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Journal

Race Alchemy

[Alchemy: A medieval magic concerned primarily of turning base metals into gold.]

When I found out that the Leadville Trail 100 was an obligatory team race, I was not exactly excited.

Its lack of prize money is one thing, but the previous LT100 races I’d done were about as painful and mind numbing as doing a six and a half hour wall-sit with while huffing through a dirty paper bag.

I love a good challenge; especially the trill sound of wheels clanking on rocks and experiencing the roller coaster G’s of finely-tuned single track peppered with berms. Slicing and dicing along single track; these are thing things I’m stoked to do. It’s races like the Breck Epic that bring a big smile to my face.

So I waxed philosophical about the Leadville race. ‘Maybe I’ll just think of it as a road race on a rough course?’

Eureka! Bringing a new narrative to the same old race this was the key to motivate and get the best out of my teammates and myself.

Leaville 100 is a dirt road out-and-back course at 10,000+ feet average elevation that climbs to 12,300 feet at the halfway point then returns through a flattish valley and finishes with two tough climbs. Since it’s dirt roads are constant, it’s one of the few iconic races in mountain biking that has an unchangeable course – and therefore a course record.

In 2013, my Topeak-Ergon teammate Alban Lakata smashed Levi Leipheimer’s course record by 10 minutes, An unreal time of 6:04:00 was set (The LT100 is actually 103.5 miles, and features 11,000 feet of climbing through dizzying altitudes so the speed need is 17 mph ) In that race, the reigning world champion at the time, Christopher Sauser, and Alban ( Reigning and former world champion) waged a battle of epic proportions! How could anyone go faster than that? Those guys had a dog fight right to the end. Their intense rivalry propelled them 24-minutes ahead of even Lance Armstrong’s finishing time on the course in a previous year!

Fast forward to 2015, while our team was enjoying a pizza at the end of a tough TransAlp Challenge: thinking ahead to the LT100, the gears in my head turned. I said to Alban, “a sub-6 hour is possible; it’s only four minutes!” Alban and I, with our teammate Kristian “The Hammer” Hynek, could work together on the extensive flat dirt road sections and paceline into the headwinds to slice seconds off the winning splits from 2013.

The goal crystalized. The coach/scientist in my head began running scenarios of how this might work out.

Historically, the LT100 lead-group blasts it to pieces on the monster hour-long climb to Columbine Mine at 12,300 feet. Then, on the way back it’s like a solo time-trial across the valley – often into the wind.

It’s metabolically reaching the physiological limits to ride more than 1,000 Kilojoules per hour for more than 6 hours while hypoxic and only 75% of normal sea level oxygen. Hitting the climbs at anaerobic threshold causes a metabolic shift to approximately 90% glycogen fueling. What this means is: if you ride really hard on the climbs, you will empty the tank after five hours and suffer pins and needles numbness in your arms legs, searing pain and a general bonking sensation. Kristian experienced this while leading the LT100 race by six minutes last year.

A few clever aerodynamic tricks combined with the team strategy of sticking together should enable us to split the workload and unlock the key 5-minute split lead needed before the grueling final 20 miles.

With our team’s goal firmly in place and a strategy to support it, the Leadville Trail 100 starting shotgun blasted off just before sunrise. I went to the front and pushed the pace, helping cut some easy seconds off our normally brisk pace of 40k an hour to St Kevin’s (our first checkpoint along the course).

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I hit the first climb and knew the 10 previous days I had spent at altitude had paid off!  At the top we had a 1-minute advantage on the ghost pace of 2013.

A big lead group split off from the main field, including all the contenders: Todd Wells, Alban Lakata, Kristian Heinik, Christoph Sauser, Soren Nissen and me.

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Todd flatted and our group shrank. Alban moved into a super-tuck and dive-bombed the paved downhill; leaning through blind corners like a motorcycle.

Once at the bottom, I rolled to the front and got to work leaning on the mini aerobars I’d been testing in secret. We were moving; already 90seconds up on our time splits by mile 16. Game on!

After a blistering climb up Sugar Loaf, we rocketed through the early morning shadows of the dusty sidehill descent of Powerline. I could see the dust swirl and the ruts – big enough in places to eat a VW bug. It could be the end of your season if you took the wrong line.

BING!

I heard my rim, and felt it bottom-out on a rock at near 40 mph. I thought I’d flat, but didn’t.

