HALLOWEEN CROSS CRUSADE -BEND!

HALLOWEEN CROSS CRUSADE!

                I am slowly starting to love cyclocross, especially when I get to ride Hollis’s Stoemper!  This past weekend’s race was a big one in Bend, two days of racing and partying with friends. Due to my poor financial status I was only able to afford to race one day.  Friday night we were all up late and I didn’t sleep well, so I decided to hang out and be “super –fan” on Saturdays race, and I would race on Sunday.

Saturday was cold! I huddled in the team tent next to the propane heater for most of the day while cheering on some of my teammates who were racing.  The course looked fun, but also quite intimidating with a big fly over and some steep dirt run-ups.  Saturday night was chill. We all hung out at the rental house and went to bed relatively early. When we woke up on Sunday morning I was hoping it was going to be warmer. We all bundled up and headed back to downtown Bend where the races were being held. It was definitely warmer which was good! There was also some sun and blue sky, a plus! Since my race wasn’t until 2:30 I had plenty of time to drink coffee and hang out.  Around 11am I decided it was time to get my costume on, as a team we decided to be clowns. I was sporting a blonde wig, face paint, and a spinney hat – not super creative, but it was the best I could do.  After getting dressed up I still had some time to hang out and watch the A’s race which is always fun and inspiring.

                The time drew near. Kaylee and I decided to start warming up. We went on an easy cruise and then proceeded to the start. Kaylee raced Saturday and won so she got a call up and got to start in the first wave. Meanwhile I started back a ways.  Today’s race was going to go in the opposite direction of Saturday’s race. It was starting to rain and I could hear some of the other women express about how nervous they were to hit fly over. I had never gone over one of these before and I was a bit intimidated myself! My friend Effie was near, and she told me to hit it hard and slightly to the left, this gave me some confidence at least. The whistle blew and we were off, rounding the corner next was the fly over. I threw in a few extra pedal strokes and went right over it. It was just like a roller coaster!  After the fly over there was long steep dirt run up, this is why I LOVE the Stoemper! I jumped off my bike and shouldered the Stoemper up the hill. The Stoemper is so light compared to my Fuji Cross Comp. I sacrifice the light weightiness for a bike that is roughly 2-3 sizes too big for me…. Oh wellJ.

As the race goes on I am trying my hardest to pick people off and keep moving forward.  The course is an awesome mix of technical sandy corners mixed with a few short steep hills, nothing like the previous race in Rainer. I found myself passing the most people at the staircase and the sand pit, which is not the norm for me, so I was feeling good about this! By the third lap I am starting to feel thirsty, hungry, and tired! I can feel myself slowly falling back…  I know that there can only be one more lap to go so I try to power through.  Coming through to the finish I can see the black and white checkered flag which I am thankful for! As I round the last corner there is a woman in sight, I can catch her! I sprint to pass and cross the finish! I don’t know where that little burst of energy came from but it felt GOOD! I am looking forward to next weekend’s race at the Washington County Fairgrounds J

CROSS CRUSADE #2

The day started EARLY! It was a long night of trying to sleep in a hot VW bus with an overanxious dog and a snoring Luis who was sleeping outside of the van that was parked inside Hollis’s parents shop.  I woke up feeling slightly grumpier than usual, cheerful Hollis stood outside the bus with a smoothie in hand. All I could think to myself was coffee. Need coffee now. I lay in the bus for a few minutes and then finally mustered the strength to get up and get moving.  Hollis’s mom had fresh eggs and potatoes ready for breakfast. We quickly ate and started packing up all of our gear and headed off to Ranier High School.

This was the first “real” fall weekend. It had rained the whole night previous. It was grey, cloudy, and windy. We were all excited to finally race in the mud rather than inhaling dust like the previous weekend at Alpenrose.  Hollis, Ryan, Spencer, and Luis were all getting registered for their race that started at 9:30, they had about an hour to prepare. Elise, Kaylee and I were not racing until 2:20 so we had plenty of time to kill. We watched the boy’s race and we proceeded to wait in the cold rain for our race. We registered and drank loads of coffee trying to get amped for the race.  As time got closer I became less and less motivated.

2:00 rolled around and we head over to staging area.  There’s disco music playing in the distance as I hop up and down to stay warm.  We keep moving forward and then the whistle blows for Cat C’s! EEEEK I’m instantly nervous and excited as I mash in the big group of fast strong women.  I can hear my teammates cheering me on which helped move me up the first big climb. The course climbs up a massive hill and then cuts left into the woods, there is a fast descent in then we weave through the trees into some off camber corners then into the barriers. The course is fast and it was pretty easy to pass people. I felt pretty strong as I slowly chipped away and tried to pass as many women as I could. As I continue to pedal my little heart out then I reach THE MASSIVE CLIMB! The massive climb was right after the pit, we popped out onto the gravel and the climb started.  I was out of the saddle for most of the climb, I could hear some of my teammates screaming at me to pedal faster! This hill literally took everything I had. I was so afraid that I would not be able to pedal up the hill and I would have to get off my bike, which would have been humiliating! Finally getting to the top of the hill we go back into the woods and I try to recover as much as I can. This was a TOUGH course! I was wheezing and grunting the whole time! I see Hollis in his orange rain jacket and cowbell and I smile J I can hear him cheering for me. I try to pedal fasting and look tough! As I pass Hollis I come up on a muddy corner, I go for my brakes as if I am riding my mountain bike but I keep going straight! AHHHH as I cartwheel into some tall wet grass mix with blackberries! I quickly get up and grab my bike and look back to make sure Hollis didn’t see me! (God forbid!) 1 more lap 1 more lap I keep saying to myself!  I come up on theee climb again, I know the finish is near, I just need to make it up this hill ONE more time! I pedal up the whole thing mostly with my eyes shut. I can see the OBRA man waving the checkered flag, signally that I am done for sure. THANK GOD I think to myself. I cross the finish feeling like I am either going to pass out or barf!  I felt like I had raced the best I could and I may have done better if I hadn’t had that silly crash. I was so relieved it was over! I pedaled straight for the car and put on sweat pants and my down jacket “AHHHH that’s nice!”

