56. Dirty Enduro 2017

Ganaraska Forest, (Paul’s) Dirty Enduro, 60k, and Me

team-colin-dirty-enduro.jpg5 years ago, at the end of my first year racing, I did my first Paul’s Dirty Enduro, 30k distance. When I got to the race, a friend was standing outside of the Ganaraska Forest Centre Quonset hut.  He was doing the 60k.  I couldn’t believe it–he was going to actually ride 60k.  On a mountain bike!  The very idea was as foreign to me as flying to the moon.

And he looked so damn cool.  He DRESSED the part, he was PART of the cycling establishment, and he had a strong cyclists’ PHYSIQUE.  In a word, he was BOSS.

And I knew I could never be like him.  Like, ever.

On Saturday morning, as I was getting ready to leave for the Dirty Enduro (the new and rebooted Paul’s), I was walking past my hallway mirror and saw my reflection.  I was wearing a hip cycling shirt (last year’s O-Cup shirt, and cool cycling baggies.  “Hmm”, I thought.

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Team Colin (post race).

Then I NOTICED something.

“Um, am I seeing things, or is that someone else looking back at me?”.  I was looking at a cyclist. The cyclist in the reflection had calves that belonged to someone who spends a LOT of time pedaling up and over logs, roots, and rocks, and clawing up nasty hills (and as a bonus they were pockmarked with bruises, cuts, poison ivy scars, and chain grease that never seems to wash away), his forearms belonged to someone who regularly grips handlebars for hours and hours trying to stay on his bike, and his upper body was that of a speed rider.

The cyclist in the mirror was me.

I DRESSED like a cyclist, and I LOOKED like a cyclist.

And then I REALIZED something.  I was going to (Paul’s) Dirty Enduro TO RIDE THE 60K DISTANCE.  I was the a guy who could race 60k on my mountain bike.  I WAS a cyclist.

But it didn’t stop there.  It got even better.

I FELT something: I felt awful.  I had tired legs, a still sore shoulderneck (yes, an actual body part), and numb wrists.

Okay, that’s not the great part, but the reason for feeling awful was pretty great. My body was tired, sore, and numb because I hadn’t recovered from last weekend’s 90k at the Epic 8 Hour

…or from the Great Albion Enduro 40k the week before that…

…or from the two cyclocross races I did the week before that…

…or from 80k at the Kingston XCM the weekend before that.

…or from the three weekly series rips in between.

All told, in the last five consecutive weekends, I booked close to 350k of race pace pounding.

Awesome.

Let me just say, I do not have the training or physical condition to do 5 big races back to back to back to back to back, and I’m never going to win races or stand on the podium of a race (unless there is a Clydesdale category and only two other Clydesdales show up).

Let me also say the cyclist in the mirror also had side gut flaps (because you really can’t hide 250 pounds), but that just didn’t matter on Saturday morning.

It never really matters. Who cares what I weigh, which part of my body oozes out of my waistband, and whether I win or not. I’m only ever racing myself, and in the month of September, I raced against Team Colin a whole lot.  I WANTED to do 5 consecutive races, I had the ABILITY to do 5 consecutive races, I had the DRIVE to to 5 consecutive races, and I DID 5 consecutive races.  I feel like I popped this September (and this race season). I did my first marathon distance race in the spring (and my second, and third…), I rode as hard as I could as often as I could for the rest of the season, and I kept jumping headfirst into new and awesome bike things (the 24 Hour and my first night ride, soloing the 8 Hour, racing with the worst cold ever experienced by modern human…).

And that gets a giant BOOM.  Yup, Team Colin is feeling pretty groovy, which is kind of a nice departure from my usual “Team Colin sucks, boo hoo, I’m such a bad rider” posts.

It’s time for a Race Report.

Race Report: (Paul’s) Dirty Enduro.  Ganaraska Forest (September 28, 2017)

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Team Colin and Simon.

I met a friend, Simon (and his friend Mike) before the race.  Great to see a familiar face. After a few words from the organizers, and a note about our purpose for the day–to raise money for CMHA (more on that later)–the race was on.  The long sweeps of double track at the start served as a neutral start.  There was no bunching, and it was easy to seed ourselves.  I zipped up to about mid place in the pack, and stayed there pretty much for the duration.

I wanted to ride with Simon. He pulled far ahead (I thought) so I worked hard to maintain his pace.  A few km in, I realized he was actually a bit behind me.  I figured he’d catch me when I faded later in the race, but it never happened.  It would have been our third race to finish together, but instead I got to watch him cross the line just after me.

The first 30k were uneventful.  Despite a busy and sleepless week that lacked any real recovery from the Epic 8 Hour last weekend, I felt strong and confident. It was a beautiful day, the crowd was awesome, and I was riding my bike at one of Ontario’s biggest and awesomest trail network.  Plus, because of the epic summer of racing I had, I wasn’t simply riding to finish.  I was riding to race, and I was riding hard.

At some point, I was even riding with Lenka!  I came upon her, in the distance, bridged the gap, and actually passed her.  If you know who Lenka is, you know that I am NOT in the same league (or anything) as her, and something was definitely wrong with the picture.  After a few km in front of her, I missed a turn, she passed, and order was restored in the galaxy.  She took a lead and kept building it.

And I was still riding hard.

Then, at pretty much the halfway point of the race, when I would have usually finished the race, and after a staggeringly fast, intricately technical, and really really hard double track descent (that was probably the longest and gnarliest I’ve ever done in a MTB race, and really really took a lot out of me), we hit a WALL: a long, mean, nasty, hill on top of a hill on top of a hill.  Yeah, a three part hill.  It was the race equivalent of a billboard that says “If you lived here, you’d be home by now”.  Pretty sure the organizers were reminding us we could have done the 30k…

And the Ganny was reminding us we were IN THE GANNY.  I hatelove (also a real word) the Ganny.  It always pummels me. Tight and twisty single track, challenging and technical double track, gruelling climbs (and even more gruelling descents), and the strange ability to occasionally lull riders with some sweetly flowing sections, only to punch us in the throat with an unexpected corner, log over, or something else that hurts.

The trails in the Ganny are no apologies, Rule 5, MTB.  And if you don’t like it, there’s a kid’s race at 3:00.  Really, there was a kid’s race that started at 3PM.

The course was tough and unforgiving, and by 40k, I had enough.

I was no longer riding hard, I was riding a really hard race.

The course also had some marking challenges.  With such a huge event, and two years of growth since the last one, the organizers had their work cut out in order to make the race a reality, and more than a few of us stood on course, in the middle of the race, scratching our heads and wondering where to turn after a long shot in the wrong direction.  It was frustrating, but only mildly so.

By the 45k aid station, I was kind of cooked.  My pace was a mess, I wasn’t confident, and I was making silly mistakes.  I rallied a bit in the last 5 or 7k, and even nailed the last jump at the FINISH, but it was far from a strong ending.

  • 60k.
  • 4:45.
  • 1200m of climbing.
  • 26/54 overall.
  • 14/34 in the 40+ age category.
  • Lenka beat me by 16 minutes.

End of Race Report.

So the race was pretty great, and who cares about whatever small challenges we faced trying to find the course.  This is MTB.  We didn’t register for a quilting bee, and the challenges just added to the awesomeness.  I think the organizers did an amazing job with the resources they had.

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The legendary Bob Ramsay.  100k.  No gears.  Awesome.

In fact, after the race, I was talking to my friend, Bob Ramsay (a literal Single Speed legend, who at 50 something, placed second in the 100k with a time of 5:40).  He told me there were problems accessing volunteers, and by race day there just wasn’t enough time to finish.

I can only imagine the time, energy, and money that goes into a giant race, so thanks to Ben and Ashleigh Logan of Fontaine Source for Sports (in Peterborough–for a job well done.  So awesome.

Oh, and can I talk about the post race meal for a sec?  The chilli was spectacular.  And the peanut butter and bread at the aid stations?  Awesome.  And the spectators, and the jump at the end, and the organizers, and the registration table, and the map…  Honestly, the volunteers made the day a pretty awesome experience.  Thanks.

Before I finish, I want to talk about Paul Rush.  We rode the Dirty Enduro for a reason. Well, two reasons.  First, to be boss on our bikes. Second, and more important, to raise money for CMHA.  The second reason was probably stuck somewhere in the background for most racers, including me, but make no mistake, we were raising money for the Canadian Mental Health Association.

For those who don’t know, the Dirty Enduro was formerly known as Paul’s Dirty Enduro. It ceased being Paul’s two years ago, on the 20th anniversary, and took a year off.  Over the years, Paul’s has raised hundreds of thousands of dollars for mental health education and suicide prevention.  The ride is named after Paul Rush, who faced mental health issues, and secretly kicked at depression for years. Here’s a great article from the Globe & Mail about Paul.  Paul was a fan of long rides, and he loved the Ganny. He was a big boss cyclist, a friendly giant, and from what I’ve read, one heck of a guy.  I can’t think if a better reason to get on a bike, than to support his memory–especially since we so often don’t talk openly about mental health and suicide.

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See that tagline “For Mental Health”?

Like a hidden trail feature that jerks your handlebars off course, or an inescapable rut that swallows your wheel at high speed, mental health issues and suicide are always around us, and always a part of life.  In the world of MTB, in our personal and professional lives, and in our families.

My father killed himself.  He battled quiet demons and addiction for most of his life, right in front of our eyes.  We never knew.  If CMHA can continue to do their work, and if we can be a small part of helping people overcome and/or deal with their demons, that’s awesome.  And if it’s on a bike, even better.

