2010 24 Hours of ERock

It’s no secret that I’m not much of a mountain biker. After last year’s 24 Hour of Grand Targhee I said, “No more mountain bike races! … with one exception ERock!” 24 Hours of ERock is only a couple hours from home and I really enjoyed it last year. The event is relatively low key. The other riders are all super-friendly and supportive. The atmosphere reminds me of a road bike ultra, with a lot more dust and loud music.

Last year’s ERock was the first race of any kind I’d ever won so it was odd for me to be in the position of having other racers wanting to “beat” me. While I do prefer winning to not, I always set my goals for a race independent of other riders. I don’t want to feel like my goal is out-of-reach before the start if say, Kristin Armstrong decides to come out of retirement and try her legs at ultracycling. It’s important for me to have a goal that is both challenging and attainable. I need a target that can motivate me even if I’m out classed by the field or if no other riders show up. I’d finished 25 laps in 2009. My goal for this year was 29 laps…actually it was originally 27, then 28, then a few weeks before the race I thought I had an outside chance at getting 29.

The women’s field was much stronger this year than last. Six solo women started, as opposed to four in 2009. The sixth place woman rode one more lap than the second place woman in 2009. Optic Nerve sponsored XC rider, Kim Godfrey, finished second. Elizabeth Boese who’s started focusing on 12 and 24 hour MTB races and posting some good results, finished third. I was also impressed with the 4th place woman, who rode continuously for 24 hours with only short breaks, and finished her last lap during the last hour. I have great respect for someone with the inner will to get out there for one final lap when it makes no difference in the overall results. I’ve only managed it once in five 24-hour MTB races.

The race begins with a Le Mans start. That means running. If I could still run without hip pain I’d probably not be biking so much, and if I wanted to run with a bike I’d do cyclocross. I tried to line up out-of-the-way, as close to the front as possible, planning to run/walk only fast enough to get me to the bike mounting area not too far behind the next-to-last racer.

The first few laps I was going too hard and was trying to ratchet back my effort on the climb. After a couple laps, Jen told me I was in second by a few minutes, and I said something brilliant like, “I’m not going to catch her by riding faster.” Meaning I didn’t think I had as much speed as some of the other women so I’d need to make up time in other ways. I was pretty surprised when I passed Elizabeth after a few more laps. I think it was all due to Jen, who was crewing me. It was so windy last year that we’d decided not to bother with a tent and crew from her s.u.v. in the parking lot. She set an alarm to meet me beside the trail after each lap with fresh batteries and bottles and we were doing fairly fast pit stops. I have no doubt that Jen’s work during the race was worth at least two laps.

I’ve done most of my training on my road bike this year, which meant I had plenty of pedal revolutions in my legs, but almost no time on my mountain bike. I think my longest mountain bike ride since Targhee, last August, was 1.5 hours. And I’d only ridden that long once. Halfway through the race my butt was uncomfortable, but my hands and arms were hurting so much I did not see how I’d be able to continue for 12 more hours. Near the end of the race, I was reminded of ultrarunner Ann Trason’s quote, “It hurts up to a point and then it doesn’t get any worse.” My hands and arms still hurt, but not any worse. And my neck and shoulders felt a little better.

By the time I’d finished 21 laps, about 16 hours into the race, I’d built up a bit of a lead, and it was a good thing. During the 21st lap I’d started feeling very dizzy and by the end of the lap I felt like I was going to pass out. I signaled Jen to meet me at the car. I laid down and tried to figure out what was wrong. My symptoms were similar to the time I’d gotten hyponatremia at Barr Trail Mountain Race (how I managed that during a 13 mile run is another story) so I thought I might have had too much water. Then Jen said, “I’ve only used one gallon of water and a half bag of ice.” I hadn’t drunk all of that. That meant I’d had less than 10 ounces of fluid per hour. Even for me, mostly riding at night, that was not enough water. I drank some plain water, took a couple more Endurolytes, and felt a little better after a few minutes. After about a 30 minute break, I headed back out, but I was very conscious of keeping my effort relaxed and drinking lots of fluid. I felt better, but I had to stop and pee on every one of my last seven laps.

