2023 Gravel Nationals in VA

Warning: This screed may not be appropriate for public consumption as I've referenced zoophilia.
I know someone somewhere just wants to say,

"C'mon, what's wrong with loving Zoo's?"

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Rambling preamble: The Gravel Grinder National Championship drew a crowd primarily from the mid-atlantic area. Plenty of east coast hitters showed up to race in the transcendent ‘spirit of gravel’. Like anything transcendent, the S.o.G. means different things to different people. The very idea of a Gravel Natz may offend the S.o.G. Nevertheless, riding a bike for two fifty mile loops transcends most people's aspirations for a bicycle. It's not to run an errand, commute to work, or accomplish anything material. It's not to enjoy leisure time w/ family or friends. It's not utilitarian, timeless, or useful. But for some, it simply must be done. It must be experienced. For many long concurrent hours. It offers a range of experiences for much longer than most anyone would want to experience those specific experiences. This includes that feeling of being on the metabolic limit for way too long. Feeling groupthink dictate how fast and furious you will climb, and descend, and generally hammer away at the pedals. Feeling the margins of one's risk profile stretch and blebb into uncharted territory. Everyone knows of a collar bone that has probed too far into these boundaries. To be fair, many races may be described with such experiences. The 100 mile gravel race is just longer than most. Not as long as Unbound in distance, and not as long in time as the equivalent 100 mile MTB races. Nevertheless, it encourages the participants to grapple with their life choices for hours on end. Especially as they get closer to the end which stretches time out into long painful pieces of existential discomfort.

Overview Last year my bestie frienemies finished this race in under 6 hours. With a swollen knee and twingy calf from a recent garage race fixie wreck (rolled tubie), I set my sights on 5.75hrs as a good (Leadville training) day in the saddle. The threat of rain constrained the number of starters to 238 registered and only 137 in for the full pull. Without giving away the ending, less than 100 finished the 100 mile course; the fastest in less than 5 hours, the slowest, almost double that.

The Start: It was a neutral roll out for the first two miles while everyone jostled for a place near the front. As soon as we turned onto the gravel, the pace turned ‘brisk’ and stayed that way till the end. The front group coalesced into about 30 riders fairly quickly. An hour in, on a sudden climb, I bobbled off the road and briefly off my bike. The fast-pack-o-thirty whirred past. Although I kept the pack within sight for a while, there were at least 20 of those front riders I would never see again, including District Taco teammates Jason (lil Rhino) Cooper and Stefan-Z, as well as the top two riders in my age group. (Robinson & Rojas, both Battley cat 1s in Road and CX respectively with >500 races between them). I noted Mr. GoFast Cordaro with a shifting malfunction struggling to find a go fast gear. As the front group motored away, the ‘chase’ group formed up behind, first just two of us, then three, and as dribs and drabs leaked back to our swelling numbers, it got as big as eleven.

At one point we passed PJ on the side of the road suffering with a broken collarbone and B-rad G-Berg diligently attending to him. The A group had led PJ blindly into a pair of sudden pot-holes that bounced him upside down. B-rad earned a golden halo & wings for stopping to give aid to his competitor and he later still finished first in the single speed division.

At one point, our group of ten came to a FULL stop (both feet on the gravel ground) to let two women on horses ride past. Slowly. One of the Karens raged, berating us the entire time. Yelling continuously as she SLOWLY ambled past. With f-bombs emphasizing her displeasure, she diligently explained we should not be there. She lived in the area, so we were on her (public) road and we should all go back to F*cking Faifax. I get it. I'm white and entitled, and she’s white and entitled. We had that much in common. She felt like public space is her personal playground to use as she sees fit at the expense of everyone else. I think public space should be a venue to make fun of people like her...but unlike her, I held my tongue at the time. Now I’m going to assume her horse’s name is Fairfax so she can go back to f*cking Fairfax too. I’m reminded of the redneck truck driver months ago who turned around so he could calmly and menacingly tell my cycling group "you need to choose a different road to ride on". He too can take his turn F*cking Fairfax. But I digress.