Sandbox Nightmare? Or the best fun ever?

I drove up to Vancouver Wa for the Het Meer GPTB race on sunday knowing that I have to miss the local tuesday night cross race this week and thought it would be good for my skills. The course was well suited for me with a lot of fast up and down sections and tight trees, and a huge 200 meter sand section. The start of the sand was over 6 inches deep but get better after you entered it.

In the A race I practiced before hand and easily made it through the sand and was sure that I would do fine. First lap I was golden through there. But on another section of lap two I burped out most of my air in the front tire, leading to two small wrecks with the poor handling. I was bummed and knew that my tire was done for. So I thought I should go out in a blaze of glory and went for a flier into the sand. And below is the result of such thought out plans.

photos compliments of Matt Haughey

So this was the end of my Men's A race at Het Meer only 12 minutes into the hour long race. I was bummed but refused to not be able to race. With the help of Forest Wilson we ghetto rigged my bike into a singlespeed using my inner chainring and a 17 tooth cog. I signed up for round two and raced the Men's Singlespeed race.

You would think after such a wreck that I would take it easy in the sand. But not me, I wanted to master my sand skills. So for 3 of the 6 laps in the 45 minute race I again played with my face in the sand pit. Riding it twice and then finally running it last lap to not loose anymore positions. I figure in total that I lost over a minute and 5 places to my sandpit time.

In the end I finished 20th out of 47 on a ghetto singlespeed that I had to be careful not to shift to nowhere.

I love cross, even when I am not doing well. I guess I also need to work on my sand riding abilities.

My 1st "real" CX race

So this has been a great Mt. Bike season (its not over yet), and I've been enjoying it immencely. Needless to say this CX season has snuck up on me. Mid last week I casually heard someone say "1st Harlow race is next Tuesday"...... Mixed emotions followed that statement. Mostly excitement but I'd be lying if I didn't say there was a bit of nervousness (never ridden a CX bike before) and some sadness (sign of the end of summer).

There was only one thing to do and that was to head to the Stoemper Compound and start getting my bike ready. About a year ago I'd started helping Stoemper with some machining and small part design and I'd worked enough hours to justify them giving me one of Ben Berdens retired frames from last season (it even came with a BB full of Belgium mud for good luck). Just so happens we have a few things in common. None of those things happen to be fitness or bike handling skills sadly but we like the same bike geometry and also classic monster tattoos.

So late Wednesday afternoon Todd and I started assembling my newish 'cross bike. Some parts were donated, some were purchased, some were pillaged from my road bike. All I know is that at 1:00am after consuming an infant sized burrito and a few beers I had a complete bike (minus some nobbys that I got from a teamate the next day).



Last minute Fankenbuild

On the way home I realized how snappy and quick the bike was and some of the nervousness went away. The next day I got in about 30min of practice with the team and got to show off my new ride. It hooked up pretty good in the turns and the only thing that seemed to make me hesitant were how bad the brakes are (Im getting used to it). Some more of the nervousness went away. Over the weekend I was guiding Mt Bike Tours for Oregon Adventures and didn't get a chance to touch the 'cross bike. I logged nearly 95 miles of singletrack and on Monday my legs felt like Jello. That night I though about crashing, cramping, and suffering. The nervousness came back.

Tuesday's workday couldn't go by fast enough and when I got to Camp Harlow I got registered and did a couple slow laps on the course. I was able to hold my lines in the turns, the tires seemed predictable, my legs weren't great but the jello feeling had gone away, and there was a sprinkler to ride through that was creating a bit of a bog. The nervousness was gone and I was STOKED! I toed the line toward the back of my category but I was ready to ride fast and take chances.



Looking for a hole to shoot passed Spencer

I rode aggresive and held my lines into the singltrack. I avoided a few roots and rocks that ended up flatting a couple people. Although my form is poor I managed to clear the barriers quickly (with only a few stutter steps). Coming into the bog I was right where I wanted to be, mid pack 6th of 14 and ready to move up a few spots on the next lap. I chose a line through the bog that I'd ridden fast in my practice laps ..... WHOOOAAHHH! Irrigation sprinklers lay down a good amount of water in a short amount of time. Before I new it I was sliding on my left side for 20ft or so and right off the side of the course like I was on a slip n slide. I managed to keep my right hand on the bars and my bike stayed with me so when I stopped sliding I hopped up, I had to unjam my front brake from under the rim and then I rode as fast as I could to catch the 3-4 people that just passed me. I managed to ride good lines on the technical sections and not lose to much time on the open flats and even though my legs were shot I caught a few riders to finish 7th. All in all it was a good time and I'm now officially addicted to Cross..... and I'm definately looking forward to my visit to my favorite Massage Therapist.

