Race 1 – 2.5 Laps of Turner Hill

The rain at the beginning of the week promised to keep the dust settled, something that is very important for someone who rides close to the back of the pack. However, a few days of nice sunshine put pave to that idea, and I was quickly enveloped with a thin veneer of mud at the start of the race (a combination of sunscreen, sweat and dust). Fortunately, the riders in front of me quickly disappeared out of sight in their quest to get to the finish line before me, leaving me to quietly contemplate this AMAZING track all by myself.

The only straight parts of this ~12km loop are a couple of short firetrail sections – the rest is just a whooping good time. I rode over more logs and rocks that I could count, and even managed to ride a few of the more technical trail features, like a couple of gap jumps and a great burnt out half-log.

I came across a young guy who had had a pretty bad fall (looked like he failed to negotiate the landing of a particularly fast gap-jump) and stopped to render assistance. His main concern was his flat front tyre, but my main concern was the obvious bump on his head and the trickle of blood oozing from it. He assured me he was OK, so I lent him my pump and a spare tube, and was on my way.

I was very surprised at the number of pinch-flats people were getting out on the track. I still run ‘tubed’ tyres (as opposed to tubeless tyres), but I still had no problems with flatting. I generally run about 40psi in the front and about 30psi in the front, which I find gives me a great balance between grip, bounce and puncture-resistance.

My heart rate monitor said that I averaged 90%HRM, but I distinctly remember looking down and seeing 102% at one stage. Needless to say, I was absolutely rooted at the end, and I don’t think I could have turned another crank if you’d have paid me.

While I was having a shower I noticed a beautiful chain-ring love-bite on my right calf, something that I had not even noticed during the race. Obviously caused by the small off I had, caused by some drop-kick who had stopped ON TOP of an obstacle, which meant that when I tried to cross it, I was pushed off, and managed to do a complete roll, with bike.

I don’t want to check my placing, because I know it will be close to last – on the positive side, it’s people like me that make the fast riders look even better.

Under lights

Last night was my first foray into night riding. I bought a set of NiteFlux lights about a month ago, but haven’t had a chance to use them in anger yet. I read on the Perth Mountain Bike Club website that a regular ride happens each Wednesday night from The Dell carpark, so I rocked up there at 7pm ready to “ride the night”.

There were six of us in total, and I was by far the least fit amongst the group. This being my virgin night ride, I was also the most inexperienced. Because of this I was at the back all night, and I reckon I swallowed a bucket full of dust in the process.

I was amazed just how much difference losing peripheral vision made to my riding. Because my field of vision was restricted to the beam of light emanating from by helmet-mounted light, I could not actually see the obstacles that were passing beneath my bike (this was because I was focussing on obstacles further up the track). Because I couldn’t see the obstacle under the bike, I found myself smashing into obstacles, instead of caressing the bike over them. This was quite hard on my wrists and shoulders, and I hate to think the damage it was doing to my bike (I’ve only just had the fork repaired).

All this was extremely off-putting, and for the first hour I found myself constantly stopping on top of minor obstacles (like small logs and rocks), stuff I’d usually either guide the bike over, or simply bunny hop. Once I got used to the lights, I found it easier to roll over obstacles, but not being able to see the obstacle pass under the bike with my peripheral vision was difficult to adjust to.

All up it was a 2 hour ride, and the group was extremely kind to me, stopping at major intersections and letting me catch up (thanks guys). By the time I got home and removed the mug from my nose and lungs, I was completely stuffed and had one of the best nights sleep in a long time. Can’t wait for the next night ride ….

Karri Cup 2010 - Tall Trees, High Hopes

This is my account of the Karri Cup, an annual 100km mountain bike race, held over the Labor Day long weekend, in Northcliffe, Western Australia. I had been preparing for this ride for about 10 weeks.

About 400 riders took part in the race. I was in the “veterans” group (35+ years) which accounted for 131 riders. The race was broken into 4 stages, with each stage timed and approximately 25km long. This meant you could stop and have a rest at the end of each stage (fantastic!!!).