I didn’t intentionally race for my dad, or Paul, or the CMHA.  I rode because it was a Saturday, and there was a race.  But whether we were actively aware of the importance of the day or not, together, we rode for an awesome cause.

Ride.

 

Thanks again to the amazing volunteers, Kerri Davies, CHMA, and the amazing Dirty Enduro sponsors:

  • Fontaine’s Source for Sports
  • Bob’s Watch Repair
  • Ganaraska Forest Centre
  • Laser Helmets
  • Norco
  • OCA
  • Outdoor Gear Canada
  • Shimano
  • Tree Top Trekking
  • Wolf 101.5

 

Congratulations to the Overall winners of the 2017 Dirty Enduro:

  • 100k Overall:  Paul Cooney
  • 60k Overall:  Jamie Burr
  • 30k Overall:  Brendan Jeffery
  • 15k Overall:  Cole Zufelt

Congratulations also to Facebook’s Mountain Bikers Ontario guy, Steve Bator for a win in his age category for th3 15k.  Boom.

A complete list of category winners is on the OCA website.

 

PS. It was great to see so many of Dan’s people at the race.  Simon and Mike, Peter and Donna, Chris, Lenka, David, Bob, Guy, Will, and so many more.  I took a selfie with a few of them, but for some reason, it didn’t capture.

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Lenka and Donna.  Two fassssst racers.
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Dirty Enduro 2.0 Podium crowd.
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Team Colin closes the race.  Nice hat.

Something to say about this post, my blog, mountain biking, or just bikes?  Something to share about bikes?  Comment on this post, or send a message to teamcolinblog@yahoo.com. And if you want, follow this blog, or like the Team Colin Facebook page. That’d be pretty cool.

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54. Great Albion Enduro ’17

36 Seconds

September 17, 2017.  Albion Hills Conservation area.

My third race of the month (or maybe my fourth–see last blog) plus two weekly series rips.

The second annual Great Albion Enduro.

team-colin-great-albion-enduro.jpgA good time was had by all.  A good time was had by me (even though, once again, Superfly wouldn’t list me as “Team Colin”, only Colin from Scarborough).

It was a GREAT equation (see what I did there):  Superfly Racing (who know a thing or ten about how to host a great time) + Albion Hills (which has some of the best riding around) + Sean Ruppel (who is always awesome).  Put it together and the result was a wickedly fun romp. Add a dash of the Palgrave, and it was a wickedly fun romp–on two different trail systems.

With a choice of three course options:  25k, 40k, or 80k (two laps of the 40k), the Great Albion Enduro had something for every level of rider. I chose the 40k distance, and rode my Norco Revolver hardtail.  I’ve been racing marathon distances on my single speed this year, and it was nice to have a bit of a break with the distance, and to use gears–although I kinda felt like I was cheating at times when I geared down for a climb, or geared up for a sprint (but it felt soooooo good).

I also chose the 40k because I really didn’t relish the thought of 6 hours on a bike after the mess that was Team Colin at the Kingston XCM two weeks ago.

Honestly, the level of awesome at the Albion Enduro was off the charts:  steep and grinding double track climbs; super fast and flowy descents (that sometimes carried gently into the next trail, and sometimes ended in a brake-chattering, 90 degree turn); tight and twisty bits of trail; sublime technical features; a sort-of totem pole somewhere in the middle; and loads and loads of sweeeeet singletrack.  Let me say it now, the three roller jumps in Palgrave were absolute perfection, and probably the most fun few seconds of a race I’ve ever done. Yep, pretty sure I squealed “Wheeeeeee” on each of the three jumps.

To top off the awesome, at the end of the race we were serenaded by the awesomest, most hipster singer, ever.  I could have listened to that dude all day long.  Hey guitar guy, if you’re one of the three people who read my blog this month, I love you bruh (hipsters say bruh–I’m pretty sure it means brother).  He actually played three of my favourite songs while I was eating lunch.  Dude was awesome.

Second Wedge Brewing was even there offering a free beer to riders, so that was cool, even though I don’t really drink.  Uh oh, did you hear the collective gasp from the MTB community?  “A MTB guy who doesn’t drink beer!  Oh the horror”.  Please don’t tell my roadie friends I don’t drink espresso either.

Aw man, I hope they don’t take away my race license now.

I guess while I’m at it, I might as well out myself as a hugger.  Yeah, if you were at the Chalet just prior to the race, and saw two guys in a loving embrace, that was me and Geoff.  Geoff showed me a calf stretch where you dig your heels into the ground and elevate your toes.  Since there wasn’t a 2 inch curb for my toes, he offered his feet.  I dug my heels into the ground, put my toes onto his, and he held me for balance.  I may or may not have put my head on his shoulder like a tween at a school dance. Gotta say, when two people are wearing spandex, and they’re that close, there are seven points of contact (Admit it, you’re doing the visual math in your head right now).

What, I hug all my MTB friends?

Geoff was riding the 40k with a friend, super endurance runner Mike, and he thought it’d be cool if I rode with them.  Yeah right, ride with them.  Geoff is FAST (like, lightening fast), and Mike is hardcore (like, 100 miles in 24 hours without a bike hardcore).  He and Mike, together now known as Geoff-Mike, were going to “ride at a relaxed pace” but I knew that Geoff-Mike’s “relaxed pace” was going to push me to my limit.

And.

It.

Did.

Forget all the love when we hugged, Geoff is a weapon, Mike is Superman, and I’m, well, I’m me.  Beside those two, I was like a duck at the opera.

They kept a tough pace, but it was awesome to push harder than usual.

Pacing is always a weakness for me.  I either go too slow for an entire race, or I go too hard for the first 80% of the race, and ride in a haze for the end.  With Geoff-Mike setting the pace, I worked to keep up, but they were consistent, so there was none of my usual sprinting past groups on the double track and then catching my breath in the singletrack. It worked!  We stayed pretty close together for the first third of the race.  However, as I was fading, we were separated and they got ahead.  Keep in mind they were still at a “relaxed pace”…

I felt like Wile E. Coyote trying to catch the Road Runner.  I’d spot Geoff-Mike a few riders ahead, and line the course in front of them with Acme bird seed.  I’d somehow come close to catching them, and “meep meep” Geoff-Mike was gone, leaving only a flickering outline of their profile.

I threw a giant boulder off a cliff, painted a fake tunnel in a tree stump, and strapped myself to a rocket while wearing roller skates, but just couldn’t keep up. After the rail trail, Geoff-Mike got ahead me, and stayed there for the rest of the race.

At that point, I settled into my regular SLOWER pace, and enjoyed the race.  I was actually alone for a few minutes, and it was nice to be part of the forest mosaic.  I love the community of a race, but I loooooove the feeling of being part of a forest, when it’s just me and me legs, two pedals and a pair of wheels, and the whirrrrrrr of a sweet drivetrain.

That weather tho…

Superfly Racing could not have asked for nicer weather.  Does Sean have an in with the MTB gods?

The easier pace and warm sun allowed me to think about pacing, and I had a nice “A ha” moment.  No, I wasn’t thinking of a Norwegian band (okay, maybe I was).  I was thinking about my next race and how I was going to pace myself more evenly and slow down at the start so I had more at the end.  Aside from being fast, Geoff is a technical and smart rider.  Thanks for the tip buddy.

And thanks for the hug stretch.  I mean calf stretch.

The Great Albion Enduro was also great because I was pretty much free of any technical and/or physical malfunctions.  No broken cleat bolts, flat tires or dropped chain.  No flying over my bars like an amateur stuntman.  In fact, my tires and tire pressure were perfect (pretty much a first for me) and for the most part, I stayed in an upright position, remained on my bike, and kept moving forward, for the duration.  Boom.

My guy, Ted Anderton from Apex Race Photography captured this shot of me.  If you were there and haven’t bought your picture yet, go to Apex Race Photography.  Ted always makes me look better than I am, although I always have a goofy look on my face because I’m usually yelling “Hey Ted, love ya, man!”.

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In the end, it wasn’t my best race or worse race; it wasn’t the toughest, or easiest race; and I didn’t push myself through an epic journey, or to the brink of physical and emotional exhaustion.  And that’s totally cool.  While it’s nice when a race changes me in some awesome way, aside from the pacing discovery, it was just a sweet afternoon of awesome riding.

And you can’t beat that…even though I spent most of the race dreading the climbs that I knew Sean would throw at us.  Sean built many of the trails at Albion, and he loves the Green Monster and the Brown Monster.  For anyone unfamiliar with Albion Hills, the Green Monster is is a grassy grind that wrenches every bit of energy from you.  The Brown Monster is the same grind, but on dirt.  Both monsters are jerks.

Race Report.  The Great Albion Enduro.  September 16, 2017.  Albion Hills

Giant jam of riders for the first 5k, and it was so slooow going; some sweet Albion Hills singletrack; a zip along an undulating stretch of pavement to Palgrave; 5k of the Palgrave (wheeee, wheeee, wheeeeeeee!); the same ribbon of road back, but it was cut short by a steep climb up to some rail trail (Hi Elizabeth); a quick shot of rail trail (I really booked it there); and back into Albion for some more sweet singletrack. The kilometres passed and I started to think we’d get away with a Superfly race that DIDN’T have a Monster.  We hit the “1k TO GO” sign and I breathed a sigh of relief. “Phew” I thought, “No killer climb.  Oh wait, there it is”.  I guess it was Sean’s way of reminding us we weren’t there to trade cupcake recipes.  Honestly though, big climbs are only bad when you think about them.  During the race (and thinking about them after the race) they’re just part of the awesomeness that we conquer.

A little grind up the Brown Monster; and then guitar guy playing us home.

End of Race Report.