Climbing back on the dusty/muddy pony

Look at the action blur, I must be riding really fast

So in cycling there are three major seasons. Mountain biking, road(which most of our team doesn't even do) and the holy cyclocross season. This year I have been able to do many things for cycling in the area but most of it included me not riding my bike. I have dedicated myself to as much cross as my life and body can handle.

My prior form: winning the 2011 Men's B State Champs

Last year I came into the cyclocross season in stellar shape and rode to many great finishes, ending up 3rd overall in the Cross Crusades and men's B state champion. All that great form and riding earned me a forced upgrade to the A's to ride with the big boys. Now here is the challenge the races are longer, faster, and I am less fit.

Into the mud bog: great add on for a dry race

That being said I was excited to go and suffer and see what my legs could do at this point, and was less worried about riding with the A's cause the first twilight races are normally only 35-40 minutes. So it was a big surprise when we lined up and they said have fun you are racing 60 minutes. Camp Harlow is a fun course in Eugene and it was setup in a way that I have never ridden it which always adds to the fun.


The course was super fast and dusty dry, until the first race started. In one corner of the course near the corn field the sprinklers came on, leading to a super large mud puddle, and a sharp left hand turn. Which led to more than one slip and slide fall. Hollis Brake slide like 25 feet with a smile on his face the whole time.

This doesn't get any easier as the laps roll on

In my race I knew I was not trying to win but just trying to not get dominated. I rode strong and hard and was riding near the back of the A's and felt myself remembering all the pains that come with cross racing the back aches, the arms being vibrated almost off the bars, and almost constant lack of air. When I thought I was nearing the finish I looked up at the lap board hoping to see 2 laps left and it read 5 laps. That is a lot of laps when you feel like you are gonna fall off your bike.

I kept it pinned as best as I could but I was loosing steam. Then a challenge started to come my way, Steve Hauck a singlespeed racer was gaining on me and about to catch me, I held him off for the last lap and half and then heard that horrible pop off my front tube blowing up. Shit happens....... no reason to get mad. I finished off 60 minutes of riding with running a mile as hard as I could with my bike to finish DFL. But a DFL in my book is always better than a DNF.

So the season has started with dust and mud, mechanicals and many smiles. It only gets harder, cause as you race better you have to ride harder, which is fine in my book.

Oregon Gran Fondo plus some

     This was the inaugural year of the Oregon Gran Fondo. It involves a 117 mile (very well supported) loop through some beautiful country roads in the Siuslaw Nation Forest starting and ending in Cottage Grove about 25 miles south of my house in Eugene. Some members of my team had talked about it a bit and when push came to shove if 6 of us signed up wed get a team discount. So the nightmare of an email chain started. Some were in some were out but eventually enough for the discount were open to the idea and the registration forms were sent in.

 

     I have done a few of these “sufferfests” before, I’ve done long Mt. Bike rides with lots of climbing, I went out for a 14+ mile run with no socks, food, or water, and my very first and probably favorite was a “short and easy” road loop that ended with my friend Jim Henry who was a one armed paralympian cyclist pushing me to the top of hill with his only arm placed firmly on my back to keep me moving forward. Jim had passed away from a cycling accident a year ago almost to the day so for this one I wanted to come up with something pretty “special”. I decided to ride from my house early in the morning, do the 117 mile loop, and ride home. It’s a grand total of just over 167 miles, 1.5 times longer than my previous longest ride, and double the longest ride before that. Usually I’m able to talk a friend or two or at least my girlfriend Jen into joining me, but in this case I had no takers. I enjoy and kind of crave finding the limits of my body and this would be no exception.

6:00AM (already tired)

      Pretty much all week long I wasn’t sleeping well and the night before I got only about 3.5 hours of sleep. I was all packed up and out the door at 6:00AM so I could take it nice and easy on the way south and still make it in time for any riders meeting and to refill my water bottles before the start. The ride down was a bit damp from the rain late that night but the sun was coming out of the clouds and it was looking like it was going to be a great day (I saw the lucky “Mt. Goats" in the rock quarry). I arrived at the venue, filled my bottles, staged with my teammates, and away we went.

The race was peaks and valleys for me both literally and figuratively. Over the course of the day I would climb and descend about 8800ft of elevation. I had times where I felt the strongest on a bike I ever have and at other times I was wondering if I would even make it back to Cottage Grove. Times where mentally I was indestructible, laughing with friends, and enjoying myself, but I also had breakdowns where I wanted to quit because of rain or another when I teared up missing my dear friend. I had hunger pains early and could barely stomach solids and then ate a huge BBQ chicken meal at the finish. Overall the good outweighed the bad and it was a great event that I plan to repeat for years to come.

"Omen" seen on today's adventure

"total coincidence" seen just minutes later

The way home was pretty BRUTAL! It was only 25ish miles but there was a nasty headwind and a good hillclimb that I almost needed an extra hand to push me along. Even if the hand wasn’t there physically I could feel Jim present throughout the day.

6:45PM (nearly dead)

I went out on this journey today looking for new experiences and the mental and physical boundaries in my life. There’s a saying that I’ve been told since I was little “you usually see what you’re looking for” and today that seemed very true. I rode in a peloton for the first time, I pace lined with good friends, I rode shoulder to shoulder with strangers who became friends. I rode a LOT solo. I had complete spasms in my quads, hamstrings, and calves all at the same time (like someone threw a hairdryer into my bathtub), and to hack a quote from Bill Strickland (editor at bicycling magazine) that I think pretty well sums up my day “I quit multiple times today but didn’t have the heart to tell my friends”.

