Race Report: 2013 12 Hours of Millstone, July 27, 2013: By Eric Roy

By:  Eric Roy

The 12 Hours of Millstone is an endurance mountain bike race put on by Casco Bay Sports, the same crew that promotes The 12 Hours of Bradbury.  The race was a late addition to my calendar this year, but a friend of mine spoke highly of it, so I said “what the heck?” and threw my hat in the ring.  This winter, I had set a goal of racing one or two 12 hour events as a solo rider… mostly so I can see what kind of races I enjoy most, would be able to train accordingly during the offseason.   Because this is my third year biking and only my 3^rd race on a single speed, my performance expectations were minimal.  Therefore, my only goal was to still be riding at 8pm (which is when the last lap had to be started).

It was sometime around the Tuesday of race week that I began prepping/packing, and I realized that I had no idea how to race a 12 hour solo even, so I solicited Google, as well as my more experienced teammates for advice.  All in all, the  common thread was  consistent with the advice that I received  from Riverside Racing/Cannondale rider Matt O'Keefe when I unknowingly/mistakenly sat down with a table full of elite class racers at breakfast before  my first bike race.

 “Don’t be an idiot and blow up in the first hour… no endurance race has ever been won in the first hour... but lots have been lost”

Piece of cake… Right?

After packing the car, I was as ready as I was going to be. 

Despite some last minute things popping up at work, I was able to duck out on Friday to make the 5 hour drive across 3 states to Webstervile, VT.  Ironically, a few of my Qualey Granite/Rose Bike Teammates had done the same trip on bikes the weekend before...  

Millstone Hill is a fantastic venue for a lap format endurance race.  The race course starts and finishes along the long edge of a field, which allows plenty of room for riders to set up their support tent and campsite along the race course.   After setting up camp and chatting for a bit with my neighbors, I set out to ride the course.  

My approach for the preride was to simulate the manner in which I would ride the race.  I had planned on hiking the longest/steepest climbs in order to conserve energy (advice from teammate Rich Long), and to find parts of the trail that lend itself to eating/drinking (advice from Geoff Bergmark).  Here’s the problem… it turns out that the event organizer set the race course on trails that are AWESOME to ride…particularly hard/fast... The best way that I could describe the trails is that the singletrack surface was similar to Bradbury, in that it is rooty&rocky enough that you had to pay attention, but the topography of the land was completely different.  Unlike the race course at Bradbury, Millstone had a couple of doubletrack climbs, several punchy rocky/rooty uphills/downhills, and some short, tight switchback climbs and descents that were similar to the climb up the Camden Snow Bowl.  Basically...these trails are trails that you would have a great day on with buddies and have a beer in the parking lot.  A side effect of the awesome terrain that I had to consider for a 12 hour event is that there were limited opportunities to eat/drink while on the bike.  Therefore I had to tweak my strategy a bit… I would now kill 2 birds with one stone and eat/drink WHILE hiking the two toughest climbs.  That way… I’d be able to have fun on the single track descents AND still have enough energy to ride all day. 

Piece of cake… Right?

Fast forward to the start line on Saturday morning, where I was able to catch up with some other guys that I've met through the few races that I've done.   After a quick pre race meeting, the solo and 2 person categories were released.  The start was pretty typical, where the fast (and sometimes not so fast) guys jockey for position going into the woods.  Dew from the cool, humid evening made the roots and rocks a bit greasy, but was not enough to make things sketchy.  Being new to the sport, I tend to be a pretty cautious at the beginning of a race, because I’m not familiar with the riding styles of the other racers, however it quickly became apparent that the cluster that I was riding with was very capable and (more importantly) predictable in the woods.  Because of this, the first lap felt a lot like a fast group ride and was an absolute blast.  However, as I was pulling in to the lap point that I realized three things:   

1.  The guys I was riding with were all part of  2 person  teams (I realized this as they tagged their teammates at the lap tent) 

