Well, I feel like I have had enough time to decompress after last weekend’s failed attempt at winning the Coolest 24 hr. Heck, as things would turn out, I didn’t even finish the race… But hold on, there’s a little more to it than that.
It seems that over the last three years, we must have used up all of our good weather cards on the Coolest 24. The weather has been amazing at this race for three years straight, without fail. So, I guess we were due for some questionable conditions at some point. However, when things get wet in Cool, there is no question that you’re in for a gnarly day of riding.
All was good in the days leading up to the race. I left sunny San Diego on wednesday morning and made a pit stop in Thousand Oaks to pick up some new bike shoes which I’d purchased on Ebay. After that, it was smooth sailing all the way to Folsom. I had been invited to ride with the boys over at Bikes Plus on their after work night ride which started at 7pm. As I got closer and closer to Sac, I realized I was cutting it close. My foot sank on the gas pedal and my poor little Subaru kicked up the pace to bring me to the BP parking lot at 6:56pm. Was I really about to get on my bike after 8 1/2 hrs in the car?? I guess so… The ride was a blast, my legs felt like sausages and I wanted to throw up, but it was super fun none the less.
Thursday was all about the final preparations on the bike. I would be racing my hardtail and have only one bike as I had not yet gotten my new full suspension bike sorted out. Long story. I went for a 4 hour road ride to shake out my legs and give them a taste of what saturday was going to bring. They still felt like total ass and I started to worry a bit. It’s okay though, they didn’t need to go fast on Thursday, they needed to go fast on Saturday, after all. I was worried because I was trying out a new technique for 24 hour race prep which some of you may have heard of. It’s called “resting”. It’s this crazy new idea that people have where in the week leading up to an event where you’ll be riding as many hours in one day as you normally ride in a whole week, you take it easy so that your legs feel fresh on the day of the event.
Starting out on the saturday before Cool I had cut my training hours on the bike in half. I rode with the Power Cranks a couple of days for a couple of hours before installing normal crank arms on that bike so that my lovely girlfriend could use the bike in her upcoming tri-athlon(she kicked butt and got 7th in her very first race!) I only rode a couple of hours on the road monday and tuesday, wednesday was the hammer fest group ride and thursday was a bit longer day. But that was it! I was freaking out a little bit but I tried to tell myself that this extra rest was going to make me fly for the weekend’s race.
I came home to my parent’s house on thursday feeling totally wiped out after a bike ride and then standing around all day at the shop getting my bike dialed. Friday didn’t prove to be any better for the legs. Grocery shopping and more bike maintainence left me feeling worn out and my legs feeling like blocks of wood by the end of the day. I went home and sat on the couch for a while before falling asleeep from being so exhausted. Not good…
The weather report had called for rain to come in thursday night and taper off friday evening or saturday morning. Fine. Tacky trail and no dust. It came late. The rain arrived at nearly noon on friday and just kept on coming. It rained and rained and rained. I could only imagine what was happening to the course up in Cool as I made PB&J sandwiches and cooked pasta for the race that I was supposed to ride the following day. My attitude towards the task at hand became worse and worse as the rain continued to fall and by the time I went to bed, I was not even looking forward to waking up the next day.
The next morning came whether I wanted it to or not though and it was still soggy outside. I was downright nervous, usually I am excited about 24s, they’re my favorite type of race. Oh well, what was there to do except load the car and drive up to Cool? Maybe it would dry out, maybe this would be the best race ever. Maybe that was crazy talk.
I arrived at the firestation and hooked up with Mike Harrison and company. They were kind enough to let me pit with them during the race and they had quite the set up going. I had never run a race with the two guys who were going to pit for me and they actually weren’t going to arrive until after the start of the race which meant I didn’t get to go over anything with they boys who would be taking care of me…. Yeah, that didn’t help with the nerves.
And then, the rain began once more. Wonderful. I tried to stay positive as the rain picked up and the start approached, but I knew that this was going to end badly. Historically, I don’t do all that well when the weather turns soggy and cold and I could only imagine what the course was going to be like after the first lap.
And speaking of the first lap, before I knew it the start had arrived and we were off and racing through the mud and the puddles and the creeks. I started the lap in a pretty decent position and escaped the bottleneck at the first singletrack. Sweet, so far so good. I could see three or four guys in front of me on different sections of the course and I could see Tinker’s lime green jacket and used that as my white rabbit. I had told myself before the race that I was not going to try to hold Tink’s wheel from the gun. That’s how I lose races, by riding other people’s races.
