Gear - 34 X 18
Tires - Bontrager 29-3 2.25s @ Sub-25(ish) Psi
Place - 3rd Elite
What does the above photo have to do with this race? Nothing really. I suppose I could have been in bed sleeping instead of shaving my “Wife’s away and I can’t be bothered to shave beard” into a circa 1996 set of sideburns. But that would have been smart. This race was close to home…as the Chickadee flies, but in reality it was the classic, New England “You can’t get there from here” (Say it like the Pepperidge Farms guy, say it!) thing. Rutland is smack-dab, equi-very-distant from the two major routes across the state, only accessible by twisted back roads. It might have been faster to just ride my bike there, it definitely seemed so as we u-turned, second-guessed, and backtracked our way through the labyrinthine outskirts of Worcester (pronounced WOOSTER). In the final run-up to the race venue we drove up a steep 3 mile hill, which is HUGE by Massachusetts standards, I started to think that this race might have more climbing than I’d anticipated. I was sure of it when I spoke to local Single Speed monster Paul Simoes about gearing, “Ya, I’m running a 32 X 18…this course is tough, LOTS of climbing, very technical”. OK, Paul is one of the absolute best technical riders I know, he also excels at climbing races and he always runs a much taller gear than me. I was screwed.
I think we’ve been here before…at least twice
The Elite field was solid, fellow 29er Crewer, John Foley looking to be the most formidable of the bunch. Somehow, as we came up over the first couple grassy knolls leading to the holeshot, I was in front right next to John Peterson, 2007 winner of the Verge Series in the 2/3s (this guy has The Quickness in him) he literally said “Go ahead, I don’t want it” to the hole shot, so I obliged, content to ride my own pace and block through the first couple miles of rolling doubetrack. It was a foregone conclusion that Foley would come past, and sure enough, after the second of two large stream crossings he came around, bringing Paul Simoes and John Peterson with him. I settled in, keeping them all in sight. My buddy Will Crissman and another strong-lookin’ kid I didn’t know were right there as well. Then things started to get gnarly.
The first challenge was a stretch of swampy weirdness full of wet rocks and roots, tough to clean, but rideable. Then the slippery, rocky climbs hit us, Paul was riding a lot more of it than the rest of us, I watched him uncannily crawl up over all sorts of slickness like a Spider-Goat-Monkey as I ran behind. Foley separated himself going through a dry, knock-your-teeth-right-out-of-your-head rock garden. I didn’t clean it, he did, that would be the last time I would see him.
I stuck with Paul for a while, but trying to follow him through technical singetrack is like chasing an amphetamine crazed chicken with cement blocks duct taped to your hands and feet. This was his backyard and I was an unwelcome guest, it was only a matter of time before I bobbled on a tough move as he Ninja-Jedied his way right through it. Getting a 1 minute gap in short time. I think that gap would fluctuate throughout the rest of the race, eventually settling at around a minute. At some point John Peterson came past me as did the unknown fast kid. I was struggling to grind my silly-stupid gear up the major climb of the race, the sitting spinners were eating me alive on that thing. Thoughts of more appropriate gear ratios had to be pushed out the side of my brain as thoughts like “Just stay on the bike” and “C’mon spin it up!” were crammed in.
While railing down one of the rooty, rocky descents, unknown fast-kid went tumbling off the trail, it was the type of crash where you stop and ask the guy if he’s alright. I say you stop, I just rode past and yelled “See ya later sucker!”. I’m kidding. I made sure he was walking and talking and then continued on. I guess he DNFed, never did see him again. Shortly after that I came upon Peterson who was looking uncharacteristically lethargic. Apparently he had whacked a tree pretty good, he started the second 9 mile lap with me but would ultimately drop out. This put me back in 3rd position behind Paul and John. I heard varying reports of how far up they were on me, “First and second are just 45 seconds or a minute up!”. This turned out to be true of Paul in second, but Foley was long gone heading for the win.
The course was complex, simply cleaning certain sections were like small victories in the midst of defeat. I was most stoked to ride the dry, extended rock garden, I botched it first lap (as Foley escaped), second lap I cleaned it, only to blow the short, steep climb out of of it. Third lap I nailed the whole deal. I was ready to go home right then but I still had miles and miles of rocky rootiness to contend with. Somewhere in there I swore something reached out of the muck and grabbed my foot, sending me sailing into a swampy section head first.
With the taunts of “They’re just ahead”, I tried to rally, I’d turn the key only to hear sounds of a starter grinding but no ignition occurring. I pedaled as hard as I could down the finishing stretch along the lake, hoping to see Paul ahead but knowing that I was fast running out of trail. I never would find him, finishing a minute down, happy to not get beat horribly badly on Paul’s home court. Foley, that’s a another matter, he smoked us all. Nice one John! Right behind me was Mike Patrick, the toughest guy I know. I whine about having to work too much during race season, that guy hopes his new Chemo doesn’t give him horrible seizures during races. So it was a good day for The 29er Crew, three of the top five were Crew, but five of the top six were on 29ers, all Fishers, and three of them single speeds. How crazy is that?
All together a great event; close to home (if you don’t get lost), amazing and challenging, totally epic mountain bike course, decent payouts (and timely too), barbecue included in the entry fee, and swimming ten yards from the finish line. I’ll be back next year for sure…maybe with a smaller gear and hopefully with a few more Ninja skills in my bag.
