Tag Archives: Team Topeak-Ergon

2016 World Marathon Championships – Laissac, France

The Friday before our big race, the United Kingdom announced its awkward exit from the European Union. Markets and currency have been roiled ever since, and even solidarity among the UK has taken a hit with Scotland possibly considering another vote on secession, threatening to plunge England into a serious salmon shortage.

All the while Team Topeak Ergon was working together on our final preparations for the World Championships in the sunny mid-Pyrenean town of Laissac, France. Bikes were sparkling and riders were all in our leanest meanest shape.

At Cross Country World Championships, riders on the top industry teams will often house together and use the technical support they are accustomed too year-round, instead of the generic cobbled-together ad hoc support provided by some of the national teams; and such was our arrangement.

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I suppose I have gotten used too the multi-national composition of my team’s riders and staff. To see each rider, if only for a day, wearing their national team colors was a reminder that our crew is like the cast of the starship Enterprise. We are one global team that works together, though each of us has our own views, style and homeland.

In my earliest experiences racing internationally, the volley of languages was confusing and overwhelming, but now 15 years in, I have come to enjoy the colorful expressions and can even follow some conversations in German, Spanish and French. My teammate Kristian and mechanic Gio are from Czech Republic; another teammate Alban and lead tech Peter are from Austria; teammate Sally and team director David are from Great Britain; Torsten and team manager Dirk are from Germany; and soigneur Craig and teannate Erik are from South Africa; so our mix is especially interesting.

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Marathon Worlds was different than the typical stage race team format; we were given instructions that we couldn’t help each other during the race and were to just race for ourselves. After months of working together, this was kind of weird.

World Championships was made exceptionally hard for Erik and me: we’d not done any of the 2016 Marathon Series races which determined the start line call-up order. This odd ruling made it almost comical, as superstar riders like Kulhavey, Gustaf Larson (silver medalist at the Olympics for TT) Howard Grotts, Todd Wells, Kali Freiburg and Lucas Fluckinger all got placed in the back of the 150-rider field!

Start gun goes BANG and there was a nasty crash on the left bringing my side of the lineup to a screeching halt. I stood one foot on the pavement and saw the two riders inspecting their mangled bikes; one just walks backward to call it a day. I clipped into my pedals, now almost last place, and started my sprint to catch the back of the peloton. Another bungle in the group on the first dirt and I’d gotten back to my starting position. I hooked up with Wells and Grotts in the left side of the dirt straightaway hitting near 50 kph and dust swirling. I managed to pass a couple of riders, putting me in 125th position. Grotts punched it on the first climb and made a move surging forward, Todd and I struggled pass a few riders at a time. I made some stealthily cross country moves late in the racel; braking and diving into the transitions taking some risks! What a pump.

I felt the pipes open and throttled the climbs, but then traffic came to a standstill; riders were walking on the cavernous Ruta climb. We hit the first feed zone and I had sprinted and slammed on my brakes about 30 times and caught riders in the top-80. The leaders were long gone some 4.5 minutes ahead already.

We hit the biggest climb and I pushed as best as I could, hoping to recover from my first 90 minutes of all out riding. I had no choice but to ride like this to jump on the train before it totally left the station.

By Feed Zone 2 I had caught Carl Platt, Urs Huber, a German, a Polish rider, a Spanish rider, and an Italian. We worked as a group moving fast. Then the screech of branch and scratch of locked tired on grave Karl was walking from his bike having hit the deck hard! We raced on, the rest was brief then I knew I’d have to go full tilt the last 2 hours to make any further ground. Then, after all that work making my way up to 50th(?), my rear tire went soft. I limped slowly down a hill or two knowing if I made it to the tech zone that was 6 kilometers ahead, I’d get a wheel. After my change, I really moved to catch my new group I’d come accustomed to riding in. On the way, I passed Martinez who, despite many years of doping, is still allowed to represent France – such class, unbelievable.

