I wasn’t too keen on the forecast for rain, but I chose to tough it out and pre-register for the race. Once I got there, the clouds had already begun to clear away and the sun came out. It was suddenly a beautiful day and I was ready to ride my bike.

When I reached the starting line, I was pretty happy because there were only three of us. After a bit, I turned and saw that there were quite a few more women in my class who were standing behind us. Uh oh. Yeah, I had a bad feeling because I know how racing works in the Lower Peninsula, and I knew the race was going to suck for one big reason: my confidence was quickly running away…far, far away from the race course.

We started racing and I immediately took my position in about third or fourth from the back. After a short while, everyone passed me, and then I passed another girl so I wouldn’t be last. What I did not realize is that the girl I passed must have passed me back, because I found out that I was last towards the end of my first lap.

I don’t mind being last, but I do mind getting smoked. At the rate I was going, it was going to take me about two hours and ten minutes to finish the course, and that was probably about 20 minutes behind the girl in front me. Not kosher.

In addition to my frustration, I started having some abdominal cramping early in the race. This is something I’ve started experiencing this year, and it happens on climbs, or hard efforts, that occur very shortly after the beginning of my ride. Between that and the fact that I was smoked by the others, I decided to quit the race before crossing the lap mark. It probably wasn’t a bad idea because I felt worse as the night went on and I felt like I was going to explode.

I made a very important decision: I am dropping down to the Beginner class. I know I’m not a beginner, but I also know that I am significantly slower than I used to be. I also know that the Beginner class is full of non-beginners who are actually average riders that belong in Sport. Hell, why shouldn’t I be there?

Another very important reason why I’ve decided to drop back down to beginner class is because I just can’t do the laps or the distance. There was no way I could’ve done more than then beginner distance at the Barry Roubaix. Sport at Yankee was only one lap, like with Beginner, so that wasn’t an issue. Fort Custer was two laps, and I just didn’t want to do that. If I do the Boyne Marathon, there is no way I’ll be able to complete the Sport distance. With that said, I am a beginner. Hear me roar.

Unfortunately, this is evidence that I am in massively bad shape. Unfortunately, with all of the exercise I’ve been getting, I don’t feel I’ve been getting into better shape, and I sure as hell haven’t been losing weight. Something is amiss.

“What do you mean, ‘actually enjoy it?’ Its mountain biking. You should always enjoy it!”

Sure, if you enjoy racing, then that’s great. I have mixed feelings about it, though.

I enjoy seeing mountain biking friends and fellow advocacy freaks at the races.

I am quite competitive. I love to gauge my progress, and racing is not only a motivator to continue improving, but a great method of gauging progress with some accountability. Not only that, but it is also fun to get together with a couple hundred people and do what we all like to do: mountain bike.

What I don’t like about racing is the compelling need to go as fast as I possibly can. The reason is that it hurts. Now, I do like pain. This is obvious because I mountain bike, but I push myself to a different level when I race. I’ve finished several races after bonking. I’ve had coughing fits and a raw throat because I pushed so hard that my lungs felt like they wanted to die. I don’t necessarily enjoy the routes that are chosen for some races.

I love the “chilling out” period that follows the race.

What is the reason I race, then? Why do I race? Because I can. I truly believe that. When it comes to competition, I seem to like to push myself about as hard as I can. I push to my limit. Maybe it makes me feel like I am truly alive. Maybe it is because I appreciate being able to do this crazy stuff while my body is young and healthy. I know for a fact that part of it is because I enjoy hanging out with mountain bikers.

The guy next to me took off and I got rolling. I started down the course for the Yankee Springs time trial having no clue what was in store for me. I heard that there were some bad climbs, and that the trail was notorious for sand, but I really had no clue what was up ahead.

The first things I noticed were some sandy spots and a couple of small drops that looked like the result of erosion over roots. The singletrack was clean, winding, and flowy. The uphills were gentle and the downhills created opportunities to open up and fly through the woods.

