Winter Park Race 2 - The Cross Country Super Loop

I sat straight up in bed at 5:30am Sunday morning. I was wide awake after only 5 hours of sleep and fired up ready to race. The problem was the race didn't start for 5 more hours and I could have used a little more sleep. I closed my eyes for the next hour until my alarm went off, but couldn't fall back asleep.

M Coupe Loaded Up and Ready to Go

The M Coupe was loaded and Jo and I were on our way by 7:00am. The drive over Berthoud Pass on the way to Winterpark in the M Coupe is arguably as fun as the race. I'll just say we didn't get much rest on the drive and arrived at the race with high levels of fear, excitement, and adrenaline!

Mountains, Turns, and Smiles over Berthoud Pass

Jo and I having Arrived Safely at Winter Park

The Rest of Our Crew Before the Race

I appologize for the lack of pictures for the rest of the post, I couldn't find anyone to give my camera to.

After a solid 40 minute warm up and the mandatory pre-race bathroom pit stop I lined up with my age group. It's so hard to tell by looks how good the competition is. Some looked like seasoned professionals and some looked bike path warriors. I reserved passing judgement and focused on riding my own race.

When the gun sounded (actually there was no gun, someone just said "Go!") I found myself towards the front after just a few pedal strokes. I felt strong and after a few more pedal strokes I was in the lead. With the course starting at 9100 feet and a long climb ahead I got paranoid that I might crack and put myself on a leash, settling into 4th place. It didn't last, by the first switchback the entire pack had slowed down except for a guy named Matt in an Australia jersey. I felt strong so I attacked him and went off the front and opening a nice gab. As the fire road climb continued my gab widened and I started working my way through the stragglers of the preceding age group. At the start of the single track I was alone and in the lead! It felt good to be in the lead, but I knew it was a long race and tried not to get a big head over it.

After a short single track downhill the course started a long single track climb. I maintained my lead throughout the climb into a long flat section. I upshifted into a big gear used the Superfly's 29 inch wheels to speed across the couple miles of flat double track. I should have had an advantage on the entire section, but near the end I heard someone on my wheel. It was Matt sporting his Australia kit. He caught me and even worse on his 26 inch full suspension bike.

We traded places throughout the next 4 miles. I never let him ride off my front wheel and at times I would ride off his, but he would always catch me. It was racing as pure as it gets, both of us racing for the lead. Then I made a mistake that has been haunting me ever since. I didn't have a chance to pre-ride the course and the race organizers had changed it last minute by adding a couple miles and another climb to the end. As we rode up what I thought was the final climb, knowledge of the course ahead would have been invaluable.

I had just taken over the lead again on a steep straight fire road section. At the top of the hill I could see a course marshall and riders starting a downhill to the left. Thinking it was the top of the climb, I buried myself on the climb going deeply anaerobic in the process. By the time I reached the top I had opened up a nice gab and was feeling good until I saw that the course went right instead of left. The people going left were descending from the other side of a taped divider and the course marshall. To my right the course when straight up a rocky, root filled, gully. My heart sank, but determined not to lose first and pushed on. Going ever deeper anaerobic I powered up the first couple switchbacks. The climb seemed to go on and on in a never ending hell of roots and rocks. One advantage of being in first is that you can set the pace on climbs. I was already in my granny gear, but I slowed my cadence so I'd have some energy left to sprint to the finish on. It wasn't long before I heard the familiar sound of Matt on my rear wheel. He didn't pass me, instead choosing to ride my wheel for the entire climb.

Finally, the trail turned downward. Looking forward for a chance to recover and thinking it was all down hill my hopes of winning the race were strong. Unfortunately, neither would happen. The carbon hard tail design of the Superfly takes significant "whole body effort" to descend technical trails as fast as a full suspension bike. The more technical the trail, the more effort is required. The descent as I would find out was unrelenting, there would be no opportunity to recover. Halfway down I found myself cramping in areas I didn't even know could cramp. My fingers, wrists, arms, shoulders, back, abs and even ankles were all teetering on the verge of complete lock up. My abs were the worst, burning like I was on 999 of 1000 sit ups (as if I could do even 100). I slipped into survival mode and when the trail spit me out on a fire road near the bottom my lack of course knowledge caught up to me again.

Across the fire road the course started up a short 180 degree turning climb. I was cracked. As I dropped into my granny gear it was all I could do to turn the pedals over. The painful descent had taken a far worse toll than I had expected. I knew I was going to lose first and it was humiliating to have lost it on what used to be my greatest strength - Descending. Matt knew it too and attacked. I watched helpless as he slipped away with a small pack of leaders from the previous age group. The climb turned out to be relatively short, but the descent that followed was every bit as painful as the first. In survival mode, I made it down thinking I was in a solid second place but that was not to be.

Right near the end I heard "On your left", the signal to pass. I moved over thinking it was someone in a younger age group. I was wrong, it turned out to be someone in my class. Damn! How could I just let him by!! I screamed inside for some aggression, for some juice, for one last burst to reel him in, but I was cracked so bad nothing answered my call. It was like I was a spectator in my own body. I watched him sprint away, finishing 7.6 seconds behind him in third. I was 1 minute, 1.6 seconds behind Matt. Crossing the line in third after being in first for the majority of the race stung bad. It's one thing to finish third by working your way up to it from behind. It's completely different to end up in third because you lost first and second. Ouch! Don't get me wrong, I was glad to represent Phoenix Mulitsport on the Podium, I just would have rather done it from the center!

On the Podium with my Glass and Medal

Jo rode her single speed to a second place finish. I can't even imagine how much riding a single speed on that course must have hurt.

Jo Winning Second



Glad to be Done

In hind sight, I obviously went out too hard and accurate course knowledge would have prevented my poor energy management. It was also a valuable learning experience. I think losing is a much greater learning tool than winning. It feels good to win, but sometimes improvement has to earned through hardship. If I'm going to compete in a world of full suspensions, I need to condition my entire body to handle sustained technical descents at race speeds on the Superfly. The pro's win races on hard tails, there is no reason I shouldn't be able to either. I'm going to incorporate a long technical ride into my training week to brush up on my tech skills. I've been focusing so much on fitness and climbing that I neglected my natural strengths. Technical riding and descending.

I move on now, full speed ahead, into The Laramie Enduro preparation. This includes building up my base a little with much longer rides and ironing out some of the weaknesses mentioned above while not loosing the gains I've made in my climbing and fitness.