It was a battle out there and my legs started to tighten as I hit the 2000-meters of climbing mark! I still had 2 hours and 1,500 meters of climbing left but was passing one rider every 10 minutes or so. By the final section of technical trail I passed Tim Boem and linked up with a past winner of Andalucía Bike Race.

Dropping the descent, I had the surge I needed! I was flying the last 40 minutes and made 5 more passes to finish 23rd. More than the result, I’ll remember the chants of “U-S-A!” and the thrill of the chase. The feeing of racing high-caliber riders all day and feeling strong; surfing through loamy turns and blasting through the streams. It was so damn hard, but it was really fun.

At the finish, I had to ask how my teammates did; I knew our team captain Alban wouldn’t be happy with his seond place; he’d won last year and his late-race surge came up only 19 seconds short, while Tiago Ferreira had won. Our teammate Kristian took the bronze medal. (Paez crashed and broke his bar a two-up duel in the final decent.) Sally brought home a shiny silver medal in the women’s event, and Erik set a new PR with his 29th place finish.

All told, we had a good week: we worked hard, trained together, and enjoyed some wine and good food.

The individual nationalities of the riders were splashes of color. We respect each other’s differences, but this union is a lot tighter than the EU – we are Team Topeak Ergon!

Brexit aside, the global trend is acceptance and respect among nations. If each of us works hard and has some understanding of our differences, while charting strong leadership, we can work together toward peace, prosperity and liberty… and still proudly display our different national jerseys now and then.

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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

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

Dusty Desert Riding and the King Stage

[Jeremiah Bishop checks in following Stages 4 and 5 of the 2015 Absa Cape Epic 8-day mountain bike stage race across South Africa, where he and Robert Mennen (Topeak-Ergon Team 2) are racing in support of their fellow Topeak-Ergon teammates Alban Lakata and Kristian Hynek (Topeak-Ergon Team 1). Bishop previously wrote “Prepping for the Cape Epic,”  “Opening Days of the Epic,” and “A Day to Forget, Another to Remember.”]

Stage 4

Worcester’s Stage 4 was long and hot with tons of dust; as is common late summer on the desert side of the mountains. We started hard. Matthys and his Scott teammate nailed the first climb and got a gap on the rest of us.

It’s always really nervous in the pack. I guess it’s because you can’t see the ground at all at times. Dust is so think you only see shadows of the riders 5-feet in front of you. This is particularly dangerous when the group is doing 35 mph down a rutted rocky downhill. It’s so dry that sand patches can be a foot deep and you don’t know they are not solid until you’re sideways!

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Eventually, the leaders decided the Scott Team was not a threat to the top-10 in General Classification and the pain was not worth the effort of chasing them. It was a nasty 50 minutes though.

After that, our lead group just rode tempo until the late climbs; even taking it easy at times, including a rare pee break that was initiated by Cape Epic veteran Karl Platt of the Bulls Team.

Along the desert route we passed through a few vineyards. Each had some 60 or more employees out en masse and cheering loudly for us. During this stage, several schools also turned out to cheer for us. There were kids jumping up and down; breaking our game faces for nice smiles.

Finally, on the course’s last three climbs, the racing got hot. Our A Team went on the offense, but weren’t able to gain any significant time over the others. Alban and Kristian won the race against the heavy hitting teams in our group, which felt like a win; the Scott Team had managed to stay off the front and had a taste of victory with the actual win.

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Robert and I had a punctured tire, but it seemed to seal, so we rode in trading pulls with the Merida Team. We came around one corner after our flat to see Centurion Vaude teammates Jochen Kaess and Daniel Geismayr laying on the ground on a steep rutted dirt-road drop-in. They’d crossed wheels in the dust, and as one of them corrected, the other went over the bars! We stopped to check on them. Kaess had a bloody nose and both their helmets were cocked from impact. Physically, they seemed ok. Since they were both coherent, the rest of us continued on.

At the finish, we looked like gladiators covered in fine black powder.

 

The King Stage

I knew Stage 5 would be hard, but it turned out different than we planned.

