Rubber Side Down

The Race Across the Sky was inspiring to watch, on many levels. Not only seeing Lance Armstrong and Dave Wiens put in amazing race times, but also watching our friends challenge themselves on a very tough course.

After dragging our sorry asses up from our hotel bed at 5am, Rob and I got on the motorcycle and set up a brief camp near the start, where the race leaves the pavement onto the first dirt section.

Not long after we had the hot drinks going on the camp stove, the riders came through. Wiens stating his intentions:

Finally waking up and getting stoked, Rob and I threw our stuff into the cases and made a beeline for the Powerline. The riders descend it on the way out:

Even though this lead group was together here, it wasn’t going to last. By the time Rob and I got to the base of the Columbine Mine section, Lance had already taken the lead.

At this point, he had 30 seconds on second place, a rider from Fort Lewis College in Durango, and two minutes on Wiens. I began to worry for Dave, since Lance looked really strong. But then again, the guy is just off the Tour de France. What else should we expect?

We hung out there for quite some time, watching for the return trip of the leaders, and spent some time hollering at other people we knew. Here’s my Dirt Coalition teammate, Ryan Amirault.

And before we knew it, Lance was back. He had laid waste to the rest of the field on the steep, above-treeline climb. He had created a gap of ten minutes on Wiens, who had made his way into second place.

From there, we jumped back onto the motorcycle and headed back to the Powerline. I gotta say that following this race on a motorcycle is the best way to do it. We not only passed hordes of slow-moving cars on the highways, but we also drove right to the front of every parking area and found a place to slot the bike in. It was pretty pimp.

We started hiking back up the Powerline again, hoping to see the leaders climb the steepest part, but Lance caught us right after the water crossing:

We hustled up the Powerline after that, but by then, Lance had a monstrous lead. It took about 17 minutes for Wiens to come through.

Lots of people cheered for him, calling out, “YOU are my hero!” (playing on the Lance “hero” theme), and I was pleased to see that he was getting so much support. I had secretly wanted him to beat Lance. Not because I’m anti-Lance at all, but I just liked the idea of the local favorite keeping his streak going. But there was really no chance of keeping up with one of the best cyclists in the world.

Speaking of local favorites, we hung around to watch for our pals.

Ward Baker making an incredible showing in 16th place up the Powerline:

The twins came through somewhere in the 30s or 40s. Tom:

And Tony:

We wanted to see some of the finish, so it was time to hike back down the Powerline and rip into town. We missed Lance, as he was probably already on a plane back to Texas. He finished with a course-record time of 6:28:50, and he rode the last ten miles on a flat tire. I was surprised to read in the paper the next day that he admitted he was terrible at changing flats, so he just put air into it and kept hammering. He also mentioned how he hadn’t ridden more than 20 miles alone in his whole career — no teammates, no support cars — so this was a unique experience.

Later, some news came out that he had recruited other riders to help him, by pacing him through those early sections. I was disgusted to hear that, since mountain biking is supposed to be an individual effort (unless you have actual teammates who decide they want to help you rather than try to win their own race, and that’s not always that common). But it sounds like something Lance would do, so I wasn’t too surprised. It’s not illegal, after all. I bet there were tons of riders who would love to say they towed Lance Armstrong at Leadville.

Speaking of this interesting dynamic, I got thinking that this is the only race where rank amateurs start the race and can ride along right next to someone of Lance’s caliber (for the two seconds they could hang ). You don’t see that in other sports. It’s kind of cool, really. Lance himself was quoted as saying he really enjoyed the return leg of the race, where he rode by all the other folks, who hollered and cheered for him.

The finish that Rob and I liked even better was Ward, who pulled ahead two more spots to come in 14th. It’s an incredible result for a super cool guy.