Saturday (day before race)
After fulfilling family duties on Saturday morning (the usual running around), I picked up the hire car. I must admit, I was expecting something a bit bigger than a Suzuki Swift, however the colour (red) more than made up for the size deficit. At least it would be miserly on fuel. All packed up, I kissed the family goodbye and headed south for the long weekend. I had a 4.5 hour drive ahead of me, so time to settle in to some relaxing tunes and watch the country-side slip past.

About half way to Northcliffe I was running through my race equipment in my head, when I remembered what I’d forgotten: my water bottle for the bike. Oh well, as part of every “race pack” there is always a water bottle thrown in.

I got to Northcliffe just in time to collect my race pack (NO WATER BOTTLE - SHIT!!!) and hear the race briefing. Then I headed out to the local sports oval to set up camp. The race begins and ends at the sports oval, and they allow you to camp at the oval - very convenient. I woofed down a heap of pasta and meat sauce, followed by a couple of beers (all in the name of carbo-loading of course), and hit the sack about 9pm (lots of beauty sleep needed for this cat).

Sunday (race day)
Up at 6am for a leisurely pre-race breakfast of a massive bowl of muesli, washed down with a litre of Gatorade. I had made my decision overnight not to worry too much about not having a water bottle along the way. I had my 3 litre Camelbak, and as part of the “fully supported” nature of the event, I could have a bag of stuff dropped at the stop points along the way (basically at the end of each stage). In the bag I packed some frozen water, a container of Gatorade powder, a cup and some high energy food (bars, gels, etc).

Stage 1
The race started at 8am, and I got away in the first quarter of the veterans group (position 41 at the start line). A lot of people passed me early on, and by the time we got to the first section of single track (3.5 km’s up the road) there was gridlock. We all had to walk the bikes for about 10 minutes until the log jam cleared, and then it was clear riding in some very nice single track. The first stage was 31km’s, which I expected would take me about 2.5 hours, and took in a fair bit of open farmland, including a barrelling downhill section across open paddocks. Because there was no specific trail through the short grass, you had to pick the best line. Unfortunately my line took me straight into a massive pot hole, where I finally found the end of my rear suspension stroke (a solid thump from the shock let me know I’d bottomed out).

About 1 hour into the race I stopped and ate an energy bar, which was part of my nutrition plan for the day. I needed to keep my energy up throughout the day, and this was my one planned energy stop, apart from the scheduled stops at the end of each stage.

I was keeping a close eye on my heart rate as I was pedalling, and trying hard to keep it below 85% of maximum. This proved to be very hard on the hills, and I averaged 87% over the distance, which took me 2 hours and 34 minutes. I arrived at the end of stage 1 feeling pretty good, and had a 20 minute rest, gulping down a cup of Gatorade and some more high energy food. I also topped up my Camelbak, which I had nearly emptied.

Stage 2
I began stage 2 at 11am, and headed out on mostly fire trails. This was a 22km stage, and I hoped to finish it in less than 2 hours. A very interesting section of low heath with some great single track kept me smiling for a few kilometres, until I started to cramp in my left leg at about the 45km mark. I swore loudly at the trees for about a minute, and then the cramp eased, much to my delight. My main hope was that I could keep drinking enough Gatorade at the stage breaks to keep the cramps at bay.

I finished the second stage in 1 hours and 23 minutes (well under my 2 hour target), but I was starting to feel pretty tired. The temperature was beginning to really heat up, and must have been at least 32 degrees by the time I stopped at 12.20pm for lunch.

A quick look at the heart rate monitor showed I’d worked pretty hard on this stage (average 86% of maximum), so I couldn’t wait for a nice cold drink of Gatorade and a leisurely lunch. However, all good plans have a hiccup, and my bag of stuff had NOT been picked up from the end of stage 1 – no Gatorade – AHHHHH!!! I immediately knew what that meant – lots of muscle cramps in the final stages. I decided that I would eat a heap of food at the lunch break and hopefully there would be enough salts and minerals in the food to stop some of the muscle cramps. I also guzzled loads of water to try and replenish the sweat that was dripping out of me.

