Freaky Fast Fun at Fountainhead
by rickyd
Yesterday’s Cranky Monkey race at Fountainhead was a helluva lotta fun. Very tight in the beginning, but by the time the first half of the first lap was over, the singlespeed category was far enough ahead and behind that I didn’t see anyone else in my class. A few 35ers (guys that were 35+ category, who started behind us) had caught and passed me, but I tried to stay on top of my pedals so I wouldn’t have a situation like last week where I got lazy and softpedaled myself out of the top five.
As we got to about 3/4 of the first lap, I started to see a familiar jersey. It was Wayne, and I noticed he was hoofin’ it up the hills! Say what? At that point I knew I had to ride aggressively to get him within striking range. Whenever I got to an uphill, I could see him running and remounting his bike. The problem was when he got to the top, he’d be gone by the time I got up there. From the few races I’ve done this year with him, he’s faster than me, but I had him figured out for this one. The short steep hills of this place was his crutch. Maybe he underestimated these hills and overgeared? I loved them because I ran lower gears than most of my competition, and I rarely had to get off on the climbs. Yeah baby, it was catch and kill time.
I eventually got to the infamous Shock-O-Billy downhill and no one was in front of me. After negotiating the first two rock-filled steps, I let go of my brakes and flew down faster than I ever had before. I expected a wipeout as I tapped my brakes when crossing the little wooden bridge at the bottom - felt the front tire slide even - but managed to stay upright. Ahhh, life was good!
The rush of the hooting and hollering from the “crash and burn” crowd reinvigorated me so I stood up to hammer the beginning of the second lap. First thing after the downhill was a turn, then another longish uphill. I saw Wayne again, but he was already most of the way up there. I swallowed up a few other 35ers (I think), but again, as I got to the top, he was gone. Lucky for me, most of the hills were on the tail end of the course.
A 35er was on my tail, and sensing I was slowing him down, I let him pass. I look back briefly to see if any of my competition rode his train, then ride a little off the trail and get a thorny vine tangled in my pedals and drivetrain. I stop, yank it out, but not without leaving a few barbs in my fingers. “^%@#&^%@#!!”
“Eff this noize, it’s time to start hustlin’!” I stand and try to deliver. I catch up to the 35er, but he’s hurting my uphills when he drops it into his low gears. I slow down because there’s nowhere to pass on this skinny section of loose singletrack. “Whizz, whizz!” go the tires as they lose traction on the loose gravel. I catch myself from falling over and sprint as hard as I can for the rest of the uphill. I eventually get back around him and try to put distance between us so it doesn’t seem like the pass is in vain.
Wayne’s on the radar again as the hills come. I see him walking, and that makes me pump harder. I know if I don’t catch him on the hills, he’ll go bye-bye on the flats. As the hills come and go, I gain ground. Towards the end of the lap, the hills are bigger and longer. Closer…closer…he’s eventually right in front of me…then BAM! I swing around him and pedal my arse off. I’m afraid to look back. I’m pretty sure that he can’t be too pleased that I took his spot this far into the race with not that much left to go.
We approach Shock-O-Billy for the second and last time. I pass one slowpoke from another class, and I call out to pass another guy before we get to the beginning of El Shock’. Too late! We were both approaching too quickly and I can’t get around him on the downhill or else I’d be disqualified (or cause an accident.) Suckage, because putting him between Wayne and me would have made it easier to seal the deal. I was riding the guy’s wheel, bumming a bit about the situation, when I decide to do a little showboating by hitting a lip and catching some air.
Stupid. See the pics on the left. No air caught, and I shoot off the trail and almost into the crowd. I fully expect Wayne to be blowing by me, but I don’t even look back up the hill. I jump back on the trail and go anaerobic to finish off the short distance back to the line. Lucky for me the singletrack is a tight uphill to the finish where it’s relatively hard to pass. I still don’t look back, but everyone is yelling, “He’s right behind you! GO! GO! GO!” My lungs are on fire and my legs and arms are wobbly. I can hardly keep a straight line, which probably worked to my advantage. I was all over the place, probably (and totally unintentionally) blocking his passing zones. I can hear him breathing down my neck. If he wanted to get around me, he’d have to work it by taking the bad lines over the roots. I steadfastly kept my line through the fillet of the trail.
I see the paved section that leads to the end, and get out of my saddle to grunt. Jim the director is on a megaphone telling me to push it and that Wayne’s right behind me. I give it one last oomph, cross the line, and collapse on the ground like I’ve never done before. I’m seeing stars, but I end up with third in singlespeed!
AFTERWARDS: Wayne was 3 seconds behind me. On the other hand, Pierre and Pearce were at least four and a half minutes ahead of me. If you don’t know what that means in biking terms, it means they are in another league, i.e., they are varsity, while I (and everyone behind me) play in J.V. 
(pic by buddy Jason Stoner, the original Disco Cowboy)
- Posted in : 2006 Race Reports
- Author : Ricky deLeyos
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