2.  I had not gotten off my bike to hike ANY of the hills, which meant that  

3.  I had not eaten or drank ANYTHING … 

… So much for discipline/planning

Out of fear for a complete meltdown, I forced myself to reel it in a bit as I pecked away at the next few laps at a more moderate pace, and was largely able to stick to “the original plan.”  The more tempered pace had me feeling pretty comfortable, and I was sitting nicely in 3^rd place for my category.  Sometime in the early afternoon (5 laps in), the temperature began to rise… and I was starting to pay for the sins of my first lap.  I decided to make lap 6 a recovery lap, with a focus on catching up on food/drink… but I wanted to do this all while keeping the bike moving forward.  Turns out… it was too little, too late, and I had to head to the pit area after lap 6 in order to avoid a complete meltdown.  During this time, I took a moment to clean/lube the chain, but the purpose of the break was to get out of the sun and put edible things in my mouth.   In doing so, I watched two people from my division leapfrog me (brutal)…. but I reminded myself that the alternative would have been much worse.  After the 20 minute break, I felt like a new man… and started pedaling again.

As the day continued, I was able to keep plugging away, but I made a point to stop for 3-5 minutes at the end of each lap to sit down and get a little extra food/drink in me.  Apparently this is what a lot of the more experienced racers do for a course like this (including my campsite neighbor who ended up taking 3^rd in the solo division).  This was the right strategy… because I was riding hard but sustainably… and before I knew it, 7:30 pm came around and I had just finished my 9^th lap.  Because event rules state that no lap can begin after 8, this would be my last lap.  It was also the first time this year that I had ridden with a light… something that I tend to associate with fall/winter riding.  This gave the now familiar trails a completely different feel (which made time fly), and before I knew it I was approaching the final gravel road section about ¼ mile from the finish line when I heard, “Coming up behind you”… and another racer clipped my bars… sending me (and only me) to the ground at about 15 mph.  After a quick body part inventory (everything was still there) and a quick bike check (no damage), I got back on the bike and pedaled the remaining 0.2 miles to the teeter totter at the finish line, where I the finishers were greeted by enthusiastic  cowbells, music, and happy smiling people who were fueled by cold beer.

Boom…. My first 12 hour solo event was in the books. 

In summary…looking back…

Positives aspects of my performance:

• Although it was disappointing to miss the podium (largely due to me ignoring the advice of more experienced racers), I met my only real goal for the race… to still be pedaling when the sun went down
• I had hoped to get 8 or 9 laps (which was the average for all solo riders in previous years)… and I was able to complete 10 laps, which was above the average for the entire Men’s solo field
• I was able to comfortably pedal a bike on Sunday, and felt good on the Monday Shop Ride

Things that might improve my chances of future success:

• “Don’t be an idiot and blow up in the first hour… no endurance race has ever been won in the first hour... but lots have been lost”
• Drop 20 lbs

General lessons learned:

• Pedaling slow is really hard to do on awesome trails
• You get weird looks when doing jumps during an endurance event
• Despite being on a 12 foot wide gravel road virtually in sight of the finish line… there will always be some dink who feels the need to take a completely unnecessary risk, wreck another rider, and not stop to make sure they are OK.  Watch out for these people… they will stop at nothing to shave a fraction of a second off a 12 hour race and perhaps marginally improve their chances of winning a bottle of chain lube.

General thoughts on event:

• Because I've been to the 12 hours of Bradbury, it should have been no surprise that the Casco Bay Sports crew put together a fantastic event.... Nice Job Guys! 
• Trails at Millstone are awesome and are absolutely worth going to for pleasure riding.  
• Having support in the pits is awesome for these types of events!

Event Report: R.A.T.S (Ride Across Three States), By Kevin Roberge

By Kevin Roberge

It’s July 21st, past midnight and you’re walking home from a night’s celebration in Orono or perhaps Bangor.  You notice lights up ahead, though not car lights.  It’s quiet and there are a half dozen bright pinpoints of light.  They’re approaching quickly.  What is it?  A line of bicycles zip past you.  A half dozen small blinking red dots shrink into the blackness.  You look at your watch and back over your shoulder at the now barely visible blips of red.  What was that?