My result?  Fourth place.  2:27:49.

Third place was 2:27: 13.  Yeah, I was 36 seconds slower than third place.

36 seconds!

36 SECONDS!!!

Come on?  I was 36 seconds away from a legitimate podium spot.  I was so bummed.

team-colin-great-albion-enduro.jpgSo I took a picture of me in a 4th place podium spot.  Just imagine I’m standing on a box that says “4” on it.  And I’m closer.  Oh, and I’m not a weirdo taking a selfie of himself in front of the real Clydesdale podium.

I never race for a spot on the podium, but I’ve never been so close before.  So very bummed.  But then I realized something.  I could have easily bridged a 36 second gap a billion times throughout the race.  Sure, third place guy (I’m shaking my fist at him right now) could have found a bunch of 36 seconds throughout the race as well, but…

Hmm.  That’s all I’m sayin’.  Hmm.

A list of the category winners is at the end of the blog.

Once again, the Great Albion Enduro lived up to its title promise…

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Tammy and her boy with Team Colin

Ted Anderton from Apex photography (that’s a link to the pictures from the day) was there to capture that time I took the B Line around a rock garden instead of the boss line (probably could have bridged a few seconds there…)…

An old high school friend, Tammy, was there doing her “Goal Race”.  She set a goal at the beginning of the season to do a big race, and did…

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Some King Series peeps.

Half of the King Weekly Series riders were there racing or marshalling (hey Paul, Elizabeth, Stuart, and Kent)…

My boy Sean Thibeault was there and took 1st place on a fatbike in the 40k…

A few hundred other bike minded people were there chasing the podium, looking for a cool shirt, snatching one last ride of the season, or just being epic…

And Team Colin was there having a blast, as I always do.

Ride.

 

PS.  Before the results, did I capture the day the way you did?  Something to say about this blog, or biking, or bikes, or anything else?  Comment here, or send a message to: teamcolinblog@yahoo.com

And don’t forget to check the Team Colin Facebook page, or follow Team Colin on Instagram.

 

2017 GREAT ALBION ENDURO RESULTS (that’s a link to the full results):

40k Enduro

  • Under 18 (M):  Jack Gillies
  • 19-29 (M):  Michael Bayley
  • 19-29 (F):  Annie Nanowski
  • 30-39 (M):  Kyle Money
  • 30-39 (F):  Jennifer Bouchard
  • 40-49 (M):  Richard Pady
  • 40-49 (F):  Lisa Hutson
  • 50+ (M):  Michael Breault
  • SS (Open):  Michael Nazwaski
  • Fatbike (Open):  Sean Thibeault
  • Clydesdale:  Dan Nicks

80k Super Enduro

  • Open Female:  Sarah Caylor
  • Under 39 Male:  Liam Mulcahy
  • 40+ Male:  Tuan Tran
  • Fat/Single Speed Battle (Open):David Dermont

25k Fun Run

  • Open Male:  Jason Elisei
  • Open Female:  Jenna Dufton

 

51. Kingston XCM

21458411_10213644608411390_968093495_oI was HOPING for vindication.

I WANTED revenge.

I NEEDED to master the MTB Kingston course once and for all.

The results:

  • Vindication: 1
  • Revenge: 1
  • MTB Kingston: 1
  • Team Colin: 0

Race #4 in the Substance Projects XC Marathon (A Little Story of Not-So-Boom)

The Kingston Marathon and I have a long back story.  Last year, I broke a few spokes about 10k into the race, then spent 15 minutes untangling them from my cassette and dislodging them from a snapped rear derailleur, and finished the race on a borrowed bike. In 2015, I couldn’t find the START line and sprinted 6k to the next Concession and back before finding the START line (10 minutes AFTER the race started). The year before that, the course beat me up so badly that I almost quit riding (not really, but it was just so hard that year), and the year before that (my first year racing) it was so hot on race day that I actually spontaneously combusted (totally true).

Alas, once again, FOR THE FIFTH TIME IN A ROW, the Kingston XCM kicked my butt.

Kicked it hard.  Like, really hard.

Honestly, sometimes it’s exasperating being this bad in a bike race.

I get it.  The reality of a race is never as pretty as it is when imagining it, but c’mon, I was ready for this race.  Driving to Kingston the night before, I knew I was in the best shape of my life:  I’ve logged about 800 kilometres of racing this season (and at least a thousand more in training); my weight is down; my muscle mass is up (I bought a Bowflex, dang it); my side gut flap is (marginally/slightly) smaller; I jiggle way less; and I even somehow managed to curtail my poutine intake (despite 4 weeks in Quebec, the Poutine Capital of the world, this summer. #willpower).

So how did I do this year?  Let’s take a look at the math:  In the half marathon last year (when I had a catastrophic technical failure) my finish time was 2:23.  So this year, I was expecting somewhere in the neighbourhood of way under five hours.

Nope.

Not even close.

In the full marathon this year my time was…

6:17.

Yeah, almost six hours and twenty minutes.  That’s over three hours per lap!  I was so late finishing, that the podium awards for the race, the overall awards for the series, and the draw prizes were finished long before I limped my poor Norco Revolver under the FINISH banner.  The parking lot was all but empty, and I swear I heard the raspy call of a vulture as a bundle of tumbleweed scuttled past me.

I felt like Klaatu, except the earth wasn’t standing still, everybody just went home.

At least Raf waited for me (love you bud), and the rest of Fatboy Nation, who cheered me on from the parking area as I crested the last climb (love you Mike and Jenn and Monika and cousin Jack).

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And it was great that Simon, who was only registered for the half but decided to join me on a second lap, finished with me.  I met Simon at the El Bandito, and we’ve been race buddies ever since. We’ve finished side-by-side three races in a row, and like every budding teenage relationship, we text each other before, after, and in between races.  I want to give him a cool nickname like “The Frenchman” or “Le Bicyclettist”, but I think I’ll just call him mon ami. Awesome.

21390425_10213109376384898_200083758_oI can’t wait until my bestest riding buddy, John, meets him.

I also met another awesome dude while riding.  Dan from Ottawa.  It wasn’t just Dan from Ottawa’s first time at MTB Kingston.  He was on a borrowed bike, and hadn’t done “one of these races in 10 years”.  I flatted about 8k in (at least my derailleur was intact…) and he saw I needed help.  We spent about 20 minutes trying to coax air into my tire, with minimal luck, and he didn’t leave until we were (sort of) finished.  At least I had enough air to limp along the course to the road crossing, and then zip up to the barn for a proper pump.  Dan from Ottawa, you’re awesome, dude.  I may or may not have etched some unsolicited advice into your brain by encouraging you to finish, but I still maintain that nobody ever regrets a FINISHED race, regardless of how long it takes.

Seriously though, six hours and twenty minutes.  Dang.

People often comment that I’m too self deprecating in some of my posts.  Well, after Saturday, I’ve got six hours and twenty minutes of “told you so” to back me up.

And the worst thing is that I actually felt strong at the end.  On my second lap, I booked all of Peter’s Loop and Sydney’s Loop (about 12k or rocky gruel) in less than 25 minutes, ripped through the last 6k, and even got out of my seat on the last climb out of the valley.

I’m replaying the race over and over in my mind.  Did I get too much into my head and slow my pace too much?  Did I actually get worse over the summer despite riding my butt off.  Did I ride through a molasses vortex at some point early in the race and have bestowed upon me the super power of the Flash–ing Yellow Light?

My buddy Geoff says I “over trained”.  Not likely.  I may be in the best shape of my life, but that shape is still largely pear-like.

I just don’t know.

Sure, it would help if I had checked my tires for air pressure before the race or maybe if I’d brought a working pump, but that only accounts for 30 minutes of the SIX HOURS AND TWENTY MINUTES!!! (For proper effect, say that with echo).

team-colin.jpgSomething happened to me, and it wasn’t just losing a lot of electrolytes.  By the way, that’s a picture of my jersey after the race.  It’s a black sleeve, and it’s not dirt.

Whatever happened to me really, really, really, reallyreallyreally, sucks.

In my defense, the MTB Kingston course is known for being technical, tight, and punishing.

But I’ve raced other tough courses.

And sure, 78k is one heck of a long race by any standards.

But I’ve raced similar distances this summer, (and I was on my single speed for the other ones (I actually felt like I was cheating this time because I had gears.)

Put in the most simple terms, this course wore me down.  It scratched away every bit of energy, clawed at my resolve, and gnawed my body into a knotted mess.  Actually, not my entire body (my usual problem spots: everywhere, and especially my back and knees, weren’t a problem) but my forearms and wrists took a particular beating.

I have to say, while I was strong near the finish of the race, back at the barn (near the beginning of my second lap), I was over four hours in, with almost half the race to go, and I wanted to quit.

It would have been my first DNF.

But here’s the thing:  Team Colin does not DNF.  It’s not in my DNA to Did Not Finish, and there was no way on earth I was going to Did Not Finish at MTB Kingston.  “Today will not be the day you Did Not Finish, Colin…” I thought “…not today, not ever.”.  So I didn’t Did Not Finish.

I FINISHED.  It just took so darn long.

team-colin.jpgI’m not complaining (and honestly, how many people have the conditioning to attempt a 78k mountain bike race) but even though I consider it a gift to even be able to tank a big race, it’s still pretty demoralizing.

I was even heckled during the race.  Because it took so much time to jam air into my tire, the half marathon riders caught up near mid-lap.  The three leaders were patient and supportive, and so were the next 15 or so riders, but then a large pack approached, and without a pause, yelled ahead and told me to stop and let them pass. No kidding.  “You might want to pull off the course and let is us pass–there’s a big group coming up”.