Jen had more confidence than I. I didn’t know until after the race that after my first lap she’d predicted on her Facebook page that I’d meet my goal of 29 laps. Between laps 16 and 25 I thought there was no way I’d come close. I was just slogging away, one lap at a time.

I’m guessing this really was my last mountain bike race. If for no other reason than I don’t expect my 20 year-old Kona with the patched together Marzocchi Z2 Bomber to survive another 24-hour race. In fact I was pretty surprised to get through this race with no major mechanical failures.

ERock is a fun, smoothly organized event. I was especially happy to see more solo women out there challenging themselves and doing strong rides!

Some good photos of the race by ultrarob. More ERock photos by camrewop.

St. Vrain 600k Brevet

The weather report for Saturday was hot, with winds gusting to 45mph, but as I sat on the curb at 3:30am enjoying the calm, I hoped we might get a few hours of respite from the wind before sunrise. However, by 10 minutes ’til 4am the wind had started to pick up. Ah well. I smiled to myself and gave up my last hope that the forecasters had gotten the wind part wrong.

St. Vrain 600k
starts in Louisville, Colorado, makes a short jaunt east to Brighton, then back to Lyons, up St. Vrain Canyon to Wind River Pass, down to Estes Park, on to Glen Haven, down Big Thompson Canyon, over to Masonville and Horsetooth Reservoir, heads north to Ft. Collins and Wellington, then over to Gilcrest and back to Louisville to finish the first 400k. The last 200k is a northeastern loop from Louisville going through Evans, Kersey, Hudson, and Brighton.

Prior to this my longest brevet was 300k. I’ve finished longer races; Tejas 500 (miles) and Hill Country 600k. The difference is that an ultracycling race includes race support staff and often each racer has a personal support crew. I had crew for both those events. A brevet, on the other hand, is an unsupported ride. Each rider is responsible for understanding where along the route they can resupply and for carrying what they’ll need. If you have a mechanical or physical problem you figure out how to fix it or hitch a ride back to your car … or phone a friend. But if you think it’s inconvenient to ask someone to drive 10 miles to come pick you up, how about 100 miles!? That would not be unusually far for a rider that has to DNF a brevet.

I haven’t been feeling particularly zippy for the past … oh, month maybe, so my plan was to manage my effort and just get through this last of six brevets in six weeks. I was surprised that the little group of riders started fairly conservatively, but I dropped off the back after 30 min or so, still warming up and not wanting to push it on the rollers. The sun was starting to come up as I left Brighton and the westerly ride was beautiful on the green spring morning. As I rolled into Lyons, the wind was just starting to show signs of the predicted ferocity.

It’s a nice, long, gradual climb to Wind River Pass from Lyons. It’s only 40 miles to Estes Park, and two water bottles will often get me twice that far. I hadn’t planned on the wind increasing my thirst, or calculated the extra time the 4000′ climb would add. All of which meant that 14 miles out of Lyons I was already very low on water. I went off-route at Allenspark hoping for a store, but instead found Crystal Springs! The refreshment was worth the extra half mile. I filled my bottles with ice-cold water and drank another half bottle while I was standing there.

I’d never been to Estes Park before and dropping down into the valley from the south is beautiful! I stopped at the KOA again for more water. Then headed across the valley for the ride down Devil’s Gulch Switchbacks. This entire stretch through Glen Haven, Drake and out Big Thompson Canyon is very scenic. There was A LOT of traffic, but I’m guessing it was a little heavier than usual because another road between Drake and Estes Park was closed.

I was surprised when the route took us by a little reservoir we passed during the Stove Prairie 200k. I had no idea it was nearby. I was starting to feel pretty warm and was looking forward to stopping in Masonville for some nice cold water and ice. Unfortunately all the water in Masonville was warm and there was no ice, but I refilled my bottles and soaked my shirt and headband for some extra cooling and headed on for Horsetooth Dam.