RATS is an acronym which stands for Ride Across Three States, the creation of Jim Rose.  A ride which begins in Orono at the shop and ends in Burlington, Vermont.  Beginning at midnight, it crosses three states, 300 miles, almost two dozen hours.  If you’ve been around the shop long enough you’ve heard of this ride as I had.  It sparked your imagination and opened up your ambitions. 

RATS isn’t a ride you take lightly.  Last fall  it was tossed around that maybe 2013 was time for another installment of RATS, the last being 2009 (when he rode it with his two sons, amoung others).  I was elated to be asked if I wanted to participate.  Would I like to try and ride 300 miles in a day?  Hells yeah!  Sounds like a great idea.

                                             Photo Credit:  Corey Odermann

The 2013 RATS was originally slated for Saturday July 20th, but was moved a day forward on account of the weather and this was fortunate.  Sunday July 21st was a beautiful day.  The temperature was in the 60’s as we shoved off from Rose Bike on Pine Street Orono.  The first bit of riding actually heads out into Old Town along Rt 2 then Rt 43 before turning around and coming back to Orono via Bennoch Road.  This is to add enough miles to make it a triple century.  Burlington is not a full 300 miles from Orono. 

Before long we were heading west, along Route 2, the road we would follow all the way to our destination.  Once out of Bangor the traffic nearly vanished and we pedaled along in relative silence, reveling in having the entire lane to ourselves. 

Six started RATS.  Jim Rose, Adam Bland, Justin Waskiewicz (a RATS veteran), Andy Young, Jeremy Bousquet and myself (Kevin Roberge).  Unfortunately by the time we reached Newport Jeremy was having trouble with his blood sugar and was forced to bow out.  It’s frustrating not being able to test your limits when an unexpected complication arises. It’s fortunate that  RATS is a supported ride meaning that we don’t have to carry everything we need, there are several vehicles that carry the food, water and clothing required.  However we usually don’t meet the support car until Farmington in order to reduce the fatigue of the drivers.  This year however the first support car was close by and was able to come to our aid.

Our ride continued.  Not long afterwards I was having trouble keeping up with the paceline. There were a lot of miles left to cover and so I decided to drop off and ride alone. This is a tricky decision as riding in a paceline (the single file group of riders you see zipping along the roads) is generally an energy efficient way to ride.  The rider in front, who is taking their turn “pulling” saves the other rides up to 30% of their effort.  If each member takes a turn at the front it means you can maintain higher speeds with less effort.

Going it alone was dispiriting to be certain and it was early in the day.  It was cold (the temperatures came down into the 50’s before dawn) and when the road dipped into low lying areas you rode through chilly fog. My spirits rose as the sky lightened and I was able to remove the light from my helmet around 430, a relief despite it’s low weight.  As the day brightened so did my mood and I began to enjoy the riding.  I like to ride alone, keeping my own company and my own pace.  Sunday mornings are quiet and it was a joy to ride through the sleeping towns along Route 2. 

Trouble rose it’s head again however as I began to feel pain in my right knee.  I don’t generally have trouble with my knee and so this was unexpected, especially so early on (before the first 100).  From Rumford to Bethel I made good time as it seemed to be all downhill (except for the uphill parts Jim would say) but my knee continued to deteriorate. 

150: the halfway point.  Except for my knee I felt fine, frustratingly fine. Andy’s parents live in Bethel and would be providing lunch and showers and then providiing another support car (the other two driven Tilan Copson and Marlyse Waskiewicz).  I decided to just keep pedaling and so made it to New Hampshire first.  This was not a competitive move.  I was moving much more slowly than the group but in rides such as these time spent standing still adds up at an alarming rate. 

