A Weekend of Two Halves

 Despite my recent all-consuming preoccupation with old bikes I actually managed to do a race at the weekend! Even better it was a team race and my lovely hubby joined me on the team.  We were entered as a team of 4 in the Krank 8hr race at Hanmer Springs with the effervescent Anna Ross and newbie to racing Greer Swinard. It was a horribly early start as we decided to go up the day of the race which meant a pre- 6am wake up call. Bastian provided us a distinctly unwelcome one just before 5am and I couldn’t get back to sleep after that. Bloody cat!

Monster alarm clock enjoys fresh washing

The drive to Hanmer was uneventful and the setting up and registered chaotic as I thought the race started at 9:30, but it started at 9. Lining up on the start line I was feeling flat as a pancake so when the gun went I was very glad to have Michelle to ride with and push me to go a little bit faster on the first deceptive climb. I’d taken the 9er with me for this race and as soon as we got into the singletrack I realised this was a mistake. I couldn’t corner to save my life and wasn’t carrying speed which meant I was on the brakes and working harder than I should have been after most corners.

Sooooo glad the first lap is over

There was then a rather unfortunate organisational breakdown with no marshal being stationed at the most ambiguous corner of the start loop, which was meant longer than all the other laps. Luckily a local directed Michelle and myself back onto the right track and soon we were all alone in the autumnal forest as half the field had gone the wrong way. I had more troubles with the big hoops in here and found it to be a slog. Then we were finally under the bridge and the climbing began in earnest. Up the biggest climb of the day I was impressed I managed to ride all the way to the top, but blasting down the other side I just couldn’t trust the cornering and was much slower than I would have liked.  A gentle (read slog) climb back up Dog Stream and then onto Mach 1 which was a mixture of climb and descent, then another longish fireroad climb and back to the camp. The lap seemed to go on forever and I was an extremely grumpy and underfed bunnie after an hour 16mins of riding.

Greer coming in after her first ever lap in a race! Great work

Luckily I had 3 hours to recover and by my second lap felt surprisingly better, plus much shorter than the first monster long one. Bike control was a little better, but I missed my Anthem still, especially since Anna had her shiny new one with her.

Michelle being epic again

Despite the course being in the opposite direction to the way I like it was still a fun day out and was great hanging out with my awesome teammates and heckling/cheering for people.

Anna and Pete enjoying the comforts of our pit site between laps

For a recovery ride I was lucky enough to have a tweed ride to go to the next day. This one was to convene in Sumner, so I gave myself plenty of time to ride there. Along the way I met up with the divine Lady Andrea and her husband Kevin and we braved the causeway in a fierce headwind together. Andrea was riding a lovely old bike from 1914 and did an amazing job powering into the wind while I made use of my gears to spin along. Unfortunately a fit of optimism had seen me strap a pentenque set to my rack and with every bump the heavy metal balls would crash about making not only an awful racket, but making the bike feel quite unstable.

Myself and Lady Andrea looking very spiffing

Luckily we made it to the carpark in Sumner in once piece and joined the rest of our finely dressed compatriots with their array of lovely bicycles. Cruising pleasantly along the esplanade we drew many an admiring glance and at the end a challenge was laid down about riding up the Taylor’s Mistake hill. I was initially apprehensive, having smashed myself the previous day and frankly struggled in the headwind on the causeway.  Plus having about 10kgs of metal balls strapped to the arse end of my bike didn’t make the idea a pleasing prospect. 

Half the group.....

 

.....and the other half

After making excuses about tiredness, high heels and weight on the back of the bike I was provoked into a duel. It would have been a fairly uneven match without the heels and the petenque set on my bike as I have the luxury of 3 modern gears, whereas Chumly had only his strength and the size of his chainring to power him up the hill. He took off like a bat out of hell, lithely bunny hopping off the curb and streaking up the hill. I had to find a driveway to go down so didn’t manage to get a sprint on at all. Halfway to the first bend and my legs were demanding I drop a gear and suddenly life was much better. I found Chumly doing the chivalrous thing and waiting for me at the head of the corner, but I continued onwards for this was a race of endurance. Halfway to the next corner I decided I had made my point and hurtled back down the hill. It was awesome fun. I’m almost tempted to take the Duchess to Halswell and see how far I can get up Kennedy’s Bush Rd on it!

Victory was mine!!!

More riders venture forth encouraged by Chumley and my sterling efforts. Note Chumley's excellent cornering form in the background

We then toured around the back streets and containers of Sumner for a while before settling in at the Thirsty Mariner for well-earned drinks and a staggering and sometimes unidentifiable array of deep fried snacks. There a plan (ill-fated for me as it turns out) was hatched to head to the Brewery. Andrea, Kevin and I headed off with a now gentle (soooo typical) tailwind speeding us across the causeway, while the others drove down to Ferry Rd to park up and join us by cycle for the rest of the ride.

Beautiful delivery bike

In no time at all we were enjoying the live music, fine beverages and witty banter at the Brewery. However dark clouds of impending doom (well deep embarrassment) were fast forming on my horizon. As we were leaving to partake of the path beside the Heathcote I came a cropper due to a combination of a sudden stop, a weighty rear end (of my bicycle) and my stylish high heels. I found myself sprawled on the ground, one shoe arching gracefully over my head and the contents of my basket strewn about me. It was incredibly mortifying. I still feel a bit sick about it today.

