I went into this race with a mileage goal: 100+. I’d gotten 100 at Lumberjack, and figured I could repeat and then some. Two years ago I did this race as a 4-person relay, which distorted my memory of the trail. The trail was easy that day. Two laps on for 45ish minutes. When you’re doing 2-3 laps on for 10+ hours, it beats you to hell.

As I lined up I scoped the one other dude in my class. After my first lap I mentioned to my teammate, “He looks fast, but who knows, maybe it’s his first endurance race.” As the day went on, this fantasy was stabbed repeatedly until death. By hour 3 he had lapped me once. By hour 5 he had lapped me twice. He would proceed to lap me ELEVEN TIMES (I spelled that out so I could capitalize it) throughout the day.

As I sat down before my last two planned laps, I was informed that the laps were not 5.5 miles each but 4.7 miles each. Some quick cell phone mathery brought me to reality: I only had 81 miles thus far. I would have to do 4 more laps, in the dark, to meet 100 miles let alone 110. I decided 18 laps was good enough and snuggled up to a beer and a hot shower.

I had one major mechanical throughout the day. My rear tubeless tire was leaking, so I put a tube in to last the day. I must have pinched it between the bead and the rim because toward the end of a lap it went BANG. When one flats, one hopes for PHTSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS. Bangs are no good. Lo and behold, I had blown out the sidewall. My teammate Scott hooked me up big time with his whole rear wheel to finish the day. I owe him!

Throughout the season I’ve been doing a lot of work on my “self”, that is to say a lot of emotional and spiritual growth. Races like these really help solidify the practices I’m trying to perfect. Being able to do lap after lap and concentrate only on that lap, to stay as present and in the moment as possible, is something I haven’t quite mastered but I’m working on it diligently. It has made an immense difference in my spirit and ability to have fun during a race. I don’t need to care about how it will end, that’s not the point for me. Each lap is another XX minutes on the bicycle. That’s all that matters.

Finishing the race is a great achievement. I’m very happy about that, but there are more important things to address. First, here are the specs: Finished 148th out of roughly 200 in my class in 11:35. I had an uncomfortable run-in with an inflamed urinary tract (gross!) which almost put me out of the race after lap 2. I man*d up, and finished, and I’m damn happy I did. My nutrition plan worked flawlessly, minus a bonk at the very end after giving away my emergency food to a teammate. Lesson learned: keep emergency food until all chances of possible emergency are gone. Derp!

I’m pretty ecstatic that I finished. However, what I learned in the process of training and completing this race are really  more important than the finish. I’ve now been racing for almost 3 years. Not long, but I’ve experienced a wide range of races – from short time trials to a 100 mile ultra-endurance race. What I’ve discovered is that I haven’t always raced just because it’s fun. In hindsight, I started this stuff to try and prove something. If I place a certain way or finish a certain race, it says something about me. It validates some characteristic I want to see in myself. It “proves” that I’m not overweight, that I’m an athlete, that I’m worth something.

During the process of training I went through a very serious but also very cleansing life change:  a divorce. It was very quick and amicable. I could have sunk myself into some facet of my life like training, work, nightlife or some other distraction. Something to mask pain that is inevitable with what most perceive as failure. Instead, I got help immediately in the form of a life coach, and started working on why I felt the way I did and how to deal with it. This helped not only with the divorce, but with every single aspect of my life. I see everything differently, including racing.

I’m happy I finished Lumberjack for many reasons. I wont pretend that part of that happiness isn’t related to how others perceive this feat. That wont change overnight. But what’s really exciting is the experience and the knowledge that I am strong enough to experience it again. Riding my bike all day, literally. Being immersed in exceptional forestry over the span of several hours. Seeing the light change over the course of a day, and seeing how the light changes the mood of the trail. Stopping on my last lap just to look at the pine trees and listen to the wind move through them. Practicing presence, working through hardships and experiencing emotions that range from, “I’m not going to finish, what does that mean,” to, “Holy shit, I’m going to finish! What does that mean?”

I don’t experience these things during a time trial or cross country race where my heart rate is through the roof. What’s the purpose of these races, if not to try and place well? If I place well, what does that mean? Why is that important? Is it important at all? These are the questions I have asked and answered for myself over the course of training for and finishing the Lumberjack 100.

So I’ve rearranged my racing schedule to allow for more 12 hour races, epics and centuries. I have a few small races still on the calendar like the most awesome Tree Farm Relay. Narrowing down what racing means to me and what style of racing remains fun and provides the most joy feels very positive. It’s a small change in a large life experience, but it’s something I love dearly.