The new and improved Tensegrity PT Cyling for 2012

I know this is late in posting but here is the 2012 Tensegrity PT Cycling Team in our new purple kits designed by Julie Berkbuegler. I would like to thank are 2012 sponsors, Tensegrity Physical Therapy, Collins Bike Shop, Ninkasi Brewing Co, Turtles Bar and Grill, Bronto Bikes, Chance Fitzpatrick Massage and Pinch Flat designs.

Missing from the team photo are Carol Dubbels, Doug Turnbull, Emily Pfiefer, and Matt Schwartz.

So far we have had our team members this season race Half Ironman Tri's, Road Races, Time Trials, and Mountain bike races. Keep on following us through the season as we try to bring upto date race reports with triumph and humor when possible.

Kings Valley Road Race: What better way to spend a sunny day

First  I must say Kings Valley Road Race is a super fun rollie course with an up hill finish and im so glad my roomate (ryan garner )talked me into going. I have been on a racing hiatis for a while and had been dreading my return to racing, but also could not wait to get back at it. I had originally planned to mountainbike on Saturday but when I was offered a ride to the race ,the gears in my head started turning. My nerves went crazy at this point and I began to question everything about myself ,what a wreck. Despite all the fear I knew inside the time had come to get out and get back at it. I had not done a proper road race in 3 and half years ,and last year only raced a few times between cross and crits.

I got maybe an hour of sleep and jumped out of bed excited and scared all at the same time. I knew my lack of sleep may not help the matter but I really had no choice other than to back out, but my pride wasnt going to allow that, so off we went. So I get to the race ,register ,change and warm up and all seems well other than my nerves, and I begin to metally prepare myself for what may be the longest tt of my life..lol.. The course was a three lap 56 mile rolling course. My plan was to try not to get dropped or crash, work as little as possible and use the race astraining for later races..So the race began .........I felt surprisingly comfortable and settled in.

I was in the rearend of the pack not the best place to be ,the slinky effect in a 4/5 race is very dangerous and the surging makes it hard for the the people in the back to stay in contact with the group. About 4 miles in a rider in the front swerved to miss a pothole and I had my first near crash having to cross the centerline to avoid crashing..whew that was close...I recomposed and settled  back  in ...about 18 miles in there  was a right hand turn with corner marshalls waiving us on but appearantly not everyone was paying attention and only about half of the group actually turned right. The guy to my right also did not see this and we nearly collided and I was forced not to make the turn. We blew the turn, turned  around and tried to get back into contact and I did but it was short lived.

 The effort to get back on took too much out me and by the end of the first lap, at the top of the climb I was off the back on a reverse breakaway...I watched my race slip away and had no answer...God knows I gave all I had to get back into the group. This is where my race truly began...I'm guessing 10 or so of us got dropped in the cornering malay and we were strung out pretty good...The thought of quiting and riding back to car started crossing my mind and I felt mentally broken but decided to use it as fuel to get back into the race. I thought even if I finish DFL its better than DNF and if I can catch a couple guys I may not even DFL.

 I reached for my big boy pants and went for it. The second lap was a tt for me as I rode most of it alone pushing  myself as hard as possible. I caught and passed two guys, this helped me regain confidence and hope. When I reached the corner that had set my fate I noticed 4 guys in front of me. They were close now if I could just catch them we could work together and who knows just maybe....maybe my race wasn't over.... I pushed hard, real hard. I had to catch these guys... and I did..... but once again I used a ton of gas to get there. I got on a wheel and announced to the guys if they break and reset I would help to pull us back into the fold. They seemed to agree and the paceline began.

The entire third lap we worked super hard to get back to the group. They became my teamates and we got going quite fast and consistent. I knew we had a chance, we hit the last hill and could see the back end of the group and saw some of the riders that couldnt hang on to the sprint at the front end. I reached one more time in hopes of catching as many of them as I could. I tried to get out of the saddle and felt a little crampy so I sat back down and tried to go hard from my seat...I caught 5 or 6 guys and ended up 43 out of 56. Usually I would be upset by this as a result but all things considered I felt damn good about it.......This was a perfect way to get back into racing. I plan to do KVRR next year and hope to continue racing hard this year, so next time I get a better result.

Next race for me will be the Eugene Roubaix, I cant wait!

Piece of Cake

The Piece of Cake road race had all the right ingredients for a spring road race.  When signing up for the category 4/5 it had just reached capacity, so I was bumped to the more seasoned Masters 4/5 race.  This was interesting.  I had heard that the Masters ride a little more organized and thus a little faster than the Senior 4/5.  I was up for the challenge.
At 1:40 as the race started I felt great.  The sun was out, the temperature was just right, 60 degrees with a slight breeze. The race coarse begins with a good amount of gravel road.  Sounds like a lot of fun...unless you get a flat tire in the first hundred yards.  Flat tires usually don't bother me but I was the third rider to have a flat   and by the time I swapped my wheel out the group was out of sight.  I rode a hard pace with thought that I would never see the group again.
My game plan had switched from catching the group to trying to catch the other riders that sustained a flat.  There was one rider that I could see about  a quarter mile ahead of me.  I tried to catch him but I got the impression that he believed he could catch the group that was out of sight.
After the first lap I was sill riding solo.  Plan C was to enjoy the beautiful day and try not to get caught by the race that started after me.  Well I got caught but finished the race nonetheless.  I was able to catch up to a couple of riders in the last mile.
The Piece of Cake was a fun race that I will do next year.  My game plan for next year, puncture resistant tires.

