|   Cool mtb race recap (xpost w/passion) | Roger
Feb 19, 2002 9:49 AM | | It seems there's one more thing you can count on this life other than death and taxes, and that's that the Cool mountainbike race will be cold, wet, and muddy. Like last year, and the year before that, and year before that, Mother Nature awed us with warm weather leading into the week of the race, and moments before the sunset on the eve of race day let loose with a deluge of rain, hail, and icy temperatures to ensure, that no one would go home without mud in their eye.
The rain continued thru the night and into the morning. Standing in line for check in, I was already wet and my hands numb. Both my wife and I were racing single speeds. And a first, they had a women's SS category (VERY COOL!) Single speeds are the bike of choice not only for this course, but for your wallet. Cool, will thrash all but the strongest parts on a bike, leaving racers cussing at every mis-shift.
After a warm up that consisted of my wife and I sitting in the front seat of our car, huddled up the heater vents, we made our way to the start/finish area. Andy Olmstead who's father of which the course we raced on is named after, gave a brief history of the Olmstead loop that his father helped legalize and the mtb race he helped create but was unable to experience due to his premature passing. There was a moment of silence and quiet thank you's to Mr. Olmstead.
At the start, oh what a group. There's over 25 of us racing in the single speed category. A very large field and some very fast racers. Glancing around, who's that I notice on my right a couple racers over in the geared pro expert, Marla Streb? Very Cool, Marla's out mucking it up with the rest of us wet and cold folk. The pro/expert take off, two minutes to our (SS) start. Light harded jawing takes place between a few of us, two of which are the winner and second place finisher from last year who dueled it out for twenty miles and finished within a wheel of each other.
On your mark, get set, and go! Vroom or I mean huff and puff. We jet out the start it's slick and wet shoulders and bars are bumping, this looks like a MX Supercross race at this point, all of us up front aren't giving an inch, as the wide road we're on is narrowing into an eight foot opening into the dirt/mud. Two guys push it, the rest of us fall in. Not even 200 yards into the dirt, I can't see crap out of my glasses. The rain has slowed to a light drizzle, not good for racing, the peanutbutter is coming.
Hard left, into a steep pitch, stomp, slide, shift body weight, get the tire to dig in. Grind, grind, summit, fast downhill, sweeper right at the bottom, pick a puddle or rut lean back and hope it's not deep or real soft. First climb, not long, but it separates the men from the boys so to speak. Those that can hang on will fight for the top positions, those that don't can watch as the lead group disappears forever over the summit of the climb. I know this, because I've experienced being blown out the back.
There's a group of seven of us, making our way up this climb, the breathing has calmed. The anxiety and rush that comes from the start has faded. Now it's just hard, it just hurts, and it becomes a test of how much and long you can bare it.
The longest descent arrives, it's fast and like everything else on this course, it's slippery. There's no good line, you just follow the front wheel and hope you stay up right. Down an off camber right hander, my front wheel decides to go right while my bike continues to go forward. I tripod with my leg managing not to hit the ground, but now I've been tossed out the back of the group. Dammit! I'm pedaling again and gaining speed, I can see the remnant of a helmet as I come thru each sweeping curve.
At the bottom, across a stream into the steepest climb of the course. It's about 150 yards long and on a dry day it's very very hard, on a wet day close to impossible. We've already meshed with the pro/expert cat. So riders are skewed across the steep hiking, five of the SS leaders are still grouped together jogging/hiking but already at the top of the climb, the sixth close behind them. I let my legs go limp take a couple deep breaths and then attack, mashing my 180s up the right side of the climb. Trying to gain back a few seconds of what I had lost. I make it up a portion of a climb before running out of real estate and traction. I jump off my bike, legs and lungs aching. I egg my legs to move faster. I crest the top, throw a leg over the bike and head down the next descent.