Our group reassembled at the bottom, as we hit the main flat pavement and dirt road trip out to Twin Lakes. It was time to fuel.

Our group was working well and I made use of the aerobars where they’d be best on the headwind or flats.  Alban was obviously motivated by the 3-minutes ahead of record that we posted by the pipeline aid station. His large frame was steady as his tan muscled legs churned out gothic watts on the front. ‘The rainbow jersey is on his back for a reason,’ I thought.

It would have been risky for him to work so hard on pace making, since we had Christopher Sauser in tow, and since we only had him doing courtesy pulls, it was hard to gauge what he might be saving. Kristian also pulled through, but eventually the two would battle it out on the last climb.

Columbine hurt. I was feeling the 45 miles of world record pace setting. Kristian drove the pace at the front and Sauser and Nissen started falling off. I could’t help it but I thought of the extra pound clamped to my bars as the difference between getting dropped from our trian and being comfortable. I buckled down like the race had only this one climb left.

As we reached tree line, something magic happened: I found my alpine groove and was holding strong with the top-two marathon riders in the world. My time on the climb even tied for second fastest recorded on Strava.

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As we made our way up, there was an almost-tribal breathing rhythm. Trying to turn the cranks, I could feel the ghostly thin wind and hear it wheezing through the spokes.

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The descent gave us a look back on the competition, since the whole course is an out-and-back.

As usual, this kamikaze decent down and against oncoming race traffic is a Russian roulette; with zombie riders weaving their ways up the climb. Many of the racers cheered for us; and that part is really cool. Not cool was trying to follow Sauser as he enduro’d his way back to the lead group.

Phew, made it! My legs were feeling heavy though. On one section, Alban ran into a lady who had bobbled trying to climb up a step section, almost ending his day.

We synchronized and locked into a paceline again. I took some good turns at the front and fought against the threat of legs straining underneath 70 miles of sub-6-hour pace! As we approached the base of Powerline, it looked like we were 5 minutes up on the record pace. “No way I thought”, this will be close!

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As the last climb approached, and working to slice seconds off every place I could, I took a final big pull at the front. The others refused to pull hard into the wind, but Alban lead into the base of the climb like a Spartan would.

Now that it was man against the mountain, I could tell Kristian had plans and he lit it up! I had to measure my effort, and lost a little time to Alban who lost a little time to Christian. I was dropping Sauser and Nissen and my legs were feeling surprisingly strong.

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Halfway up, it seemed evident that Kristian would have two minutes lead on Alban and three minutes on me by the summit of power line’s nasty half hour climb. To my surprise, Sauser came back like a storm. He was dropping the rock-strewn Jeep trail descent with the reckless speed one might use during his final LT100.

I hung on! We hit the dirt road and could see Alban some 40 seconds ahead!

Sauser asked me to pull through on the smooth 50kph section. ‘No way, I’m not chasing a teammate.’ It would be dangerous if Sauser latched on to Alban. I just hoped Alban had enough left to hold his gap. He did and then came to life as the final 10 miles hit. Making eye contact with Kristian some 90 seconds ahead on the final climb, he put on the turbos; overtaking a now-cracked Kristian in the final 200 meters to win in a historic sub-6-hour time of 5:58:38!

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Just out of sight, I was blasting the final climb in an all-out-attempt to go sub-six myself. I had looked to the clock at 6k to go, and realized I was 5:45:00 in. It was SO close to the finish. I said to Sauser, ‘I don’t care about the sprint, I just want my best time!’ I put my head down and drove it.

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At the finish line we sprinted. I got pipped at the line – as expected – but, hey, 6:01:01 is an unbelievable time.

The pride of working together as a team for an epic goal was like the magic of turning lead into gold!

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This is my account, for the full story and behind the scenes look at the Topeak-Ergon Racing Team assault on the sub-6-hour record at the LT100, check out our our videos, interviews and images from living the legend, beyond limits.

– Jeremiah Bishop
Team Topeak Ergon

Journal

The End in Sight

[Jeremiah Bishop checks in following Stages 6 and 7 of the 2015 Absa Cape Epic 8-day mountain bike stage race across South Africa, where he and Robert Mennen (Topeak-Ergon Team 2) raced in support of their fellow Topeak-Ergon teammates Alban Lakata and Kristian Hynek (Topeak-Ergon Team 1) This update follows Bishop’s previous account: Dusty Desert Riding and the King Stage.]