Pipe smoking is a very serious Tweed past time

I gathered my things and the tatters of my dignity and off we set along the Heathcote. This bit was brilliant and very challenging with gapping cracks everywhere and tight turns to catch out the unwary or those with a limited turning circle. After much hilarity we were back at the others’ cars and I was, for the third time, heading along Ferry Rd, this time with home in my sights. It was a truly marvellous day out and I can’t wait for the next one. In the meantime I have plenty of rusty bike parts to polish and hopefully a visit to Bob’s mythical shed to look forward to.

The joy of the Tweed Ride clearly evident

6hr Super D Enduro - an old woman in a young man's game

I didn’t quite get round to writing up my last day of my Vegas adventure before heading down south for my next adventure. Brief synopsis, the tracks were dry, I was tired, Corners had a punga stump that tried to cause my death by impalement on a fallen tree, B Rude Not 2 was awesome and so was Mad if you Don’t.  All in all Rotorua was brilliant and just the break we needed from Christchurch.

And after a brief trip home to snuggle the cat and wash a vast array of stinky mountain bike clothes it was into the car with me and down to Queenstown in the company of legendary hard man and epic ride enthusiast Oliver Whalley. The trip down to Q’town flew by as we discovered that we both liked to sing the guitar riffs of songs. Entering Q’town we got our boy racer trousers on and got the bass pumping and the windows down.  I got in touch will my inner teenager by hanging out with someone over ten years younger than me.

Photo Caleb Smith: Ollie flying into second place

After dumping Ollie and installing myself in my dorm room at Pinewood it was straight down to Ferg Burger with my lovely Pinewood companions for a feed before a rather early night. Driving for 5.5hours is knackering. Luckily I had very considerate dorm mates and slept well, sneaking out in the early dawn hours for breakfast at Ferg Bakery, and preparing my gear for the day. A quick pedal through the school and we were soon setting up our site in a primo position and registering. I caught up with a lot of people I hadn’t seen in a while, which was great, but I also started to feel quite sick with nerves.

After talking to a number of people I got the feeling I had really bitten off more than I could chew and when I discovered we were starting in numerical order and I was number 22 it’s safe to say I was freaking out a bit. I chatted nervously with the guy I shared the gondola ride to the top with and then we were off. My plan was for a conservative, stay alive approach to the race, however adrenalin got the best of me and after about 2 minutes of riding I was coming in too fast to a steep rooty corner and heading straight over the bars onto my head. In front of a marshall. Which I suppose was a good thing, but was very embarrassing and I raced to reassure him I was alright and to clear the track. I let a number of riders pass and got back on my stead and immediately noticed that my helmet kept dropping over my eyes. Not good. In fact so not good that very soon after I was on my head again and beginning to think that this was the end of my race.

At this stage I was pretty sure I had a leeeeetttle concussion as I had a big wiggly blind line in my left eye and I was positive my helmet had seen better days. Not to mention a headache. I continued down the hill, the words of my colleague Bob warning me that I was going to axe myself in this race, floating around my head. (Turns out he’s one to talk, below is a photo of him following Le Race when adrenalin got the better of him in the final corner. He’s a much harder man than I, but he’ll never admit it, and still finished the race looking like a cross between a mugging victim and a mummy).

Oh Bob, why did you jinx yourself by worrying about my skills so much?

Into the first climb and I decided if I was still have vision problems or if my headache was worse than the slightly dull ache it was at that point when I got to the bottom I’d pull the pin. This thought made me feel sick and very disappointed in myself for being such a muppet. As people streamed past on the climb that seemed to go on forever I had time to adjust my helmet ensuring I could at least see better on the next downhill bits. The nice singletrack climb (yes I did think it was nice at this stage of the race) dropped into Hammy’s with a rather nasty tight rooty and hastily cut steep corner that I wasn’t alone in not being able to ride.

I eased down Hammy’s and into the weird messy little bit above Singletrack Sandwich then it was back into Hammy’s before a nasty poorly formed switch back climb which almost everyone was running or pushing. From there it was a nice drop into lower Singletrack Sandwich and out to a steep pinch up to a slow grassy section of corners that I just couldn’t find flow on. From there it was all pretty much downhill and by the bottom I knew I was going to keep going.

I had a brief stop at the pits to get the super amazing Jo to fix my bike as the front gear cable had become dislodged in one of my crashes and I was stuck in the little ring. While she did that I removed my visor from my helmet and got it fitting right again. Yes it did have a crack in it and yes, I probably should have stopped riding once I discovered that, but I just couldn’t face only having one lap next to my name.

Spot the crack

Up the gondola again and this time I had great flow on the track, no crashes or near misses, the climbing wasn’t  too bad and I was grinning again. I really enjoyed that second lap. Another short stop at the bottom to let Jo know I was ok and then back up again. Now I was really loving the steep sections in Thingamajig and couldn’t work out how I’d managed to crash so spectacularly. The climbs however were taking their toll. And pain I had felt from the crashes was completely obliterated by the screaming of my legs on the climb and I knew I needed to stop after this lap and eat something substantial.

Photo Caleb Smith - once more making me look like a talented rider rather than a concussed muppet

At the bottom I eased into a chair and hoed into an astoundingly good ham and cheese croissant and gulped some V. Then some sour snakes for dessert and I was off again. I was still loving the downhill stuff, but the uphill was really hurting and some of the freshly cut transitions from one track to another were becoming quite scary. I used a tree to brake once to stop from going over a bank after I corner I’d ridden easily earlier had started to blow out and I couldn’t find traction.

