King of Burlingame 2013

Today was the King of Burlingame.  It's a race in Charlestown, RI, completed in a time trial format and was my first race this season.  That means that it's not a mass start.  Each person starts in succession, thirty seconds apart.  My goal?  Don't get passed.  Thirty seconds is not a lot of time.

While the winter has been great for skiing with 20 days on the hill this year, it did not do much for my mountain biking endurance.  You know what goes great with skiing.  Drinking beer.  And eating fatty foods.  I'm a solid five pounds heavier than I was in November.

I had ridden once in all of February and that was way back on February 6th.  After that I didn't get on a bike until March 5th.  This did not bode well for a March 24th race.  But enough about me being out of shape.

Coming into this week I had managed to get a ride in down at Burlingame last Sunday.  That's the smartest thing I've done in a long while.  More on that later.  And then I did a quick night ride down at Bluff Point in Groton, CT, on Thursday night.  As it turns out, you can't do a night ride at Bluff Point and my accomplices and I ended up getting an earful from the park police and the town five-o.  But that's a subject for another blog that will never be written.

My sport class race was set to go off at 10:00 am.  I woke up this morning after a solid night's sleep, which is practically unheard of for me the night before a race.  I had gotten my riding stuff together the night before and just had to throw everything in the car and get a bite.  I still haven't quite dialed in my pre-race nutrition and tried something new this morning.

Oatmeal!

Healthy, filling and seemingly non-threatening to my stomach.  Yes, oatmeal folks.  I was pretty pleased how everything went today including my energy levels, so I think I may stick with it.

I arrived at the race at 9:00 am, an hour before my race was scheduled and at just the time the expert level race was scheduled to commence.  I saw a bunch of them, including Karen Potter, Liz Chabot Allen and Liz Bove, heading to the starting line as I was pulling in.

As I was in line to grab my number, Matt Danis came up behind me in line with his family.  We chatted for a while (the line was sizable).  After I worked my way to the front of the line I paid my additional $10 license fee (more than 50% of the race fee I had paid of $18).  My destiny was to be lucky #535.

Matt scored #506.  A good solid number and maybe the highlight of his day.

Danises? Danii? Danimals?

After getting my biking costume on, I headed the mile ride to the start of the race with Matt.  We were there about 15 - 20 minutes before the 10 am start.  All the experts were off already, so it was a bit of milling about.  I took the opportunity to ride down the dirt road and get my first real glimpse of the lake that the Burlingame trail system circles.

Watchaug Pond

They did a pretty good job getting the races started on time and we were started based upon our race numbers.  One rider every 30 seconds, starting with rider #501.  That meant with lucky #535, I had about 17 minutes to wait.  I watched Matt go off a few minutes after the hour.  He had opted to ride his single speed with an 18 tooth gear in the back.  He said he ran the same gearing last year and was pretty happy with how it treated him.

I sidled up to the starting line as my start became imminent and had the opportunity to talk with rider #534, bedecked in a green NEMBA jersey.  He asked me my name and told me his was Josh Burgel.  He promised to remember my name so when I passed him he could offer some encouragement.  As it turns out, he may as well have forgotten it.  Maybe he did.

I finally was at the starting line.  Three, two, one.  And I was off.  Sort of.  It must have taken 15 seconds to get clipped in.  It felt like 15 minutes with all the other riders behind me watching me.  But I got clipped in eventually and was off.

Anthony Chabot picked up some video footage of me near the start.  I'm in the first 10 seconds.

 As I had mentioned earlier, I had pre-ridden the course last week.  Twice.  The second time was well worth the beat-down it gave me.  I learned a handful of line choices that were going to come in handy.  I also learned that the first part of the course was brutal.  Lots of short steep climbs.  Nothing too sustained, but there were a lot of them.  I also knew they wouldn't go on forever.

At the 1/2 mile mark I came across Matt Danis.  Walking against traffic pushing his bicycle.  I couldn't quite gather what had gone awry, but I'm confident things weren't going according to plan.  Bad news, Matt.  Tough way to start the season.

So I went out gangbusters.  Things were looking promising.  I passed my first rider (other than the dispirited Danis) at just about mile one on the nose.  Then another rider with a mechanical right after.  Then I started hitting the hills.  I wish I was a little stronger on this point of my riding, but given the shape I'm in, I was feeling good.  I was cleaning the tech, so even though the hills were hell, I was not as worried as I might have been.

By the end of the hills, I'd passed another couple of guys and was still not passed by anyone.  Still making my goal, but a lot of race to go.  I apologize to the guy who let me pass only to have me bobble and dab almost immediately.  He was kind enough to let me stay in front.