I was assured by the race organiser that my bag of stuff would be at the end of stage 3 waiting for me – I hoped he was right!!

Stage 3
I began stage 3 at 1pm, with 24km’s in front of me. I was expecting to take about 2 hours for this stage. The track started on a difficult and rocky valley section, with a couple of creek crossings thrown into the mix. A small off at a creek crossing reminded me how important it is to get the gearing right BEFORE you try to ride over an obstacle.

Unfortunately the decision to eat a heap of food for lunch was a bad idea. My stomach began to cramp (not badly, but it was evident) and I was tempted on more than one occasion to stop and jettison the contents of my gut. However, that thought quickly left my head at the realisation that if I stopped I would be enveloped by March Flies, which were about the size of a 20 cent piece, and they bite - hard. Any stopping meant being covered in these things, and potentially losing a heap of blood, so I had incentive to keep pushing on.

Within about 45 minutes I started to get muscle cramps in my left leg again, and they kept going, on and off, for about an hour. I’m sure sailors would have blushed at the words coming out my mouth on this stage.

This was a hard, soul searching stage, made even more difficult by the oppressive heat. On more than one occasion I questioned my decision to keep going, but I was determined to finish this race. I just kept turning the pedals, one after the other. I knew I was going pretty slowly, but the alternative was to walk and have the blood slowly sucked from me by March Flies. Hard, hard, hard.

I got to the end of stage 3 in 2 hours and 1 minute, and my heart rate monitor said I had averaged 84% of maximum. No wonder I has feeling stuffed.

But behold, there was my bag of stuff. I tore into it, and swallowed 2 big cups of ice cold Gatorade. A guy who was in obvious pain from cramps was looking longingly at my Gatorade and ice water, so I let him have a drink. He kindly offered me some Neuro-fen which I gladly accepted. Ten minutes later I was feeling pretty good (drug induced, of course), so I gulped down some food and saddled up (I was starting to sing Raw Hide on the last stage, hence the horse vernacular - pehaps a bit of delirium setting in).

Stage 4
Stage 4 was exactly 25km’s, which I hoped to ride in about 2 hours. I left at 3.30pm. This stage is almost a repeat of stage 1, except it missed a 6 km single track loop near Northcliffe. The Neuro-fen helped me forget the pain, and I was absolutely loving the track and the scenery. There were long sections that were just brilliant to ride – short uphill and downhill sections with long flat (and hard packed) fire roads in between. It felt like I was flying along these parts of the track. I was even thinking to myself how great life is, especially watching the massive Karri trees whiz by.

I got to the farm paddocks again, and this time I had to push back up those lovely hills I had ridden down earlier in the day. This was really hard work, and there is absolutely no shade out in the fields. My thoughts turned a bit dark again. The guy who’d given me the Neuro-fen caught up and we rode together for a while, discussing the absolute stupidity and un-naturalness of riding 100km in a day on push bikes. A couple of hills in this section got the better of me and I had to get off and walk (and do my version of a Hungarian slap-dance to keep the flies away).

My bike speedometer clicked over 100km about 2km short of the finish line. I couldn’t help myself – I stopped and kissed the ground and let out a yell of delight – I’d finally ridden 100km in one day.

I finished the last stage in 2 hours and 1 minute (ironically, exactly the same time as stage 3) and I rode into the finish line with a smile from ear to ear. I immediately headed to my tent for a cold beer and a lay down.

Overall, my stats looked like this:

Total ride time – 8 hours and 1 minute
Total distance – 102 km (according to my speedo)
Total calories used - about 10,000
Group position – 104 (out of 131)
Average speed – 12.4 km/h

Cost of participating in the race - about $300 (all up)
Feeling when I finished the race - PRICELESS!!