There was more walking on the uphill singletrack section, under the guise of being polite and letting the fast riders past, and I also took the opportunity to stop and help a young grom who was experiencing cramp for the first time and was rather distressed. After helping him stretch a bit I gave him a handful of snakes and was on my way again. On the way down the blown out stuff was getting more blown out and I was getting more fatigued. I looked at the time and realised that I could fit a couple more laps in, even if I had ten minute breaks in the pits to recharge.

At the bottom I settled back in my chair and started on my second ham and cheese croissant. As I sat talking to Jo and my other friends coming in for food my stomach began to get tight. As the others headed off for more laps I sat thinking about the near misses I’d had in the last lap, and weigh them against the fun I was having getting air in places I’d been too scared to earlier. If I’d gotten up and ridden to the gondola just then things might have been different, but I sat a little longer and the fear took firm hold of me.

I was riding with a cracked helmet. I was very very tired. I ached all over. I had pretty decent headache. These thoughts wound through my brain and I decided that was it. 4 laps was enough. I walked back through the timing tent and turned my transponder in.

The rest of the afternoon was awesome, just hanging out, talking to cool peeps, cheering my amazing friend Michelle who was also soloing it and was just a machine. I dished out snakes to people in need and cheered for skids. It was great.

Photo Caleb Smith - Michelle showing her awesome steez and just generally blowing my mind

Later that evening I stood on the step of a podium for the first, and probably only time in my life. I’d got third in the hotly contested Veteran Woman’s solo section and I felt great as people clapped and I was handed a great pair of Specialized gloves as a prize. It was an awesome fun scary race that challenged me more than any other event I’ve ever done. And it wasn’t until the next day on the drive home (where I found an amazing pump track in Omarama, but only had legs for one feeble lap) that the regret hit and I wished I’d gone out for at least one more lap. You see I may have got third in my category, but I also got DFL and that kinda sucks. I’d like to say I’ll be back to do that race again, but with ongoing bouts of chronic fatigue I just don’t know if I’ll ever be able to put the training in to make it a less painful experience. But I’ve done it once and I’m rather proud of that.

Omarama pump track, worth stopping for

And here's my Bastian monster being cute outside.

Look! Up there on the Trails…….. It’s some Chicks! Doing hucks! It’s Suuuuuuppppeeerrr V!

With such a dramatic entrance I feel I’ll need to write a rather good entry to do justice to the brilliantness of the Super V in Wellytown last weekend.  My lovely friend Michelle provided me with a much coveted GE Bodybag to transport my bike (and to be honest also taught me the skills to ride the Super V), so much thanks to her.

I got up at the abominable hour of 5:50am on Saturday and loaded bags into car and bike onto rack and we were off to the airport. It was the work of moments once there to remove the front wheel, insert the fork and brake spacers, put the bike into the bag, carefully insert the front wheel and then pack my shopping bag of clothes etc inside. Want one of these rather badly.

The flight to Wellington was nice, with some gorgeous ground fog adding a mystical element to the sunrise. Soon it was a smooth landing in Wellington and in no time I was meeting the lovely Jo (thanks for picking me up so early) and we were on our way to her house.

We had time to spare so plenty of chillaxing and catching up (and cat snuggling) went on. Then it was on with my rather stunning (read hideous) interpretation of a skin suit and off to rego. The weather in Welly was perfect and after checking in we were soon loading our bikes onto the shuttle and heading up the hill with a mad Irishman driving. Unfortunately there was a little holdup as the road we were using was also being used for a longboard race.

Chick shuttlez

These crazy boys, men and a couple of hardcore chicks barrel downhill, round corners and over bumps on brakeless death machines. Crazy! It was actually pretty fun to watch and gave me the chance to introduce myself to my sometime boss, and superlative photographer – Caleb from Spoke.
When we finally made it to the top we were all soon off down the hill on the extremely long course. The first few hundred metres were by far the most technical and I quickly discovered my front brakes weren’t quite bedded in yet as I skidded and slalomed down the damp steep grass.  My first run down the hill was pretty tentative, I’ve never ridden these trails before and there is plenty of exposure on the right hand side of most of the track so all the blind left hand corners were taken at quite low speed.

Photo: Shane Wetzel. The less said about this the better

After the first stretch of down we were soon into the rather unwelcome climbing section. It just seemed to go on and on and a couple of the pinches were so steep I couldn’t ride them. Oh well. The lower section was bliss, really fast and swoopy, weaving through tightly spaced trees, some fast flowing corners, some tight slow switchbacks and lots and lots of down. By the bottom my back was killing me, but I was grinning and I’d come down in about 43 minutes, fairly standard for the majority of the field.

With the course being that long Jo and I agreed that one practice run was enough so we sat down to some lunch and chatting. I met loads of cool chicks and we talked on and on about bikes for the next hour while enjoying the sun. My idea of bliss.

Photo: Caleb Smith

Then it was race briefing time, numbers were allocated, toilet stops were made in the bushes and shuttles were loaded. Up the top the views were stunning, but a rather biting breeze had us cowering in the lee of a large concrete structure till it was our turn to go.

A stunning Wellington day to be riding in the hills

As I rolled off the line onto the dreaded slippy grass I immediately knew my front brake was working perfectly now and actually felt in control. Confidence up I gathered speed and felt that amazing feeling you get when you’re one with the bike. I could tell I was going much faster and did my best to power up the climbs. I still had to run a couple, but I knew I was giving it everything so that’s ok. Down the stretch called Rollercoaster I was flying, not literally, no jumps for me, but as on the first run I overcooked the speed into the turn and ended up track standing millimetres from the turn arrow. Bugger.