My knee continued to hurt and to hurt  more.  Taking pressure off it by using my left only resulted in my left knee hurting.  On one hill I actually walked for half a mile to try and loosen it up.  It’s a small price to pay if you can actually finish the distance.  Though I was coming to realize that I may not make it to Burlington, or that if I did, I could seriously injure my knee.  The miles passed and I worked in five mile increments.  I worked towards small goals and achieved them and was continually surprised when I would catch up to the main group at the support cars.

What would your mood be like at this point?  Your training going unused as a small but crucial part of your body malfunctioned?  Surprisingly my mood continued to improve all day.  I began to realize that these distances are extremely attainable.  The day was beautiful and even as I limped up the long hills I could not resist the stunning vistas and the realization that while today may not be my day, another one would.  The group ahead of me was much faster, partly because on any day they’d be much faster and partly because of my inopportune afflction.  Despite that I continued to catch up with them tortoise and hare style.  In fact, I also managed to reach the Vermont border ahead of them.

How is this?  Let’s take a moment to look at some numbers.  Both Jim and I had our Garmin’s with us and captured a lot of information about our rides.  I ended my ride at the Vermont border with 203  miles which took a total of 15h and 37m, but I was only moving for 13h33m.  I essentially stood still for 2h04m.  Jim made it to Burlington with a total distance of 303.77 which took a total of 23h33m but only spent 17h31m moving.  That means that the group out front spent a total of 6h02m not moving. 

Suppose I could have kept going and maintaining my pace and a proportional amount of stationary time.  That would have meant, ideally, that I would have taken an additional 7h49m for a total of 23h26m.  This is pure conjecture of course, but food for thought.  Without the bum knee you could actually ride much slower (my average moving speed was 15mph versus Jim’s at 17.3mph) and arrive in Burlington before the faster group! Of course if they were more efficient they would also arrive earlier, but it’s a message to those riders out there who don’t find themselves as brisk as others.  For long distances such as these you can ride them at your own pace, you need only substitute logistics for the difference in speed and you’ll arrive all the same.

From the border of Vermont to Burlington I helped support the riders for a while before going ahead to check into the Ho-Hum Motel where Jim had reserved rooms for the night.  Darkness came after the riders left Montpelier and they rode again in the dark, hill after hill (the total elevation gain of RATS is over 14,000 feet) pulling into town around 11:30pm. 

RATS 2013 concluded that night, though a big breakfast followed the next day and much conversation about the ride.  We parted ways with Justin and Marlyse since they were actually moving from Orono to Burlington where Justin will work at the University of Vermont.  His ride having an extra quality to it as he rode from one home to a new one. 

I’m at home now, several days later, and my knee is feeling better every day.  I’m glad I quit when I did as I look forward to racing in August and also putting in more miles on the road. If nothing else RATS or my attempt at it, has only inspired me to ride more and to keep looking for challenges.

I’d like to thank again the ride support: Tilan Copson, Marlyse Waskiewicz and Andy’s Parents.

Race Report: 2013 Carrabassett Backcountry Cycle Challenge: Josh Lawrence

                                      Photo Credit:  Dave Hughes

By Josh Lawrence

The Carrabassett Backcountry Cycle Challenge is a race that is perfectly reflective of its name. It is certainly a backcountry race, and it is a challenge. As a relatively new contestant to the world of endurance racing, this was my second time racing an event of this size and length, the first time being last year at the same venue.  This year's race proved to be both more difficult in length and elevation gain.  The course included pretty much everything one could hope for and dread at the same time, and was perfectly executed by the race organizers.