The Single Track of Wellington

In slate dark morning of Stage 6, we woke to the sound of raindrops patting the tents and campers. ‘Hmm,’ I thought today’s XC-distance stage could be more decisive than we’d expected. Sure enough, soon after the starting gun, the field was peppered with crashes. The peloton was snaking through turns and the accordion of riders would scrunch together vying for position. The sound of riders bikes smashing behind and sliding on gravel indicated my instincts to get the FRONT where spot on.

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My tired legs didn’t want to snap like a criterium race, but I had to move up. For a while, I rode at the front for the team. Then Robert and I were separated. The ensuing single track was awesome. We were parked on the back of Team Bulls 1 for a fast trail tour! Karl Platt was trying to nurse his teammate and Swiss Champion Urs Huber who was having back pain. The pace was brisk, but since we had no need to help the third-place team chase our guys down, we were content with that. The trails were awesome;  30km of single track – including Roller Coaster, Point Break and Heaven’s Gate weaved and dashed thru a pine forest.

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The End in Sight

The finale of Stage 7 was a point-to-point race to Laurensford Vineyard. It was anything but an easy stage. This one was especially tough not because of the course, but because it was the last chance for a coveted stage win!

Again, the start was chaotic. I suppose that after eight days in a row, I shouldn’t have expected anything less. One minute you’re cruising at 25-mph down the road looking out for widow-maker potholes through a sea of wheels and riders. The next minute you see the helicopter hovering in place, and then hear the sliding of brakes on gravel as riders chicane across a narrow bridge. Then it’s back to 25-mph from a sandy standstill. After being yo-yoed once, I pushed through and picked up Alban; bringing him to the front and setting a stiff tempo to keep it single file and moving. It was fun to command a peloton and set a hard pace on the front.

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Soon we approached the KOM climb. It was 2,000 vertical feet  with some nasty hike-a-bike in the middle. Team Merandal Centurion Vaude was going full gas to get the $1,700 prime at the top. Team Multivan Merida was in hot pursuit. I was behind them with Kristian, but it was important not to pass our boys on the big downhill backside; my job was to make sure my Topeak-Ergon team brought home second-place in the overall and the slightest crash could ruin the week.

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Sure enough, the two teams up front descended like men with nothing to lose. Once we regrouped in the valley, Robert, Kristian and I took up chase. We did 40-kilometers of farm tracks, dirt roads and sandy connectors in just over an hour.  Without much help of the Team Specialized’s Kulhavy and Sauser or Martin Guijan and Fabian Geiger. We came up just short of catching the escape artists just like a road race. We hit the final climb and I nuked it trying to see if I could get our team leaders in position for the podium, but we’d have to be satisfied to secure second-place for the week.

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It’s difficult to describe the satisfaction of riding as hard as we did this week.  My hands were raw, my right knee was aching, an ankle barely holding out to the last day seemed like a army mission. To finish this one feels good; but to do so as a team working together to battle the best in the World is very a special accomplishment. It was Christoph Sauser’s last Cape Epic as a pro, and he earned it! The celebrations showed a career’s accomplishment with 5 Cape Epic Wins.

Next up for me is a little break at home to enjoy the spring and some family time. The next big race is USA National Championships for Marathon MTB in Augusta Georgia.

Thanks for cheering!

– Jeremiah

Journal

Adventure is Driving Me

[This is the second part of “The Biggest Bike Week of My Life” previous blog entry. I was left on my mission alone; riding in the dark in a forest area of almost two million acres.]

My headlamp cast shadows, fixed silhouettes like pop-up books. Smoky grey and browns and charcoal black: the new colors of the night world. It was spooky. Trepidation, the fear of the unknown; the dark place in the mind creates much worse things than the real places where darkness dwells.

That having been said, the silhouette of a pit bull charging toward me in the dark was something really to be scared of! Because my lights only pointed forward, I could just get a couple glimpses of the muscled white dog getting into position. My hair stood on end. Out of the corner of my eye, I could only see teeth barking at me from 7 o’clock. I burst to full speed and could hear its nails on the pavement. “Scratch, scratch, scratch,” from each paw searching for traction. I could hear the tires ” vrrrrip, vrrrip, vrrrip” and I drove the pedals full gas on the slight uphill.

As the dog sounds’ faded into the distance, I breathed a deep sigh of relief. ‘That was not cool,’ I muttered.