At this point I could hear the brakes of the woman behind me and I knew she was reeling me in on the ups so I really dug deep. Not deep enough though and I was gutted when she called to pass just as the climby bits were nearly over. As I struggled up the last bit she put a small gap in and I thought to myself “You better be fast on the downs lady or I’m going to have to repass you.” And as it turned out that’s exactly what happened. Once all the climbing was over I was completely in the zone and riding right at the edge of my comfort zone. It felt awesome. I made a muppety repass and soon I was reeling in the woman in front and passing her. By the time I got to the bottom I wanted more. I’d taken about 3 minutes off my time and was a stoked little chicken.

Photo: Caleb Smith, thanks for making me look comparatively good! You truly have the madcore photo skillz

As the final riders came in Jo and I loaded our bikes into the car for a quick post-prize giving get away and I was glad to get out of my not very flattering, but fun outfit. Note however that bike shorts under jeans are not really very comfortable. The prizing giving was amusing and I was very pleased to come away with a souvenir  bottle of home brew for travelling the further to attend.

I was shattered, it’s the first time I’ve raced that hard for that long in a couple of years and I loved it. That evening was spent catching up with the lovely Jude and Shane, and snuggling with Cinti. In fact today’s cute kitteh pic(s) are of the lapnapper himself. Cinti is a super friendly, playful, purring machine and I loved spending time with him. Jo is lucky to have such an awesome man in the house.

New bling and encounters with greatness

After my adventures on Bob’s Peak (no it doesn’t belong to the slightly mad Geared Facile builder who I work with), I realised that I would need to be equipped with a new toy for Queenstown 6hr Super D Enduro. As luck would have it, a quick trip to my lovely LBS, Hub Cycles, and I discovered the Joplin seat post was currently on special. Great news for me and my bank account, and it also meant I didn’t earn any stern looks from my better half for squandering our precious earnings on toys.

Crank Bros Joplin 4 - bring on the Crank Bros hate you haters

In next to no time the post arrived at the shop and I soon had it in my hot little hands (this is actually a literal statement, my hands are pretty much always hot and are rather small, but perfectly formed).  Unfortunately a weekend full of many tasks meant my lovely new post stayed in its box till today. Fortunately one of those tasks was spending all of yesterday at Round 2 of the NZ MTB nationals at Living Springs.

The day started out quite bleak and I was mighty glad to spend the morning in the timing tent with Dunedin track building impresario Hamish Seaton, after working a stretch on the registration desk. The age group racers battled rain and freezing winds and I was glad I had a blanket to wrap my legs in.

After lunch, and a brief drool over Anton Cooper’s gorgeous new Trek, I grabbed my fluro vest and radio and headed up the hill to marshal the Elite and U19 race. And what a pleasure it was. My spot had good sightlines uphill through some tight switch backs and then down through the forest across a couple of slippery bridges. Watching the Elite guys and girls race was really inspirational, but watching Anton was a real highlight. I’ve seen him race quite a few times, but usually not through technical tight stuff. He rode my section much faster than any of the other riders on the course and seemed to move his bike with almost inhuman skill. The boy is fast. It was a great afternoon cheering young  Disco Slippers and all the other awesome riders on, so I wasn’t regretting not being able to ride myself.

Anton Cooper pinning it at Living Springs - Photo Peter Ball

Today I rectified the lack of weekend riding. The Joplin was super quick and easy to install as I decided not to go for the version with a remote as I don’t really want more cables and bar clutter on my bike. The under seat lever is easy to reach and works great. After a few circles of the driveway I was happy with my seat position and soon I was pedalling up to the start of the Nun.

Being able to just drop my seat fully and blast straight in was awesome, but felt a bit weird. I’m very much used to riding the Nun with my seat up. Having it right down made a huge difference. The back end behaved better, I hit more of the little jumps and got more air than I generally do and I would have had one of my best runs if I hadn’t gone through one of the two puddles and ended up with an eye full of mud. And I’m not exaggerating about that. I managed to ride down the rocky section I was half way through, then stopped and tried to rinse the mud out. The rest I blinked away and I’m still getting little lumps of mud coming out the corner of my eye now. Gross.

This is the section of track I was half blinded for. Not fun.

Second run was even better. I found the optimum drop for my seat, right down just wasn’t quite right and by the third I was pinning it. It would be interesting to see if I can keep up with my husband on his big bike yet.

By the end of three runs my legs were jelly and my lungs gasping, but it was brilliant. The Joplin seat post was smooth and worked brilliantly. I love it. I really can’t wait for my birthday when I head down to Queenstown for more gondola shuttles.

And finally tonight I want to share this photo I took when I was in Alex of me and my Mum (or for grammar Nazis, my mother and I). We’re riding the River track that runs from Alex to Clyde and you can tell we’re loving it. My Mum is the reason I started riding bikes, she’d been doing races and endurance rides for years before I got my first bike since university. I love riding with my Mum, she’s always up for a challenge and she’s got great skills. I certainly hope I can still ride so well when I’m in my 60’s (sorry Mum, love you).

Racing? Sort of.