I pass two expert riders, and swing a wide left on to the longest fireroad climb. The first pitch of the climb is steep, I split Marla Streb and another expert rider and continue to grunt up the climb. I reach a local pro racer Jaime Whitmore (remember the name, she's strong and very very fast), exchange grunts, and I try to move past her. She puts it down and I fade back. Come into the clear, and the climb turns right and gets muddier and steeper. The lead SS group has already crested and I've lost ground. I'm fading. Rather than blow up chasing, I back off and figure my best bet is to ride smart, hold my position and see what happens. I grind the rest of the first lap, catching another expert rider and friend. He acknowledges that I'm doing good and that I'm only a minute or two behind the lead racers.
Coming across a swampy bridge crossing, James yells to me to follow his line off the left side of the bridge. I do but I'm to close and have to veer a lil left of where he landed. A lil left was way to much, the swamp/stream was close to three feet deep, I found myself coming up with a mouthful of water and my bike buried and moss and gunk. I grab my bike and run thru this swampy field to the rutted trail. I catch back up to James, give him " a nice line" jab and pass him into the next climb, still coughing up water and spitting out algae.
Thru the start/finish on to my second lap, I've resigned myself to what seems to be a seventh place finish. I've ridden stronger than I expected, so catching anyone would be a consolation. I glance back on one of the climbs, and there's no one behind me I've dropped James and no one seems to be closing. I back off and cruise safely down the descent into the steep climb.
Coming up the steep hike a bike climb, a rider is on the left with a flat, he needs a pump so I toss him mine. It's the sixth place guy in the SS cat (Kenny O. who won Dville last year), cool I've moved up a spot. I press on taking it easy up the climb figuring I have all day since it didn't appear anyone was close to catching me. I roll the next descent and grunt up the next climb, my legs are fading a little, so I get off and walk the last ¼ of the climb. I glance over my shoulder and out of nowhere has appeared an SS racer on an IF, the guy must have hammered the previous climb and this one. I encourage him that he's doing great, he says that it's starting to hurt bad. Refreshed from my walk of the last ¼ of the climb, I jump on my bike and tear away hard, to get a gap. He baked himself on the climb and wasn't able to go, so I'd gotten away with racing so casual the last few miles. I upped my tempo and decided if he had caught me, there may be others.
Down the next descent, to the same swampy bridge crossing, this time I'll jump off the rightside of the bridge to avoid what happened last lap. Lean back, point the wheel, where'd my bike go. I crash on my neck and shoulder into the swampy crap AGAIN! Oh man that hurt, no time to figure out what happen. I pick myself up and run thru the swamp and to the trail. There are two riders coming into the bottom of the climb, I pass them and grind my way over the summit.
I keep the rpm's up thru the remaining rollers and come to the finish where shouts of "jump! jump! jump!" are screamed. From the top of the hill looking down all you can see is 100s of different lines zigging and zagging this way and that across a mud bog and then to the stream that you have to jump. I glance over my shoulder to make sure no riders are coming up on me, coast into the ruts and jog up to the line for a sixth place finish.
What was also cool about this event is that they had a Womens' SS cat. My wife was also racing her single speed, but she broke her chain about five miles in and wasn't able to fix it. She was quite bummed. Sorry Amanda. ;0(
As always, the modest looking Olmstead loop served up a hearty bowl of mud, sweat, and suffering, can't wait till next year. |
| nice job! | DAS
Feb 19, 2002 3:52 PM | | Sounds like muddy fun. |
| Nice job and great description of the race nm | Timan
Feb 20, 2002 10:15 AM | | nm |
| great post!!! | moschika
Feb 21, 2002 8:20 AM | | i like the peanut butter description.
Thanks!! |
| re: Cool mtb race recap (xpost w/passion) | Bsurges
Feb 21, 2002 11:39 AM | | Nice write up Roger, readers can really get a sense of what the Cool race is about,although you must experience it first hand to feel the pain.It was unfortunate for Kenny , but he still placed respectively.The Cool race is a must for any norcal singlespeeder and a great way to start the season.P.S. I came in 3, same as last year, I guess there may well be a fourth thing one can count on each year. |
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