(Days after my adventure, my wife overheard me telling this story to a friend. She exclaimed, “Why didn’t you tell me about that? You should carry a gun so you can shoot at things you can’t see in the dark! Especially in Africa!” Not a great idea, on second thought.)

My hands and arms were raw and tired and my back hurt under the strain of rock moves, log jumping, portages and hike-a-bike sections.

Entering Douthat State Park was a nice respite from the evil backcountry trails whose rocks, ravines and tree-strewn trails threatened to swallow me whole. I was now on a mountain bike roller coaster around slender bench-cut singletrack. Delightful ribboning switchbacks are the legacy of the Civilian Conservation Corps.

I finally hit my first real stop 11 hours into my ride. At the end of the Park road, I pedaled toward the lone gas station, stomach growling and legs weak. I was hoping it was open at 2 a.m., since there was nothing else there. My pedals turned slowly. I tempered my excitement, thinking if it’s closed, I guess I’d just take a nap in the wet grass.

Welcome to Vegas! I rounded the corner to see the lights on that said “OPEN!” WOO HOO! As I entered the store, it was sensory overload like a casino floor of sweets and junk food and salty heaven! All the shiny wrappers and glowing signs blinded me and stole my night vision.

I bought giant bag of trail mix, had a “white-trash mocha” (equal parts gas station coffee and machine-dispensed cappuccino) a Snickers, a doughnut, some mini chocolates and cheeseburger.

The bloodshot-eyed attendant asked in a southern draw, “You need a bag?”

“No thanks.” I ate it all on the spot. I had to get caught up with calories since my poor planning had me without food for the last two hours on the trail.

Recharged and feeling solid, powered by a 2,000-calorie snack, I got back in the groove and finally started north. As I climbed, I exited the groomed State Park and it was evident I was again in the backcountry!

While riding the damp sapling-hell of tangled low trees, at times I could only see three feet ahead of me. I thought how easy it would be for a bear to get surprised by my unexpected appearance and attack. (The night lets thoughts creep in which normally don’t pop up in the day.)

On Little Mare Mountain I had a couple scares. Portaging my bike over a down log, I smashed my shin sharply into the pedal and almost collapsed from the pain. I thought, ‘I might be stranded out here.’ Luckily the pain subsided. No major injury, I carried-on. Trying to ride a rock garden, I crashed which had me putting my ankles between two rocks as I fell. This one could have been BAD! I managed to go the rest of the route without too much trouble; not an easy task when I couldn’t even see below the knee-deep brush. I pushed on.

It was 3 a.m. I finally got a call through to my emergency pit stop crew and coordinated a drop. I navigated the strange new trail in awe that I had never ridden Brushy Mountain and its sick side-benched goat path before. Was I 100 feet up? 2,000 feet up? Since it was dark, I was not sure, but didn’t plan to fall down and find out.

After riding for hours with not even a flicker of light from a house a car or anything, I crossed the swinging bridge over the Cowpasture River. Ahead I spied a car headlight. I heard some kids shouting? As I got closer, I heard “MUNGA! MUNGA! MUNGA!”

It was the boys! I was ecstatic to see my friends Danny Gibney and Dan Wolfe who surprised me out here at 3:30 in the morning. I had some cold pizza and shared some stories over a few Cokes. It was sweet after the jungle track I had just survived.

Elliots Sun Rise
My next section was twenty miles of road and dirt road. This however brought faster speeds, and as the temperature dropped, my knees were freezing cold and causing quite a bit of pain. I pushed hard, as I have found the endorphins block pain.

The darkest hour before twilight – the witching hour – was approaching. I matched my longest bike ride ever during this hour. Elliotts Knob – the biggest climb to the highest point – was ahead. I was dreading the hour and a half of climbing with steep leg-saping pitches, hike-a-bikes, rock gardens and impenetrable briars wet with dew would make it the biggest test of the ride. I pushed through, talking myself into thinking if this is only one of the three big pre-Munga tests, then its worth at least $20,000 to be under 20-hours (my time goal for the ride).

I was rewarded at the top by the golden orb burning thru the mist.

The most beautiful sunrise I have ever seen; like a giant tangerine wrapped in downy rose petals against antennas at the top of the 4,500-foot peak. Hello, sunshine!

Wave after wave of clouds filled the valley floor below. It was like being on an island!
The descent off Elliotts Knob was indescribable; high-speed sidehill singletrack interspersed with rock gardens, switchbacks and small trees in full autumn foliage as I descended into the clouds!