On Sunday I did my first "race" in 18 months. It was the final of the CSC's Short Track series and it was so fun. Held on Siberia Flat on Kennedy's Bush it was 20 minutes of lung searing, leg smashing awesome and I was super stoked with how I went. And when I say how I went I don't mean where I got in the race (I was lapped by a child), but how my body felt during and after. This was the first time in aaaagggeesss that I really pushed my body as hard as I could and on the start line I didn't really know what would happen. In fact I was quite prepared to pull the pin if things felt bad. I certainly didn't want to send myself back to being bed ridden.
I had a great ride at Bottlelake with a mate on Saturday and that gave me the confidence to push during the race. Saturday was a great blast with lots of hard out sprints and then some skills practice on the skinnies. It seems that my loss of fitness has meant that I'm now riding inside my skillset so that I'm actually feeling more confident on the bike than ever before. I feel I have control over what my bike is doing now, rather than just being along for the ride some of the time. And that's how it was on Sunday at the race.
The singletrack flew by. Andre at Hub Cycles has recently tuned up my suspension and my bike was running like a dream. It was super responsive through the singletrack, flowed down the bumpy down hill (even when I was blasting brake-free) and pedalled great back up the hill. I was aiming for 3 laps in my 20 mins so was really happy to easily get 4. In fact I think I might have almost squeezed 5 in if I hadn't stopped to help a fallen rider at the start for a couple of minutes.
And now I'm off to Hanmer to ride sweet sweet singletrack for 3 days, weather permitting. I have to say, looking out at the storm that's raging right now, there may be a lot of sitting in hot pools and doing homework and less riding than I would like.

Gratuitous self promotion all in the name of racing

My dear generous loyal readers, you are looking gorgeous today. Have you lost weight? Have you been working out, you’re looking buff! You really nailed that last climb. I’ve always been good to you haven’t I? Entertained with embarrassing stories from my life. Well now I need your help. I’ve recently planned out my racing schedule for the rest of the year and it looks good, the only problem is money. You see I’m a poor student now and have zero disposable income (and next to zero non-disposable income), so to finance things like racing I have to be a bit creative. So I’ve entered a competition to win a shiny new phone worth a load of money. I made this extremely embarrassing video.


What I would like you all to do is to go to this website http://forum.vodafone.co.nz/topic/5436-sony-ericsson-xperia-x10-mini-pro-competition/, joined the Vodafone forum (I know this is a pain in the arse) and vote for my video (ahidingplace). I need all the help I can get by 5pm today. Please help me get to races this year!

Coming soon – buy my couch!

What’s more fun than racing?

The Christchurch Singletrack Club had its club champs on Saturday and it was a fantastic Mexican singletrack fiesta with a race for everyone. Not only was I racing, but I was also helping with setting up, timing, and running other races. The weather forecast was ominous so I was glad to be attired in a nice heavy poncho and warm cowboy hat. Unfortunately my moustache was horribly uncomfortable and kept falling off. Stupid thing. Luckily the day dawned beautifully and we managed to get everything set up in the morning sun. Soon the whippets were arriving, cheesey moustaches, both real and stuck or drawn on, fluro ponchos and other Mexican paraphernalia arrayed about their persons. It was most amusing. I was doing the computer timing for the expert (Rapido) race and having never done it before I was feeling slightly nervous. Luckily it was easy and fun and I loved every second. I was particularly enjoying watching one the battle between Slim and JD, but unfortunately I had to leave my post before all the racers finished as I was racing in the next race and needed to get the circulation going in my legs again after sitting in the chilly southerly wind for over an hour.

Riding down Zane’s was great fun, but I was feeling very apprehensive about climbing up the 4wd and the Pines 3 times. I’ve never yet managed to ride all the way to the top without stopping and I’ve only ever managed to ride 2 laps of the course. This was going to hurt a lot. All too soon we were off and I spun up the 4wd track as well as I could. My lungs felt pretty rough by halfway up the 4wd drive track and I was fully in survival mode right from the start. I kept going and really loved the new Pines extension and the fabulous “never-ending berm”. Then it was back to the climbing. My legs felt pretty good and up I went, winding through the switchbacks and getting my heart rate under control on the flatter sections. Soon I was at Rhymes with Orange and being roundly heckled for my feeble pace. Oh well, that’s one of the draw backs of being a mouthy heckler and a popular and well loved blogger. Up into Goodie Gum Drops for the first time ever and it was a fun little bit of track and finally I was heading down hill.

Back through Zanes and I was loving this bit of track. I knew I was catching the guy in front of me and stretching a gap to those behind me, but I knew I’d need it because just like at Hanmer my back was spasming. Back onto the 4wd track and there was no way I could put the power down I needed and I stopped for a second and tried to loosen my back up. I trudged up the 4wd track with my bike feeling pretty shit, but then rode all the singletrack of the Pines, although I needed a few breathers along the way. I was glad the hecklers had moved on, I was not in the zone at all and probably wouldn’t have handled it very well. I got great support going across the finish line, but I felt like fraud. Down Zanes again and I actually wasn’t loving it, the thought of the last climb was making me feel sick. I hit the last climb and hit the wall. I’d only eaten a muesli bar in the previous 3 hours and I bonked big time struggling to push the bike up the hill.
My legs felt like spaghetti and the marshals had even left. I wanted to pull the pin, but the idea of DNF was completely hideous. I had to walk up a couple of the higher switchbacks as downhillers bombed down beside me. I struggled on and was determined to not look like death on wheels when I popped out of the trees. Up Goodie Gum Drops for the last time and reaching the top was a huge relief. I was so glad the climbing was over I did a couple of hucks on the descent, and hammed it up over the line. Then I collapsed at my car and drank 500mls of replace.