Um, no, I thought.  It was a tight, twisty, and very technical section, and we were hitting a boardwalk every 20 metres, so there wasn’t any room to pull aside. “As soon as there’s a chance, I’ll ease up and let you pass”, I said.

I’m sure their urgent requests good natured, and they were simply caught up in race pace, but the first few seemed unnecessarily impatient–especially since they could have announced and passed me in the brush if they had the legs to do so.

I know it was a race, but I was racing too, and it wasn’t a World Cup qualifier…

I should say that most of the pack was cool, supportive, patient, and kind with their words (as are most racers and riders I encounter) but dang, I still had four more hours to go…

As the half marathoners were passing, it was great to see so many familiar faces.  Every Dan’s Race is such an awesome reunion.  Corey was in the lead pack; Wally and Sean were pretty close behind; Tyler passed; Donna and Peter passed a while later; and Barry, Ken, Robert, Tatiana, Chris at other times.  Great riders.  Check out Tyler’s post about the race at Team Van Go.  He even gave a nod to me in his first line.  Boom.

It was also great to be in the big kid race with a few other legends that I knew (or recognized), and it’s always a pleasure to see David (and Lorraine and the boys); Nick, Dan, and Angela; Erich; and Mykal.  There were so many others that I recognized from other races too.

A list of winners is at the bottom of this post.

RACE REPORT.  Kingston XC Marathon:  MTB Kingston (September 2, 2017)

Farm track, farm field, roots, rocks, a bunch of bar checks, more rocks and roots, a lake, a flat tire (and half an hour to fix the thing), some double track, rocks and shale, boulders, a road crossing, a quick shot up to the barn to pump my tire and back to the road, a field of soy (if you build it, they will come–and make tofu, soy milk, and other soy-related products), a pretty farm lane, some sand, a barn, the sweetest flow trail east of Joyride 150, an awesome (and huge) jump line, forest, roots, roots, more roots, a bridge, another bridge, more and more bridges, “The Rocky stuff” (which was rocks, tight climbs, rocks, and rocks), a quick shot of gravel and up a rutted hill to the rest of “The Rocky Stuff” (which was EVEN MORE ROCKS), a zip around Peter’s Loop, a zip around Sydney’s Loop, 6k of some more rocks and roots, the “Drop of Doom”, and a grassy climb to the FINISH.

Lather, rinse, repeat (with an added 4k connector back to the START line, and a little stunt session somewhere in the middle), and 78k later, the race was over.

End of Race Report.

In a word, the course was tight, twisty, rocky, and technical.

And hard.

team-colin.jpg

Six hours and seventeen minutes, and a little trail rash from a spill.  I like to do my own stunts.

MTB Kingston is hard core. These folks build and maintain some of the sweetest and most technical singletrack around.  The result is an awesome and very punishing network of awesomeness, and one heck of a fun time on a bike.  Gotta say, Rob Sangers and his people make some awesome fun.

Also, the Drop of Doom is scary as hell.

The race wasn’t a good one for me, but I got to spend a whole lot of time on my bike, with some amazing people.

And so, I’ll regroup, and rethink, and ride some more and then ride some more.

And I’ll still consider it a blessing that I can even attempt the distance, and be proud that I finished each of the four XC Marathon races this year.  272k of really tough, really awesome, really fun MTB racing.  Boom.

But hear me now MTB Kingston: I’ll be back next year for my vengeance, and if the saying is true, victory is mine.

Wait, the saying is “Six time’s a charm”, right?

Ride.

Something to say about this post, or another post, or riding, or racing, or bikes? Comment on the blog, or send a message to: teamcolinblog@yahoo.com

Winners

Congratulations to overall winner, Cameron McPhaden (U35 Men), with a time of 3:39, and the other Marathon winners:

  • 35-49 Men:  Eric Jobin (4:15)
  • 35+ Women:  Jessica Nankman (4:15)
  • Clydesdale:  Rafael Olejniczak (4:38)
  • Fatbike:  Jack Padega (4:14)
  • Master Men:  Garnett Abbey (4:12)
  • Single Speed:  Joel Nankman (4:17)

Congratulations to the Half Marathon winner, David Klaver (20-34 Men), with a time of 1:40, and to the other category winners:

  • 35+ Women:  Donna Winters (2:04)
  • 35-40 Men:  Brook SMith (1:50)
  • Clydesdale:  Ken Ruckstuhl (2:14)
  • Fatbike:  Patrick Seguin (1:50)
  • Master Men:  Martin Mueller (1:55)
  • Single Speed:  Chris Frank (1:56)
  • U20 Men:  Ryan Genoe (1:59)
  • U35 Women:  Tatiana Chiesa (2:18)

21439306_10213109378384948_733766695_oThanks again to Dan Marshall and Substance Projects; Dan’s mom and dad (Ron and Florence are a HUGE support for me); Sherry, Simon, and Jenn; my wife for waiting until the end, and then letting me chat with my friends; MTB Kingston, Rob Sangers, and the Drop of Doom; Cycle Solutions; Pearl Izumi, eLoad, and the other amazing sponsors; and Lorraine (best post-race BBQ ever).

And thanks to Barry for some much needed mid-race love and support (the dude even helped me with my helmet).  Awesome buddy.

 

46. 24 Hours of Summer Solstice

20170625_014303 copyChico Racing’s 24 Hour of Summer Solstice (20th Anniversary edition).

Chico who there?

Chico Racing.

24 Hours of what now?

24 Hours of Summer Solstice.

sol·stice

noun (/ˈsōlstəs,ˈsälstəs/)

summer solstice, when the sun reaches its highest point in the sky at noon, marked by the longest day

Yup, the longest day of the year.  24 hours of MTB goodness.  24 hours of playing bikes…24 hours of BOOM.

Albion Hills.  2,300 riders.  388 teams.  17k.  It was AWESOME.

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Geoff S.  This guy flies.

When my pal, Geoff Simpson (from the Tuesday night King Weekly Series), said “Hey Colin, want to do the 24 Hour Race?”  I said “Um, okay” (because I never say no to a ride).

Best.  Answer.  Ever.

24 Hours of Summer Solstice was totally and completely, off the charts, outrageously awesome.  Honestly, it was lit AF–that’s what the youths nowadays would call it (because for some reason, they refuse to use actual words and have a propensity for acronyms). They might punctuate it with the word “fam” at the end (because, well, whatever).

Seriously though, it was fleek.  What? I spend my days with teenagers.  Their language is bound to rub off on me. Plus, it’s fun to use made up words, fam (note: I may have used the words “fleek” and “fam” incorrectly, but that’s totally okay with me).

As usual with something new for me, I was pretty nervous leading up to the event.  Since it was a last minute decision, I really wasn’t prepared physically for the race.  I worked late every day of the prior week, and even scheduled my daughter’s birthday party on the Friday night before the race.  Let me say this, nothing calms pre-race nerves like 12 screaming tweens…  I’m kidding.  Nothing scratches at your eyeballs–from behind–like a birthday party of 12 tweens.

But it wasn’t my lack of preparation or the course that worried me.  If anything, with a 17k lap distance, and a pretty epic spring of racing behind me, I’d faced way tougher endeavours in the last few months.  It was the whole “riding at night” thing that scared the bejeezus out of me (a real mom word, not a made-up word from the youths).

However, I’ve been steering my life by listening to the universe lately, and everything has been fine, so I figured I’d do it.

Two awesome friends (Dan Marshall from Substance Projects and Mark Summers from Joyride 150) offered to loan me some sweet lights for the race, so at least I’d be lit. Not like “lit fam”, but actually lit with 2,000 watts of illumination. They assured me there was “..nothing to worry about…” on my night lap.

Um, can I just say there was plenty to worry about.  Here are 4 things:

  1. NOT seeing where I was going
  2. seeing ONLY where I was going
  3. the boogeyman
  4. things that actually go bump in the night

Hey universe, help me out here…

(Sort of) Race Report: 24 Hours of Summer Solstice. Albion Hills (June 24-25, 2017)
Here’s my hour-by-hour (or so) recollection of the day:

9:15AM     

Arrive at Albion Hills. I couldn’t believe the sheer number of people, bikes and vehicles.   The ENTIRE park was buzzing with excitement, and so was I.

My team campsite was close to the chalet, and right in the middle of the action. Prior to the race, I had only met one teammate, but within 5 minutes, this new guy knew these guys were the real deal.  Honest to goodness, big boss MTB people, with hearts of gold.

Our team was Billy Biker and the Kickstands.  I was a kickstand!

These guys are awesome. They’ve raced as a team for the last 22 or so years, and had been doing it for so long they even had two teams on their site:  Billy and our team, and a team of their kids and their kid’s friends.

photo 3
A few kickstands (From l to r: Gregg, New Guy, Rich, Bill, Geoff, and Mark.  Photo courtesy Cynthia Husband)

11:30AM

Team meeting.  Okay, this didn’t really take place, but we sat around and decided the order of riders.  It was decided I would ride third because I’m not sure. At just over an hour per lap, that meant I’d be riding at around 3:30PM, at midnight, and at about 10:00AM.  Wait, at midnight…  This is where I got a bit woozy.

“Pfft”, I thought.  I could do this.  Bump in the night, schmump in the night.

12:00PM

20170624_115430 copy

Race start.  Holy crap.  The population of a large village was there FOR A BIKE RACE. It was remarkable.  Bikers everywhere.

1:00PM

Our transfer point was an ad hoc location about 500m before the START/FINISH (shh, don’t tell anyone, it was 3 sites away from our campsite, and really really convenient). We watched Gregg finish his lap and hand the number card to Bill.  I changed into my kit, and Geoff and I went for a little zip around the campground to warm up a bit. Everywhere we looked, there were bikes and riders and families and awesomeness.  So awesome.