Then Crawford Knob’s “four walls” nearly stopped me in my tracks. These hike-a-bike sections were hell. I could barely push the bike without my feet sliding backwards. Like walking up a ski slope, I was starting to hurt again but in new ways; feet and hamstrings ached. I felt like a fly on flypaper.

I eventually toped out on Crawford Knob. I could see the light at the end of the tunnel!
One more trail to go! Half an hour climb up Hanky Mountain and then I’ll be able to sail back to the Stokesville Lodge. But first, I had the best descent of the whole ride: bench-cut side-hill single track at 30+ mph with carve-alicious turns and switchbacks. I had Cinderella’s shoes on, powered by sunshine again! I knew, despite my excitement, that my sleepiness could have me wrapped around a tree, broken and bleeding in no time, so I checked my excitement.

At the bottom of the descent, I saw two ribbons hanging from a tree with reflective tape marking a drop box the guys had stashed for me. I dreamed of pepperoni pizza. I could taste bacon, egg and cheese on a buttery croissant in and all its salty glory.

Inside the box were just some gels, energy bars and a Coke, but I guess it was all sugar I needed to keep on going. I made a quick pit, decided upon sitting down for two minutes. I was only training, so it was okay.

I pushed hard at the final climb, finding a new energy and motivation and the hope that the harder I went up to climb, the faster I’d get back. I was amazed that I was actually starting to feel good again! The sun warmed me. The shivers and bad dreams of the night seemed days ago. I was in flight, hammering! WOW!

Post by Jeremiah Bishop.

Reflection on how it felt
20,000-feet of climbing! 19.5 hours and 165 miles with darkness, hike-a-bikes, thorn caves and stream crossings, steep-ass trails with loose rocks, glowing animal eyes, and riding through brush traps all paled in comparison to the mental beast. I had overcome thorny doubt, cold despair and crystalline fear. With an escort by Chris Scott through the final mile of trails, I was fired up. It felt better than winning an XC national! I had done something no one has done before and something I thought I might not be capable of doing!

I have just opened the door on this game, but have a newfound respect for ultra-endurance cyclist. The dull ache of the legs, the raw skin-breaking pain of a saddle wearing your skin, and then there’s the pain of mental fatigue: the drain, the sinking feeling. Much like waves crashing up against the beach with different pulses of intensity and duration, but always the farther it recedes and the better you feel. You know it’s going to come back strong again just when?

Over coming these obstacles is a huge thrill. Honing your mental game is to sharpen an ax, doubling its effect at cutting anything you should choose to go after.

I was surprised how many times I smiled on this ride. I did actually have a blast. It wasn’t the hell I thought it would be. During the trip, I was under a magic spell. The feeling of riding at night with no one else around, the stars twinkling, the animals howling and hooting under the moon, just the silence of my bike moving in the woods. The mission kept the pain away and in this case, the thrill was well more than the cost.

I thought how extremely lucky I am to be able to do this ride: living a dream. I felt with this big test behind me, I was definitely capable of going the distance in The Munga.

Then like a bombshell, I read the headlines, “The MUNGA is postponed until 2015.”

Oh NO!

After the initial shock subsided, I got to thinking a bit.
Munga training made a man out of me and helped me find a new side to riding! Adventure, new friends and the inspiration to try what I thought was impossible.

Now I know I can do it. In 2015, when The Munga takes place, I will be ready.

Amazing thing is: I really enjoyed the epic training and the SDS expedition, and I will do it again next spring as an invitational event. To be in the forest covered by canopy and propelled by dreams is something you have to experience to truly understand. The Munga may be why I set out on this, but it is clear that the adventure is what is driving me to new heights.

As one door closes for a time, another door opens. I am very excited to have found a new home with a great team. I’m excited to break the details of this news very soon.

In the mean time, I will look forward to the rest of this season and perhaps a more relaxing December after all.
– Jeremiah

Hit the play button for a playback of my first ever non-stop through ride of this route.

Here’s a video from Shenandoah Mountain Touring about Stokesville Douthat Stokesville, in case you’re thinking of planning your own adventure.