The next race on the schedule is the 12 hours of Ithaca. The Jailhouse Trail in Ithaca, MI is a short, fast, fun little loop. I’m hoping to push a little farther than 100 miles during the race. It’ll be my first 12 hour solo attempt with night laps. Night training is fun. :)

Still confused? Let me put it this way: if Lumberjack is a little person with lustrous hair, a thick moustache and an eyepatch, and I’m a prison inmate, this is the perfect picture of my day at the race:

My prison sentence ended after 50 miles on the tough course. The first lap I felt great. I was riding at a comfortable speed and would meet the cutoff if I kept to my timing plan (which did not provide enough breaks). On the second lap I fell apart.  I learned more that day than during the 3 months training for the race. Here’s the curriculum:

1. Eat more
2. Rest more
3. Ride more singletrack

Number 1: Eat More
I didn’t eat enough, plain and simple. I had a nutrition plan that consisted of 1 gel every 30 minutes and a bottle of Sustained Energy ever lap. I just wasn’t enough. Had I eaten a lot more both between laps and during each lap, I wouldn’t have bonked so badly.

I bonked harder that day than I’ve ever bonked before. I walked a large chunk of the 2nd lap, trudging up the sandy hills feeling horrible and wanting to crawl out of there as quickly as possible. It was a horrible experience.

Number 2: Rest More
As you have seen already in this blog entry, I am not a mathematician. I did the math for how long I would have to rest between laps, and I got that math right! Aha! What I miscalculated so poorly was how long I would NEED to break between laps, not how much time would simply be provided. I came in around 3 hours for lap 1, which left me 20 minutes to rest before lap 2. That was not enough. I left for lap 2 feeling like jello, and it only got worse.

Number 3: Ride More Singletrack
While I pulled of 94 miles two weeks before the race, the ride consisted of a mix of singletrack trails and connectors (roads, bike paths, etc). Those connectors played a huge factor in those 94 miles. I was able to rest and recover on those connectors. When you’re riding nothing but singletrack mile after mile, there is nowhere for your body to recover. It’s constantly adapting to the trail.

This not only fatigues the body, but also the mind. When you sit and recover on a flat piece of doubletrack, you build confidence and your mind can rest. When it’s singletrack for hours/miles, you have to be ON THE BALL. Letting the mind stray can result in a nasty crash.

I walked off the course barely able to think. I was done and I knew it, and it tore me apart. I wanted this race to go so much better, and it didn’t. I dropped off my stuff and went to have a moment in the rest room. I let out months of stress and disappointment.

I returned to the tent, changed, and immediately went up to grab a beer and some food. Twenty minutes later, I was back to my old self. I chatted it up with the other teammates that decided to bail and we all decided it was the right choice. We enjoyed the rest of the day in the sun, drinking beer and cheering on teammates and other racers. It was a blast.

That night we ordered four pizzas and sat around the fire talking shit and deciding whether or not to try again next year. I hesitated then, but I have since decided that I will likely try again a year from now. I want to finish that race, and the only way to know what you’re up against is to try. Finish or not, I tried, and now I know what I need to do.

I decided to take the rest of July and have some fun on the bike. I’ve sold my commuter and ordered a Surly Cross Check frame, which I will build up with components from my road bike. It will be a combo commuter/roadie that I am sure I will enjoy just as much or more than my road bike and commuter combined. July 25 is the treefarm relay, which is always a treat. After that is the Stony Enduranace 6/12 hour race which I plan to hit full force.

It’s nice to have a break from training and still have goals in mind. I’m excited about the new bike and the planned races to come. While my Lumberjack disappointment put a dark cloud on one of the most anticipated races of the year, I enjoyed the trip.

Since my back injury last year, I have been keeping a close eye on my back (or a few close nerves, rather, since I can’t really SEE my back). The injury was relatively minor but scary and something I don’t want to relive. Last week I did a hard training ride from work and ended up with a very sore lower back a few days later. This kicked my stretching routine into (healthy) overdrive. Since the ride I’ve made sure to stretch after each ride, and every day I’m not riding. So basically… stretch every day. EVERY day. Do not skip it, it is important.

I went back and forth mentally on Friday and almost backed out of the race. I had the email written up to Kevin, the organizer, and was about to send but decided not to at the last minute. I figured it wouldn’t hurt (or would it??) to wait ’til the last minute and then not race if my back shit the bed. No harm, no foul.

The day of the race I felt good. My back was still a little sore, but I figured I could sit back and race easy if I felt I would push it too much. I showed up to the shop early and helped Kevin get the number plates ready, then headed out to Hines to warm up.

Photo by Craig "CMo" Morris

(This photo has solidified the notion that my legs are F***ING MASSIVE. Better with which to chase you down, my dear.)

I warmed up with 3-4 miles of riding and mild hill sprints. My back was doing OK, so I decided to go for it and race all out. I showed up at the line just before my start time and headed out almost immediately. I got in the drops and stayed there as much as I could. I was surprised by how long I was able to hold a tucked position.