I felt like crap, but I got changed into my lovely poncho again and scoffed my free pie and felt like a new person. Then it was time for the singlespeed race, where I had to help with the “activities” the riders needed to complete between laps. The costumes on display in this race were fantastic, and watching the crazies dash up a hill to find a plant pot, then run down, put it on the end of a 3m pole and spin round with it on their heads was so funny that my mood was transformed. Then I proceeded to the table of Tabasco and helped the lovely Sarah set up the plates of nachos and beans, which the riders would have to eat ALL of sans hands before proceeding. The first two riders arrived, Dayle on his sexy new ti Singular Pegasus. I feel very privileged to have been allowed to stroke such a divine creature, and Nick Bushlove close behind. 

Unfortunately these two finely tuned athletes were not very good at following instructions and after a rather token effort the need for the race saw them leaving with their plates still full of food. Not good. Not long after Ollie arrived and with great encouragement from his lovely mother, who obviously raised him right to finish all his food, Ollie got the whole lot down. More racers rolled in, including young Anton on his insane 10” kids bike, and cleaned their plates amidst much complaining and much laughter from those of us in the vicinity. After some serious conferring amongst the race officials it was decided that the two leading banditoes had managed to save a significant amount of time with their wiley ways and they would have to be punished. So it was with a heavy heart I was sent to stop them before the end and ensure they eat their nachos. The controversy was great and the outrage was evident, especially when Ollie sailed past Dayle and Nick as they wolfed down their nachos. Nick took off like a man possessed to reel Ollie back in and almost had him on the line, but Ollie’s skinsuit gave him that tiny edge over the fluro poncho and he maintained a slim lead over the line.

There followed an epic prizegiving where I actually got a prize for getting 2nd in my age group for my race! OMG! I also scored a lovely box of Barkers jams and chutneys. Om nom nom. It was a great day and for me the best part was being involved in running the day. It was great being part of such a fun community and providing an event that had something for everyone. I missed it, but there was even a fantastic children’s race which saw loads of kids having a great time and giving it their all. Although I’m not sure whether the presence of death in their midst was fun for them or not.

 

Thanks heaps to Rebekah and Craig and the CSC, and to my lovely supporters. Now I’ve been laid low with a flu and ideas of racing the night racing series are drifting away and I’m considering just hitting the roadie and training for some mid-winter madness which I’m really not qualified to take part in.

Mt Somers is like an old friend

Yesterday was my forth Mt Somers race and after a week of lying round and recuperating from the Hanmer 4hr I wasn’t holding out much hope of putting in a stellar performance. I wasn’t too concerned though, I love this race, it’s really fun with a great atmosphere and through gorgeous country.

I woke up on Sunday morning in race mode, which meant I was insanely hyper active and bubbling. I bounced around packing and making coffee for hubby and Dirtdiva and soon we were on the road. Having an extra person in the car meant I babbled on even more than the norm and journey to Mt Somers flew by, well for me anyway. After passing through the traditional fog on Thompson’s Track we arrived to a gorgeous sunny day and unloaded the bikes. Poor Dirtdiva was riding my fat Jamis with its tractor tyres, it was going to be slow on the climbs, but I still think it was the more sensible choice than her singlespeed, good strength training!

At the start we barged our way into the second row of riders in the Intermediate race and after the briefing and Mexican wave we watched the Challenge riders blast away. Then it was our turn and for the first time I wasn’t dropped by everyone in the first 100ms and found I was able to stay in touch with the main group of riders. Knowing the exact layout of the course was great, it meant I wasn’t worried about pushing too hard off the start as I knew there was a downhill where I could have a wee rest not far after. Into the paddocks and the long wet grass sucked at tyres and pulled energy from legs and I thought of Dirtdiva on my squishy bike, it was going to suck. Once the pack spread out a bit more I managed to find a tyre-wide bit of dirt to ride in and began moving up the hill at a better pace, then the first little bit of down and I zoomed past more people. On the gravel roads I held my own for a change and I was working really hard, my heart hammering in my chest. Around the base of the hill and the track was slippy and fun in the shady spots and I knew we would be in for some very slippery sections on the climb. At one point I was bombing along and hit a patch of mud a bit fast and off line and skidded through it sideways, laughing like a madwoman. Fun times.

Soon enough we hit the first steep climb and all around me people got off their bikes. One woman next to me said “Why would you even try to ride that?!” and I replied in Ed Hilary styles “Because it’s there” and proceeded to ride the whole thing, picking my way through the walkers. I was wheezing and stoked and spun further up the hill, determined to ride as much of the hill as traffic and mud would allow. Up the hill I went, forward on my seat, using my arms, but relaxed as I could be, just spinning up the hill, letting my legs do what I know they can and pointing my bike at the route with the most traction. Up into the manuka and the track became slicker and slicker and I picked my way through the traffic with many people encouraging me. Unfortunately my crossmark tyres couldn’t find traction and my back wheel spun out and that was it for my climbing for a while. Round the corner and the track dried out a bit as we climbed higher and I was able to remount and ride, much easier than pushing.

