Another Race Day

After skipping Ft. Custer to go to Key West and 6 Hours of Addison Oaks getting cancelled, it seemed like forever between Yankee Springs and the Hanson Hills race last week. Now it's time for another race and it hasn't even been a week.

Today I'll race 8 Hours of Cannonsburg. I'm pretty nervous, which explains why I woke up well before the alarm went off and was unable to get back to sleep. My nervousness is probably understandable, considering I never even ridden this course, let alone raced on it. It will also be my longest race ever. I know it's not long compared to the races this racer is doing, but it's only my second foray into the endurance scene. My goal is to do 10 laps. Last year I did 8 at 6 Hours of Ithaca, so 10 shouldn't be a stretch for this race as long as I don't burn myself out too early. I am supposed to be faster this year, after all, even if that wasn't apparent at Hanson Hills. Wish me luck!

Bitter Disappointment: Hanson Hills Race Report

I should have known I was setting myself up for disappointment at Hanson Hills. The thing is, I am so slow that the only way I can feel good about my season and all the training I did over the winter is if I don't worry about anyone else. I can't compare myself to other racers because if I do I start wondering why I even race at all.

The only way I can keep myself from feeling discouraged is to only race against myself, meaning that I have to see some progress from last year. Even though I didn't place well at Yankee, I was happy about how much I improved my time from last year. So, here's the problem. Last year I had an uncharacteristically good race at Hanson Hills. I got first place in my age group in a field of three girls. Granted, I only beat my teammate Sheila because she was being tended to by paramedics when I passed her, but even so, it was a great race for me.

This year's race got off to an inauspicious start. To begin with it was ridiculously, unseasonably chilly and wet. I was underdressed since I didn't bother to check the weather forecast before we left for the weekend and all I brought to wear was bike shorts—no knickers or tights.

I was also worried because there were five in the beginner women 30+ class and I knew they were all going to beat me. They left me in the dust fairly quickly (even the one who was whining to me beforehand about how it was her first race, she was slow, everyone was going to be so far ahead of her, etc.). Someone told me that the course was different than last year, so I didn't even think I could shoot for a better time.

I snapped myself out of my funk by setting a goal for myself—no walking anything on the course. I know this seems like it's not that much of a challenge, but I had walked quite a bit during my pre-ride.

Not only did I ride everything, I was having a good race all around. I discovered that the course seemed to be the same, so I began to pay attention to the time I was logging. I felt pretty fast (relatively speaking) and estimated I would be able to significantly beat last year's time. I even passed some people walking up hills. What's more, despite the dampness and the cold temperatures, I was having a great time. I was feeling better and having more fun than I have had in any mountain bike race, with the possible exception of 6 Hours of Ithaca last year.

What I didn't anticipate was that, due to my inexperience with the trail and the fact that my computer doesn't work, I was much farther from the finish line than I thought I was. I ended up taking only about a minute off my time from last year (and I did come in last). Even though I know I had an exceptional race last year, it's still depressing to go from first to last when I'm supposed to be so much better this year.

Oh well, better luck next time.

Next up: What I've got on tap for this weekend

Here's What I Do For An Encore

To add insult to injury after my disastrous ride at Poto, I somehow forgot to pack my front wheel in my vehicle. It wasn't lost for long, though, because I found it immediately when I began backing up. Luckily, only the skewer and the hub had to be replaced. But, it's after days like this that I really start to wonder if I'm slipping into some type of premature dementia.

Next up: Hanson Hills Race Report, at long last

Random Weekend Photos

I was wondering the other day why Ali's blog is so cool and fun to read and mine is so booooooring. Here's what I came up with:

1. Ali puts a lot more pictures on her blog.
2. Ali is more creative and sparse with her verbiage, rather than writing long, rambling diatribes like me.
3. Ali lives up North and has more interesting things of which to write about and take pictures.

Chances are, I will still write rambling diatribes, but I thought every once in a while I could post some up North pictures and it would help. So here they are, fresh from our weekend:

Random lake on Weaver Rd. (the road our cabin is on)

Where Weaver Rd. turns to gravel

Looking to the right while crossing Island Lake Rd.

Pastoral vista near the end of Weaver Rd.

Here's where I left my bike while taking pictures of the pastoral vista

Pine-y goodness on Weaver Rd.

Maddy girl relaxing near the cabin

Gretchen looking very interested in something

That's why those waders were so heavy!

That squirrel is going to be pissed when he can't find his stash!

The boys preparing to leave to fish on the lovely Au Sable

The End

Next Up: What I Didn't Tell You About My Poto Trip

And Then It Happened Again, Part 2

When we last left our unlucky heroine, she had made an unfortunate trail choice at Poto.

Things just didn't look right, but for some reason, I was reluctant to admit defeat and turn around. I think it was because I didn't want to believe I had wasted as much time as I did. Finally, I came to a place where the trail crossed the road. When it started up again on the other side, I noticed there was a sign indicating that bikes were prohibited. I turned around and noticed the same sign on the section of trail I just left. I was clearly on the wrong trail. I turned around and hoped I could find the way back.

By the time I got back to the correct trail, I had wasted more than an hour. I was torn. There were two trails left to choose. I started up the middle trail only to have it peter out at the top of the hill. Feeling frustrated and deflated, I headed back to the intersection. As soon as I got back, I wanted to kick myself. When I looked at the trail that went to the right, it was obvious that was the right way to go. The trail had a natural flow to the right and there were all kinds of tire tracks to follow. What was I thinking?