I didn't expect it to happen, but found myself quite nervous in the days leading up to the race.  In retrospect, this is no surprise. I had finished the race last year and decided that this race would be my primary event of the year.  I am not someone with an extended history of competition, and the decision to start racing was influenced by a need for accountability. Some people can work out and stay fit just for the sheer value of being active. I am not one of those people. Between two jobs, three wonderful kids and one incredible wife, I stay pretty busy most of the time, and if I was left to make time for exercising out of sheer love for exercise, it just wouldn't happen that much. When given the choice to stay in bed on a Sunday morning and have coffee with my wife or get out and ride, I'd much rather stay in bed.  Put on a few more pounds, get soft and complacent-  I could do it pretty easily.  I admire people who can discipline themselves to get out and do it all the time without any need for goals. I have learned that for me, I need goals. And this race became the goal they got me out of bed in the mornings to commute to work on my bike, and out during the winter months in sub freezing weather just to log the miles. Redlining the heart time and time again, using my commutes to practice sprints and increase cadence, all the while remaining cognizant of this event.

All the mental checklists, questions about preparation, and fears about the challenge coming up kept me on edge.  Was my bike ready for the event, and was I fit enough to be able to finish well? I bought a Pivot Mach 429 this past spring with the intentions of racing it, and traded in my fun and playful bike, a Turner 5-Spot.  I absolutely love Turner bikes, and was a bit disappointed with the Pivot in terms of the loss of flickability and overall playfulness. It is just not a fun bike the way the Turner is.  Also, the 120 mm fork on the front seemed to raise it up too much, and caused the front to float way more than it should. I brought my bike into Rose's a couple days beforehand and Porter gave it a good run through, and dropped the fork to 100 mm.  Man, what a difference!  The bike felt tighter and more responsive, especially in the drives through corners and on climbs.  Great, so now the bike is ready, but what about me?  I realized I was taking this far too serious, and decided to approach it more like a very long ride through a beautiful area.  The mental pressure faded a bit, but the body still hummed with anticipation.  In the back of my mind I kept thinking about a spot on the podium.  I'm just a sport rider, but for me this would be a major accomplishment.  It really is all relative, and I made this into an important milestone.

Riders arrived on Friday night in order to check in at the outdoor center, a beautiful timber framed facility overlooking Sugarloaf Mountain.  I saw a number of fellow riders from the team, and we looked over the course and chatted about the various sections.  After going through checklists for the 20th time, and setting up a drop bag for later in the race, I headed off to try and get some sleep.

                                                 Photo Credit:  Dave Hughes

                                           

5 AM comes early, especially when the sleep didn't go quite as well as one would've hoped.  Still, I straggled into the outdoor center for an early breakfast, and tried to choke down some food they had provided along with my super secret recipe for success, white rice. Coffee has been my breakfast of choice for most of my life as an adult, and I'm still getting used to eating in the morning, but it seems that on big ride days it's got to happen.  While there I hung out with a number of team riders, including Eric Roy, Bruce Malmer and Clint Sochuluk.  It was cool seeing so many of the guys I have ridden with in the past, with all of us sharing in this common event involving a whole lot of suffering for the fun of it.  It seemed like the next two hours flew by, and I was racing to get to the rider's meeting before the race even began.  A few more minutes went by and I watched my fellow expert team members gather at the starting line in their Qualey granite/ Rose bike jerseys.  Not many teams out there sporting white and green jerseys at this point, at least in Maine.  Black, blue, red, even orange, but not white with green accents.  The jerseys stick out from the crowd.  Talk about good advertising!  And as Mark Condon previously wrote in his report, many people really liked the style.  With a yell and a rush, the experts were off.  Next up were the sport riders, and I found myself somewhere in the middle of the pack.  Moments later we were out of the gates, coursing our way through the singletrack and double track right around the outdoor center.  Dave Hughes, president of Carrabassett NEMBA, and I had enjoyed a spin around the trails the night before, and he pointed out how some of the funds from last year’s race were used to build the trails that we were riding on this year.  One trail in particular, Moose Dip, flowed through trees beside one of the area ponds and integrated the contours, rocks and waterways with both elegance and style.  The talented trail builders were able to use the available materials to build exceptional slab-studded lines and curves that flowed through the terrain and was a complete blast to ride.  Here’s a photo of fellow rider, Eric Roy, cruising along Moose Dip.