To say that the uphills were gentle is not to say that they were easy. Maybe they seemed gentle because I had ridden Highland a couple of weeks earlier. Some of the uphills were technical with elements such as loose rocks, roots, and sand.

Cake. If there is one thing I learned how to do while riding up in Copper Harbor, it was how to clean a loose, rocky hill. Of course, the downhills were also a little crazy. I found myself plunging from dropoffs quite a bit.

Word to the wise, when you are racing and you are caught behind Di on a downhill, don’t follow this fearless woman (ha ha) with faith that she will find the safest line. Oh, no. In fact, I choose the craziest line about half of the time. Sometimes it’s just faster to take the plunge.

With the exception of two ascents, I made it up every hill, including the one that went straight up the steep fall line and was covered with some rubbery mat. The two hills that got me were the ones that were really wide with lots of roots.

I thought about those rooty uphills as I did them and quickly realized why I couldn’t make it up: I never saw this trail before, and I picked the wrong lines. Approaching those hills, there are entrances into the technical portions that looked like they would be good lines, but they came to an abrupt stop before I could tell that I chose the wrong line.

I finished the race strong and smiling. I loved the trail and had a great time. For the first time, I was able to do a race and actually enjoy it. It was a fun process.

I was not ready for this race. Sure, I had done a couple of 30-mile road rides, but none on my mountain bike. The race was 23-miles of beginner hell. Oh, sure, I am a seasoned rider and I know how to maneuver a bike over roots and rocks, but the fact is that lots of weight gain and several months later will totally suck any endurance out of a “seasoned” rider.

I liked the Barry Roubaix for two reasons. One––the race was put on by Rick Plite. Rick is a good guy. I wanted to do one of Rick’s races––the Lumberjack is his other race. Two––my friends were doing it. Yeah, okay, I totally succumbed to peer pressure. I am a sucker.

The race was like any other race I was used to. Don’t forget, I started mountain biking in the Keweenaw and that is where I spent the last four years. The race was hilly like the Keweenaw races. In fact, the last climb was super, super long, and the stock saddle on my mountain bike wasn’t exactly the best “choice” for a climb that long. My toosh went through hell.

The Barry Roubaix was also different from the races that I was used to. After the race, many, many people hung around chatting and drinking excellent beer. Now, I’m totally used to people drinking beer after races, but these people were hanging around after mostly everything was said and done. Most of that beer was splendid Michigan microbrew. I got to chat with friends such as Nick, Marty, Andrea, Ali, Glen, and Cathy. I love seeing fun people at races.

The Stuff that Matters

I really had no idea which bike to use for the race. I was on the fence for using my cross bike, Jake, but after reading the MMBA forums, I decided to go with the mountain bike. Bad decision. This experience confirmed that forums are often filled with advice from people who either don’t have the technical experience I have, or who like to embellish a bit. The course was definitely a cross bike course.

I did 23 miles in two hours and fifteen minutes. It most certainly would have been faster on the cross bike, but as someone else told me that day, doing that race on a mountain bike was “hard,” and I am proud of my effort.

Hopefully, next year, I will have the bright idea to look back at this post prior to racing next year’s Barry Roubaix. Di––use the cross bike!

Since I haven’t been riding very much, I came in over 10 minutes slower than last year. This dropped me about 40 spots in my division. Needless to say, I did not bring home the funny little dude in the process of an endo (the trophy).

The trophy I got, last year. He looks lonely, doesn’t he? I tried to get a companion for him, this year, but not hard enough.

“Di, how did your race go?” I got this question A LOT. How do you answer this question when the answer isn’t what they want to hear? Well, if you’re me, you’re just honest.

“My race didn’t go well. I was much slower than last year, yada, yada, yada . . .”

“Did you finish the race?”

“Yes.”

“Did you have any mechanicals?”

“No.”