I had trouble enjoying the rest of the ride because I was so worried about how late I was going to be and how my teammates would have to wait for me. I ended up taking a shortcut at the end and cutting a few miles off the trail because I had been gone so long, although I'm not sure I ended up with any less mileage, considering the extra trail I rode.

When I finally reached the parking lot, my teammates were nowhere in sight, but their vehicles were still sitting there. I sat down to wait for them. As it turns out, Pat and Jake were able to ride Poto twice in about the amount of time it took me to do it once. They arrived about five minutes after I did. Nichole had actually been waiting for me at the end of the trail, but I missed her since I took the shortcut.

Luckily my teammates were very understanding about the whole thing, but I still felt pretty dumb. But, hey, at least I didn't crash and my next trip to Poto is bound to be better.

Next up: Random weekend photos

And Then It Happened Again

Last weekend I decided to ride Poto. I thought it was about time I did, since it's supposed to be "the" mountain bike trail in Michigan and no one seems to take you seriously if you haven't ridden it. Besides, I wanted to see what all the fuss was about and to prove to myself I could do it. I sent an e-mail to my teammates, judging that after the Hanson Hills experience it was probably not a good idea to ride by myself on a unfamiliar trail. As it turns out, a few of them were already planning a trip to Poto that day.

Saturday started out okay. I was planning to hang out with my brother, nephew and mom later at my parents' house in Jackson. I went down a bit early and dropped the puppy girls off with my mom, since they have a fenced yard and I wanted them to get some exercise. I had gotten a text from Jake earlier that morning that we were meeting at 8 at Best Buy in Jackson to car pool out to the trail. I was running a bit late, but luckily my mom is the type of person who just swoops in and takes care of everything. I did a hand off at the door and she fed the puppies and got them settled and put away the food I had brought for dinner while I headed over to meet my team.

I was a bit apprehensive before we started, but I was also excited. On the way there, Nichole told me in passing about some steps at the beginning of the trail. I thought I would have to walk up them, but when I got to the first hill, I realized I was supposed to ride over these steps, which were more like landscape timbers. Yikes!

Needless to say, I walked the first hill and many more after it. The hills were big, but that wasn't what made them so hard. Poto was by far the most technical trail I have ever ridden. The number of obstacles in the uphills, combined with the fact that I was crawling up them, meant that invariably I ran into a rock or a big root and had to get off my bike due to a complete loss of momentum. I fell over a lot.

My teammates knew I had never been there and they were great about waiting for me at every intersection. I started to feel guilty about it, though, not wanting them to have to wait for me all the time. When we parted ways, they left me with the instructions to "go left wherever there was an intersection." That seemed easy enough.

Up to this point I was having a good ride. I was walking a lot, but I was still riding quite a bit, too. The trail was hard, but it wasn't impossible. And that was when I made my first mistake.

The trail split in three directions—left, straight and curving off to the right. To the left was a huge drop. It seem like something that should be ridden, but then again, I thought that about a lot of things that other people rode. The middle trail went practically straight up, but other than that, it didn't look like it went much of anywhere. The trail to the right I didn't pay much attention to, of course, because I was supposed to go to the left.

After much standing around waffling, I finally took the trail on the left. I hadn't gone too far before there were other intersections where I was again unsure of what to do. The trail didn't seem much like a mountain bike trail and I started to get worried.

To be continued, since this post is already way too long

Bad Luck or Bad Judgment?

It seems like a lot of bad stuff has been happening lately. Some of it has been my fault. It started on Memorial Day at Hanson Hills. I really meant to check out some information online before pre-riding the race course. I knew there were a couple of places along the trail where I would have to make a decision about which way to go. Since I'd only been on the trail twice before and both of those rides were about a year ago, I knew I wouldn't remember which way I was supposed to go.

But things got hectic before we left to go up North and I never did figure out where I was supposed to go. I figured I'd have to play it by ear when I got to the trail. The next bad decision I made was not eating enough. I had eaten breakfast at the cabin while I was waiting for Chris to wake up, but by the time we got to Hanson Hills it was after 1 p.m. Not only did I neglect to eat lunch, I didn't take any food with me on the ride. Needless to say, I was starving.

As it turned out, there was a new loop which I eventually decided to follow. In the past I really enjoyed Hanson, but that day I wasn't having much fun. The new trail didn't seem to flow very well and it was ridiculously rough. I was feeling beaten and battered early in the ride.

At a certain point the trail dumped out onto some sandy two-track. It was so sandy, in fact, that pretty soon I couldn't ride at all, so I ended up pushing my bike. Presumably, the singletrack started up again somewhere, but I sure couldn't find where. I ended up going back and forth on the two-track for at least an hour.

When I finally found the trail again, I wasn't convinced it was the right one. I was completely disoriented at this point and didn't even think I was going in the right direction. Eventually, I made my way back to the parking lot where Chris was waiting with the puppies, ready to call out a search party. I had been gone more than three hours.

Oh and one more thing. As Chris was helping me load my bike in the car, he noticed my tires had a ridiculous amount of air in them—about 60 psi. I pumped them way up for my road ride and forgot to let air out of them. I guess that new trail wasn't as rough as I thought.

Next up: the Poto disaster