Okon Udosenata

Mudslinger: Not just a clever name. And May 1st (April Fools Day), a coincidence... I think not.

With 11 inches of rain in March, nearly 4 inches in the week leading up to the event, and reports of 30-40 (depending on the source) fallen trees getting cleared from the course I knew other racers and I were in for a battle.


Like this but with more mud

This being only my 2^nd XC race and not really knowing how to prepare I just figured I’d wear clothing that would allow me to stay as dry as possible and I didn’t worry too much about overheating because I knew I was going to be out there for a while. I’m a relatively strong descender so the muddy slick conditions didn’t have me worried, but the reported long gravel road climbs had my quads and lungs ready to retreat. I put on my Raingear, taped a few gels to my top tube,  ate a banana, and got to the riders meeting just as Mike Ripley (race promoter) began to warn us of the trail conditions: standing water, slimy ruts, occasional creek crossing (ferry optional). Everyone followed his truck down a mile or so of gravel road to the race start and got roughly staged into our categories and prepared for the start.


Im in there somewhere



The course was pretty much exactly like it had been described to me…. Long gravel road climb, slimy rutted descent, another gravel road climb, long slimy descent, and REPEAT. In the first climb I just hung on the rear wheel of someone that would challenge me to climb at my threshold.

My climbing Competition

I was definitely passed by more people than I passed but I was close to the front of a pack of people that I knew I didn’t want in front of me when the trail turned downhill so I turned myself inside out to get/stay ahead of them. When we entered the first DH section there were two people just ahead of me…. One fell and the other skid (both wheels locked up) into her and got hung up. I managed to get around them clean with an alternate “bushwacker” line. I managed to pass a couple others and then caught up to the next pack over the 1+ mile descent and was feeling good. I was mostly dry, my muscles were warmed up, I had recovered from the first climb, and I was now ready for the next one. Within seconds of these thoughts going through my head I hit what I thought was a shallow puddle but was more like an axle deep bog. I was lucky to not shoot over the bars but was unlucky enough to have water shoot up my Endura capris and into my unzipped jacket and completely soak me to the bone.

What I felt like After said Creek Crossing

Before Creek Crossing

Over the next 2.5 miles of climbing I was mentally beat and had a hard time staying focused on the task at hand. By the top I had warmed the water and mud that was now attached to me to body temperature and started to feel better but everyone I had passed on the DH had passed me back as well as a couple others. Just as I crested the top of the climb I had remembered that I was racing and when I dropped into the next singletrack section I was focused again. There were 3-4 people walking a steep mud rut and they were polite enough to clear the way when they heard me approach. The next few miles were a blur of two-wheel drifting, hopping water bars, avoiding piles of crashed out people, an occasional cameraman/woman, and FUN... holy crap it was fun. All I could think was “I GET to do this part again”!?

Bottom of Panama Canal 1st Lap... STOKED to be PUMPED!

At the bottom of this section I was stoked. I thanked the volunteers at the trail junction where CAT 3 turned to go to the finish and I pedaled on toward the aid station which was the hardest climb of the day in my opinion. From what I remember it was three or four “stairs” of steep gravel road that seemed endless. I completely emptied my tank here. It may have been a bad strategy in hindsight, but I didn’t want to walk and plenty of people were. To be honest, everything after that hill was pretty much a blur. My memory from everything after it is similar to a concussion or a long hard night of drinking......foggy at best. At one point I had to push about 100yds of a muddy singletrack climb, then there was more gravel road, and even the second lap on Panama Canal was bad. I still passed a couple people, but I descended nearly 2 min slower the second time through. I was broken, shelled, cracked, bonked (any other stereotypical word for half dead).


I was kinda like this guy but my helmet isn' as cool

 I popped out onto the gravel road (ok, slowly rolled) and made the left turn toward the finish. I made it about 200yds and while still pedaling, I threw up. I was so exhausted that I laughed out loud to myself about it. I had left it all out on the trail…. literally. Awesome I think to myself as I see the, “1 mile to finish” sign. I had nobody close to me (I thought) so I pedaled at a high cadence and just tried to keep my momentum going. This involved me calling myself derogatory names out loud for motivation and eventually just panting like a farm animal giving birth. I was alone so it wasn’t embarrassing right…. Wrong! What I thought was a car in the distance was actually a guy about 5ft behind me.  I’m sure he’s got a good story about passing a delusional shell of a human being cussing to himself less than a mile from the finish. To put a cherry on top of this whole experience when he passed me I went to shift up a gear or two and try to stay with him but my bike wouldn’t shift properly and my cranks locked up. I back pedaled to free it, looked down and noticed that a side plate on my chain had broken and my chain was only being held together by one side plate. “OH NO!” I thought, not that I could’ve caught him or even kept up with him. At this point I wasn’t worried about that, I was worried that my chain would break and I’d have to run the last half mile or so of uphill. Since I wasn’t sure if that was possible I babied it until I could hear the familiar ring of my cowbell where Jen and some of the team were cheering me into the finish.