We hung out at the finish with Ward for a while, soaking in his elation. Even though Rob swore he’d never do Leadville again because it sucked so bad, I know he’s secretly plotting a comeback. I will be adept enough on my own motorcycle by then to be his support crew, so that could be pretty rad. Although I never say never, I don’t imagine I’ll get the urge to do this race. It has no singletrack to speak of, and I’m not keen on that much mileage. But hey, you never know….

Congrats to all the finishers; it looked like a cold, tough day. You can find results here.

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When you’re stuck at work on a beautiful day, you might as well watch trials. I promise this is worth watching all the way through. Keep your eyes peeled for the trials-style tailwhip.

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The warp drive that is Valmont Bike Park has been triggered.

And look at this. It’s not 100% finalized yet, but even this preliminary version has me totally stoked.

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So I was watching motocross on TV yesterday, and noticed how those guys block and cut each other off without the slightest hesitation. It made me realize what whiny pansies we bike racers can be sometimes, crying because we went wide on a turn and the person behind us had the huevos to cut us off on the inside line. Next time, you just handle it like this. Racing is racing, man….strapping on that number plate means GO!

This is my pal Tim Barnes doing it right at the Angel Fire Super D last year. Go Timmy!

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Here’s a sense of what Valmont Bike Park might be like…

This is near Boise, Idaho.

Meanwhile, I was shooting an assignment at the jail yesterday, and I realized anew what a killer view we’re going to have from our park. Eat your heart out, Boise.

But then again, Boise has tons of trails you can ride to from your door. Damn, why can’t we have it all?

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My apologies, folks, I fell off the radar for a while. I hurt my back again, and I was so mad that I just couldn’t think about mountain biking. But I’m getting healthy again and will soon be back at it. In the meantime, get come join me at Boulder CycleSport tonight to scope out the latest site design for the Valmont Bike Park!

valmont

Check out the details here. This thing is going to be radder than Chuck Norris at a WWF tournament.

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Bonking, if you’re not familiar with the word, is when you ride so hard or long that your body’s glycogen stores are depleted, leading to debilitating physical sensations such as dizziness, fatigue, mental fog and riding really, really slowly. Hallucinations containing talking Ding Dongs or other snack foods are also known to occur, and your bike’s weight will suddenly increase by thirty pounds.

The Euros call it the “hunger knock,” which sounds way too polite for the “hunger battering ram” that I’ve experienced.

But I’m actually jealous of what pro racer Adam Craig calls the “eye bonk” – where you ride so fast that your mind “simply can’t process any more awesome trail in front of you.” Well, there’s a nifty problem to have. I think I’ve gotten close to that, but then I simply restock my eye’s hard drive with some oxygen-deprived slow riding, and all is well.

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And quickly, too, sometimes: Some friends of mine are building a pump track! Sick! Although my injury prevented me from helping to sculpt these sweet berms and rollers, I tried not to be totally useless by shooting some photos of the progress.

Okay, I know I’m falling into total dude-speak here, but….DUDE! Is that the coolest thing you’ve ever seen in a backyard, or what?? Totally rockin’.

While this is obviously in a nice person’s backyard and not open to the public, I wanted to offer it up as some inspiration for what you can do in your own yard. You don’t need that lawn sucking up gallons of water and requiring you to mow it in 100-degree weather. Dig that grass up and build one of these. Then you can say, in the spirit of Lee McCormack, “I would be honored to braaaap this track.”

And on a side note: You can rent a Bobcat for a month while you build it and make your friends even more jealous.

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You can still work your brain. Not just by catching up on your reading and that sort of thing, but by riding in your mind. And it’s not just mental games — it really does improve your riding. I learned this the last time I got hurt.

I wanted to work on cornering, so I read everything I could get my hands on and more about proper cornering technique and watched a bunch of videos. Then I spent a lot of downtime riding corners in my mind. Lo and behold, when I got back on the bike, my turns were smoother and faster. No joke.

Here’s some guidance on how to do it.