                                                   Photo Credit:  Dave Hughes

Prior to the race day we had experienced almost a month of clouds and rain, with the previous week being the warmest and driest of the season.  It came at just the right time, and turned what could have been a swampy, boggy mudfest of a ride into one that had brief interludes of muck and mire, but for the most part maintained relatively dry conditions.  When it did get wet and muddy, however, it was painful; particularly in the areas when there was climbing involved.  Race course designers selected a course that included a 23 degree straight run up Sugarloaf mountain that gained over 500 feet of elevation in approximately half a mile.  If the course have been bone dry and the course well-bedded, maybe it could have been ridden. Maybe. Riders had already made their way up a couple of moderate climbs and were trying to maintain a sustainable pace when the course veered past one of the mountain's chairlifts and turned back toward the summit.  We looked up the hillside after these first couple of long slogs and saw a line of riders pushing their bikes up this straight shot of a trail that seemed to go on forever.  These are the moments when it is great to be an observer of people, and to watch how people negotiate and manage change and frustration.  During the earlier stages that were challenging, I had a chance to witness a range of emotions and attitudes from riders, from those who were just plain grateful to be riding to those who felt the challenges were affronts on their sensibilities as racers.  Didn't the offended read the title of the race?

Once we got to the top of the push it was mostly down for a while, and we flew down double track that seemed as challenging as the single track that preceded it.  Nothing seemed smooth or buff, and the mud and boggy sections often came as a surprise.  I passed another rider who was muttering expletives about the terrain and that the course was the roughest he'd been on, and how he shouldn't have ridden the hard tail.  I was very glad to have a full suspension bike, and as the course made its way across the lower mountain and across to the Bigelow Preserve, I realized that the 429 wasn't meant to be a play bike.  It was all business, and it was working.  A fellow rider told me that I'd passed all the sport riders and was making my way through some of the expert field.  Holy crap!  Was I actually doing it?  I felt strong and comfortable, and didn't feel as though I'd been pushing too hard.  Seems like all the hours in the saddle were starting to pay off.

Around mile 32 the legs, which had felt strong throughout the race, started twitching and threatening to cramp.  Then the shoulders, the arms and core.  It seemed like my whole body was ready to seize if I made any hard pushes.  It didn't quite make sense, since I was feeling good otherwise. Maybe it was the heat, or maybe just the lack of proper hydration. What?  I need to keep taking in fluids while I'm sweating buckets?  I started hitting the water bottles harder and tried to keep the cramping from fully blowing up, and slowed down.  And as a distraction to the microspasms across the body, my saddle began to remind me of all that pressure I had placed upon it.  Oh, hello perineum.  I've clearly done something to offend you.  Can you hold off and we can talk about this when the race is over?

The next aid station was well stocked (as were all the others) and I helped myself to a few pickles and water, and headed out for the back country.  It was a beautiful day, picture perfect with the rising peaks of the Bigelow range as a backdrop to the event.  I spent the next dozen miles feeling the heat of the sun while briefly speaking with other riders and attempting to maintain a reasonable pace. Thoughts cycled through 'wow what a beautiful day' to 'oh, there goes the twitches again' to 'am I still ahead?' to 'ayyy!, do I have any skin left?'.  Fortunately, the miles kept ticking off without crisis, and I passed the aid station with my drop bag and kept on going.  The final miles went relatively smoothly despite a moderated pace to waylay the cramps, until the last stretch along the narrow gauge trail, a multi-use trail established from an old train track that ran alongside the Carrabassett River.  The translucent river cascaded over boulders and rocks, beckoning to the riders like sirens to sailors and offering respite from the heat and fatigue.  'Just slide on in to my cool waters, just for a moment.  The race can wait, and this will feel soooo good...'  I remembered last year and how those final miles before the end were absolute pain, and it took all of my willpower to keep going.  Those thoughts hadn't come up for me this time around, until now. 'Why are you doing this anyway? This is for fun, right? So if it's for fun, why not just stop and jump in the river?', followed by,  'You can't stop now. You've worked so hard for this, all you got to do is make it to the end, and then you can jump in and cool off. Just keep spinning'. I had barely avoided succumbing to the temptation, and after a few more miles and some technical singletrack along the river, made the turn across the highway and up to the finish, where an enthusiastic and supportive group received the riders.  The automated timing program noted my time and indicated that I was in last place (since I was last to cross the line up to that point), and as I approached the cleaning station Dave came up to tell me that I was first in sport class.  I was ecstatic.  All the efforts of the past year paid off, and I earned a spot on the podium.  Silly?  Yeah, sort of.  But to me it felt like victory. I stayed as long as I could to stand on the podium with the medal around my neck, then jetted to my car and the drive home in order to catch my daughter's last performance in her school musical.

