on my bike.

Somewhere around mile 45 I flatted in the back tire.  I was having one of my rare moments of feeling pretty solid when it happened and was somewhat discouraged.  I half expected it as I hadn't had the opportunity to check my tire pressure before starting out due to my previously mentioned rush to the start line.  It took me 11 minutes to change.  I'd guess 1 - 2 minutes of that was spent fiddling with a CO2 cartridge that refused to dispense.  As it turns out, if they already dispensed they don't do it a second time.  You should remove used CO2 cartridges from your Camelbak before you race.  If you want a quick test to see if your CO2 cartridges are spent or not, here goes.  Look at the top and see if it has been punctured.  You'll know because there will be a hole in it.  Idiot.

I have to say that I was beyond impressed with the number of people passing by making sure I had everything I needed.  My admiration for this sport grew three sizes last Sunday.

Maybe it was around mile 50 or so that I met with a pretty serious water crossing.  Maybe 30 or 40 yards long and from what I could tell of the people walking their bikes through it in front of me, about 3/4 of the way up the shin to the knee.  I decided to give it a crack on the bike.  My feet were still soaked as the water was well over the lower circuit of my pedal stroke.  But I did make it through.  And with cheers from my fellow racers.  Probably my proudest moment of the race.  And I did gain a bunch of positions as well as enough of a confidence boost to successfully climb the steeps coming out of the water crossing.  For a little while, it even seemed to help my drivetrain, which had been coated in mud, dirt and grime.

Just before one of the last road crossings and just after what I thought was the hardest climb of the race, I started to experience a stomach malady.  I tried to ride through it, but it worsened and I had to pull over and just let it settle for a few minutes.  Maybe the Heed.  Who knows?  As I was sitting there, I was passed by a couple of my fellow racers and then by a guy who FLEW by.  Turns out he was doing the 100 mile race and had already completed my full circuit, gone back out and done an additional 30 miles.  That's enough to make you realize where you fit in in the food chain.  Chum.  That guy finished 100 miles 20 minutes before finished the 100K.

I was up and riding again when the only other 100 miler that passed me went by.  None other than Tinker Juarez, mountain biking legend from the 90s.  

Tinker coming out of Pit Stop Row at mile 64.

I'm okay with Tinker passing me.  I probably would have been okay if he punched me in the face when he passed by.  Thanks for being Tinker, Tinker.

I was definitely feeling some minor cramping toward the end of the race.  There was some awesome singletrack, but I was too tired and delirious to appreciate it. So tired that I was walking up hills that I should not have been.  I really began to wonder how delirious I was when I crossed a bridge and was seeing dozens of stuffed animals hanging in midair all around me.  Did someone slip something in my Heed?  Nah, the babyhead gang was playing with my head again.

I finished the race and literally threw my bike and then myself to the ground.  And then I lay there.  Nearly teary eyed from having slain this Goliath.  For some reason, emotion runs deep in me as I come to the end of these endurance events.

I ended up finishing 17th of the 30 finishers in my class.  There were 34 who started in my class, four DNFing.  Smack dab mid-pack.  And proud of it.  Here's Brandon O'Neal's GPS track of the course.

Results of other folks I know:

100 miles:

Karen Potter.  3/7 finishers - female open.  9:21:09.
Liz Chabot Allen.  5/7 finishers - female open.  10:14:38.
Paul Simoes. 19/56 finishers - male open.  8:47:06.
Dan Biscup (late start). 43/56 finishers - male open.  10:44:42.
Brian Spring.  54/56 finishers - male open.  12:07:33.
Alby King. DNF.
Brandon O'Neal (single speed). DNF.  Finished the 100K.
Steve Segenchuk.  DNS.

100K:

Chris Beriau.  2/4 finishers.  Expert Vet Women.  8:16:04.
Jon Modig. 3/3 finishers.  Expert Junior Men.  6:35:58.
Matt Chandler.  3/11 finishers.  6:11:29.

Matt Chandler:  "Man, my dogs are tired."

Modig wraps it up.

Liz Chabot Allen comes through Pit Stop Row.

Brian Spring finishing mile 64.  Only 36 to go!

Chris Beriau on the podium!

Jon Modig on the podium!!

Matt Chandler (showing a little belly) on the podium!!

Next up, Treasure Valley Rally.

Block Island

Happy Birthday to us!!

 This weekend, my mother, my sister and I ventured out to Block Island for our annual birthday celebration.   I wanted to throw in some of my training for Italy so suggested we bring our bikes and ride around the island.  My sister reminded me that in Italy I will be on a rental bike and that this was the perfect opportunity to see what it is like to ride on a rental bike.  She was right.

And oh how sweet our rentals were.  When was the last time you rode a bike that has a kick stand??  And a big cushy seat?  It may not look pretty, but this thing felt like I was riding a couch down the road!  It was very comfortable.  And heavy.  I think it weighs as much as me!

We rode along some sweet rolling roads along the ocean.  Some of the hills are tough when you only have a few gears.

Lemonade for 50 cents?  Heck yeah!

First we visited this lighthouse:

And then we rode back to town to grab some lunch.  With all the heat, humidity and hills, we were a big sweaty mess.  But the waitress didn't seem to mind.  My mom had swordfish, my sister had scallops and I had the Ahi tuna.  It was fantastic.

And then we rode to this lighthouse:

It was up a relentless hill that just kept curving around to reveal more up.  It was quite an accomplishment to make it to the top on those heavy rental bike with so few gears!  But we did it.

All in all, it was a great trip.  We ended the day with 12.38 miles.  And some gelato for mom and sister.  Ice cream for me.

Wine Ride - Training for Italy!

As you know, I'm going to Italy to do a bike tour around Venice and the surrounding countryside this fall.  That surrounding countryside includes some vineyards.  That means we will be doing some riding, some wine tasting and then more riding.  People think I'm joking when I say have to train for that.  But I'm not.  Thirty miles and a couple of glasses of wine is not something I can just bust out for 7 days straight.  But I'm working on it!

My girls and I got together to ride 10 miles to Taylor Brooke Winery in Woodstock.  Rob escorted us and served as our photographer.  And he may have been the only one to bike up the hill that is the driveway to the vineyard.

We did a wine tasting.  I tried the Green Apple Riesling.  It was cold and sweet and just what I wanted after those first 10 miles.  And then I tried the Late Harvest Riesling, which was served with dark chocolate in between sips.  Delicious.  I'd like more of that one.  And then I bought a glass of Woodstock Hill White to drink while walking around the vineyard.

We had a very nice picnic.  We had fresh raspberries from our garden, candied pecans and a local cheese with some crackers.  It was really nice.

We went on the self guided tour of the vineyard.  Saw all the different varieties of grapes, some beautiful flowers and a birdhouse tucked in between the grapes.

And then we biked the 10 miles home.  The first mile was tough.  My calves were stiff.  And then my thighs started to burn.  But then everything worked itself out.  We made it back without any DUI's.

It got us really excited for our trip.  I can't wait to do more training!!!

~Cori