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On page 41 of the latest issue, there’s a photo and blurb about Ray’s Indoor Mountain Bike Park. It’s a warehouse in Cleveland filled to the ceiling with pump tracks, jumps, skinnies, and even a little cross-country course, all protected from the gloomy Midwestern cold. In a word, SICK.

But the news about Ray’s has been out for a while, so I guess I shouldn’t feel bad about getting scooped.

I went out there in early February, ready to make some quantum leaps in skill. I had spent a lot of time daydreaming about the place and oogling the website (hmmm, does that count as work?), so I could form a plan of action. I primarily wanted to work on the pump track, which I knew would improve my racing. Using momentum to gain free speed — by pumping turns, dips, rollers and other trail features — could only make me faster and better (cue bionic woman music). But there was no reason to pass up the skinnies and jumps as well, since we had a night and two days to spend. Shazaam.

We flew in on a Friday (Hello, Cleveland!!), and when Ray’s opened at 5pm, we were there with our enormous bag of pads, pedals and helmets. We rented bikes, since flying with our own would have been cumbersome and expensive; plus crashing our own bikes seemed less appealing than crashing someone else’s.

Minutes later, on our Gary Fisher Mullets, we were railing along the cross-country course, trying to warm up and get an overview of the layout.

For starters, there’s the beginner room. An intelligent progression of skinnies starts with a simple 2 by 4 lying on the ground, and works its way into gentle curves and longer stretches. A rock garden and a log pile offer some realistic trail features, but the rest of the place is all man-made. Which is great: everything is built to be safe and bombproof.

After messing around in the beginner room for a while, we did another lap of the xc course and found the pump track. Sweet! I started on the more-forgiving outer loop while Rob tested himself on the tight and steeply banked inner loop. I gotta say, it’s easy to underestimate how anaerobic this stuff is. Two laps in and we were gasping; several laps later we were nearly revisiting our late lunch. Damn.

The goal of a pump track is to use body English in a similar way to pumping a swing. You push and pull the bike over the rollers and around the turns until you’re generating so much momentum that you no longer need to pedal. And through that experience, you learn that every dip in a regular trail is a chance to gain speed without turning your legs. And since a bermed turn is just a sideways hole in the ground, you pump those too. Fun! The sensation of flying around the track like a train on rails is hard to describe, but it’s something you might want to put on your to-do list.

You should also add knee/shin and elbow guards to that list. Dropping into the track yet again, I fell victim to the wicked understeer that can occur with dirt-jump bikes and their funky geometry. I went down hard, taking a handlebar to the gut with sickening speed. But the pads protected my other sensitive areas, and after walking funny for a few minutes, I shook it off and got back to it. No broken arm, no concrete rash. Bonus. Oh, and don’t take clipless pedals. Even though you may feel uncomfortable without your clipless (as did we at first), you’ll quickly come to appreciate the ability to eject instantly off the platform pedals.

We spent the next four hours trying everything we could: elevated skinnies with teeter-totters, jumps, berms, etc. The whole time, we chatted with other nice folks, who were surprised we traveled all the way there from Colorado. There were people of all ages and abilities, and no detectable attitude that I could see. Even the six guys doing 360s off the huge jumps looked mellow and friendly.

By the end of the weekend, Rob and Stuart had perfected the pump as well as made huge strides in their jumping ability. They looked a lot more comfortable and adept than when we arrived, which was impressive. Sadly for me, luck was not on my side. After herniating a disc in my back a year ago, I am prone to the occasional flare-up when I try challenging things on the bike. Saturday morning I somehow tweaked the sucker, bad. Then I spent the rest of the weekend in agony, compounded by the frustration of watching everyone else having a good time. By Sunday night, the pain was so crippling I had to ride through the airport in a wheelchair. Needless to say, this ranks as one of the worst mountain bike experiences of my life.

However, the power of Ray’s has not been tainted. I might take another trip there next winter, when my back will be stronger. In the meantime, I want to get a pump track built around here (besides the one at The Fix). If you’ve got a back yard to spare, let me know!

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