By the end of the first lap, Tinker was just in front of me and I was gaining on him and another rider. As I passed the two, Tink unglued himself from the other racer and latched onto my wheel. I had to control the urge to squeel! Tinker Juarez was riding on my wheel! This is insane. Do I talk to him? Do I stay silent and just ride? Okay, whatever you do, don’t fall over in front of him. Tinker and I came into the pits together and he out sprinted me for the fastest lap. I had to drop off my jacket and raise my seatpost, which had slipped, at the pit. I pulled off before crossing the line, headed for the trailer, and let Tink go race his race.
I was still totally set on going my own pace. Captain Consistency was the game plan. I caught Tinker again though while he was fixing a flat on the next lap and he caght me on lap three. I have this image burned into my brain of Tinker climbing up Knickerbocker. I had dismounted at the bottom and was walking the climb when I heard heavy breathing behind me. I looked back to see Tinker, hunched over his bike, seated and steadily turning the pedals, his legs pumping up and down like powerful pistons; his entire form, from head to toe, dyed the same color as the earth. I couldn’t help but think that an Aztec statue of a warrior had come to life and was chasing me down with one thing on it’s mind: my destruction. I let Tinker go around once again a little later in the lap. I am not racing your race.
The conditions on the course had been steadily deteriorating every lap and at this point, my eyes were already giving me trouble as they had become filled with so much debri. Glasses were nearly useless as they became walls of muck in about two minutes on the course. Not wearing glasses was just as dangerous as your vision was left completey destroyed by the flinging mud and water on the descents. I was already soaked to the bone, my feet were very cold and I was completey covered in mud. I was having some fun, but the fun factor was slowly slipping and giving way to the realization that I was expected to ride in this for another 20 hours or so. Along with this thought were thoughts of the already deteriorating condition of my bike and the question of whether I had enough clothing to actually last me the duration of the race.
Not too much later, my front brake gave out on me. I knew I had a spare caliper and by this point Matt had arrived to help me out and he had brough along his singlespeed. I hopped on his bike so that he could fix my brake and install my headlights. During this lap aboard his bike, I realized that I could barely see through the clouds that had become a very real part of my vision and I also started to realize that this course was not going to back down. That I could probably have ten spare bikes and unlimited brakes and pads and this course would simply eat them up. I began to wonder, is it worth it? Does finishing this race mean that much? Well, absolutely yes it does; but did I have the resources to make it happen and just how much damage was I willing to do to myself, my equipment, and both Casey (my other crew member who brought his bike too) and Matt’s equipment?
By the end of the lap on Matt’s bike, I could barely see the course on descents and I was having a lot of trouble imagining trying to navigate in the dark with my eyes in the condition they were in. I thought that I could probably hang on for second place if I kept going, but at what cost? Certainly the damage done to my body and bikes would out weigh the prize money that I might win if things went well. I decided to call it. To give up, to surrender. To pack it in and live to fight another day. I was no longer racing against the other competitors, I was racing against the course and the course had shown who was boss.
Strangely, I don’t feel as totally terrrible as I should for giving up in my favorite race. I guess that I have my limits, physically, mentally, and financially. I have tested my limits time and time again physically and mentally and I generally welcome the challenge. This was different, I was in a situation where my safety was in question and I had to decide whether I wanted to sacrifice my two friends’ bikes so that I could selfishly push on through the night. I know they would have let me beat their rigs into a pulp, but there’s no way I could have paid for the damages in any sort of timely fashion and it’s not as if they are in any better financial situations than myself. I think that I might have made the right choice for once, but I can’t help but wonder how things would have turned out if I’d have tried some night laps. Would my race still have ended early? Would I have just ridden until a crash ended my race or until I just plain couldn’t see anything at all? Maybe, probably. Then where would I have been? Injured and still DNF’d? No thanks.
All in all, the weekend was another learning experience to say the least. I was stoked to ride with Tinker Jaurez, even if he could have dropped me like a bad habit at any moment if he felt so inclined. I look forward to racing with him again in June and trying to give him a serious run for his money. I am dissapointed in myself for giving up, but at the same time, I think that it was a realistic and maybe even a wise thing to do. That doesn’t make it suck any less though.
As always, it was good to see all the familiar faces, though many were unrecognizable through the muck. CFR rider Kevin Smallman was there kickin ass as always, and fellow endurance race nut Sean Mcdevitt was throwin down as well. I know that about a million Sierra Nevada, Mad Cats, and Folsom Breakouts were out there making it happen too, but after about an hour everyone thing and everyone was exactly the same color which made it feel even more as though racers were out there battling the course and conditions more than they were each other…
Oh, one last thing for those of you still reading. My road bike got stolen on sunday in Folsom. So, if anyone sees a bum cruising around on a 50cm Cdale system six in the raw finish, could you tackle him for me? Thanks. I’ll see you guys at the next one!
Leave a Reply