While waiting to hose my bike off with a fire truck (no joke) I asked Jen to go get me some food from the car and luckily she could understand my post-race grunt language and 1000yd stare so I was magically rewarded with a bagel and banana within seconds. Over the next hours or so I got cleaned up, loaded my bike, ate some carbs, and checked the results posted outside the gym……. WHAT?!..... 2:45:13 12 of 12 DFL in Cat2 29-34. It was a BUMMER and the first time I’d gotten last in anything I’ve done (except maybe 7^th grade wrestling). I accepted my defeat and over that night I reflected on the event. I started racing cross country and joined the Tensegrity PT Race Team this year to both challenge myself and meet new friends that shared the passion of cycling and fitness. I could’ve signed up for Cat 3 and never risked a last place finish but I wanted to jump in with both feet, go all out with my training, and really see what was possible. The next day while sitting in my cube at work wishing I was out on a recovery ride I decided to check the results again. Turns out I got 12 of 18 not the best result, but not last. STOKED! With that being said, the whole experience was very motivating and I plan on training hard with my new friends and getting better and better results as the season goes on.

Day-O: Banana Belt Race 3 Report

“Why do I race?”  This is what I am contemplating as I am half way through my second lap at Banana Belt #3. 

The race started well, I rolled along with the main field for the few miles.  Then, at the main climb, I got dropped.  Once I get dropped in a road race, it is not likely that I am going to catch back on to the group. I am dropped at mile 4 of a 33-mile race.  The sun was shining, so I decide to bury myself for as long as I can to see if this time I can catch back on to the main field.

As the miles roll by I look ahead in hopes of seeing other cyclists who may have been dropped.  I catch my first dropped rider at the end of lap 1.  I encourage him to draft off my wheel.  He tells me that he is going to drop out of the race.  I push on.

Lap 2, the sun continues to shine and the legs feel good.  I have a song stuck in my head.  My mind begins to wander,  “Why am I killing myself right now?”,  If I keep going, there is a chance I won’t be DFL”,  “Am I having fun?”.  Near the end of Lap 2 I spot another dropped rider.  I lower my head and pedal harder.

This is how I envisioned the day going, but fate and fitness had other plans.

At the start of lap 3 I catch the dropped rider.  This rider is ready to work and we take turns pulling and drafting.  I am stronger on the hills; he is faster on the flats.  We eventually catch another dropped rider and form a group of three. 

The group rolls toward the finish and I begin to plan my finishing strategy.  It is an uphill finish, so I plan to sprint with 200 meters to the line.  Since I am third in the pace line at 200 meters mark, my attack comes as a surprise.  One rider is dropped immediately and the other rider hangs onto my rear wheel.  With 100 meters to the line, my legs begin to fail.  The rider on my wheel pulls ahead at the finish.  I manage to make it to the line and avoid DFL. 

Although the day did not go as planned, I felt strong and I feel my fitness is progressing.  Why do I race?  I race because it makes me faster and improves my cycling skills. I race because it is fun.

Road trips and a Narcissistic Joy Ride on Syncline

Spencer already wrote a great race report about the Echo race. My race wasn't great and made worse by a mechanical, and a lack of early season riding. But this post is more about the weekend itself. The team carpooled up to Hermiston, then Hood River for two days of awesome riding and hanging out. We rolled into Hermiston with 3 car loads of racers at 11pm the night before the race and shared 2 hotel rooms. It brought me back to high school sports trips but with beer in hand.

Post race team nap

Post race we hurried off to Hood River to check out the breweries and hangout around the town. Some night time adventures in the name of finding a hot tub came up short but we found a 100 foot waterfall instead at the Columbia Gorge historic hotel, also they had great biscotti and coffee in the morning:)

Lewis and Clark? No Spencer and Ethan, but no less epic

On to the fun ride. For a post race ride we headed across the Columbia to the Syncline trail network just East of the town of White Salmon. We had varying paces and we trying to keep the group together. This is where things went wrong.  A few of the guys(Spencer, Ethan, and team friend Ryan McGinnis went up the road and didn't turn back) The rest of the group sat waiting hoping they would turn around. They didn't.

 So after 20 minutes Hollis,  Deireck and myself went up the road to try and catch the guys and come back down to Hollis's friends and Julie, Erin and Jen. We climbed and climbed and climbed all the way up into the snow and then came to a fork in the road. At this point a truck drove up and told us that he talked to our friends and sent them down a different way. He was nice and told us how to hit the trail from there. Note here: we told the ladies that we would ride back down to them on the road. But since the guy sent them down and we didn't have phones we thought we were good.

So the following footage is from a super epic descent down the trails Crybaby and Little Maui. On the way down we found Ethan, Ryan and Spencer.

After we got to the bottom we found out that the guy in the truck was talking about Hollis's friends and not the girls. The other guys had peeled of also and left the three women waiting for us to return. Ryan did have a phone and called and talked with the ladies. They were tired, hungry and pissed. To put it nicely we the guys of Tensegrity owe the women a night out. We made the start of reparations by stopping in Portland at Hopworks Brewery and buying the ladies many pints of beer.

So lessons learned for the team.
1. Have everyone carry their cellphones, and actually have everyones numbers programed into your phones.
2. Regroup and turn back if someone in your group doesn't show up, they could be hurt.
3. Never ever leave the ladies up the hill.

In the end all was fine and the ladies got there descent, ending an epic weekend of racing and riding with friends.

Echo, saved by Stans?