The TT rules were a bit unorthodox. If you were passed, you were allowed to draft the passer. You were NOT allowed to draft a person you were passing. I got passed a few times and was able to latch on for a few seconds each time. My favorite was when I was passed by my buddy MIKEWOODS!! (proper spelling). His buddy Chris was passing us on the other side of the road on his way back. He yelled out, “GO, MIKE, YOU’RE WITH THE WIND!” At that time I didn’t know Mike was right behind me. I thought, “why does he think I’m Mike? I don’t look like…” BOOM! Mike goes screaming by at 25mph. I sprinted and caught on, but couldn’t hold on for very long. Mike ended up 4th overall.

I hammered throughout the race, placing mid-pack (tied @ 18th outta 43) with a time of 38:07 over 12.8 miles; an average of 20mph, so far my personal best! I’m proud of my performance, it was a great start to the season. So far my back has not flared up, so hopefully I’m on the right track to a healthy season.

Afterward most of the teammates that raced went to Benny’s Pizza. The food was fantastic, especially the veggie pizzas. We all sat around and chatted about the race and the upcoming season. I really enjoyed meeting some of the new people and getting to know them a bit better. I look forward to racing with them this year.

Sometimes when my schedule is hectic and I have to drive the hour to the shop, a question arises: Would I ever leave this team to race for a shop that was closer to home. The answer is always “No.”

I like Daniel’s shop, but that’s not what makes me want to stay with the Greyhounds. I’m into all of this for the fun of it, not to win races. Don’t get me wrong, I want to win and I want to perform well, for both myself and the team. However, I hear a lot of stories about teams closer to home being very competitive and results-driven. That’s not what the Greyhounds are about. We train hard and perform well, often placing in our respective classes. But more importantly we have a good time together. We support one another and we’re always laughing it up. Right now I can’t imagine showing up to a race and NOT going to the ‘hound tent, NOT racing with such a fun-loving group.

It’s worth the inconvenience to race with these folks.

I went to see the doc and he claims it’s just muscles and tendons. Probably a strain, maybe a wee tear. Nothing serious, nothing disc-related, but damn it hurts. Each day feels a little better. If I can keep my mind off “the sauce” that is cycling, I might make it through with a few pills and a renewed appreciation for massage chairs.

Recent activity includes the Stony Creek Time Trial and the Team Tree Farm Relay. Both races were a ton of fun, challenging, and new. I would consider Stony my “home trail”, so racing this trail has been a goal for me all summer. The TTF Relay was simply a half-drunken bikefest – by far the most fun I’ve had on a bike all year.

I’ve got Stony’s singletrack down. I’ve got every line ingrained in my muscles. I would have been at an advantage if my rival didn’t consider Stony his home trail, too. I lined up with another guy in my class and waited for the signal. On “GO”, I took off down the grassy runway. I sprinted my ass off out onto the road and into the service drive that leads to the water crossing. I was feeling pretty good but already winded, I just wanted to keep distance between me and the guy I launched with. I hit the water crossing and decided to ride through. It was nothing like Fort Custer, which had me imagining myself soaking wet for an hour.

I started catching some other people and generally hauling ass. I really wanted to win this one. One mistake I made was to go all out right at the start. By the time I made it to the hard singletrack my back was toast. I actually stopped to stretch for a few seconds. I made it through the singletrack without incident and headed out for the final doubletrack sprint. It was like a freeway, just balls-out for 2 or 3 miles. The 2nd water crossing wasn’t rideable, so I hopped off and ran across. Back on the bike, I sprinted through the finish, taking first place by 12 seconds. It definitely felt great to win one, even at the expense of my back.

Stony Creek - 2nd Water Crossing

I took a couple days off and prepped for the relay. The relay is set up as a 4-person event. Each team carries a hawaiian lei and hands the lei off to the next person at the end of their lap(s). We had a great team.

TTF Relay

I was scheduled to go first. The start included running down a large hill to your bike and then sprinting back up the hill (or the backside of it) to start the race. I ran down, grabbed my bike, hit the pedals and cranked up the hill… BANG! My chain snapped. I rifled through my bag for my tool which wasn’t there. I didn’t know what to do, I just stood there and asked if anyone had a tool I could use. Soon after another Greyhound started shouting at our 2nd rider, who was standing nearby with his bike nearly ready to go. He handed me his cell phone, grabbed the lei and took off. No water, no gloves, just him and the bike (and the horns). He pounded out a great lap time.

I jumped in the 2nd person slot and went off about an hour later. The trail was in great shape. I knew we were just racing for the hell of it, and it made for an awesome ride. My bike handled well, I handled the trail well, and my back handled the ride fairly well. I ended up with a 52 minute lap, which is a great to my standards. Our final two riders put out equally awesome lap times. We ended up 7th of 19, even with the mechanical. Good times!

Now it’s on to recovery. My next planned race isn’t until 9/13, so I’ve got time. Hopefully I don’t lose too much progress while healing up. Even if I do, it’s been an awesome season so far.