I did a lot better on the short steeps than I had on my pre-ride the week before. Some of them are super tough.  Already climbing when you hit a 14" drop, except it's only a drop on the other direction.  It took a lot of oomph.  As much as I had.

By the time the worst of the hills were by, maybe 2.5 miles in, I was gasping, but smiling knowing I was in the clear.  After cruising down an extended wide track to the lake, there is a pretty long dirt road climb before getting back into the single track.  If I'm reading my Garmin correctly, it's about 75 feet in 0.8 miles.  I saw a rider up, but I also took the opportunity to look over my should to see a rider back.  Egad!  I worried about this.  Before the race started.  I knew long dirt road climbs on my Hi-Fi (a 21" full suspension 29er) were a danger area.  I managed to fend off the rider back and close on the rider fore.

When you get into the single track again, it quickly turns into a series of drops off water breaks.  Super fun.  There are a few techy sections that I cleared.  But only because of the pre-ride.  Thanks to all who took us out last week, especially Steve Offiler and Liz Chabot Allen.

Oh, and while I'm thanking people, I'd like to take a sec to thank the race volunteers.  These folks selflessly donate their time to make this event a success.  The course was well-staffed, with numerous volunteers at a number of key intersections.  All were very encouraging.  Great to see so many smiling faces.  The intersections were also all clearly marked and everything was well signed.  These guys did a great job putting everything together.   I took a couple shots of what the rest of the park looks like and you can see what the folks who cleared these trails must have had to do to make this race happen.

Just after mile five, I hit the only mandatory dismount on the course as I entered onto Buckeye Brook Rd for a few tenths of a mile.  I had just passed another guy just a little ways back.  It took him a minute to pop out of the woods behind me, but once he did, he came on pretty hard.  I still managed to keep him off until I entered back into the woods. There are a bunch of bridges through the next section and a couple super-technical rocky areas.  I managed to keep clipped in and eked them all out.  Again, I would say how important it was that I pre-rode.  There was one series of bridges in particular that would have had me off the bike. It's a pair of bridges end to end, but the second bridge pops you onto a tough rock off which you need to make a 90 degree left onto a third bridge.  Damned near impossible.  BUT, I knew that skipping the second bridge and taking a wide berth around would allow me a straight shot onto the ramp of that third bridge.  It did just that.

Getting close to the finish. Just one more technical section and then a series of easy bridges and a long slow uphill and I'm done!  But the tech section first. Yikes!  The one thing I hadn't gotten either time on the pre-ride was a log pile that was definitely out of my comfort zone.  I was having a good ride though and had just passed another guy when I came across it.  I decided I'd try instead of unclipping and running over it.  It was like some other guy was riding the bike.  Up and over, smooth.  Wow!

I came through the last section without knowing how close the guy behind me was.  I just cranked with everything I had left.  I crossed the finish line.  And I wasn't passed!  Mission accomplished.

Some guy who finished shortly after me

After the race I spoke with a few of my fellow sport racers.  All smiles all around.  The guy who had been gaining on me, as it turns out, was the same NEMBA guy I'd passed a lot earlier.

I rode back to the parking lot and checked out the event tent, but only the expert results were up.  Karen Potter won the women's race.  Liz Chabot Allen took third and Liz Bove fifth.  I overheard someone muttering about Potter winning when this isn't even her strong suit.  I mean, she's an endurance racer for crying out loud.  Turns out she broke the women's course record.  Potter!!!  I also saw Beaupre finished respectably with 5th in a large age category (40 - 59).

Expert Women

Beaupre is in here somewhere.

After tooling around a little more, the results finally came up for my sport race.  I ended up 15th out of 39 with a time of 52:40.  Not my best race, but honestly better than I had hoped.  And I didn't get passed!

Sport men 40 - 49, Page 2. I'm second from the top.

The top of my class.  Note that Josh Burgel took second on my class.  He must have thought I was going to win.

Great race. Definitely would do it again next year.  Here's a shot someone (Glenn Anderson) took of me.

Next up, maybe the Chainstretcher in Peekskill, NY.  If not, Battle of Burlingame to kick off the EFTA series.

Bluff Point, Groton, CT

So I bailed on a previously scheduled Big River or Burlingame ride last minute to latch onto a Sunday morning ride with Uncle Norm and the gang at Bluff Point State Park in Groton, CT.  I'd never ridden it before and recalled what a great time my first time at Burlingame was last week.  Thinking maybe my first time riding somewhere has a positive correlation coefficient with the fun factor, I thought, "What the hell, I'll do it."

The ride was scheduled for 8:00 am and I pulled in at 7:57.  There were a number of riders gearing up in the parking lot, but our group, as it turned out, was small today.  Just Norm, Norm and I.

