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WORS #11.
After the culmination of adrenalin ending last weekend at the Chequamegon forty the idea of traveling to another race was arduous. One egg/spinach sandwich and two cups of coffee later we were heading towards Iola Wisconsin for the tater bake open. For the first time all year Marko and I had a "plan" for the race. Of course we always have a plan but it seems loosely knitted around the competition and conditions. With a dry track on front of us we figured we'd go for it off the line and attempt to catch everyone off guard.
Lap 1:
Gooooooooooooo! I grabbed the holeshot as the 36:19 propelled me up the opening climb out of harms way. Around the ski jumps and down into the bowl is all it took to put gaps between the top ten. I was climbing good as the effects from last weeks event clearly diminished. Midway through the lap on one of the only significant grades I notice Landon to my right and Marko to my left. Catching me off guard I soon realize that this could be a TBS trifecta but I thought to soon as the next stretch proved to string it out. By the end of lap one Marko and I settled comfortably into first and second while I battled with my own mentality. Fast, hard, recover, fast, fast, faster.
Lap 2:
This was our second time on this course in 07 so it was becoming familiar as we looped through our feed zone with a 30 second lead. This is a great race course not only because of terrain but also because there are sections where you can view your competitors and the gaps. We kept the pace steady and hammered the climbs as we encountered a couple lapped riders. Towards the end of the lap I noticed Cole House sneaking up. He appeared to driven as he was gaining on us all the way through the lap.
Lap3: By the climb in the back Cole made contact as I started to pick up the pace going through the switchback singletrack. We endured the constant pace for a mile until Cole popped off the back. Relief crossed me as I traveled towards lap four with Marko in tow.
Lap 4: Much of the same. Recovery lap on the flats. Kept the intensity high on the climbs.
Lap 5: The gaps opened again as we road an uneventful last lap. Lapped riders became my motivation as did Marko on my wheel. A couple hard efforts later and we found ourselves crossing the line as one with Marko taking his first ever WORS elite victory!
This one kindled a new flame. I'm getting excited to dial in the superfly for the grand finale and then Iceman.
Fridays.
The plan was to cut the banger loop and bleed the maguras in hopes that I would have the rig "race ready" by Iola. No go as I realized my lack of bleed parts. Next. After riding the kettles earlier this week I wasn't confident that my front wheel on the ferrous was ready so I dove in. I was burping stans everywhere and after the ride noticed the pine needles sticking out of the bead which prevented a proper seal. I spent the portion of the morning scrubbing old residue and refilling the tyre with a fresh dose. Back on the trail.
Headed out on what was to be a quick dirt park loop with the 42:18. The wind had a mind of it's own today while I played rag doll in the open. Hiding from mother nature isn't easy when the only route home is through an open field. I was cooked after 1.5 hrs and decided to call it quits since I felt like I was going backwards.
Back to the basement with hopes of building some new race wheels. After calculating the spokes I did my count and came up short a couple so that was going to have to wait. I've been neglecting Amanda's commuter for months now so I figured why not. Normally I'm on it before she starts mentioning problems but this bike was overdue. Two hours later and it's stacked with a new drivetrain, tyres, and fenders.
Escaping time.
Withiout throwing a leg over the steed on Sunday my recovery came easy as I spun to work on Monday. Even 10 hrs on my feet repeated on Tuesday felt flawless which brings me to the Kettles. Single track super hwy as we've crafted it. Marko, the trail, and I exchanged challenges as the pace was set. Bartering our 16t's for a 19 was apparent as we scaled every gradient in the saddle. My low pressure experiment was on key as the tyres rested at 17. Post rest legs were gone as we prepped for this weekends WORS race. It felt wonderful to be back on the singletrack until the day reared it's superficial head. Nearly 25 miles in and Marko goes OTB on an altered log crossing. My view exposed the slow motion WTF angle as I skidded to a halt before dismounting to a stop. Damn, "you all right." No answer as I see the blood open up from a fresh wound across his shin. "WTF!" Shake it off and we're clicking again. Tire rubbing, focus, rapid burming riding continues for the next two miles until Marko washes out and goes OTB squared. WTF? I see it, he see's it as he sits with a look of disgust. Two broken brakes. The view once again in slow motion, nothing serious. It was freakish as we examined the carnage. One shattered carbon lever the other had a clean crack through the clamp body. Well done young chap! I continued home via the connector as I passed the keys to Marko before he took to the pave. No more than 1/4 mile later and I have a front flat. The pine needles stuck in my bead inform me that I was victim of to little pressure. Quick fix and I'm off. Back to the lot and no Marko. I spin out and take a quick beginner loop to give him some time before meeting with the same look of disgust. Lost. Better now than in the race.
Rumor has it that there's a youtube vid of the 40 finish. Any help with the link would be greatly appreciated. In the mean time read about it here.
Get audio!