Journal

Wicked Mountains

Hampshire 100/Mt Washington Auto Road Hill Climb “King of the Mountains Double Dare”

My resolution post Pro XCT was to “put the mountain back into mountain biking”.  I had a blast and wrapped up the national series with 3 wins 10 podium finishes and 2nd over all For sure that was a lot of laps and I was jones’n to get out and do some scary stuff on some deep trails.

As I planned the double trouble weekend that bordered on absurd.  I said to myself “Tinker did it last year.” Should’a thought about that one a bit…  Ha ha ha.

Saturday was the 40th annually Mt Washington Auto Road Bicycle Hill Climb. A race steeped in legend and lore. It is so hard to get into that someone has to die for a spot to open up and the weather at the top is among the worst weather in the World. Winds exceeding huricane force take place on this mountain an average of 110 days out of the year! http://zielonko.org/bike/new_england/mtwash.htm

I thought to myself pre trip yeah yeah; I know it’s a steep road and what not.  I went with a gear easier than normal 34 with a 12-28 on my 12 pound Cannondale Super 6 EVO. This was however like going to fish for jaws in the little dingy they use in the movie.   BAD IDEA.

Because the road is closed to riders 363 days of the year and I arrived the night before it was going to be a “surprise” to see what’s up there. Yep it was a surprise alright.  Clouds flying at you like fuzzy parade floats at 45 miles an hour. You even brace for impact and then just every thing goes fuzz for a second. The back to blue it’s kind of strange while in an anerobic trance.

Prior to the race I bet friend /coaching client and climbing specialist Cameron Cogburn that I could take him in the double.   He rocked a 4th at Leadville last weekend and has the second best time on Mt Washington ever recorded so I knew it would be good.  We agreed on percent based formula for our bet.

The gun went off and we quicky ground to a near hault on the first 14% pitch.

I realized quickly the legs I had hoped for where still in my checked bag, I suffered hard after the first couple thousand feet of ascent.

Cameron set off in pursuit of Tom Danielsons record.   I set to a hard pace and was moving pretty good for my lack of specific prep.  The first incline was very steep and had mean pitches relegating me to for the rest of the climbing into low back twisting 55 -65 cadence.

I took in the jaw dropping scenery as we approached treeline realizing I was getting 3rd and that was that.  Switchbacks twisted like intestines of some mythic beast…then  the road gave way to packed wet sand.  Dripping in sweat from the intense effort we rounded a exposed switch back and it was like someone opened a door to and arctic wind storm. 45 mile an hour 45 degree gust and I was chilled to the bone in an instant. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mount_Washington_(New_Hampshire)

I remembered the wind whisle thru the spokes and the intense pain in both feet.  Some spectators in costum yelled “almost there”!!    expecting to see the top I saw a tower sticking out of a cloud another 1,400 feet vertical feet above..  “o damn”  I paced myself so I wouldn’t fall over in the final 24 percent corkscrew. The crowd was going nuts, it was pretty sick, like a mountain top finish in the Tour.

I crossed the line after 44 minutes and it was like an arctic weather station triage zone! Fans yelling and people wrapped like refuges in complimentary blankets, the wind was raging in the thin air. Would I do it again? yes but with a massive gear swap and after a month of Jenny Craig! Cameron won and was 3+ minutes ahead so I had some work to do! Based off the precent formula I would need to win by almost 20 minutes a near impossible feat.

Mt Washington snow zone

200 miles south in the rolling green mountains of New Hampshire riders were gear up for the Hampshire 100 a test of grit  and single track fortitude.  But we where still a 3 hour drive from the race. I was nervous about having not raced longer than 3 hrs this year and more so because my huge gear workout blasted my muscles to a cramped spaghetti.

6:45 came way too early we set off with the lead group and played it as efficiently as possible. A lead group formed and luckily it was flat for a while letting me wake up my legs. I managed to ride a super steep power line climb and used the technical single track as a wedge to pressure the other riders. It seemed only Christian could follow in this stuff and I vowed to fight for this one having had a bad day yesterday. It was all or nothing.

I pushed hard to open a gap at mile 55 and got a minute gap after pushing an impossible to hold pace.  I decided to make a break for it a really long break!   On the rail trail sections I imagined my chasers working together to close down on my narrow 2 min lead.  Pushing while my legs were still good was the plan get a gap “if I fade out Ill just try to hold on”

Some how and I have no good reason for it other than it was my day… my motor turned full diesel and I could drive the big ring for much of the last 25 miles! I had one hell of a second wind and remembered the race that crushed me last year.