Passing through the 50 mile aid station, half the group stopped to refuel. I chose poorly, eschewing extra supplies, “attacking the neutral zone”, and dishonoring the ‘spirit of gravel’ with relish. Carrying a brand new hydrasac for the first time in a race (a surprisingly comfortable USWE), I had consumed the equivalent of three bottles in the first 50 miles and still had two bottles on my bike. I didn’t realize I’d already consumed half of each, so I was out of water by mile 65, food by mile 75, and energy at mile 90. Somewhere near the end, an anti-social pair went clear off the front without looking serious about it (they were serious), Covas went clear off the back looking as serious as the grave while I hung onto the back of the group of 8 (soon to be 7) by my fingernails. (I later learned the 50+ 3rd place finisher was in the group). As I noticed we had been racing for almost 5 hours, I seriously miscalculated and concluded I still had 45 minutes of riding left. So on the next slight rise with just over 5 miles to the finish, the lights flickered, the legs flagged, the bleak near-future broke my brain, and I went temporarily dark, questioning my life choices. The grupo seven rode away and I slow-pedaled forever. Forever, surprisingly turned into only 17 long minutes of existential discomfort. Finishing in 5:17 was good enough for 4th place in the 50+. The happy ending is that the end was at a brewery. There was much self-medicating and imbibing general anesthesia but I only had one. Since PJ got clinically medicated I drove his car back to DC.

prologue:
Special thanks to MikeT (who finished 6th in the 55+ despite still recovering from R2R) for driving us out. Lil Rhino, the fastest taco, stuck w/ the front group, clocked an impressive sub 5 hrs, winning the 35+ field and finishing in the top ten overall. Mr. GoFast struggled with an unplanned intermittent single speed and an ignominious 15 minute wrong turn out & back, but still managed to finish 6th, just behind teammate B-tell (who shaved 30 minutes off his time from last year). Mary, who is no stranger to National Championships, won her division and was the first female overall.

Two years to get to Emporia Kansas

I’m going to do a 200 mile one day gravel race on my bicycle next June. Between now and then I’m going to ramble on about it. A little TMI and TL:DR mixed with tangents and obscure references. Sometimes w/ references.

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Since 2006, the Unbound gravel race in Emporia Kansas has been the "World's Premiere Gravel Grinder". (Legen 2017). In the summer of 1992, fifteen years earlier, I stepped onto the campus of Emporia State University with the intention of studying how local songbird populations are affected by brood parasitism by Brown-headed Cowbirds. Coincidently, Dr. Brown (who is not brown-headed) was directing the research. I assumed brood parasitism was the most exciting thing that EVER happened in the middle of Kansas; Or would EVER happen again. Of course this was naive because the greatest gravel race EVER would eventually emerge in the middle of Kansas. Even more interesting is that around 10,000 yrs earlier, Asian interlopers sauntered into the area and initiated the “Pleistocene overkill”. An early tiktok eating challenge that resulted in the extinction of all large ice-age mammals including mammoths, camels, ground sloths and horses. (Gill 1999) As described by Monty Python’s historical documentary:

"And the people did feast upon the lambs and sloths, and carp and anchovies, and orangutans and breakfast cereals, and fruit-bats and large chu…" (Cleese 1975)

I’ll skip a bit to avoid digressing.
On January 27th of 2020, 28 years after my only other trip to emporia, I found out I “won” the registration lottery and was invited to race what was called the Dirty Kanza 200 at that time. A few weeks later, I bought a 7yr old baby-blue Giant TCX to race MonsterCX with the intention of using it to tackle the flinty backroads around the middle of Kansas. (Where Sid the sloth and Ellie the mammoth once roamed, before satiating my peoples insatiable appetite for extinction (Wilson, 2002)).

My race notes that year were brief:
MCX: 3rd of 117 in 50+ AARP greybeards field.
Official Time: 2:55:27
Felt good for two hours and seven minutes, then a bobble through a corner and lightning cramps popped me off the back of the group of ten.
Solo’d the last 45min.
First ride on the Giant TCX. Light & whippy
Tires: Maxxis Ramblers 40s. Solid. No flats.
Big Tiki group of friends representing DC Made the ride extra fun.
A long weekend in RVA with the Durham peeps is a yearly tradition to look forward to.
Next up, Dirty Kanza 2020!!!