The event was well organized and the people up there made everyone feel welcome. The post-ride burrito was great, especially after the long trek to the finish line, and I heard the the keg was cold and refreshing.  The other events were reported to be well received as well.  Maybe next year the entire family will attend.  It is certainly that good.

The day was a real treat, and I learned more about racing and how I might improve in the future, as well as a critical piece of knowledge:  for those who didn't know already, DO NOT apply chamois lube at the end of a ride. Jalapeno oil, rubbing alcohol or a salt rub would have had a similar effect.  As the riders continued to cross the finish line, I checked my time on the board and found that if I would have raced expert, my time would have gotten me a third place finish for my age group.  It isn't really an accurate comparison, but I'll use it anyway as I start preparing for next year's race. 

                                                       Photo Credit: Dave Hughes

Race Report: Carrabassett Backcountry Cycle Challenge, July 13 2013

Halfway during the last Sunday’s  100 kilometer Carrabassett Backcounty Cycle Challenge, on a six mile climb under the rays of a searing hot sun, I had a revelation.

I now know what a frying egg feels like.

Man, what a hot day to race nearly 63 miles up and down the hills around Sugarloaf Resort and the Bigelow Preserve. But even suffering through the heat and the pain, CBCC is a good race that is gets better with each edition.

The day started at the Sugarloaf Outdoor Center at 7 a.m. on a cool morning with clear skies, no hint of what was to come. Racers, in their multi-color jerseys, resembled horse racing…….The white jersey and signature green clover leaf of Qualey Granite/Rose Bike was no doubt the most common jersey and racing colors I saw there (17 in all I believe).  Several racers of Irish heritage from the Boston area also inquired on where to pick one up.

 The race, in its third year, has a great feel. Low key, casual, racers chatting casually.  Though this year, endurance MTB legend Tinker Juarez was in attendence. But at the gun, you take off and though you are panting, gulping for air, heart pounding as if trying to escape your chest cavity, you are treated with some of the best singletrack in the state. The Carrabassett Region NEMBA has done a superb job constructing narrow, flowy trails that wind back and forth the cross country ski trails on the lower flanks of the resort. Smooth dirt, well designed flow of trails, cleverly placed rock bridges made for some fun riding.

I rode for a bit with Erik daSilva, and we came across Dave Hughes of Carrabassett Region NEMBA taking photos, and even while racing, Erik shouted to Dave, “Great job on the trails.”

For me, some 10 miles in, the race transformed into a training ride. The result, mostly, of a five day business meeting in Philadelphia. Too little sleep and too many adult beverages is no way to prepare for a race.

Especially one so hilly. The organizers claimed 9000 feet of climbing; I recorded 5600. Nonetheless, there was a lot of hills to surmount, making for a challenging day. The West Mountain Road, the long dusty, steep road climb in the first 30 miles, seemed to go on forever. And yet the views of the iconic Bigelow Range somehow made it worth it.