Remembering the bet I had made with Cameron Cogburn the day before that I could take him in the diabolical double.  Last I heard Christian Tanguy was 10 minutes back and Cam in 3rd.   I need 20 minutes to claim the game so I was in full tt mode!   Well; Camerons freehub blew while he was in 3rd a few minutes back, I had no clue so I just put it to the maximum.  We agreed to a re match at the Alpine Loop Gran Fondo.

I won by the largest margin I have ever won any race by almost 17 minutes!
I can’t forget the thrill of racing the lead moto down a couple of the sweeping final single tracks and pinning it xc style sliding the turns and going for seconds, It was sweet awesomeness.

16,000 ft of climbing in a weekend within only 8 hrs and 107 miles the big mountain adventure is BACK!  Next stop Shenandoah 100!

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Thanks to Team Sho-Air/Cannondale for the bikes and support; Arnie Mostowy and Tom Barton for support on site and Goodales Bike Shop for the bike build!
http://www.northeastcycling.com/Hillclimb_Races.html for those looking for all the dirt on the north east hill climbs.

http://www.strava.com/activities/76096809

Strava from the Hampshire 100 – not big climbs but plenty of roots, single-track and deep forest.

http://dirtwire.tv/2013/08/hampshire-100-the-movie/

Journal

Pro XCT #1 In the Books! Silver Medal, But Drew First Blood.

The hill country of Texas was the backdrop to an awesome battle that had some of the world’s best mountain bikers torching it full-blast – many for the first time this season. With every bit of ammo they had, the men and women fought it out on the 6-kilometer technical corral strewn marbled course. Rocks were flying, sand and dust swirled, as riders put in maximum efforts in the sweaty dogfight.

As I was warming up, news came over the radio that my teammate Pua was with the medics and had broken something. I cringed at the thought, tuning this out and racing a smooth strong race took all my concentration.

As is the case for the first race of the season, none of us North Americans had a clue how much we really had in the tank – myself included. This however did not stop me from spending every match in the book and putting attacks down in an effort to stretch the field.

Zanstra and Kabush went.
I covered.
Wells dug deep.

We chopped each other through turns and it got aggressive out there. However, the course’s short punchy climbs and brief straightaways kept the pack together. I did have a good answer to most of the heat put on by Zanstra, Kabush and Wells, but it was Aussie Dan McConnell finishing off his summer who had just a little more kick than I. I lead the KOM and was on the front feeling strong most of the race.

It wasn’t until a harsh attack with two-to-go that had us on full pace. Kabush was railing the turns, McConnell was in tow, and so was Wells. I heard some commotion in the back there. A wreck – I think – may have held him up a little? Now it was just we three: Kabush and me with McConnell on the attack! Full speed, but my lines allowed me to roll up on him.

I did put a surprise few attacks on the technical section but the rock slab line only proved to put me into the lead for the sprint for which I had no practice since last season.

Alas, a perfect approach to the finale except my legs had one-less match than required to best a world-class rider in summer fitness.

A very good race!

About as fit and sharp as I wanted to be with twenty days left of winter! So I’m excited about the coming races. My teammate Alex Grant too was on-point for a snow bird – rocking the top-ten! I think his season will be his best yet, given this first race was a mere sprint.

After the race, we had a little ice cream party with M&M’s cookies and treats to celebrate the weekend and to keep the mojo going post-race. A drink and some quality hanging out, watching bad YouTube videos that Alex found and voila: laughs and good times! It was a memorable weekend that had many highlights like the 1,600-acre ranch with a mountain top castle that was our home for the week. There’s nothing like an endless pool that looks out over an entire county!

The View from the SHO-AIR/Cannondale Castle

There was even a grotto; a blue lagoon a couple miles away on the property that had an outdoor hot tub built next to it. SHO-AIR is all about pimpin’ it out.

All in all, I’m very happy with my strong effort and form for this early and with having a great run to hold the torch for the team. I wish Pua a speedy recovery from her fractured fibula. I think by the time Sea Otter rolls around, we will all be back in full attendance with Max back on his game. Sometimes a little rest does a body good, so take it when you got it, be mellow when you don’t.

Thanks to the SHO-AIR/Cannondale staff Ty, John, Paul, and Jordi for keeping the Scalpel sharp, the logistics smooth, and the weekend fun!

– Jeremiah

[Recap, video interviews, and links to photo galleries from the event are available here. – Editor]