Michaux Maximus 40 Miler – Sunday May 3 2009
So I thought I’d be getting off a slightly easier doing the Michaux Maximus 40 miler, instead of Lodi. Boy was I wrong!
The rain, low temps and fresh trail combined to form a 6 hour and 29 minute slog fest. It’s been a while since I’ve gotten that beat up by a course. I opted for the 40 miler because it fit my training goals for the season – longer XXC races in preparation for the American Mountain Classic 4 day stage race. The rainy forecast didn’t completely turn me away, since Saturday was pretty nice and Sunday’s forecast relatively similar. Not so in Michaux. It was raining steadily when I got there, and continued to rain, in varying intensities throughout the day.
As usual, the Michaux crew put a lot of effort into hosting a good race, but the elements were definitely a challenge this year. I think I’ve only been muddier once before, and that was my first Lodi experience. Mud built up on my bike, covered my glasses and permeated every piece of clothing, bearing, camel back, water bottle, gel packet. I ate a great deal of mud. My glasses became utterly useless 15 miles in, which made the ‘high speed’ fire-road sections difficult because I had to keep my eyes closed for most of those (not the best call). I wished for a front fender many times during the ‘race.’
My other trouble was traction. Climbs, particularly on the newly cut trail, were punctuated by grinding spin-outs with my rear wheel sinking into the loamy trail trying to find purchase, and when finding none, forcing me off of the bike. Downhills, swooping and curving, were dicey. The famed rocks of Michaux were surrounded by buttery mud-fests which had me sliding sideways down the trail with one foot off of the pedal at all times. Technical sections were hazardous and saw me dismounting over terrain I would normally not blink at, as Roger Masse put it afterwards, “when in doubt, dismount.” I did a lot of dismounting.
I finished 10th out of 23 in my class- I was right on the tail of ninth, by a few feet- we cruised in together, there was no glory in sprinting for a pip… best to just wrap it up calmly.
My highpoint was at the final aid station (known as desperation station), at mile 37 or something. There was a steep drop-in to the station, I intended on rolling through without stopping. But someone yelled out to me- “Hey MATTY!” It was Larry Camp, volunteering at the aid station. We chatted as I slowed down and grumbled about conditions. I started riding away and he suggestively shouted- “I’ve got a secret stash of beer here, if you want some!?” I turned around and rode back thinking, “at this point, what could it hurt?” I chugged a cup of dark nutty beer. It got a fire going in my gut and I actually felt better than I had for hours. I caught and passed a guy on the 2 mile up-hill slog to the finish. The day will stick in my head as determined but one of the more miserable races I’ve ever done. It was quite a contrast to last week’s 90+ degree day at Greenbriar.