That was naive. Two years, and a worldwide epidemic later, DK200 is now rebranded as Garmin Unbound. Once again, I lined up for MonsterCX (last weekend) on the same set of ramblers 40s but on a new cobalt-blue whip #Cobaltbikes and a new cycling team. #DTRacing.
I’ll post an updated version of the MCX race report next and periodic thoughts on training for a 200mile gravel race.
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References:
Cleese, John et al. Monty Python and the Holy Grail. (1975)
Gille, Frank H. ed. Encyclopedia of Kansas Indians Tribes, Nations and People of the Plains (1999)
Legan, Nick (20 December 2017). Gravel Cycling: The Complete Guide to Gravel Racing and Adventure Bikepacking. VeloPress. ISBN 978-1-937716-98-1.
Wilson, Michael J. Ice Age (2002).

2021 Dirty Kitten Gravel Purrito Surpreme

With 6hrs of Woodstock as a lesson in that too much food & water reduces the possibility of certain disaster, my Plan A was to consume 2 bottles and 2 gels per lap. Plan B: go w/ Plan A.

Course: 20 miles (32km) 4 laps. Two climbs: one a kilometer from the start/finish, and the ‘Kitten crusher climb’ at 20km.

Poptart drove and charitably provided coffee. For the sake of a Sheetz stop, B-rad insisted we meet at 5:10 instead of 5:20 then showed up at 5:30. I’m over it. Finally. He rolled up disheveled and disgruntled because he had waited until his alarm went off to figure out his own fuel plan. His Plan A was to carry two bottles in a skinsuit which can’t even carry one’s own dignity when walking through a Sheetz at 6am. His Plan B was to use a just-arrived from Ebay, ‘pre-owned’, abused, and packaged wet, skanked, nasty smelling slimy camelback. Both these plans tracked perfectly with riding a singlespeed with 32 slicks for 80 miles on a course that will punish you for all your decisions. You’re free to choose, but not free from the consequences. Obviously, since I was carpooling with Poptart & B-rad, it was a listening tour for me en route to Rapidan. As B-rad was a Sheetz regular and makes note-worthy decisions, I got what he got, a surprisingly not terrible pair of mini burritos.

Lap 1: The start was controlled for the first few minutes by a glorified golf cart. I started with a clump of fellow NCVC riders about 30 riders back. Ben Wright, Catanzaro, Kozicki, Driscoll, McCollum, PJ, Pete Custer et al populated the engine room at the very front. I started moving up the moment the road pitched up. Two riders dismounted on either side of me which caused a split. Fellow teammate Josh Dannemiller (JDann for brevity) was on the wrong side of it. I found myself at the back of a group of 10+ after we crested but 15 minutes later a larger chase group caught up. Curtis Alia was the only other stars-n-bars in the group. He would go on to finish a crazy strong 5th overall. I felt relatively comfortable (sustainable for perhaps another hour but not five) surfing wheels and never getting closer than 5 riders from the front BUT, just before the turn toward the Kitten crusher climb, I moved off the road and into a deepening ditch at high speed. The overgrown vines caught my handlebar, and I went sideways. Re-chained, and chasing, I was immediately 20 seconds adrift. The group ahead remained within sight until the penultimate turn onto the climb up the kitten crusher. Up the crusher the first time, I quickly calculated that cross-gearing was not worth the effort and I chose the ignominious walk of masses. I also noted my hanger was bent since my spokes were clattering across my over-extended derailleur. On the other side of the climb, I eased into recovery mode and noted an NCVC rider approaching. It was a chasing JDann who admitted he was going into the red trying to catch the front group (a decision the DKG questioned). I surfed the JDann express off and on until the next time over the crusher. But not before I wrecked in the next sandy corner for my second and final silly sideways fandango. Then I sucked my chain into my cassette on the next riser.

Lap 2: I rolled into the start/finish and picked up a bottle then promptly sucked my chain into my cassette again. That would happen three more times over as many hours, as fate chose to push my buttons even though I specifically asked fate not to touch my f****** buttons. I worked with a few others to catch back onto JDann then he dropped them and took me with him. *swoon. The second time up the crusher when I dismounted, I looked back and was surprised to see JDann off his bike and looking like he’d seen a ghost. I thought I was the one hallucinating but later I would learn he was busy blacking-out. DKG will punish you for all your questionable decisions. At the top I chose bacon. An excellent choice.