I was going really well and felt strong still, the traffic wasn’t so thick that I couldn’t ride for walkers, although there were a few people riding who were a bit scary. One guy was trying to remount and wasn’t able to get enough momentum to get going and would zoom off and topple, I was worried he’d fall into me, but he didn’t, that came later when a guy tried to pass me on the inside of a rutty corner and chose a bad line. He went down into my back wheel, luckily I managed to stay on the bike, but I stopped anyway to make sure he was ok, which he was. The climb pitched up one more time and my legs and lungs finally exploded. I could see the clearing in the bush up at the next corner and knew that was where the track levelled out a bit. I pushed my bike up with everyone else, but unlike them I was wheezing like an elderly smoker. At the corner I stopped briefly to take in the amazing view that went all the way across the plains to the sea, and try and get my heart rate under control before I keeled over. Then back on the bike and up I went. I got to the top in an hour and was really happy with that, but even happier that I could unlock my shocks and point my bike in the right direction. I blasted down the hill, passing people like they were standing still, calling early so I didn’t frighten them. My bike felt like it was part of me and I grinned and whooped. Unfortunately in my enthusiasm I chose a shockingly bumpy line into the creek crossing at the bottom of the farm track and bounced my chain off. Luckily I had enough speed to coast through the stream and spin my legs uselessly on the other side. Of course everyone I passed on the downhill streamed back past me as I fumbled with my chain. Ah well, more targets for the next bit of downhill.

I had so much fun on the second part of the course. I loved every second off it and I worked as hard as I could the whole time. I caught up with a few people who’d gotten away from me on the climb and managed to stay in touch with them as we got back on the dirt roads and climbed up the nasty pinch. Then the head wind hit, of course, but I was blasting along the smooth clay road. A group tucked in behind me, which amused me greatly. I’ve never been going fast enough at the end of a race to be drafted before. Luckily for me they were kind enough to return the favour and as we hit the climb back up to the paddocks near the start my legs felt great and I powered up the hill dropping both the chick and the guy who were with me. I was shocked but pleased. Up ahead I could see a woman in blue and I wanted to catch her very badly.

Down the paddock I went, in my big ring, pedalling my lungs out. She was still riding really strongly and was also speeding down the paddock. Slowly but surely I reeled her in and popped out onto the gravel road slightly ahead of her. Then I pedalled with everything I had. I flew up the wee incline on the seal and pounded down the road, through the intersection at 50kph and then down to the entrance to the domain. I smashed it into the grass shoot and collapsed over my bars at the end as the man with the wire cutters removed my timing chip. I was dizzy and my legs felt like jelly, probably a sour lime flavour. I stumbled through the various tents and collapsed on the ground, completely wasted and stoked. I’d finished in 1:50:19, 9 minutes faster than the last time I did this race. I was 9th in Intermediate women and I cursed my olderness, as if I was still a sprightly 34 year old I would have been 3rd in Open Women with that time. Still I was faster than 50% of the field and more than 50% of the intermediate woman and I am so happy with that. It was a great day for me and reminded me why I love racing so much. It’s not about winning for me, I’m unlikely to ever win a race, it’s about beating myself year after year. The only person I want to be better than is me in the past and racing lets me measure if I’m able to do that. One more race to go before I take a month off the bikes and try and heal my injuries completely. 2.5 laps of Living Springs for our club champs, it’s going to hurt me a lot, but I’ll enjoy every minute of it.

Solo for the first time

Oh so many bad Star Wars puns and Madonna song lines are running through my head right now, but I’m going to try and rise above the cheap laugh or innuendo and get down to the story.

Saturday was my first ever solo race and it was a 4 hour one. I’ve always been intrigued by 6hr solos but that seemed just a little beyond me so when I discovered that there was going to be a 4 and 8 hour race in Hanmer I was stoked. A number of discussions on the portal of time wasting and secret girly knowledge revelled that there was going to be a great turn out of Vorbettes and I got onto booking a house. And what a house I booked, it had the most stunning and disturbing carpet in the downstairs room. I’m glad I didn’t have to sleep in there or I would have been mentally scarred for the race the next day!


The day dawned brisk and bright and there was a layer of ice on the car. Brrrr. My various aches and particularly my gammy elbow were not happy about this. Hubby and I loaded up the car and headed to the camp site to set up while the rest of the girls lazed about in bed. In no time we had the tent mansion up with the other CSC riders and I was getting my usual pre-race jitters. I got to meet the amazing Jude Young, who is the primary reason I’ve even considered riding endurance races. She’s an amazing rider and an extremely cool person (who is probably not over the moon that I’m say such things about her). My bike arrived with the sleeping beauties and I went for a token warm up, planning to do most of my warming up on the first lap.

I’d talked to a couple of fast guys about the lap and they said they were cranking it out in 30mins at race pace, so I thought I’d be lucky to get through a lap in an hour. I set my goal to ride for 4 laps and settled myself at the back of the pack for the start. The hooter went and we were off! Those at the front zooming off, and those of us at the back setting off at a more leisurely pace. I pootled off up the road synchronising my watch and speedo, and looking like I was out for a Sunday ride. I am very serious after all!

The first lap sent us straight up the road and missed out all the singletrack climbs. I wanted to warm into the ride rather than blow up in the first 500ms as I’ve done in other races so I just spun up the gentle incline as people passed me. Soon we were at the turn off to the Larches picnic area and I discovered it was a very fun steep drop with a root running across it for excitement. Wooo hooo! Straight over the edge and I was slamming on my brakes as the people in front of me struggled to negotiate the bridge. Sigh. This was to be a feature of my first lap. I slipped past a couple of people before the bridge and one after and soon I was flying down Dog Steam track, floating between the rocks and ruts with a huge grin. Into the twisty single track and I passed a few more people before we hit the climb and they all went past me again. The grind up the 4wd climb was long and pretty gradual with only a couple of areas where it pitched up a tiny bit. I chatted to people as I spun up, saving my legs for the hours ahead of me.