3:30PM (or so)

It was time for my lap.  I was warmed up (sort of) and mentally ready (not really). Bill got to the transfer site, I took the race plate, and boom, I was off.

I hit the actual transfer point, swiped the number card, and started the lap.

The course was sublime: great climbs, lots and lots of wicked trail features, fast and fun doubletrack, rocks and roots, spectacular singletrack, more spectacular singletrack, and even the brown monster.  It was everything a good MTB race should be, and everything a great MTB race is. Gotta love Albion Hills.

17_24hr_T_(12589)-(ZF-6967-87774-1-001)
A sweet shot of my bike (photo courtesy Apex Photography)

And to make the lap even greater, a lot of the course skirted the campground. People were cheering, hollering, and offering bacon.  Did you hear me?  Bacon.

IMG_2649
Nearing the transfer (photo courtesy G. Simpson)

I finished my lap without incident, and even saw my buddy Ted Anderton from Apex Race Photography on the trail.  Ted may be A race photographer, but I always think of him as MY race photographer.

My lap time was 1:04.  Not a great time, but not horrible given my lack of preparation.

6:30PM

I brought two boxes of Taco Bell burritos for my team (what you didn’t). Standing at the door of my RV, I only had to say one word: “Burritos!”

And just like that, I gave each and every one of them indigestion.

7:00PM to 11:00PM

I tried to catch up on some sleep from the week before, relax a bit, and just experience being surrounded by so much bike love and awesomeness.  Sleep didn’t come easy, so I had a bunch of short naps.  I brought a courier bag full of marking and it was staring at me from the top bunk of my RV like a giant sack of guilt, so that didn’t help. What a doofus.  Who brings marking to a bike race?   A teacher who is late with his marking that’s who.

When Geoff knocked on the door of the RV to “wake me up” I was already up and ready, and nervously pacing in my RV. The night lap was really weighing heavily with me.  Why would I choose to ride at night for the first time in a race?

12:15AM

Transfer point.  It was dark.  Waiting.  Scared.  Transfer the number card.  Boom, I was off.

I could see!

It was awesome.  How can night riding not be a regular thing? The short zip to the START/FINISH was cool, but the real fun didn’t begin until after that.  Alone in the forest, chugging and gasping until I warmed up, safe in a cocoon of light, I felt amazing. I wasn’t really alone though, because there were other rider’s lights zigzagging through the forest ahead of me and around me.

I was lost in a forest of darkness, streaking through the trails of Albion Hills, and could only see what was directly in front of me, but the clarity of it all was striking.

After my lap, I wrote on Facebook:

“Sometimes you have to get lost to find yourself”

Ugh.  How sappy.  It was true, sort of, but I was high from the thrill of the ride, and feeling the bossness of owning the night. I wasn’t really lost, but the sentiment, however sappy, was on point.  Because I could only see directly in front of me, my mind was opened for everything else. It was meditative.  Me and my bike, pedal stroke by pedal stroke, tree, root, and rock.  The only way to move forward was by pedaling, and since I couldn’t see further than 10 feet, I only saw what the IMMEDIATE and pedaled towards the end of the beam of light, knowing that I could never catch it. It was so very Zen.

Plus, it was just really really cool.

I finished my lap, and nothing went bump, and the boogeyman didn’t snatch me.

Like everything else in riding, it was awesome, and enlightening, and just plain fun.

20170625_014313 copyWhy did I say yes to Geoff?  Because if I’ve learned anything through cycling it’s these three things:

  1. everything is always all right
  2. nothing bad ever happens to Colin on a bike
  3. sometimes you just have to listen to the universe

I’ve learned a bit about tire pressure, bike geometry, S-1, and saddle sores too, but that list seems to fit this exercise.

In a good bike race, you ride an awesome course. In a great bike race, your bike takes you on a journey.  The journey of the 24 Hour was awesome.

I went to sleep at about 2:30AM, with visions of night riding dancing under my eyelids. Awesome indeed.

9:00 AM

I was going to start my next lap in about an hour, and it was probably going to be the second last lap for the team.  We’d hit 21 laps overall.  But then we realized something.

Team Meeting.  Okay, it wasn’t a team meeting, but we sat around the site and realized that if I could start my lap at 9:55 (which was likely because Bill was on course and his lap times were blistering), and if I could nail a lap time of 1:05 (which was a bit less likely, but almost possible if the universe helped), and if Ed could nail a lap time after me of about an hour (totally likely because he was Ed and Ed wasn’t me), we could start our last lap at 11:50, which was well before the noon cut-off time, and would allow us to finish the race by the 1:00 cut-off time–and sneak another lap.  The team was a bit wary because they’ve already “been there, done that”, but it was MY first time, and I had neither been there OR done that.

“If you’re going to be, just be EPIC” I told them.  “Do it for Team Colin” I told them (okay, I just thought that part).

They agreed we should shoot for the last lap, and Geoff stepped up.  “I’ll do it”. Yup, our finish was going to be epic.

Bill finished his lap in 1:05.  Epic indeed.

I finished my lap in 1:05.  “I gave you three minutes, Geoff” I said, as I transferred the number card to Ed.  More epicness.

Ed was off like a dart, and I knew he’d be back in an hour.  He was back in 1:01.  The epicness was imminent.

11:50AM

Just after 11:50, Geoff started his lap.  Without a GPS for time, and tired from staying up all night, Geoff left the transfer point.  He would have to complete the lap, plus the additional 500m, in 1:10.

He flew. Like, literally, Geoff flew. That is all there is to say.  Geoff let the rubber fly. and nailed a smoldering final lap time. Our team did 22 laps, and finished at 12:53:16PM.

And, that’s it.  24 hours of EPIC awesomeness.  And here’s the best part.  Chico racing actually bent time so that it wasn’t 24 hours, it was 25.

End of (sort of) Race Report

Under an overcast sky, at about 1:30PM, we celebrated the winners.  Tag teams, solo riders, teams 4, teams of 5, teams of 6-10.  All of them awesome.  Everyone in the audience, equally awesome.  Honestly, check out Riot’s post about the race.  He is epic.

20170625_134920 copy
David.  22 Laps Solo.  ‘Nuff said.

Then, under a canopy of rain, we waited to win one of the spectacular door prizes. The folks at Chico know something about prizes, and with an event of this size they were amazing. Gear, clothes, more gear, and a few bikes. Awesome.  Seriously, for those who left early, bad move.  I recognized two names of people who won but weren’t there because they left early, but I’m not going to be the one to say to them “Dude, you missed a $1,000 worth of prizes.

Alas, Team Colin won nothing.

Gotta say, for my first dip into the 24 Hour pool, it was pretty epic.   I was on a team of nine, and the actual racing for me fell a bit short of epic, but the event experience was unforgettable, and the 24 Hour vibe will stay with me for a long time to come. Plus, I conquered the night riding thing.

24-hours-of-Summer-Solstice-Team-Colin.jpeg
Rob and Miro.  Tag team.  Awesome.

On my team, we only did two or three laps each, but we still felt pretty awesome. However, many other riders blasted truly epic performances. Watching Rob tag team it with his buddy (18 laps), and seeing Riot (13 laps on a singlespeed) and Raf (10 laps on a fatbike) solo the race, was awesome. Another of my racing friends, David V. soloed the race with 22 laps.  Now THAT’S truly lit.

24 Hours of Summer Solstice was awesome.  Riding in my balloon of light, watching the tree trunks zip past, and only seeing what I HAD to see—and only when I NEEDED to see it–was liberating. In my family and work life, I like to see the whole picture, and I spend my days overseeing the tasks of kids and a job , but at the 24 Hour, with my vision confined to a small patch of trail, I was reminded about the importance seeing what was directly in front of me.

And it was really fun too!

Ride.

 

Check out the results at Chico Racing.

And would you look at these sweet shots from Ted at Apex Photography.  If you haven’t bought your picture, do so.

17_24hr_T (6922)17_24hr_T (5598)17_24hr_T (4854)17_24hr_T (3460)17_24hr_T (581)

Here are some other shots from the days:

 

 

 

 

News: 24 Hours of BOOM

Well, I guess it’s time…24-hours-of-Summer-Solstice-1140x300

Earlier this season, it was time for Team Colin to do the full marathon distance in a Substance Projects XC Marathon race, so I did it.  50k at the H2i.  Here’s the link: Homage to Ice.

Then it was time for Team Colin to do the full Paris to Ancaster distance, so I did it.  70k at P2A.  Here’s the link: Paris to Ancaster.

Then, since I did those two races, I figured it was time for Team Colin to do two more marathon distance races in the the XC Marathon, so I did.  70k at the LSC (here’s the link: Long Sock Classic), and 74k at the Humbler (here’s the link:  Northumberland Humbler).

All of those races went fairly well (and by fairly well I mean to say that I didn’t die), so I figured it was time for Team Colin to do the full Singletrack Classic, and I did.  44k. Here’s the link:  Singletrack Classic.

But I never thought it was time for Team Colin to do the 24 Hours of Summer Solstice.  It has never been my thing:

  • It was too much time away from my family
  • It just seemed too big and busy of a race
  • I wasn’t ready to do it solo (and figured I’d only be able to ride a few laps if I was on a team)
  • Really, nobody ever asked me

You see, while I have a bunch of riding friends and people that I ride with on a regular basis (hey John, love ya buddy), I don’t have a formal MTB squad.  You know, a group of regular riders who send weekly texts saying “Dude, where are we riding this weekend?”.

