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Poor Farm Enduro Report

by Eric

I passed on the rocks and rain of Michaux for the sunnier and muddier pastures of Poor Farm Park in Ashland, Virginia. Saturday night My wife and I watched the monsoon blow throw. “Stupid Pre-registration,” I said. Had we not plopped down two race fees, I am sure a late breakfast and a road ride would have been in the future. But as they say “some are born to greatness and others have greatness thrust upon them,” or something like that.

I signed up for the enduro class. Five hours on a twisty rolling 6.2 mile course. I was sure my legs and lungs were up for it. My head however, would come into question. The race started in a thick fog. It was muggy and damp and I knew it was going to get hot in a few hours.

The promoter of these races loves a laman start. Just like you have that friend that still rocks the Pearl Jam “Ten” album like it came out last week, we had a race promoter who was waiting for Ned Overend and Steve Larson to line up. No school like the old school.

I got into the woods third. With 50 riders lining up in the wave, it was good to avoid the bottle necks that can knock you out of a five hour race in the first fifteen minutes. Ten riders got away in the first lap. A single speeder got feed up with the geared bikes spinning up the rollers a broke off the front. He built a 4 minute gap in the first lap. We dropped a guy leaving eight in the chase. The second and third laps flew by. I rolled to the back of the chase group choosing to follow the lines of other riders.

Towards the end of the third lap I noticed a slight gap opening between me and the seventh rider around every turn and technical section. I knew I was working harder then the guys in front of me. They could just flat out ride mountain bikes. The smooth and efficient motion of a technically sound rider is fun to watch, but not when you are trying to hang on to a train of them. A gapped opened that I could not close with out getting out of above my threshold. So I let up and hopped my fitness would hold out longer then the other riders.

Laps four and five went smoothly. I drifted as high as fifth place and as low as ninth. On the sixth lapped I pasted the single speeder. He had completely blown up, his legs barley getting around on the climbs.

Checking my watch, I knew it was crunch time and needed to keep it tight over the next two laps to keep with the leaders and work my way up in field. What happened instead was a meltdown.

My sixth lap was slow. It had gotten hot and I was having trouble forcing food down. My head started to hurt at the end of the fifth lap and by now was really bothering me. I packed down fluids and gels trying to right myself before the complete bonk set in. A water bottle with filled with coke seemed to do the trick for a few minutes then my mind drifted.

The course turned to complete slop. I began to take bad lines and putting my head down. I kept thinking about everything expect the race:

“Did we feed the dog this morning.”

“I need to call my brother tonight.”

“Slap Shot was a better movie then The Bad News Bears but nobody talks about Slap Shot”

With my head out of the game, I crash three times. Like Evan, my noodle roadie arms could not hold my lines. The last crash was bad. I wasn’t hurt but it took it all out of me. I crawled across the finish in eighth place out of 47 starters. My fast early laps saved me from falling out the top ten. Not bad, but I was hoping for a top five finish. My wife was the MVP of the trip snagging third in the womens sport race. Her training secert… Yoga and not riding a bike. Up next some road racing then… HOO-HA!

Comments»

1. DT - April 25, 2006

Nice! Good job Eric. I didn’t pre-register, so I stayed home and wussed out. Sounds like you had a good showing though.