Lap 3: I coasted into the start finish, picked up two bottles and a cold washcloth. A group of four showed up while I was contemplating the penultimate lap three which I had carefully planned to be the most miserable of the four. I wrapped myself in a mental blanket of certain anguish and let myself fall into the group of four. One guy was (leading) 55+ and I assumed the other three were 45+ so I weakly traded pulls and did my best to look pathetic. The third time up the crusher, I accepted a gel (chocolate espresso FTW. A second excellent choice) then the 55+ rider and I, surprisingly, dropped the other three pretenders and worked together until the start of the fourth lap.

Lap 4: At the start/finish I picked up two bottles and consumed both. On the backside of the start climb, I was alone, out of water chasing a ghost up the road and running from ghosts behind me. And the blanket of anguish which I’d failed to leave on lap 3, weighed heavy. Not part of the plan. At the top of the crusher, I croaked for water and found salvation. On the backside of the climb a blond Battley angel named Jill caught me and paced me to the end then offered me a glorious coke at the finish. Then I assume she ascended into heaven. I descended into a puddle. A Poptart angel guided my lost soul to the hamburger and beer station. But heaven wouldn’t have him. I assume because Bezos is the modern-day golden calf.

In brief:

Dirty Kitten Gravel 4th of 25 in 45+ Less technical than Monstercross but DKG had deeper and more consistent chunky wheel-sucking, squirrely gravel.
Maxxis Rambler 40s worked but larger tires would be more comfortable

two bloody wrecks
bent hanger
5 cassette chain suck

https://runsignup.com/Race/Results/79259#resultSetId-263840;perpage:100

pre-race
coffee
2 sheetz mini burritos
30oz water

In race
6.5btls water
5 gel (90mg caffeine)
1 block
1 bacon

2013 CX worlds in Louisville KY

Sign at the Airport in Loo'vul


Cool kids in fresh boots

Wednesday.
 Course conditions: Mostly flat. Two steep (muddy) run-ups one after another the second had stairs. Soupy. Muddy. Sloppy. Chilly. 45 degrees Result: 19th

  The course: Rain delayed the initial start times for 2 hours. (who delays cx for rain?!!!) The five earlier races turned the already wet field punctuated with shallow ponds of standing water, into a continuous mudfest. Long stretches of unabated bog-track were interrupted by periodic but brief rollers topped with shadows of what was previously grass. The slick muck turned what would have been a simple ride-over set of low double stairs at the top of an S-turn, into a treacherous centrifugal force problem and side-ways slip-n-slide. The two extended run-ups demanded that each step involve jabbing one’s toe violently into the side of the hill for purchase. The two descents were appropriately harrowing. One was a wide off-camber S-turn, terminating into a drainage ditch with half a foot of standing murky water. The second was a mild bending screamer back through the draining ditch of standing icy water. The two run-ups were connected along a high straight section that counter-intuitively, turned out to be the deepest, muddiest part of the course. Some chose to run the entire section instead of turning the ridiculously sluggish gears of insanity.

 
After the barriers on the first lap still clean as a cucumber.....

The race: The field was divided into three elimination heats, run sequentially. By random draw I landed on the back row of the second heat with bib #95. As the fifth overall race of the day, the churned course was a frothy chocolate delicious mess. The start was the fastest part of the race; and then we hit the first standing pool of water on top of mud. Individually and collectively, the pack yawed crazily, everyone hemming & hawing in multiple directions. When I glanced back on the first turn I had managed to hit the uber-selective lantern-rouge reverse-hole-shot. I was DFL into the constriction. It was even more tragic due to the truncated 2-lap format. I would like to say I was "settling into a groove" on the second and final lap but really I was really settling into a cycle of abuse. For inspiration during the kick-step run up, I imagined I was kicking the course in its filthy taint with angry disdain. I felt I had a decent kick-step technique, doing some imaginary grundle damage, but then, the course kicked me. I performed a cartoon-like mid-run endo onto my face. How does one endo while running uphill, while pushing a bike? My hands didn't leave the bars until I had buried my face in the side of the hill. The monotonous, soul-sucking, slow, mud-crawling, constant-power, no-rest-anywhere played to all my weakness. All work no play makes Luke a dull boy. And it showed. I finished 19th, squeaking into the top 25 which was the cut-off for qualifying for the finals.