Anyway, I just wasn’t interested in doing the race, and I didn’t think it was time.

But the universe thought it was time, and the universe spoke to me loud and clear.

Here’s what happened.  We’re going to travel back in time 6 days.  I hope I don’t wake up on a planet of apes.  Or worse, a planet with a pumpkin-faced idiot in charge of a launch button…

Saturday, June 18, 2017. Scarborough Ontario, My Bed, 5:38AM

I woke up early and couldn’t fall asleep.  It was about 5:30, and while I was tossing and turning, and replaying favourite rides (what, don’t you do that too) I started thinking about Chico Racing’s 24 Hours of Summer Solstice race.  The race had never even appeared on my radar in the past, and I don’t know why it did at 5:38 on a Saturday morning when I should have been sawing giant logs, but I started to think that it was time to start wondering about considering pondering the possibility of whether I should perhaps try to look into exploring the idea that maybe I should think about doing the race year next year.  Or the year after.

Honestly, I don’t know what sparked the idea, but it stuck.  I started thinking that maybe it’d be fun, or maybe I’d do it solo like Riot on Racing does, or maybe someday I’d be in a cool MTB squad and get a text that said “Dude, let’s do the 24 Hour”…

I fell back asleep and snagged an extra half hour of much needed beauty sleep, while visions of the race–and the sweet blog post that I’d be able to write if I ever did it–pedaled by…

And then things got a bit weird.  I woke up at 8:00, stumbled out of bed, and waited for my knees to start bending while I walked downstairs to eat.  By the 9th step I stopped walking like a drunken baby, but that wasn’t the weird part.

The weird part happened after my morning constitutional.  “Constitutional” is a classy way to say I peed.  You know, because I’m classy that way.

I checked my phone.  It was Saturday morning and I was waiting for my MTB squad to text…  I’m kidding.  No squad.

A few Facebook notifications and Instagram whatevers, some work email to ignore, and a message on the Team Colin Yahoo mail account.  “Who is contacting me on the Team Colin Yahoo account?” I thought.  “Nobody ever uses the Team Colin Yahoo account…”

Well, My buddy, Geoff Simpson contacts me on the Team Colin Yahoo account (actually this was his first time, but you get the idea).  Geoff does the King Weekly Series with me.  He’s a boss rider, and a cool guy.

Get to the weird point Colin…

Okay, here it is.  Geoff’s message said “Dude, let’s ride this weekend”…  No it didn’t. I’m not in his squad.

Yet.

Geoff’s message was better.  Geoff’s message said

“I know it is short notice, but are you available next weekend?   We are looking for an extra rider for our 24 hour team.   I know it is exam report card time and short notice but just wondering if you are interested?”

WOHOO. Team Colin has a MTB squad.  Okay, not yet.  Breathe Team Colin, he hasn’t asked you to be on his squad, he only asked about the 24 Hour.

So I stopped doing my happy dance and replied to his message.  It was a good thing I stopped dancing.  My kids were already up, and the sight of daddy doing the happy dance in his underwear, with morning hair, and still numb knees wasn’t pretty. Sorry kids.  Daddy is lame.  Click on that link.

My response to Geoff was a resounding YES–although in the coolest and most blase way (I didn’t want to sound too eager, lest he dismiss me from his squad without a chance).   You see, I don’ t know much, but I know this:  when the universe speaks, Team Colin listens.

So, on Saturday, June 25, I’m doing the 24 Hours of Summer Solstice, because there is no way I am going to pass up on the chance to be epic.

And I know something else too.  If you’re going to be, JUST BE EPIC.

And that’s what I’m going to do.  Just.  Be.  Epic.

  • I’m looking forward to the community and camaraderie
  • I’m looking forward to my first kick at night riding, alone, in the woods (okay, I’m not)
  • I’m looking forward to being scared in the woods (what, I’m delicate and things that go bump–or worse scratch–in the night give me the willies)
  • I’m looking forward to connecting with the billion riders who I usually meet at races
  • I’m looking forward to playing bikes, along with a few thousand other bike minded people for 24 hours of awesome, solstice-cracking, awesome-being, cycling goodness
  • I’m looking forward to the challenge, and the fun, and the whatever
  • I’m looking forward to pedaling waaaaaay out of my comfort zone

Like I said, I don’t know what to expect, but I expect to be surprised, and if I’ve realized anything on this biking journey, I’ve realized that when you listen to the universe, things always work out in the best of ways.

24 Hours of Summer Solstice, here I come–be gentle with me.

Oh, and to the guys on Billy Biker and the Kickstands, I’m sorry for, well, me. Whatever Geoff said about me to get you to agree to have me on your team is probably a lie.  I’ll do my best, but no promises.

24 Hours of BOOM.

Ride.

 

PS.  I don’t know where the Team Colin Support Vehicle (okay, it’s just my family RV with the letters “TEAM COLIN” on the rear bumper) will be parked, but if you see me, say hi.  There are ALWAYS popsicles (and sometimes freezies) in the freezer.  For the 24 Hour, there might even be Revelos and ice cream bars.  Team Colin loves iced treats.

UPDATE (Friday night).  I’m at a birthday party for my daughter.  She wanted beef burritos from Taco Bell.  Her twelve tween guests weren’t fans.  To make a long story short, I will have 20 beef burritos in the Team Colin Support Vehicle as well.  I’ll be campsite # something, in the Rustling Brook Campground.  I’ll update the Team Colin Facebook page when I land.

45. Humbler TC: 17

It Was the Best of Times, it Was the Bester of Times.

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74k later and still smiling (photo courtesy of Dan Emsley)

Northumberland Forest.  Coburg, Ontario:  The 2017 Substance Projects Northumberland Humbler.

74 kilometres.

That’s the same as driving from the CN Tower to Barrie.  Well, 20k south of Barrie. 74,000 metres of singletrack, double track, old trails, new trails, fire road, access road, this side of the road, that side of the road, back to this side of the road again…  We even did a few sliart. That’s trails spelled backward.  You know, because we rode some of the trails in reverse.

1,400m of climbing.

That’s as tall as, well something really tall.

It was my favourite race EVER.

Let me say it again.  The Northumberland Humbler was, by far, my favourite race ever.

WHATTARACE!!!

Here’s why:

  • I actually started, raced, and finished my longest MTB race ever.  74k of BOOM.
  • It capped a two month spree of epic race awesomeness.  7 big races in 9 weekends, plus 5 weekly series races.  BOOM times 7, plus 5, divided by 9.
  • Northumberland Forest is one of my favourite places to ride–AND we got to try a new trail AND, a whole bunch of it was backwards.  MOOB (same joke as above)
  • I nailed a spot on the podium:  3rd place Clydesdale (and so what if there were only three Clydesdales and I was actually 2nd last place overall).  A podium finish is a podium finish.  One third of a BOOM.
  • I got to see my favourite biking sub-community:  the folks at Substance Projects.  A big Dan Marshall BOOM.
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    Jeff Shikaze, Team Colin, and Hair (photo courtesy of Jeff Shikaze)

    And, after almost five hours of sweating in a helmet, there isn’t a single hair out of place. Thanks to my race photographer and Fatbike God, Jeff Shikaze for the shot, and thanks to great hair product. L’Oreal BOOM.

  • Honestly, if you peel everything away (the challenge, the exhaustion, the poison ivy all over my legs…) the Humbler was just a big boss, 4 hour and 48 minute long, rip (although it was considerably less time for the rest of the riders…).  Bike playing BOOM.

I’m not saying it was easy, because it wasn’t, but honestly, it wasn’t that tough either.  I started strong and with a smile on my face, I was still grinning at the halfway point, and I finished strong, with a bigger smile on my face.  This race is a very stark contrast to the desolation and hopelessness (yes, actual desolation) I felt for the ENTIRE Long Sock Classic. Very stark indeed.  While the LSC was my toughest race ever, the Humbler was the funnestest.

You might think funnestest isn’t a word, but if you raced the Humbler, you would know exactly what I’m talking about.

I still can’t believe we did it.  I still can’t believe Team Colin rode a full marathon distance, on a single speed, and it didn’t kill us.  Didn’t kill us?  Pfft.  Actually, I felt almost good at the end of the race.

The Humbler marked the end of a nine weekend racing spree that covered a good chunk of Ontario’s finest bike trails, a bunch of different riding disciplines, and almost 450k of race-pace, white-knuckle, maximum heart rate, riding…

Wait, what’s this about 9 weekend epic racing spree?

Well, from April 9th to June 3rd I raced almost every MTB race within 2 hours of my house.  Here’s my Facebook post from the day after the Humbler:

8 weeks
9 weekends
7 big races
5 weekly series races
3 shots on the podium
Over 7,000m of climbing (um, that’s almost Mt. Everest)
Just under 450k of racing (and almost half of it on a single speed)

Yup.

  1. Steaming Nostril (April 9);
  2. Homage to Ice (April 15);
  3. Paris to Ancaster (April 30);
  4. O Cup #2 in Kingston (May 7);
  5. Long Sock Classic (May 20);
  6. Singletrack Classic (May 27);
  7. Northumberland Humbler (June 3).

Oh, and five King Weekly Series races.

And yes, I know Team Colin really isn’t that good of a rider, and I know there are so many riders who are way more epically awesome than me (they ride longer, faster, harder, and better, and their results are way better than mine–like waaaaaaaaay better), and because of that, there’s usually no shortage of self deprecation on my blog.

But not today.

Nope.  Because Team Colin is now sort-of-in-a-periphery-way-kinda-almost-maybe-close-to-being in the same league as the big kid MTBers.