This about sums it up.
40-fied.
Friday/14th: Rolling into Hayward at 48 degrees was a blow to our egos which was quickly redeemed by a warm cup of coffee and the energy surrounding Telemark lodge. We checked into our overpriced accommodations and quickly made our way to the finish line area for a quick preview of the closing miles. With the afternoon coming to a close Marko and I set out on a uphill grind out of the bowl and into the birkie trails known for they're make or break characteristics. A full five hours in the divers seat leaves a guy stiff. If I were going to base my gearing off the route we pre rode I would have dug deep for my 18t but we knew better. Sixish miles out to some of the hillier climbs we made our turnaround just in time to meet up with the Bells crew. Fine gents indeed as we spun homeward while chatting about bike related nonsense.
Saturday/15th: After a restless night of sleep due to a creaky floor board on the second floor which was relentlessly walked upon by our non preferred start neighbors we made our way into the local coffee shop. The place was hopping. Bike stacked cars filled the parking lot, spandex clad riders littered the seats, as employees struggled to brew Haywards finest. Both Marko and I attempted to eat as race time neared. After destroying some porcelain we set out for our warmup which proved to be a race itself as we struggled to stay warm.
Preferred start: My attempt to back in to the preferred start was successful until the Lemond entourage was escorted in. A handful of older riders obscured my view down mainstreet as the canon sounded off. The forty was here again and I wanted to make my mark as I wormed my way around the Lemond clan just behind a lead quad. With every turn we picked up speed until the atv's let loose on hwy77. The group quickly swerved right, left, right as I hopped a median from the left lane and joined draft.
Like geese flying south we v'ed towards 30mph within fifty feet. Spin, coast, spin, coast, spin, spin, spin. The heartrate maxed a mile before rosies but I held it knowing that this will make or break my race. I flinched at the sound of rubber on rubber metal on metal as I glanced over my right shoulder only to see a number of riders domino into the ground. I could only pray that Marko was safe and focus on the field ahead while the legs fended off any lactic acid build up.
Rosies field: I can't recall placing at this time but a portion of confidence was lost after viewing the leaders disappear into the birkie trail. Upon entering the field I half witnessed the carnage of the day which unfortunately involved favorite Mike "Simonster" Simonson. Five broken spokes later and he was sent home with hopes of redemption at the iceman coming up in November.
Catching up: Riders were fabricating before my eyes as I marched up hill after hill. The tandem duo helped on the flats as I minimized the long leadout damage. Doug Swanson dropped off the lead as did Paul Hanson who mumbled "The lead is going so fast" as I went by. Thanks. Doug seemed to get a second wind as he wound it up with myself in tow. The lead was coming back and quick. I passed Doug on a roller and pressed for the group which came about a mile later. Ian was dangling as I regrouped, shot a clif gel, and hydrated. Just before OO I made my appearance known to the group as I went to the front. A few comments were thrown around as I fumbled for my lungs. The cold morning air and quick start spin was creating some deep flem that took a while to clear.
The Motivation: We had plans to get our hand up at OO which I figured we lost since no sign of Meghan or Amanda was seen at the crossing. Not racing this course for the past two years had me confused as I turned the corner only to see the freshly graded fire road lined with people including a lone standing hand holding a BKB H20 bottle. Fresh! A sense of relieve hit as I turned to get a perspective on our tow. With no one attacking or pressing the trains formed and they were coming quick. It appeared to be Marko in front of another group. I'll never forget the image of the red, yellow, and black jersey on the barends digging as deep as he could to bridge up. It was pure motivation as he latched on. Marko made it just in time as Stolte took a flyer off the front and the pace picked up.
Quick surges, sitting up, waiting, climbing was the name of the game. Our group was big and I promised myself not to go too early. Racers seemed to be surging in order to test others. The group would accordian on the drop of a dime then regroup minutes later. After sitting out front for a mile or two I dropped a couple wheels as we entered the firetower climb. Tilley drilled it for the first portion which appeared to be a break until he was reminded of the grade. Riders split, I dismounted, remounted, dismounted, and stayed on pace as we crested the high point. We broke away for a short while until Matter bridged the group up. We were approximately 10 miles from the finish and my lead out lack of confidence was coming back.
Closing the birkie trail: After Ian took a flyer with 3 to go I found myself on the front as we exited Telemark road onto the closing birkie rollers. I was a bit perplexed as I spun down the narrowest part of the course. My mind went numb as I inadvertently picked up the pace. The sound of chains on they're stays grew deaf as I took a peek and witnessed a gap. What did I do? Was I ready to close the deal? The group left me without choice as I put my survival mode into hibernation and opened up the biggest gap of our group all day. Just 15 seconds separated me from Marko who missed the podium by 2 seconds! As much as we would have liked to bust out the "LaLonde Sandwich" we went home extremely pleased with the performance and look forward to next year.