 
Walking toward the finish line after the race. . 

Friday:
Course conditions: Same course, but not really. Conditions: Soupy. Frozen. Muddy. Crusty. Sloppy AND icy. Rutted. Unforgiving. Bike-killing. Under 20 degrees. Result: 55th

 The course: Strangely, part of the course was slow, tricky, bouncy, deeply latticed, heavily rutted, & frozen sold, but much of the course was slow, sticky, muddy, sloppy, mucky, & generally similar to wednesdays conditions. The odd bit is the fact that the two parts ran concurrently & parallel, next to each-other. This made the transition between the two, (especially into and out of corners) delightfully comical. The other pleasant surprise, unlike wednesday, is the speed at which the muck froze unyieldingly onto the frame, spokes, brakes, shifters, & one's will to live. The top finishers pitted every half lap. I overheard that at least one of the top three brought four bikes and a full pit-crew. I brought an extra bike but due to UCI regulations, Shane wasn't issued a "pit-pass" because she's not a UCI US Cycling license holder. Wednesday's mud didn't stick, but Friday's mud was a different animal.

 
colder & colder

  The Race: With a longer format, I like to pretend I get stronger over time. I'm not that much stronger over time. Earning bib #56, I rolled into the middle of the pack. The start played out similarly to Wednesday except that I was in the middle of the sideways shimmy-slide into the first standing pool of water-on-mud. I managed to hold position but this time the ice-mud wanted to ride along. On everything. Most racers handed their mud-beasts off to their pit crew at the first chance of a fresh ride. I figured I'd need to go 2 laps before I could switch. After a lap & a half I was just outside of the top 30, but without a front brake, or functioning derailleurs, or any residual joy. The Fuji had gained a significant amount of winter-weight in frozen mud and sadness. For the first time in my CX career, I rolled into the pit for a bike exchange and in my bleary-eyed, dull-brained haste, rolled out the wrong side going the opposite direction. I corrected, rolled back through the pit of despair, and chased down as many lost places as I could but the leaders chased me down from behind well before the final lap. I didn't even make the penultimate lap and enjoyed my first ignominious "you-got-pulled" experience. Only 25 finished the final lap. At 16th, Kris Auer [the speedy b*st*rd that (easily) kept me off the top spot at Ed Sanders this year] was the highest placing MABRA racer. His team-mate and my other mabra nemesis (although I doubt he knows it), Joe Lillibridge finished within reach of my cold-dead fingers.

  Observations: Colorado and specifically Boulder is King of CX. Although a solo feller from Nebraska took the top spot, Colorado brought 12 racers, 7 were in the top 12. 30 states plus Spain, Canada and DC were represented in my field. AZ, SC, & KY failed to qualify for the finals. Spain nabbed 4th. Canada clipped 9th I expected that the race would attract a lot of semi-local big-fish-in-a-little-pond Midwesternappalachiasoutherners (I’m still vague about Kentucky’s exact location) but I was surprised at how far away folks traveled. Since I’m from Texas, my geography is terrible. I didn’t know the 7 states that border Kentucky: Tennesse, Missouri, Illinois, Indiana, Ohio, West Virginia, and Virginia. Less than a third in my field were from these states.

 
WHERES THE DERAILLER? 
 

Lessons: 1) A pit crew can make a huge difference when conditions are muddy AND frozen. Except for a few flats, I’ve never been in a race that demanded real help in the pits. 2) My expectations were a too high. Taking a three-week eating tour across Texas over the holidays didn’t help my cause but I'm also not as fast as I think.

  Extra Special Thanks:
 Brook Edinger for letting me borrow his bike.
 El Knightsberry for lending me (and Tony) each a set of really nice wheels/tires.