“Well, then, you had a good race!”

That’s a very optimistic view to have of a race, and it would be a good one if I didn’t race to win. Sure, I’m not the fastest, but I have had my fair share of victories in my division and age group. This year’s races are quite sad because I haven’t been training. Therefore, my answer to that optimistic statement is this:

I never have mechanicals and I always finish the race. I didn’t have a good race because I did not do my best, and doing my best doesn’t stop at the race. It includes all of the time on the bike preceding that race: the preparation.

I know some of you are shaking your heads and thinking, “Di, you just need to enjoy this.” I agree, but this is how I enjoy it. I am very competitive. I need to feed that drive. I need to feel accomplished.

There is an upside to my disappointment with my Ore to Shore performance. It was one heck of a wake-up call. I have not been riding enough. When I do ride enough, I am a much happier person.

Disappointment in race performance is just like falling off of a mountain bike. You just have to get back on and brag about your wounds, later.

One person remarked that there wasn’t more climbing because the elevation change remained the same. Elevation change and distance traveled are not the same thing. The elevation gain from the start to finish is probably about 400 feet. However, steep descents and not-so-steep climbs will easily put you at much more distance climbing. This is something that all of the Keweenaw races have in common. They all have more climbing than descending, where distance traveled is concerned, and two of them start and finish at the same elevation.

I have never “bagged my community.” Even though I have expressed my unhappiness with this particular race course, I never made a negative remark about how the race was run or how the trails are. The people who run races in the Keweenaw do an excellent job. The trails are also incredible. I have always maintained that Churning Rapids is a great trail system, and I have praised the new singletrack that was built in time for the race. I have also always boasted of the incredible cycling community in my area.

Am I going to stop doing the Keweenaw Chain Drive? Probably not. That doesn’t mean I have to approve of the race course. The world will go on.

My race started off well for the 16-mile competition. I began climbing, as is always the case, and kept climbing. There was an occasional downhill, but it was usually short and quick. The climbs, on the other hand, lasted forever. At one point, towards the end of the race, I thought to myself, “Okay, this isn’t fun, anymore.” The Keweenaw Chain Drive transformed from one of my favorite and most highly recommended races to a not-so-favorite personal hell. There was simply too much climbing, and I spoke with several riders of varying abilities who agreed.

To really understand my frustration, you must first understand what it is about mountain bike racing that I prefer. Unlike road racing, which is predominantly an aerobic competition where constant uphills make more sense, mountain bike racing encompasses so much more. Sure, you have your brutal climbs, and nothing less should be expected, but fast descents are equally as important in a race. Not everyone can descend well. In fact, many people can’t descend well.

The perfect mountain bike race has a pretty equal mix of smooth and technical, up and down. The Keweenaw Chain Drive was just about the perfect race. Now, while it still has a phenomenal mix of smooth and technical, it smote the downhill element and shifted favor towards those who aren’t necessarily well-rounded riders. In other words, I prefer a race that focuses more on varying skills rather than one ability, such as climbing.

To be fair, I will freely admit that I am not a strong climber. Even if I were a strong climber, I still wouldn’t enjoy it. What makes mountain biking fun for me is riding on the edge of control, something that is very rarely done by anyone riding uphill. I like the adrenaline rush I get from traveling at high speeds through the woods. THAT is fun. This year’s Chain Drive course took a lot of that fun away from me, this year.

This year, I finally get to witness the event as a racer. Actually, I’ve never been there, before, so I get to witness the event, period. I’m not looking forward to it as the greatest race ever, because I know it’s not. I’ve been told that it’s not my kind of race. I like technical singletrack. This race, I’ve been told, is essentially the anti-technical singletrack.

Last year, I didn’t make it in. Like all lotteries, I lost. “Oh, well,” was my reaction. I was disappointed that a few of my teammates were going without me, but that was the extent of it.