At the top of the road I crossed the skidder site and headed down to the entrance to Timberlands, controlling my speed for the tight turn into the trees. Going down Timberlands was brilliant fun, although I had to pass a few people so I couldn’t really let loose on that lap. Even so the descent was over in what felt like seconds and I was popping out of the trees onto the gravel road and heading down. Cutting through the DoC area and on a walking track we were soon crossing under the road bridge and into the super fun twisty singletrack on the other side of the road. I was held up here a lot, but managed to pass plenty of people and found a fantastic flow. I was loving this race already. The first section of singletrack was super fast and fun and ended with a nasty pinch up a bank. From there it was more singletrack, but it was gently climbing and my legs could feel it. Soon I was out, crossing the road again, winding through the narrow walking track and zipping through the trees to the camp site. And I was grinning and very excited that I had more laps of this fantastic course to do.

After a quick change to fingerless gloves I was off again and dreading the upcoming climbs. Up Black Dog and it started off flatish through the trees and then became progressively steeper until it finished in a rather horrid little pinch right at the top before exiting on the 4WD track. It wasn’t as bad as I thought it was going to be and I was pretty happy that I could do it twice more, although in the back of my head I had started hoping that I would do it 3 times more. Down the loose road and into Mach 1 and this climb was fuuuunnnn! Jeremy Inglis and a couple of other 4hr riders blasted past me, politely, and I nearly lost it in one of the downhill bits when my back wheel hit a rock and bounced out sideways. Luckily my madcore skillz saved me. At the top of Mach 1 it was out onto the road and back on familiar ground. I had no traffic around me entering Larches and blasted down and onto the bridge, whooping. I brrrrrraaaapppped my way along Dog Stream and eased into the climb up the 4wd track.

Then one of the great highlights of the race. I was privileged to be lapped by one of the legendary racers of the mighty Bushlove Racing Team. Luckily I managed to maintain my composure at the sight of such manliness streaming past me and weakly cheered him on. I did some skidz down Timberlands and blasted down the road in a cloud of dust, then it was into the walking tracks briefly. Suddenly I hear a call of “Go Mel!” Yay, I love being cheered on. Then I was overcome with excitement as my new hero went past me, Ollie Whalley! Legend of the Kiwi Brevet, bridesmaid of the Alpine Epic, monkeyboy of Ventana. As he went was me he did a sic huck and loose as whip and I swooned slightly.

Giggling like a school girl I zoomed through the fantastic singletrack and passed a couple more people. I was getting lapped pretty regularly now, which was to be expected, and those passing were super polite and considerate which was great. Suddenly there was a deafening yell behind me of “Mel!” and I almost crashed into a tree. I returned the greeting with a hearty cry of “Dayle!” and let him slip past. We chatted for a while and then that crazy man on his rigid singlespeed disappeared into the forest, grinning like a madman.

My second lap finished and I was feeling pretty good and the clock was looking friendly. My arm was hurting a bit and some of the singletrack was really biting at it, but I was beginning to think 5 laps might be doable. I was having so much fun, that my niggling pains weren’t really an issue. The third lap went by in a blur of hucks and skidz and grinning, and soon I was back in the pits grabbing a handful of sour snakes and sorting an aggravating issue out. Back out on the bike I planned to push this lap and head straight out to get a fifth in. My body had different ideas.

As I climbed up Black Dog I could feel the muscles in my neck and lower back hardening up and on the short descent my lower back was really sore. Up Mach 1 and the twists and turns were really biting into arm. On the 4wd track I was riding up with one arm, trying to rest my right arm as my hand was get very sore and I was having difficulties changing gear with it. Down Dog Stream I tried to rest my lower back by not standing too much, but I couldn’t help myself, it was so fun to blast down there as fast as I could. Up on the climb my neck joined the pain party, but I was still sure I was going to get another lap in. Down Timberlands and the 4wd drive I was having so much fun I didn’t notice the pain. In the singletrack on the other side of the road it all began to unravel. There’s plenty of roots on that singletrack and every one I hit sent a bolt of pain through my right wrist and into my elbow where it’s screwed together. My fingers were starting to tingle painfully and my thumb was almost unusable. I checked my watch and realised I might have enough time for another lap, but I needed to stop and rub some Voltaren in my arm or I wouldn’t be going anywhere. I pushed on and felt awful. As I entered the campsite I couldn’t hold the bars with my right arm at all and my back was poked. I looked at the time and realised that I’d have to keep going without stopping and pull out a sub-40 min lap to get another lap in and pulled the pin. I rolled over the finish line and was met by my wonderful friend who helped me back to the tent. I rubbed Voltaren into my arm and collapsed in a deck chair.

I was gutted I couldn’t keep going, because the course was so fun, but I wasn’t surprised. I’ve been having so many problems since I hurt myself before Christmas that smashing myself on singletrack for over 3hrs was bound to shake everything up. The rest of the day was spent relaxing in the sun, chatting with old friends and new, heckling, I mean supporting riders and generally having a fantastic time. Once the painkillers kicked in I felt great and was stoked with my ride, and was very happy to discover I’d got 4th in my division, 20 minutes ahead of the person behind me.

The whole day was fantastic and I can’t wait to do it again, so hubby and I and some friends are heading up to Hanmer for 4 days of riding in a couple of weeks. Yeeeehaaa! Just in time for me to get a bit of training in for the Singletrack Fiesta the CSC is holding on the 1st of May. In the meantime, we’re off to Mt Somers this weekend and I’m going to race the Challenge race for the first time, I’m a sucker for punishment. I’ve promised my physio I’ll take time off from riding and heal after the 1st and I will. It’ll be hard, but I’ll do it!

A huge thanks to Rachel for looking after me and my hubby for all the support.