Year of the single speed?: Arguably the year of the hair or better yet the mullet. With Matters inspiration both Marko and captain tandem threw down a mean waterfall. In respect for the Northwoods these were the boys who truly shined. To you I raise my blaze orange podium hat! After years of riding single speeds I can finally and honestly say that I have mastered the art of the single speed.
With the weekend already a success both Amanda and I decided it would be best to take off and skip Sundays events. Afterall, I doubt the 13 high lifes I had would act as hydration as I entered the crit better known as the spiral of death. With the race of my life under my belt I need to thank the fine folks who stood behind me all season. Fish, Twix, Bonty, K-wood, TBS, and the BKB.
Chequamegon Shakedown.
With hopes of kicking some life into my short lived Chequamegon record I've officially geeked out. Tyres are measured with a micrometer. PSI test's that would make Bontrager shiver. Gear inches crunched. The start yet alone the trip has eluded me for the past two years. Strep, then the thyroid biz. Finally things are falling into place and I hope to pick up where I left off.
What are you riding? I'm opting for my heavier but trusty race steed the Gary Fisher Ferrous. It's not rocket science or top secret technology that makes this bike fast but rather the good old "ride what works" method. My satanic mechanic put the final touches on her this afternoon and that's how it stands until I wheel the line on Sat.
Set up:
Med. 17.5 Gary Fisher Ferrous. (OX platinum) 22.7lbs
Bontrager bits adorn the frame including the Race X lite tubless wheels which I plan to run at 30psi up front and 26psi in the rear. The bruised but not broken 180mm race lite ss crank set is tied up with a salsa 36t chain ring while the 16t novatec cog completes the chainline. One big difference from my normal set up is the rear tyre which is a Stans crow 29. I've been experimenting with this tyre during some of the marathon stuff and feel like it will succeed as long as rain stays away.
So what makes this race so sought after? Is it sought after? Last time I was there I could feel the energy run deep. Looking to my left and seeing Tilford there might do it. Hall, Swanson, Matter, Simonson. The competition. The distance. Everybody who is somebody is gripped and I'm stoked to be part of it.
This morning I teamed up with Marko, Scandihoolie, and later T-da for the pre Cheq shakedown at the dirtpark. Strategy was planned which we agreed would be thrown out the window once the atv let's us go. Fitness was declared and bagels were had.
See you there!
Shreddin'.
Rarely is there comfort in mtb racing. WORS #10 in Kewaskum was a scorcher in the way of pace. While temps hovered in the low to mid seventies hundreds of racers crowded the small town rope tow hill in hopes of a podium spot in their respective categories. With Chequamegon only a week away many came to work the bugs out, cleanse the legs of mid season fatigue, and just plain old show off.
Lap one showed a short prologue loop before switch backing our way to the top of the sunburst mound. Youngster Cole House was off the front on a raw 29 which resembled the race day platform while I pulled the train towards the peak of the lap. I had a great warm up so the legs were responding immediately as I bridged up to Cole. Gap, gap, gap. We already formed a gap. Snap, crackle, pop! Game over. Cole went sideways while quickly entering a 90 degree single track turn. I was ready to make that one stick if anybody wanted to work but instead sat up and in until the lead group formed.
By lap two the elastic stretched and snapped within the only significant climb. The lead was widdled down to Marko, myself, and the relentless TJ Woodruff. As TJ and I traded blows Marko stuck like glue. Our laps were consistently under 20 minutes and only seemed to get faster as the race went on. As lapped riders came into view so did the chase groups. Tristan, Matter, Mikey were working on a minute gap which we were able to keep under view due to the switch backed course.
The course was to wide open to get away. It was going to come down to a strategic move which TJ demonstrated on feed row. His explosive power left me bottless, broke, and cramped. I dug deep knowing this would be my last hard effort before Chequamegon. A lapped rider forced a dismount as much as my cramped legs did which in turn forced Marko to hoof it. Twitches shot down the quad as TJ spun up ahead on the cross eyed climb. The cyclocross mount proved to be back as I mounted my steed and set out after the possessed. As TJ maximized every effort I was busy minimizing the damage left from the move. In the meantime Amanda and Meghan made their way up the front side of the hill only to meet us for a much needed feed. Did I mention TJ's strategic attack? It was awesome! We were racing and I was gonna let him know. As we made our way through the final stretch of single track I attacked which seemed like a good idea at the time whether my body wanted to cooperate or not it. I laid it out, sat up, went again. Damn, still there. Go, go, go. A near lapped fatality and .3 seconds separated us. Win #6!
Thanks to Rusty for the pics. TJ and Marko for some radical racing. Water girls for saving our lives. Landon for reeling in a 10th place in his first elite race. Fisher for the cockpit. Bonty for the best tire I've ridden and Twin six for the duds.
LaLonde sandwich.
Close one.