In one of the multiple Iceman disappointment threads at the MMBA Racing forum, I made the comment, “It’s nice that so many Michigan mountain bikers have nothing better to do than bitch or worry about registration to a race.” Seriously, that’s great news for our economically-challenged state!

Sure, there are going to be people who say, “Di, you just don’t understand,” or, “I have a long history with that race,” or, “Grrrr, phhhtt, scratch, claw, ROAR!” The day that I treat an entry to a race that seriously will be the day that I know I will need to take some time off from mountain biking. I hope that day never comes.

I hope it never comes because I am not an angry or bitter person. I brush off the bad and I find humor in most situations. Yesterday’s post was humor. Hey, I laughed!

This may seem harsh, but probably only to the people to which is refers, but I am kind of relieved that the very people who are taking this denial to the race with much anger and resentment are not going to be my competitors. There is something to be said for sportsmanship, and one’s true sportsmanship, whether it is poor or good, is quite obvious when the chips are down.

I know that entry to a race, or really anything, is not going to improve my life or bring me happiness. If I have not found happiness in my daily activities and my personal achievements which are independent of other people or events, then nothing can bring me true happiness, and that is a much bigger problem than being denied entry to the Iceman.

Dear __________,

I am very sorry about the cluster during tonight’s registration process. At 6:30 PM everything was set to rock and then somebody launched a program to register themselves. This program contacted SBO 100 times per nanosecond and resulted in 100,000 hit[s] on the SBO site in one minute.

SportsBaseOnline is doing everything they can to stop this attack and then figure out how we can go about getting everybody else registered in an organi[z]ed and efficient [manner]. As soon as we have a plan, we will post it on the Iceman website and send out another Constant Contact email.

Again, thank you for your patience!

Sincerely,

Steve Brown

This is a very interesting email. I knew you were going to ask that, so I will tell you why. First, Steve should really consider proofreading his emails before he sends them out. It only takes a few minutes and can do wonders when it comes to promoting a professional look for any business.

Second,

This program contacted SBO 100 times per nanosecond and resulted in 100,000 hit[s] on the SBO site in one minute.

…a nanosecond is one-billionth of a second. That means, if the server is contacted once per nanosecond, it is contacted one billion times in one second. If it is contacted 100 times per nanosecond, as Steve stated, then it would have been contacted 100,000,000,000 (read one-hundred billion) times per second. At sixty seconds, the server would have been contacted 6,000,000,000,000 (read six trillion) times in one minute.

No wonder the server crashed! The math most certainly doesn’t jive with Steve’s email, but maybe the server took 100,000 hits and said, “I quit!” Who knows? Well, Steve should.

Another question you may be asking is why would anyone do this? Assuming everyone is an Iceman junkie, someone must have wanted to get in really badly to want to contact a server six trillion times. Another viable theory is that someone just wanted to mess with all the Iceman junkies. Either way, the latter was most certainly a success! In summary, we can assume one of two things:
• This person simply wanted to screw with everyone who wanted to register – genius!
• This person wanted to get in really, really badly and planned quite poorly – moron!

I am going to assume the latter is true, and I am proud to say that we have witnessed a true case of moronacity¹!
____________________
1 moronacity (mōr-Å­n-ăs‘sÄ­t-Ä“) – the act of being a moron.

Instead of actually get to the Tech Trails in time to do my part on the volunteer end of things, I ended up getting stuck in a ditch as my truck was sucked sideways on what looked like road, but wasn’t.  To make a long story short, a lost cell phone and two hours later, I was dropped off at the Tech Trails by a kind stranger (thank you, kind stranger ). 

I managed to arrive in time for the races and awards ceremony.  It was  a neat experience, and it sounds like the team is looking forward to hosting this race, again, and giving it a bit more PR. 

One of my mountain biking/beer drinking friends gave me a ride back to my vehicle and pulled me out of the ditch.  I was then on my way to Copper Harbor.

The following are some shots I got of the two-dogged long race.