  Pro Race on Saturday: This is really why we traveled. The pro races were a separate category of beautiful cycling. The Dutch and Belgium teams put on a clinic of unabashed technical prowess. In all races (Juniors, Women’s, under 21 and pros). Shane & I volunteered at a crossing point for the first two races of the morning (Juniors and Women’s) and I was surprised at how many folks from the DC area made the trip. The UCI was hoping for 4,000 fans. The venue got 8,000 screaming fanatics. From the leaders all the way to the back of the pack, we (the fans) were screaming our faces off. American fans showed up in force and brought their drunken A-game. As an example; at the rear of the pro race was a single Australian racer being chased by a single New Zealander. As each went by shouts of “AUSSIE!!! AUSSIE!!! AUSSIE!!! AUSSIE!!! AUSSIE!!!YEEEAAAHHHH” were quickly followed by “KIWI!!! KIWI!!! KIWI!!! KIWI!!! KIWI!!!GOOOOO!!!!”

 
One of the American racers slogging along for the fans.

From what saw and later read, the European fans and press were duly impressed with the end result despite some financial & scheduling hiccoughs along the way. Financial: apparently they ran out of money a month before the race. Scheduling: The Sunday finals had to be moved to Saturday due the encroaching flooding river next to the venue.

 
Rising river next to the race venue.

Tour of Page County Criterium Race Report

Team:
Nick Bradford
Mike Brindza
Andre “Gravy-Please” Gondouin
Nick “Mo-gravy” Steber
Andrew “Show-me-the-gravy” Shoaff
Dennis “Fruit-cup, hold the gravy” Turbeville
Chris “Dough-boy” Dougherty
Matt “Endo” Rosier

The circuit was definitely challenging due to the significant climb up main street coupled with the extra hot weather. The previous day’s road race also took its toll (on at least one face). The caloric grease bomb breakfast of potatos, bacon, ham & eggs topped with sausage/chipped-beef gravy that Andre, Steber & Sho-off sho-nuff wolfed down beforehand at the local diner, may have also contributed to its difficulty. Despite his dainty fruit cup, Turbo still suffered gastro issues just watching the Hawksbill Diner Gravy Train Trio at their showdown in the trough.

Re: Luray
At least one credible source has ranked the Criterium at Luray the 2nd most difficult of 18 local crits. Described as:
_____________________
Attricious : a. Having a high attrition factor b. chaff dispenser c. Any race that sheds over half its field synonym: assplosion

This…hill…will….eat…your…..soul. While it’s short, it’s steep, like 12% steep, like who-tha-f&ck-puts-a-hill-like-this-in-a-crit steep. Not only will this race shed half the field from contention, it will do so by lap two. Bring an extra diaper; you’re going to need it.
_______________________

Similar to Reston, the eight turns were wide enough to be railed sans brakes. The utter lack of any corner-carnage was due more to the winnowing of the field on each lap rather than flowing corners. Even the usual sketchy suspects didn’t create any havoc. After a couple of up-tempo hot laps, a few hopefuls gapped the field on the hill in an effort to escape. They were never out of sight for long, inevitably getting caught on the ensuing lap weaving up the hill looking the opposite of strong. Cirque Du Soleil Rosier, Dough-boy & Matt Nowak all spent time in front chasing down the overly optimistic flyers. This kept the field working to keep up and as a result, with five laps to go, we were down to seventeen in the main pack. On the penultimate lap, we were down to eleven. The final sprint felt like a slow motion affair at first and positioning was not a problem on the wide avenue leading up to the finish. Tony Barsi (WWVC) started early and held the momentum to win, dragging Nowak (Gripped Racing) along behind him. Dough-boy, Rosier and I ramped up halfway up the hill, working our way past the dying pack but couldn’t close the gap on the top four. We were still accelerating as we crossed, finishing 8th, 6th & 5th respectively. We also finished 2nd, 10th & 4th respectively in the Omnium points standings. With their upgrades soon to be pending, I have no doubt Rosier & Dough-boy will be tough contenders in the next category and I have thoroughly enjoyed racing with them this year.

Clarendon Cup Crystal City Criterium 2011

I'm burned & crispy to the bone from this weekend: Clarendon cup + Air Force Classic 100K + Crystal crit = couch time

I got shelled at the Clarendon cup and I crashed in the 100K on sunday morning (I was half-wheeling DC Velo Harry who zigged to avoid a woman who zagged & I bounced). Vday Danny behind me claims he got it on video so I'll post it, along w/ some cherry pics of my strawberry ground-beef *ss.