Not really, but almost sort of.  Um, why do I keep referring to myself Team Colin?

And even though I’m not the traditional (okay, actual) definition of epic MTB awesomeness, I always place first because I’m not racing THEM, I’m racing ME.  Although saying that, I also know that if I’m the “only person in the race”, I also place last, but that’s not the point I’m making right now.  Right now, I feel good about my riding, and I want to hold onto it for a while longer.  Besides, if you’ve ever seen my results, you know there’s plenty of opportunity for me to feel crappy about my riding.

You know, I feel better than just good.  For the first time in my racing career, I feel kinda badass.  No, I feel wickedly badass. As I wrote in blog #38, this season, I stopped QUALIFYING each race, and I started OWNING each race: The full P2A, the full Singletrack Classic, and three marathons (on a single speed)!  So cool.

By the way, I didn’t start racing the marathon distances because I COULD, I started racing the marathon distances because I wanted to see if I could.  The rationale and mindset leading to that decision is for another blog post, because now it’s time for a Race Report.

Race Report.  Northumberland Humbler:  Northumberland Forest (June 3, 2017)

The race started with the Humbler’s standard quick blast out of the start, and a rip up a moderate double track climb.  There was a short rider snag at the first bit of sand, but then we were up the hill, and immediately into the sweet singletrack goodness that makes Northumberland my favourite place to ride:  long stretches of fast and flowy singletrack, awesomely railed berms, and sweet MTB awesomeness at every tree, root, rock, and stalk of poison.  For anyone familiar with the trails, we took the Hogsback bypass, which winds, in the gruntiest way, around the actual Hogsback. The bypass skirts a giant climb, but that doesn’t mean it’s gentle.  It’s almost 2k of continual output, which took us to the 5k mark.  Once at the top of that climb, I knew we didn’t have a significant climb for a long time.  The next 15k was a blur of more awesomely flowing singletrack, speedy climbs, and long descents (that always seemed to end in a 90 degree turn).  At the first aid station, I took a minute to recover with Liz, who was being assisted by Dan Elmsly, and then we we crossed the street for a quick zip alongside a pioneer stone wall (the fun new part).

At approximately 20k (across the road from the parking lot) the race transported us to Ganaraska Forest for a long haul.  Yeah, the Northumberland Forest actually becomes the Ganny for a while.  No it doesn’t, but it sure feels like it.  On that side of the road, the trails morph from the fun Northumberland vibe to the raw Ganaraska vibe.  While the trails leading into Stonewall (the fun new part) were awesome, the trails leading away from Stonewall (the fun new part) are a mean, raw and grunty mesh of tight and twisty, rocky and rooty trail that’s better suited for its intended use as motocross track instead of a mountain bike race.  It wasn’t a walk in the park, but that’s okay, because I wasn’t walking, and I had my bike.  By the time we were back on “this side” of the road, we were spent.

Fortunately, there were a few FAST stretches of trail that led to a faster switchback climb, and down to the START/FINISH line.

I hit the START/FINISH for a quick recovery before heading out onto the trails for a repeat.

Even though I felt strong, the first part of the second lap was the hardest.  I knew what lay ahead, and I knew it was still 35k until I could stop pedalling, and I knew the pain had to kick in eventually.

However, surprisingly, the pain didn’t really kick in.  On the other side of the road, just after Stonewall (the fun new part) at the 65k mark, the race became a slog, but I knew it was only 10k of lousy-ness, so I counted the metres until it ended.

And it did.  I hit the aid station for a get-off-a-bike-stretch-and-drink, before the last 5k, and a few minutes later, I finished my longest MTB race.

Smiling.  Grinning.  I was even ready to do another lap.  I’m kidding.  I was sore and tired, and I think I would have had a temper tantrum if I had to get back on my bike, but I’m not kidding about my smile.  It was an ear to ear, open mouthed, sweaty and spent, dirt-caked and trail-grimy, poop eating grin.  True story:  On the drive home, I was smiling so much that I felt like my cheeks were actually going to cramp.

End of Race Report.

So that’s it.  I rode hard, I felt strong, and I did it.

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Enter a caption

These marathon distances are tough, but after three of them in four weeks, I feel like they’re now well within my realm of possibility.  I’m not good at them, but I can still finish.

I should rephrase that.  I’m not good at them YET.

It was an awesome day from start to finish–and I even won a set of pedals (courtesy of Bateman’s Cycle).

After the race, when the podium was finished, and most racers left, Team Colin relaxed for a post race chat/popsicle with my pal Raf (from Fatboy Nation), and the Emsleys (from Awesometon–totally a real place).  Dan Emsley gave me a bear roast to cook when I got home.  Yes, an actual bear roast.  That night, I roasted it, and Team Colin sampled Haliburton’s best.

Seriously though, what’s with me always referring to myself in the third person?

With all the fresh bear meat in my belly, I felt like I was Nick Emsley, and without even knowing it, I roared “I AM TEAM COLIN”.  It was kind of primal.  Maybe it was the fresh bear.  Maybe not.  Either way, I immediately thought “Were the heck did that come from, and what’s with this third person thing?”

And then it dawned on me.  I. AM. TEAM. COLIN.  Say that like Jean Luc Picard telling Gul Madred “There.  Are.  Four.  Lights.”  It sounds way more boss.  It’s not the epic bike racing spree, or the bike love, or the positivity, or anything else that makes me Team Colin.  It’s not even the hats (although they are pretty sweet).  It’s a feeling deep down in my belly–a primal fire in my belly–that makes me who I am, and I am totally digging it.

There are four lights, and I am Team Colin.

Ride

 

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Now THAT’S a big podium… (photo courtesy of Jenn Kennedy/Mike Orsan)

Post race update.  During the race, one of the lead riders was hurt.  Three of the leaders, Nick Emsley, Rick Landry, and Seth Stewart, stopped to help.  The three of them are awesome.  I can only imagine how tough it was for the three of them to step out of race mode to help a fellow rider–and Nick Emsley is 18 years old.  These racers demonstrated a remarkable level of fellowship.  I don’t know Jeff and Seth, but Nick sure made me proud to know him and his family.  Nice work Nick.  You’re an example for the rest of us.

To Jeff, Seth, and Nick, the three of you are the undisputed Humbler winners.

If you have something to say about the race, or anything else, comment on this blog, or send an email to: teamcolinblog@yahoo.com

 

 

 

43. Long Sock Classic

It Was the WORST of Times.  It Was The BEST of Times

Ganaraska Forest.

The Substance Projects Long Sock Classic.

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Long Socks! (I look like a tap dancer)
  • 70k of Ontario’s finest single track.
  • 1,600m of relentless, punishing, climbs.
  • Rocks and roots.  Trees and sand.  Grit and grime.
  • One boss Cannondale Trail SL single speed.
  • And lots and lots of teeny tiny poison ivy sprouts.

Over five hours of rolling time.

It was race #2 in the Substance Projects XCM.

Was it fun?  Nope.

Was it easy?  Heck no.

Was it worth it?  You bet.

Was it awesome, and memorable, and totally boss?  You bet…TIMES A BILLION.

Okay, so maybe it didn’t feel that way during the race…or immediately after the race…or the next morning, when my knees were fireballs of stiffness, when my lower back was a lava pit of torment, when my legs were wobbly stumps of ache, and when my new body part (now known as my SHOULDERNECK) was a lump of knotted agony.

But some time the next day (as soon as I could walk upright, and as soon as I had the strength to move all body parts independently and not look like a zombie when I wanted to see something to my left or right) it was totally worth it…and utterly awesome…and absolutely boss.

But mostly, the 2017 Long Sock Classic was a reminder of how awesome this MTB thing really is.  If the Kingston O Cup was a reminder of our mud roots, the LSC was a giant wake-up call that this awesome MTB thing can also be really tough sometimes.

Prior to the race, I was worried about the distance.  I’d never attempted 70k on a mountain bike and the magnitude of the undertaking wasn’t lost on me.  By the way, I never even contemplated racing long distances until earlier this year when, on a whim, I decided it was time to race the big kid distance of P2A.  After registering for the full P2A, I figured “What the heck, might as well register for the long course in the XCM as well.

However, the 70k at P2A a few weeks ago was mostly smooth surfaces, with little climbing, on a gravel bike.  Even the 50k of the H2i didn’t compare.  And 70k at the Ganny–a trail system renowned for nasty climbs and horrible awesomeness–was another thing altogether.

And because, well, I still don’t know why, I decided to register on my single speed.  “Sure” I thought “Sounds about right.  I’ll just ride further than I’ve ever ridden, without gears…”.

What was I thinking?  I don’t know.  I honestly and truly don’t know.  I’d like to say I was being intentionally hardcore (grrrr) but I wasn’t (and I’m not).  I’d like to say it was puffed-up confidence, but it really wasn’t.  I’d like to say it was “for the challenge” but honestly, when I registered I had no idea what I was getting into.  I think maybe it was just because I thought “Hey, it’d be cool to do it on my single speed” when I was registering.  I should really work on my self regulation.

In any case, I was high on hopes, and (felt) up to the challenge.  It was my 5th race in 7 weeks (my 7th race if you count 2 weekly series races), so my legs and lungs were in good spring shape.

Here’s what I wrote on the Team Colin Facebook page the night before:

The Team Colin support vehicle is packed: my helmet is washed; my bike is clean (my chain is literally gleaming); my kit is ready; and I’ve got a bag of electrolyte fizzes and energy chews, a tool kit and pump…  I know the first 45 minutes will be spent with tight muscles and tighter lungs, and I’ll be panting like crazy until I warm up, and I know that I’ll feel strong and fast (for me) from that point until about the 90 minute mark. But then my back will pack up and go home, and I’ll finish my first lap in a goodly amount of pain about 15 minutes later…  I’m not doing this because I like it. I’m doing this because I LOVE it. Each year I dread the “Hill on Top of a Hill”. But not this year. This year, I’m looking forward to it. Bring it on LSC!