I had read and heard a little bit about the park in the past couple of days and the recurrent themes seemed to be small and fast.

Bluff Point - Arriba, Arriba!!

I wanted to get a good ride in, so was prepared to go back and do some repeats once the group ride was over.

The great news was that it was pretty warm in Groton already at 8:00 am.  Temps were already hovering in the mid-40s with the forecast calling for 54.  This was my first ride without my booties on in a couple of months.

While temps were warm, the ground was still wet and the air was still thick with moisture.   Would it be slippery?  Time would tell.

We headed into singletrack almost right out of the lot.  I was a little concerned as Norm Sr was booking with Norm Jr, replete with brandy-new drive train and rubber, hot on his tail.  I managed to keep up and after a few turns we started climbing.  Not big, but it was a climb.

I was paying attention so that when the ride was over, I could try to do it again if needed.  Within a quarter mile I stopped trying to pay attention.  Theseus couldn't have found his way out of this labyrinth with a Tom Tom, never mind a ball of string.  Turn after turn after turn after turn, ad infinitum.

We came down a gnarly descent to a fire road with a couple of small drops onto exposed rock and with a 90 degree right in the middle of it.  This was the slip test.  And my tires passed, with flying colors.  I was successfully able to slow down without sliding out coming down exposed wet rock to make the right hand turn.  This definitely added a new level of comfort to my ride.

We crossed the fire road and the fast, flowy singletrack continued.  We came down by the water and started following a pretty nice trail.  We stopped to grab a video at a cool little bridge.

Something that quickly became apparent was the sea of anti-bike vegetation.  It was generally cut back pretty well, but did encroach on the trail here and there.

Me so thorny. Me love you long time.

After a few pretty tricky rock gardens we climbed up and came to the quintessential Bluff Point photo opportunity.

Don't Step Back

We did a bunch more single track that continued to be more maze like than I could have imagined, but super fun. The singletrack was in great shape.  Not overly eroded.  Clear of leaves (mostly).  And it did a good job using some of the natural features of the landscape.  Thanks to everyone who works on these trails.  Your dedication is most appreciated!


After getting a lot of what Bluff Point had to offer, we followed down the tracks for a while until we came to an obviously haunted bridge that we crossed to get into Haley Farm State Park.

Pair-a-Norm-al Experience

Haley Farm was okay for a few extra miles, but pretty mundane.  I was hoping for a little more out of it.  There was one pretty nice extended, slight decline that was a hoot, but that was definitely the highlight.

After we came back over to Bluff Point, we hit another few segments of single track, including a really nice, long downhill, before coming back out to the parking lot.

At the end of our ride together, we had logged 12.15 miles on the Garmin, but that's usually about 10% shy, so I'd guess closer to 13.25 - 13.5 miles.

I decided that despite the solid miles we'd already put in, I'd head back out and try to log a few more miles.  I took off down the fire road paralleling the shoreline.  Flat, fast and uneventful.  I was looking for a left in up the hill, but before I came to one that looked promising I came to some ocean across the trail.  I would have turned around and went back another way, but some stupid guy was there with his toddler and for some reason, I felt compelled to keep going.  I made it through by stutter pedaling without getting my feet wet, but my brakes were never the same.  Banshees should be so screechy.

I found a fairly eroded double track and took that up to a fire road that lead to the old homestead of Gov John Winthrop Jr.

Apparently the Governor used to live in this hole.  I assume he was a hobbit.

 I saw a couple of guys pass by me as I was examining the Winthrop foundation and jumped on my Fisher and grabbed a wheel. I figured they must know where they were going, right?  I never really found out.  The guy in the back was a decent enough rider, but his buddy was slower than molasses.  I squeezed by and ventured out on my own.

Does the look on my face properly convey the "where the hell am I" sentiment?

I definitely got mixed up.  Not a little mixed up.  More than that.  Things looked familiar.  And completely foreign.  Eventually I found the track that followed along the water again.  I grabbed a couple of shots of some of the more technical sections.

It's like Where's Waldo.  Except Waldo's a trail.

Apparently there are no lumber yards in Groton.

I wasn't able to find the overlook again, but I did make it down to a trail that dead-ended at a nice, secluded beach.

Solitude.

Seashells got something to say.  Listen to the seashells.

I climbed out of the beach area and finished up with some of that super-sweet, flowy singletrack.  When I made it back to the lot I had another 8.93 miles on the Garmin for total of 21.08; probably more like 23 miles.  Here's the track:

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/261765367

And to top off my four course riding feast, I was served up some dessert in the form of this guy:

Hard to see, but he's wearing some sort of crazy-assed snuggy.