After the race I had a beer and buffalo burger with Brook & Tony then rode back to Falls church to feel out my legs. Even soft-pedaling, I felt terrible. Just awful. Woozy, headache boo-hoo, wah-wah *sniffle sniffle* pout, poor me.
But I'm cheap and I paid $45 to race... So I left the house at 2 for the 2:30 start thinking I would let fate decide whether I’d get there in time (my subconscious had already decided I’d be drinking another couple of beers w/in the hour).

Fate smiled-on (or snarled-at) me since the ladies race ran long and our race was delayed a few minutes. After scrambling around getting everything pinned, pooped, popped & filled I rolled up at the very back of the start. Late, but just in time. I wanted to poke my middle finger in fates eye-socket.

Right from the start, things were sketchy and I clung onto the back by my fingernails. The 8 corner crit quickly devolved into a crashtacular crashfestival of crashy crashness in crashingtonion proportions. I've never seen anything like it. Second lap, second turn: on my front wheel a multiple person pile-up (I overheard someone say 20) followed immediately in the next turn by a dude doing a cirque de soleil style, hand stand flip, over on top of the barriers. Again, it was on my front wheel & as I locked it up I expected to get crushed from behind by the two guys that were further back than me. The tattered field was spread single file thin all over the course. Luckily for those of us tailgunning in the breeze, they stopped the race while the ambulance swept up the metal & flesh, flotsam & jetsam. After standing for 10-15 minutes in the breezeless, stagnant, oppressive, sweaty heat, we restarted and I got to witness two MORE separate crashes in turn 2. Two MORE NCVC'rs (Andy & Mikerr) were crashed into later in turn 2 and 6 respectively. Surprisingly, I felt better with each lap as the double shot caffeinated my brain and lied to me about my condition. I jumped up near the front with 8 laps to go and felt like I might actually be a contender. With 6 laps to go, I super-cramped just at the turn 2 of destruction and pulled myself lest I pile up some more bodies.

overall, I call it a win and feel good about it.
yaaaaaay....

on the other hand, I'm done with riding for at least another 22 hours. Perhaps the Tue noon ride might be an option.

put some jelly on me, I'm toast

Greenbrier MTB Race Report 2011

The 11:30am Cat 2 race went out under perfect weather conditions. The trail had
a few boggy sections left over from earlier rains but most of it was fast and
dryish. From the gun, the tempo was spirited in each age group. In the 40-45
group, B. Teller, D. Stealy (my fellow roadie cross-over) and I watched Alex
Mata (Evolution) & friends set a silly quick pace up the initial rise and
sustain it through the first lap. Working through the 35-39 group ahead, I
found Brian racing right side-up but Stefan racing in the kneeling position on
the side of the trail nursing various mechanical issues. I estimate he spent at
least 25 minutes tinkering instead of spinning. On the final lap, I found
George Lowe (I think...by then my brain was extra hurty and my mouth tasted like
poop) spinning out a steady pace. The three riders w/ me latched onto his wheel
and I watched as steady George pulled all of them away from me, and onto the
(40-45) podium. George also rolled onto the podium in the 35-39 group. Post
race, Paul (NCVCs only rep in the 45-49), David Jones and Alan (both top ten
finishers in the 50+) all agreed that the course was challenging. Everyone
finished w/ a layer of the trail mud highlighting the periodic muddy spots. As
a testament to the wheels in the 40-45 group, Ben Teller's 11th place finishing
time would have earned him third in the 30-35 & 6th (just behind George) in the
35-39. Kudos to dirt-convert Dave Stealy for riding in right behind Ben and
Lancaster for identifying the owner of the unclaimed post-race shorts by the
sniff test.

This was my first experience with enjoying the benefits of reserved NCVC parking
& Tent accommodations. Its the best way to race. We took a team picture
post-race but unfortunately our only podium finisher, George, was not there as
he was supporting his wife Rebecca in her race.

Apologies if I mangled details/names/events.
Special thanks to Ben for the lift to and from and Alan for toting the tent. I
look forward to racing w/ all again.