Okay, full disclosure.  I may have employed a bit too much bravado when I wrote that.  I was wrong to talk about the Hill on Top of a Hill like that, and I don’t mind saying now I spent a good deal of time apologizing to the “Hill on Top of a Hill” during the race.  Once again, I’m sorry for taunting you, “Hill on Top of a Hill”.  My bad.

Kidding aside (okay, I’m not kidding–I’m sorry Hil, it won’t happen again), the LSC was also a great reminder, via a sucker punch to the gut, that no matter how much you plan, and regardless of how meticulous you are in preparing, nothing beats a last minute checklist to ensure you have your damn water bottles before beginning a 35k lap.  I did not complete the aforementioned checklist until AFTER the race started.  So, I was halfway up the first climb before I realized I was dry.  I can’t believe that I actually contemplated racing without water for a moment.  Fortunately, sanity caught up with me pretty fast, and I turned around for a quick zip back to the start.  With two bottles of water snuggled safely in my bottle cages, I looked at my GPS unit, and saw that I only lost 4 minutes.

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Coming back to the START for my @$&! water bottles.

4 minutes.  No problem.  It’s a long race, I’ll make it up…

Yeah, I can say that now, but on Saturday all I was thinking about was my spot on the podium.  I’m kidding, I wasn’t thinking about my spot on the podium (because there is no podium spot for me).  I was panicked.  It was the beginning of a long race, and I wasn’t thinking.  So I sprinted (well, whatever qualifies for a sprint when you’re Team Colin–to the casual observer it may look like “just riding”, but inside I’m on fire and giving it everything I’ve got) for the first 15 minutes or so.

And here’s the thing about a 15 minute sprint at the beginning of a long race.  It’s stupid. Like, really stupid.

But I booked it anyway.

At least I now had water.  Yay, water…

After burning all of my matches on the fire road after the second START, and then all of my reserve matches just after that on the climb to get to the “Hill on Top of a Hill” , and then my extra reserve matches on the “Hill on Top of a Hill”, I was done for the day.

And I was only about 6k into the race.

I was 6k into a 70k race and I was spent.

And I didn’t have gears.

Aw c’mon.  Really?  I was on my single speed?  What was I thinking?  Oh yeah, I still don’t know.

I’ve always said that I feel every ounce of my weight in the Ganny.  Every turn, climb, and obstacle is a challenge.  Sure there are a few descents, but they’re usually rooty and rocky, and take almost as much concentration and energy as the climbs.  Oh, did I mention my single speed has a rigid aluminium fork?  Yeah, so that’s nice.  Now, to be clear, there are some sections in the Ganny that I can really groove on, but riding in the Ganny is like riding through a giant, heartless, really really really mean, bank.  And the Bank of Ganaraska is one tough lender.  Because whatever joy you take in riding, the BOG (Bank Of Ganaraska) collects interest and a pound of flesh afterward.

And early spring in the Ganny is a special treat.  It’s a bit soft and spongy, and the blanket of last year’s leaves conceal a delightful web of deep ruts, rocks, and other special treasures.  It’s like knocking on the door of the Bank of Ganaraska on Halloween. Instead of a trick (or a treat), the BOG jams a twig into your wheel, punches you in the throat, and steals your bike.

And then it collects an ATM fee

Hey, at least I wasn’t worried about stick wrecking my derailleur–BECAUSE I DIDN’T HAVE ONE.

But I had water.  Yay water…

Okay, so enough complaining about my single speed and the Ganny.  I wasn’t at a tea party, and I was riding the bike I chose.  Besides, what was I expecting, an espresso and a paceline?  Boom. See what I did there?  A little roadie zinger.  Also, there were plenty of riders who smoked through the course way quicker than me.  It likely wasn’t the bike, or the Ganny, or anything else.  It was me.

Race Report.  Long Sock Classic:  Ganaraska Forest (May 20, 2017)

The first few hundred metres of the LSC is a gentle climb up some double track to a fire road.  If I was with the pack I’m sure it would have been close and tight.  When the course hits the fire road, things open up a bit, and I’m sure the pack of riders became close and tight AND FAST.  The fire road is an undulating ribbon of deep sand, gnarly ruts, and dislodged boulders.  It also either goes straight up, or straight down, which means riders are alternately chugging to keep pace on the climbs, or white knuckling it on the descents.  Either way, both options take a great deal of skill and concentration. Take a read of Riot’s Race Report.  He didn’t forget his water bottles, and he nailed the atmosphere with the other riders who didn’t forget their water bottles.

After the fire road, the track turns up a gentle, winding, climb that brings riders to the bottom of the “Hill on Top of a Hill”.  It’s a 2k grind up that part of the hill, and leads to the bottom of a steeper hill.  It’s brutal.  This year, the climb was rutted deeply, and covered with leaves and branches for an extra bit of challenge.

But we all did it, and nobody died on the hill. Kinda felt like dying the second time I did it, but alas, I wasn’t so lucky.

Immediately after the HTH (Hill on Top of a Hill), the LSC hit the first bit of single track for a long section of awesomeness.  The trail was tight, twisty, and FAST.  It was a quickish 10k zip of sweet single track, punctuated by little shots of double track. Lots of space for passing.  Oh wait, I was waaaaay behind the pack so there was no need to pass.

But I had water.  Yay water…

I finally caught up to Angie Emsley, one of my racing buddies, who was taking a stab at her first marathon distance. She was riding strong.  Nice work Angie!

Liz was waiting at the aid station with some much needed cheer and nutrients. Some e-load, bananas, chain lube, and jujubes.

I took a 2 minute breather.  I wasn’t tired, but I was trying to pace myself for the long ride ahead.  Angie stopped for a second, and left ahead of me.

The 12k or so after the aid station was tough.  The track was raw, tight, and twisty.  I was feeling the full effect of my early sprint, and the alternating climbs and zig-zagging was relentless and punishing.  Like I said earlier (and last year too) I felt every ounce of my 250 pounds.

Strangely enough, however, my body wasn’t the mess I had anticipated.  The early sprint really hit me, and I was slow moving.  Also, most things ached, but my usual trouble spots hadn’t ignited to Pain Level: Inferno.  I was really slow though.  Did I already say that?  Because I was really really really slow.

The last 5k was a swoosh down some awesomely fast and slightly technical double track, with a bit of single track nirvana thrown in for good measure, and then a grunty climb. After 2 hours and 27 minutes of riding, I hit the Start/Finish for a short recoup and refresh, before realizing something.  My race was only half over.  I was riding for 2 hours and 27 minutes, and I now had to do it all over again.

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One lap done, one lap to go.  Ugh.

It was the same with my first marathon distance race the month before, the H2i. You know, there is no amount of positivity and awesomeness that can negate how hard it is to finish a really tough lap, and then have to start all over again. I knew every climb, root, dismount, and rock that was waiting for me, and it was a killer the first time.  I was so bloody tired and spent.  Clipping in for the next half was really really tough.

But I did. I pedalled, and I pedalled, and I got off my bike a few times, and I pedalled some more, and I finished.  My friend and mentor Dan Marshall (also the organizer) once told me “You know how you finish a race?  You pedal”.  That’s what kept me going–knowing that if I pedalled enough times, I’d eventually finish the race.  There were times when I was looking at the metres rack up on my GPS, not kilometres, and there were times when I just didn’t want to pedal, but I did.

And there were a few times when I had to dismount for a climb, and just walked alongside my bike for an extra minute because I couldn’t fathom having to get on my bike again.

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A little bunny hop at the end.

But somehow, I pedalled enough times.  I nailed the HTH, the awesome first sections of singletrack, the aid station, the nasty bit after the aid station, the swoosh of the last 5k, and I finally saw that last climb out of the forest and up to the FINISH line.

Here are the full race results.  Pretty much everyone else was faster than me.

End of Race Report.

Easy2?The Bank of Ganaraska collected a bucket of interest from Team Colin at the LSC, but I paid back every penny.

And, I now have a new qualifier after the race.  But it’s not a BUT, it’s an AND.

I did the Long Sock Classic full marathon distance AND I did it on my single speed.

And I’d do it all over again in a heartbeat.

I’ll just make sure I’ve got water.

Ride.

 

PS

As always thanks to Substance projects, Dan Marshall, and the amazing sponsors.  And thanks to Dan’s mom and dad, Sherry, Jenn and Simon, Liz Grootenboer, and Dan’s awesome team of staff and volunteers (especially the day’s cook, Lorraine), and my wife (tireless supporter and photographer) and my kids (cheerleaders, horn blowers, bell ringers, and little bits of awesomeness).

If you read this and have something to say, make a comment at the bottom, or send an email to me at: teamcolinblog@yahoo.com

Oh, and since there were only two Clydesdale racers in the marathon distance, I placed second.

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Two Happy Clydes

 

Post Race Recap (Wednesday, May 24–4 days after the LSC)

After my first kick at a marathon distance last month (the H2i), I was in rough shape. Like, really rough shape.  I spent the next week recovering.  After P2A a few weeks ago, I was also a mess for a few days.  However, after Saturday’s race, I spent Sunday out with friends, and Victoria Day cutting the lawn and playing with my kids.  Sure, I was tired and a bit sore (and yes, I had a loooong nap on Sunday), but I wasn’t completely zonked. In fact, I even raced last night, and I felt amazing.  Hmm.