After another stop in Ft. Collins, for yet more water. I have to say the ride got a lot less fun for me after Ft. Collins. I began to question why I was out there and why I’d ever want to do another long ride again! For one thing the wind was stronger out on the plains. And the howling wind, whether from the front, side, or rear, was abrading my nerves. And, while the beauty of the green fields was not lost on me, passing stinky feedlot after stinky feedlot quickly gets tiring (and depressing) to this vegan.

I’d planned to make a quick turnaround after the 400k, but when I got back to my hotel room about 9:30pm, I was too exhausted and sleepy to do anything more than take a shower and go to bed. I thought about DNF’ing, but remembered all the times I’ve wondered why someone would DNF when they still have 10 hours (or, in this case, over 20 hours) to finish, and decided not to make any decision about the last 200k. After I’d been lying in bed (not much sleeping) for about 90 min, I felt refreshed and suddenly motivated to get out there and knock out the rest of the ride.

Back out on the road it was nice. There was little traffic and the wind was calm. I made some routing errors and rode a few extra miles; a combination of not being able to read the tiny print on the cue sheet well and not seeing some road signs in the dark. I’d underdressed and stopped in Miliken to get some coffee and get out of the cold for a few minutes. I put on every stitch of clothing I had with me, unsure if it would be enough; amused at myself because I’m usually so afraid of being cold that I carry enough extra clothing to keep myself and two other people warm. Once I got moving again the light jacket with hood seemed to be just right. By the time I got to Kersey at 4:30am the sky was already starting to lighten. More green fields, more stinky feedlots, a fun descent into Erie, up the rollers to South Boulder Road, across Via Appia and check “done” next to 600k brevet.

Tips for training in the wind

Riding in strong wind is one of the things I fear the most and I get plenty of opportunities for practice in the mountains of southern Colorado. I’ve searched the Internet for tips about cycling in the wind, specifically crosswinds. Most of the information I found was about road racing; how/why to form echelons. Not much about windy solo training rides. I found a few articles for beginners advising staying inside if the winds are strong. If you’re competing, that just doesn’t make sense. As a poster on one forum said, what happens if it’s windy during an event? Does everyone just pack up and go home?

So here is a summary of a few of the tips I’ve found:

  • Stay low – Sit up – Yep, some people say stay low, others say sit up. My own experience is that in crosswinds sitting up is better. Someone suggested that sitting up leaves more “holes” for the wind to blow through, whereas when you’re compact there’s larger solid surface to blow against. If you’re riding fast it may help to stay low. In headwinds, stay low.
  • Go fast – Go slow – Seems to be disagreement on this one too. Logically, it seems one would be more stable at high speeds. However, I’ve found that I feel more stable at lower speeds. Maybe like sitting up, going slower creates less solid (to the wind) area and more holes; i.e. when you are going fast you create a larger air surface in your direction of travel and perpendicular to side winds.
  • No aero rims and spokes – This one is consistent. In crosswinds high profile rims and bladed spokes, especially on your front wheel, just give winds a place to grab onto and pull the wheel off line.
  • Training in wind makes you a stronger, better rider – Believing this is a psychological trick that seems to help.
  • Relax – Probably the most important. Staying relaxed helps you absorb wind gusts rather than transmitting them to your bike; and you are usually the largest surface area on your bike. This one really became apparent to me one day when I was training in the wind and meet up with a friend who was also braving the conditions. When we were riding together chatting I was less aware of the wind. The next day, riding alone in gentler wind, I was more tense and the wind seemed more scary.

I often seem to be riding with my rear panniers when it’s windy. I look forward to the trip home when they’re loaded up … the heavier the better. The extra weight more than compensates for the surface area of the panniers and my bike feels a lot more stable.

Got any advice for riding in the wind? Please post them to the comments section.