Have done fo' mtb races so far y'all. In order: Ridgeline Rampage (2nd), Fangdango (won), Firecracker 50 (got my ASS handed to me, 18th), and Rattler race 1 (3rd, dropped a chain!). Let me begin with:
I. Am. A. Grateful. MoFo.
Have done a lot of cool things this summer with my wife and kids (not necessarily together mind you) and we're still not done. I foresee some more XC races, some more tom foolery, some more quality pool time, and eating in the very near future if not right now damnit!
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| Calf marked, packet picked up. Time to poseur myself as a marathon XC racer. I'm a 50 year-old expert racer. |
Firecracker 50 (it's a 52 mile mountain bike race in Breckenridge on Independence Day)
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| I did this twice. Look at the X-axis, that'll give you some climbing perspective |
Holee muthuh f'ing mackeral! That was just downright ugly and difficult (kinda like some of my dates-not the fertilized ovary of a date palm which i find DELISH-in high school). The thing about doing marathon races in loops is that you have to face the climbs, the gnarly downhills, the sketchy sandy bits at speed (or at slow, in my case), twice! Argh!
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| and...we're off! |
Our group takes off and we hit the long ass road/dirt climb. We are yanking a fierce pace! First it's a group of 18, then 15, then 10 and I'm saying holee shnap!
I'm actually hanging on. We pass a small group of the category that went before us (40-49 Expert Males). I'm saying to myself,
Self? Don't these bitches know we have another 48 miles left? And good job hanging on you handsome devil! Then a tiny little buff dude in my category finds another gear and I'm attacking off the back.
Later you fast mother f*(^ers!
It's been nice riding with y'all. Thank you for letting get a mental draft for as long as I did! On the second lap, on a super scorching downhill (my Garmin said I hit 31 m.p.h. here), I made a note to myself to employ during the second lap. I said,
hey self! what up you handsome sumbitch?! You can carry your speed through this sweeping lefthander without hitting the brakes if you do some sweet ass inside-outside-inside apex carving. I was making a lot of notes to myself actually but this one was prolly at the top of my time saving antics to make a new PR (which proved to be fruitless).
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| Karen snapping a picture right after I get a wee bit of air on my new whip! thanks Raceco.org |
The promotors carved a new section of climbing trail this year and the extra climbing proved too much for my altricial race preparedness. Needless to say it was still pretty badass, tight, loose dirt, rocky, bermy, flowy singletrack, plopped into the middle of one of the more super scenic part of the Rocky Mountains that happen to be in Breckenridge.
Second lap and I'm dying! My first lap time is just average and I mentally prepare myself to just survive and tourist this thing towards the end. On a personal note, I passed a lot of youngsters, 1 male pro, prolly 5 pro women and I got mutually passed as well. Didn't care for the one lappers and their fresh kits and fresh legs/lung combo as they cruised by me.
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| what you don't see are some spent legs on the second go 'round. |
I was so tired on the second lap instead of just taking handups from the cadre of cool, generous volunteers, I physically unclipped one pedal and stopped where I drank and ate while people passed me at the feedzone. I would eventually pass some of them up but it was no use trying to figure out who was in my category. Here comes the screaming downhill and sho' nuff here comes the lefthander. I see clouds of dust in front of me so I guess I'm fitt'na come up on some not so risky downhill riders. When I flow through the curve I see a rider standing behind some shrubs on the outside of the curve bleeding from the mouth (he musta biffed it at speed, hence the dust bombs). I lock it up and ask if he's okay. He says he's fine. I tell a paramedic anyways at the next first aid station that I witnessed a homie at the bottom curve of the downhill that's bleeding from the mouth from what I suspect was a high speed crash.
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| Chilling, post-race at our cabin/motel room in Breckenridge |
I am able to do these races because I have such a supportive crew. The crew consisting of my badass wife Karen (right picture) who also happens to be a vegetarian, mountain biker. She's kind of the shit y'all. After I finish, I'm done internally and externally. I grab some beer and I earn another Firecracker 50 pint glass that I promptly fill with a saison. Then I hit some vegetarian grub and the glass-me-is slowly filling half full. Finished 18 out of 23. Here's a link to my Garmin
data (you may have to login if you ain't down with the way o'Garmin) to see my sucky quantifications of my race unworthiness. Some stuff worth mentioning...during one of my literal rest stops talked to a cool volunteer from Wisconsin who was visiting and was very cheerleader-like to the racers, rode nearly all of little French on the first lap and more than 2/3rds on my second lap, went on cool hikes with Karen, Mason, and our four legged chilluns in the evening when my legs were all jangly from racing, I nailed one of the hiking, metal restriction posts with my wide-ass handlebars/bar end combo, and I had a bad case of insomnia the night before prolly thinking about the race-oh well. The next day, Karen and Mason rode Horseshoe Gulch and ripped the trails while I
SLOWLY walked the dogs.
Onwards to the next adventure!
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