How can I begin to describe my 1^st Mt. bike race. Well it really started 3 days before, when I was gluing some super light tubless tires. Turns out the super lightweight tires are the Divas of the tire world, and don’t like to get pumped and filled with fluid (Stan’s fluid). I would fill them untill they were nice and tight, and Pssssss… a little pin hole bubble decides to pop, and release air… not such a big deal, all you have to do is shake some of the Stan’s fluid that is in them into the hole, then re-pump it up to pressure... Psssssss… I just repeated it about 40 times untill they finally held air over night. The next day on the 5 hour drive up to the race venue, and over night, my front tire the bigger Diva decided to deflate and pull away from the bead. No matter how furiously I flapped my little arms the floor pump couldn’t get the bead to reset. Long story short, I had to put a tube in it.

Ooook on to race day, did I mention it was my 1^st Mt. bike race ever, yeah well it was, and I was on brand new never ridden (Diva) tires, on a bike I had ridden maybe 3 hrs total.

We, the team, team Tensegrity + Ryan, got to Echo Red to Red, pulled up, and preceded to get ready and registered, bla bla bla, time for the preride. Off we ride up the windy road, following the windy racecourse, we veered off to the left onto a windy gravel road. Still windy, we cranked through the dust, and tumbleweeds. Blowing past bikers slung along the wayside, soon realizing that the tumbleweeds we were riding through were hiding, not so tiny two pronged, thorns (we call goat heads). Fearing for the lives of our tubes we furiously turned around and started tearing back through the goat head minefield, trying to avoid a pre race flat… Ethan’s tire went down, nothing we could do, leave him behind, the rest of us made it out unscathed, or so I thought.

Pulling up to the line I B.S.ed with a couple of the other guys trying to blow off some pre race excitement. I just happened to look down and I see a huge goat head chewing into my front tire… do I pull It? No time to change a flat… Awe F it… I pulled it, Psssss… but, hear comes my big but, but it turns out all the Stan’s fluid I left in the tire worked even though I had a tube in it, it sealed itself up. The rolling start begins. Cruising up the road I go, BAM, someone’s tire blows… They limp to the side of the road, Bam another down. We push on, down the gravel road, we turn right into a field, and then onto some single track, turns out it was not just windy but dusty too. I start passing people on the up hills, and try not to cry in terror, on the downhills, tricking myself into thinking my tears are from the wind. After pumping down the trail for a while, happy my tires are holding as I pass others stopped with flats. I see a fly over in the distance,

(a large wooden bridge over a second trail, set up to allow two riders/trails to cross simultaneously without running into each other). I approach, seeing a line of people piled up failing to ride over it. I think to myself I remember this game from cross, so I just shoulder my bike and run past everyone up to the top, hop skip and a jump back on my bike, landing lightly on the saddle. Ha ha eat my dust; you all suck (isn’t what I’m thinking of the 5 riders I just passed). This couldn’t be going better. Wait, my shoes failed to clip in. Turns out using brand new shoes means my cleat position is different. Screaming down this man made deathtrap, I bottom out no feet on the pedals, suddenly I’m sitting back on my bike, like I’m popping a wheelie.

I stop, thinking that my seat post has dropped. It’s still in it same spot, but me seat is pointing at the sky, in what I can only assume is an attempt to let me know who is punishing me for my greed. I bust out my multi-tool, and attempt to adjust my seat. I see the rails are bent and there isn’t a damn thing I can do about it. I raise my seat a bit, grab a granola bar out of my pocket, and jump back on my bike.

I’m annoyed as I start catching and passing people I have already passed. I keep pushing hard, I crest the top of a hill, expecting a nice well-deserved rest, only to be beat down by the steady battering ram of the Eastern Oregon winds. I do everything I can to keep pedaling and stay in the single track. I snake along the trail sometimes leaning sideways into the wind so far it looked like I'm leaning through a corner even when I'm going strait. I was doing great again, passing people on the up hill, and holding on for dear life trying not to die on the downhill. Ha I’m dominating these people. Clunk, clunk, clunk, I started to feel my back rim hitting as I road over rocks, it was going flat. I pushed on until it started to burp air; I stopped and whipped out a co2 charge, to pump it up. I connect the two pieces and hook it up to my tire… nothings happening… I try looking for a button or something to release the gas… I see nothing, I push and bend it to no avail… it must be a dud, so I start to untwist the charge from the adapter, and PSSSSSST, IT WORKS, I’m a dumb ass. Off I go again, passing people, some for the 3^rd time. I’m not so annoyed at this point because I assume my race is over due to the punishment by the lord for my callous pageantry.

I push on, I run into the far end of the gravel road, one big hill left, then a flat cruise to the finish line. I laugh as I see people up the hill walking their bikes or slowly spinning in their granny gear. I can pass everyone here. I jump up and start my out of the saddle grind. My back tire is slipping, and my legs are failing… maybe half way up, defeated, I slip into my granny gear, and slowly spin my way to the top, with everyone else. As I crest the top of the hill, my temples pumping out of my skull, ready for

the flats to catch my breath, I hit the wind again… the damn wind that I forgot about. Even with the wind I’m finally able to catch my breath, I notice some of the Cat 1’s in the field to behind me to my right, they are destroying the field, pace lining through the wind making us cat3s, 2s, and clydesdales look like we are standing still. I can see in the distance where we will meet, so I punch into the wind. I just barely make it to the intersection in time to jump on the back of their pace line. I try to hang on while the guys fly up the gravel road. They keep switching back and forth cutting the wind for each other, while I feel like a bitch just sitting back trying to catch my breath again. Finally we hit the road, and I figure I should at least try to be something other than a parasite, so I crank into the big ring (of my 3x9), and drop the hammer into the front, I say something cool like, “I’m a bad ass Cat 3 see if you Cat 1 bitches can keep up, aaah ha ha”, as I burn rubber and speed away. Ok what really happened was I said “jump on, I’ll pull you as long as I can”, and I did. I pulled for a good 3/4^th of a mile thinking I may be able to beat these guys to the finish, only to have them sprint past me in the last 400m like I was standing still (reverse breakaway).