All in all, a great day of riding.  I'd definitely hit Bluff Point again.  Fun and fast.  Maybe a little small, but jam packed with all sorts of great singletrack.  If you haven't done it, you should.  It's notoriously good when the rest of New England is snow-coated.  Go. 

Burlingame State Management Area, Charlestown, RI

Hmm.  A blog post?  I think I remember how.  Bear with me if the words fail to flow from my penny pencil with such feverish fluidity as that to which you have come to expect.

So what happens when nearly every mountain bike ride in a 50 mile vicinity is coated in several inches of snowshoer's delight?  Burlingame!

 

Charlestown, RI, today played host to a throng of trail hungry cyclists.  After making the hour plus commute with Ron the Piano Tuner Erickson, we met up with 17 other riders at 10:00 am this morning to ride Burlingame for the first time.  We were a big group, but we were but a drop in the proverbial bucket of riders converging on Burlingame today.  I'd guess there were 40 or so cars in the lot when we arrived and many people, like myself, appear to have carpooled.

If I remember our group properly, it was Freddie Bassett, Alby King, Mike Cove, Jim N (from the Bums), Ron Erickson, Dave Violette, Pete Dunn, Paul Simoes, Chris Beriau, Laura Zimmer, Pat Royer, Russ Stearns, Matt Danis, Stacey Jimenez, Liz Bove, Tony Chabot, Ben Burdick, John Young and me.  Whew!

We woke up to a fresh dusting of snow here in Thompson and as Ron and I approached Charlestown, it started to look like it was a little whiter there, but not awful.  The roads had been covered and when we arrived, I was a little surprised to see what Ron's Subaru had done with my Fisher.

The slush accumulation came off as I bounced around the lot waiting for our group to be ready.  Our group was an interesting mix of DAS riders, Bums and Wednesday Night Riders.

Before we got into the trails, we were down one man. Paul Simoes had taken off to ride on his own.  Probably for the best.  We didn't want him holding us up anyway.

I was a little leery when we left the lot by the same route we had entered in our car and started riding the road.  It was probably 1/2 mile or so on the road when we got to the first trailhead.  And then the fun began.  The first piece of trail was a great section of singletrack, sometimes fast and flowy, sometimes technical and tricky.

Ride Leader Freddie Bassett, of Casters Bike Shop, offers encouragement to Matt Danis

When you head down south, don't forget your short pants.

Bad ass Liz Bove, working hard not to fall.  And not to get shot.

By the third or fourth mile, the group subdivided into a couple of different level rides.  And we made a couple of folks do their own ride (sorry Ron and Chris B).  I was very impressed with the number of people we had in our group who were riding at such a consistent pace.

The trail offered a couple of really nice areas that made use of the ledge rock.  It was a little trickier coated with snow, but still very rideable.  There were also a couple pieces of trail that made a nice descent over innumerable small drops.  Okay, maybe they were numerable.  But it was a big number.  Like 15.

Where's the Speedo, John?

The highlight of the ride had to be, without a doubt, the bridges.  Scores of them.  Mostly short, but some were a little longer.  Some with gradual ramps.  Some with sharp ramps.  Some with shingled ramps.  Some with super slick plain wood ramps.  Some straight. Some zigging and zagging.

Must be going to grandmother's house.

 Back to the bridges.  Some running through the woods, some running through a covered bridge for trail-weary hikers and bikers.  What?  Yes, I said that.

This place is beyond awesome!

Ridiculously, right after this photo was taken, I realized that my CamelBak strap was seemingly inextricably entwined with my front wheel.  I called it mechanical then, but in retrospect realize it for what it really was - idiocy.  It took Tony Chabot and I five minutes to get the strap removed from the wheel.  By that time I'd lost my riding group and had to ride like hell to catch up.   Up and over more slippery bridges and log piles two and a half feet high.

Came across Liz Bove, Matt Danis and Ben Burdick stopped at one bridge in a sea of bridges.  Matt had gone head over teakettle on the bridge and his handlebars were apparently pointing the wrong direction.  Can't believe they stopped for such a little thing.

Once I caught up to the pack and Liz, Matt and Ben came up behind, we headed up this great trail that ran along a snow covered ridge.  Fun, technical, precarious.  What's not to love?

That lead us through a little more single track and double track and before we knew it we were out.  My Garmin measured 14.42 miles in the end. Adding the usual 10% that it doesn't pick up, I'd call it around 16 miles.

Here's the Garmin track.

All in all, a great ride.  I'd love to catch the race (The Battle of Burlingame) here, but it's Kentucky Derby weekend and mint juleps call.  I'd definitely ride here again and may try to do the time trial they have here if they do it again.

Thanks to all who made this trail system the great riding area that it is!

Mike Cove often likes to pretend he's a tyrannosaurus rex trying to get a bike off his car.

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!