Pedal Pushing Patons: August 2012

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.