All and all, I felt good about the race, turned out I got 2^nd in my age/division, so that was good.

The Other Side of the Clipboard

I’ve been racing in OBRA events since 2009, primarily at the Cross Crusade series. I know all about pre-registration, waivers, and race rules. I know the pre-race announcements by heart; I recognize the course marshals. Racers in Oregon are lucky – OBRA is a well-oiled machine that consistently puts on well-organized, fun events. We show up, warm up, race our races, and go home to prepare for next time.

Officials training requires proper nutrition taken seriously

A few weeks ago, several Tensegrity members attended the OBRA officials training in Salem. We are starting a new short-track mountain bike series here in Eugene this summer so we decided to get involved in the officiating end of racing. Additionally, there is a dearth of OBRA officials in the Eugene area; Tensegrity wants to contribute to the local events like the Eugene Roubaix, Twilight Crits, and PsychoCross. So Taylor, Julie, Spencer, and I spent a (sunny, beautiful) Saturday getting trained to be assistant judges and assistant referees.

I learned how little I actually know about what goes on behind the scenes at an OBRA race. There are approximately one million moving parts that make up the machine of a cycling race. From registration to equipment to results posting, it is a TON of coordinated work from a host of talented individuals.

We each chose between getting trained as an assistant judge (AJ) or assistant referee (AR). I went the route of AJ since I like numbers, organization, and detail. AJs are the folks at the finish line writing down your finishing order. We also note rule violations like crossing the centerline in the final sprint, public urination (Really guys? Right by the finish line?), and other things you should know better than to do.

Sounds easy enough, right? I put my newfound skills to the test at the Cherry Pie last weekend and found out just how hard seeing and recording thirty numbers simultaneously can be. Luckily, it’s 2012 and we can score every racer with a combination of technology and our handwritten notes. But it takes a lot of focus, which means I don’t register the people associated with the numbers. Several friends said they talked me as they rode by but I didn’t hear a word. I hope that means I was doing it right.

At the Cherry Pie finish line

(photo courtesy of Denny Rowe)

Next time you’re at an OBRA race, be sure to thank your officials. They are up pre-dawn checking the course, setting up equipment, making sure your number is pinned right side up, keeping the race fair, and cleaning up everything after you’ve left. They coordinate so that you don’t have to. Let them know how much you appreciate them! I look forward to seeing everyone out there this season, either on the bike or behind the clipboard.

Sun and Fun at the Cherry Pie

The Cherry Pie Road Race is my white whale.  This is my third time attending the race and let’s just says the previous two attempts resulted in less than stellar results. Mechanicals or lack of fitness have contributed to me being dropped by the peloton. Suddenly I go from racing to being on a solo training ride.  This year was going to be different.  The bike was prepped and the fitness was good.

We are racing!

The neutral start was jovial.  As the peloton rolled along we discussed post race plans and lack of early season fitness.  The sun was shining and everyone felt like they had a chance to win.

As the group rolled through the first few miles, the pace lifted and all the jitters of the first race of the year become apparent.  Uneasy bike handling, uneven pace, and jockeying for position was the norm.  I sat in the middle of the pack and relaxed, feeling good.  I was focused on staying out of the wind and on the wheel in front of me.

I am very aware of where the first set of rollers are on the course because this is the place I have been dropped in the past.  Looking around I find myself at the back of the pack.  We hit the first roller and I bury myself to stay on the wheel in front of me, however, when I look up from my effort, I realize the person in front of me is getting dropped.  I swing out and really start driving up the hill, but the front of the race had pulled away as I rolled past those who were spit out the back.

I pass an unfortunate racer who dropped his chain on the second roller.  He is OK and I drive on.  As I clear the first set of rollers I see the front of the race and they are a ways away.  At this point I have two choices, stop racing and enjoy the day on the bike, or keep fighting in the hopes the peloton slows and I can get back into the group.  I choose the latter and keep pushing.

Then something unexpected happens.  The guy who dropped his chain in the first set of rollers passes me.  I get on his wheel.  He is definitely motoring, but I am able to stay in his draft and somewhat recover.  I continued to sit on his wheel and we rolled into the second half of the race.

Eventually, a small group forms and one strong rider is pulling six of us along.  However, we are slowing as the “engine” of our small group is getting tired.  He needs a rest.  I pull out of the pace line and move to the front of the group.  The pace lifts and we continue along.

I figure, if our group works together we can get back into the race.  I begin to tire and swing out to let the next racer pull through.  As the next racer does a pull he stays on the front to long, the group slows and results in the main “engine” of our group to pull out of the line and push to the front.  This is not efficient, but it is all we have.

Our group pulls it together

We continue to motor along and eventually pass the juniors who started five minutes before our race.  With two miles left in the race I spot the peloton.  They are within reach.  With one last effort we reach the back of the main group.  The racer who did most of the work rolls past me and tells me to follow him.  Unfortunately I do not have anything left.  I sit on the back of the peloton as we enter the final climb. 

In the end, I finished at the back of the main group.  Although it is not the best outcome, I was happy the effort got me back to the main group. Road racing targets my greatest weakness on the bike, which is a lack of sustained power.  One race into the season I feel like I have a good base from which to build.