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Early on, Alban flatted and I gave him my wheel. By the time we’d repaired Alban’s flat, Robert and I had lost considerable time. We rode a steady hard pace, but there was no point killing it, since we couldn’t even see the lead helicopter on the naked horizon. We pushed hard to catch a large group that was about three minutes ahead and included the Masters Category leader Bart Brentjens. I knew this group would move fast on the great expanse of flat bumpy Jeep roads and pavement of the Pass.

Only a little while later, we got word that Alban had twisted his chain while Robert and I fixed the flats. Bummer! They’d clawed their way back up to fifth, descending into second. The looks on their faces showed the great disappointment; it’s the biggest race of the year for them, and they probably won’t be able to win it.

There were some highlights of the day’s stage for me. One would have to be seeing a puff adder –a fat nasty looking one! The other highlight was witnessing the closest race in Master’s Category GC history of the Cape Epic: those guys were attacking the last climb like hornets! They’d block the second rider of a team before the singletrack in a bid to hold up the front attacker: clever moves!

In the end, it was another five-plus-hour stage. We are all tired now. Painful hand blisters, weary eyes, sunburn and saddle fatigue all add up. Legs are working very good, but at times I can feel every sore fiber of muscle within them.

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We have two days left, and thankfully they’re not the “Leadville 100’s” of the past days!

Come on finish line!

– Jeremiah Bishop

A Day to Forget, Another to Remember

[Jeremiah Bishop checks in following Stages 2 and 3 of the 2015 Absa Cape Epic 8-day mountain bike stage race across South Africa, where he and Robert Mennen (Topeak-Ergon Team 2) are racing in support of their fellow Topeak-Ergon teammates Alban Lakata and Kristian Hynek (Topeak-Ergon Team 1). Bishop previously wrote “Prepping for the Cape Epic” and “Opening Days of the Epic.“]

For Stage 2, an other-worldly landscape was the backdrop for some serious suffering on my part. Early in the stage, a piece of netting became caught in my cassette. I was sidelined while I worked to get it free. Then I tried to chase back to my teammate Robert and the rest of the leaders. As I rode on, I had stomach trouble. My legs followed and became powerless. Things settled down by the time I passed the second feed zone. Unfortunately, while I was struggling, Robert rode ahead to carry on his support role for Alban and Kristian in case either of them flatted or needed assistance. At the checkpoints, the time separation between Robert and me was greater than the allowed two minutes, we were penalized an hour in the GC.

While I was riding alone, the route entered a burn area. It was surreal. My bonked state enhanced the strangeness of weaving through pillars of white rocks on a white line of single track. The maroon pine needles, and black trees rising up from grey ground made me imagine it is what a forest on Mars might look like.

Eventually, Robert and I reconnected. I rode with him pacing me, as we crossed to the vineyard side of the mountains. I felt like a dog being dragged on a leash with a sharp collar.

Then I started to feel better and actually enjoyed some of the North Shore-style features made in part with used wine barrels cupped together like a bobsled track. Sweet!

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Stage 3 was much better; my legs were back!

Over the tough first climb, Robert and I made the selection of the elite group. Our team worked the front and kept steady pressure on Songo-Specialized. In tow were Multivan-Merida, Scott, Centurion Vaude and the Bulls. I was wondering if I could keep doing every climb at 370-400 watts for a 5-hour stage?

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As we approached Aid Station 2, Specialized flatted. Alban decided not to attack but ride tempo. Specialized had a fast wheel change, got back in the group and went hard on the hot, rock-strewn climb! My face was red with the baking heat under the Karoo sun. Robert and I got gaped, but caught back after that climb.

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The Bulls flatted and the pace ramped up. It got nasty as we pace-lined down the road. Then we faced three kilometers of beach-like sand. After a mistake in a deep sand trap, Alban was gapped and Kulhavey sensed it.

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The pace was fierce. We raced across a 500-meter long damn; I paced Alban halfway across, helping him and Kristian move into second place for the stage and moving them into second in the GC.

Robert and I crossed the line in third place and were quickly swept up in the podium reception.

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It was an awesome feeling, indeed, after a hard 85-mile stage of the Cape Epic!

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