LaXroads

And that's after truing against the log. Hey, it made it to the finish.


When I trained last week I had trained hard. I wasn't worried about being over-trained, I was worried I was wasting a day at the race. In my mind it would tell me at least 3 things. Am I really getting faster? Can I break a Bonti Race X Lite ACC ? Where am I in the Single Speed food chain?

The HPT was in fine form for the event. I arrived shortly after Jesse, Marko and DJohnMcKitten. At registration I discovered I'd need to change to at least a 34x21 or some reasonable variation. I got a cool "SingleMinded" trucker hat, hanging on a display at a Trek store near you, with my race number (920) and headed to the bike to change the gearing.

A road warm-up with Jerry Daanen (?) felt good even if the pavement was the antithesis of what was to to come. DJohn looked way too cheery, but I knew that would change. Ben Griggs had completed his Rig and was cued with the rest of us along the fence by the NOAA golf ball. There was a good mix of riders, 25 or so, the usual 29er twins, WORS Comp racers and many new faces. We were briefed on two things on the race. First was the Cash Logs, a clean ride across the logs would earn you $5 cash money, or if you did it like Jesse did you earn the >$100 kitty. The other was one hell of a distraction. On the first lap you had to count the monkeys and turn in you accurate count to win a carbon crankset. The monkeys were inflated ranging from 6" to 4' in height. They were in trees, on the ground, waving, doing acts from the Kama Sutra and all the time taking your eyes off the trail. I counted 33 monkeys.

At any other race I might have inched my way as close to the front as possible. I knew Jesse or Marco would be riding oblivious to the monkeys so I stood back with the masses when they turned us loose for the Le Mans start of roughly a quarter mile. I kept pace with Ben and DJohn all the way to the first singletrack. I'd left my heart monitor in Madison so I had to go by feel and I felt good. I found a rhythm behind a 26" with a noisy freewheel and let him show me the lines so I could avoid crashing into the many trees and rocks. Many trees and rocks. Let me say it one more time. Many trees and rocks. The HPT is a great course, very technical, but for a noob who hasn't preridden it was tough. At the end of the first half lap I decided to pass my trail mate and push. I moved around him and kept the spin on. By the start/finish I had a hundred meter gap. As I entered the second lap, which was different from the first, I still felt good. The big 29er hoops railed on the descents and I felt plenty fast. I could see two other riders and I hoped they were SS's and not people doing the 12hr. I was in a groove right up until the brain fart, a tight 180 on a sandy/gravelly downhill.

I was going too fast and over corrected to keep from flying down the embankment. I love mexican food, but tacos, especially wheels, are hard to swallow. I picked myself up and grabbed the QR and got to work. A few thrusts against a decaying log gave me a wheel that would pass through the forks. DJohn and his entourage came by as I was trying to get the axle spacers centered on the Hugi hub and he asked "do you need anything?" I asked for his front wheel but the tease just kept riding. I hopped on the Rig grateful for disc brakes and hit it hard. A few corners later I was on DJohn's wheel. Shortly later I passed him and the two others and found the rhythm I had been in previously. Then I upped it a notch. I could see Jim Huber and a guy from Minnesota up the trail and I set my sights on them. I got around them both just before the open field and kept the tempo high all the way to the finish. I saw Ben sitting in a chair at the Muddy Cup van and instinctively thought this was the finish. Rick Walls asked if I needed a front wheel as I crossed the line. I told him I didn't as I was done. "No you're not, you've got one more lap."

Dammit. Thanks Muffin.

So back out I go severely irritated. For a moment I was railing. Then a weak voice from the back of my head suggested I put in a survival effort and just keep the placing I had. It sounded like a plan I could live with so that's how I did the next lap. The gearing was fine and having Jim and the other guy as company was good as they would keep me from totally bailing or turning into a trail zombie. A hamstring twinge/cramp after the Cash Log kept me from going hard for a while and let Jim get in front of me for good.

The wheel held, the seatpost held, but I had broken. Woulda, shoulda, coulda. Oh well, I wasn't bleeding and I had finished. I might have lost a couple of places to the mishap, but that's racing. Final numbers... Jesse 1st, Marco 2nd, Jim 16th, me 18th and DJohn 20th.

Afterwards I shared Guinness with the BKB and Muddy Cup crews, including a hand-up to Griff. He's nuts. I wouldn't want to ride HPT for 12 hours. But that's fine if he does. He rocks.