The route made a wide arc away from Sugarloaf past Redington Pond and crossed Route 27 to the wider roads and paths of the  the Bigelow Preserve. For a while the woods offered some respite from the heat, but then that climb. Oh, man.  I can’t imagine a frying pan any hotter than how I felt on that road. A racer said to me at the end, as we turned into the woods, “That was a sufferfest.” In the middle of these endurance races, panting, sweating, legs aching, I wonder why I do these events.

But then it was over and we descended down the powerline to one of my favorite sections of the race—Stratton Brook Pond. You walk across several outlets, water up to your waist. Then ride along up and down, up and down this great singletrack, dipping down into smaller brooks, and even riding through a two foot deep pond. This puts the backcountry into the Carrabassett Backcountry Cycle Challenge.

And at the 45 mile aid station, another favorite part of these endurance races: the volunteers. At this aid station, volunteers filled bottles for me, lubed my friend Eric Pandiscio’s chain, gave directions to another racer dropping out, handed out salt tablets, Advils, and PB&Js. And just supported and cheered everyone on. This happens at all the aid stations and really, really, really helps when you are suffering.

Then a climb up to the Poplar Hut (part of Maine Huts and Trails) and a long descent back to the valley before an easy stretch along the Narrow Gauge, with beautiful views of the river, with some fun dips into more singletrack. And then an easy climb back to the Outdoor Center. Cheering at the end.  Ah, sweet relief.

The race has improved over its two editions. Finally got the distance right. And the route itself, with the singletrack and climbing over the first 30 miles, and the the more open, backcountry experience of the next 30 is a nice mix.

Room for improvement? Sure. The march up ski lift could be re-routed. As well as the 1 mile out and back. Maybe a beer station at the finish line? But all in all this is a very good cross country, endurance race, with great singletrack, good climbing, beautiful views.

Back at my friend’s house, sipping an adult beverage, grilling steaks and sausage, friends recounting the events of the day, the mud, the mishaps, the mechanicals, I had another revelation.

This is what makes the suffering worth it.

Also, not a bad day on the podium for the local crew:  Josh Lawrence finished 1^st in the  race's deepest category, Sport (40-49), Keith Blanchard finished 1^st for Men's Novice (30-39), Eliza Cronkite finished 2^nd in Women’s Novice (20-29), Erik DaSilva finished 3^rd in Men’s Sport (30-39), Craig MacDonald Finished 3^rd in Novice (30-39), Eric Pandiscio finished 3^rd in Sport (50+), Rich Long finished 4^th for Open Single Speed.  It's also worth pointing out that our Expert/Open Class Racers put up some very good times and were competitive with the other "fast guys" from throughout New England.  Nice work by all!

--Mark Condon

Race Report: POC Eastern States Cup Enduro #2 at Attitash Mountain, Bartlett, NH

Race Report: POC Eastern States Cup Enduro #2 at Attitash Mountain, Bartlett, NH.

By Frank Cookson

For those of you not familiar with the format of  Enduro Racing… The link below explains it

http://www.bicycling.com/mountainbikecom/skills/rad-ross-enduro-racing-explained

I had gone into this race without having any intention of a high seated finish, but rather to complete the 5 stage, heat-induced torture test to see where I could make improvements for the next race of the season and to have a fun time. Here's what I found out!

Attitash is not a smooth mountain, rather it's typical of the East Coast, rocky, really rocky, and plenty of steep chutes. The wide open portions of trail were covered in loose rock, much of it sharp. Of course the starting gate to Stage #1 was on the steepest, loosest, driest part of the mountain, many riders watching the bravest dive in first to scheme and form their own plan of attack. A few of the Pro's flatted at the bottom causing a stir. Once you survived the drop-in and following right turn at the bottom, there was a grassy climb, followed by a quick shot down into another climb, then a small portion of technical grippy single track. The sun had beat down on the track for sometime previous to the weekend, causing perfect trail conditions in the woods, and loose, dusty trails in the open. End Stage 1.

At this point the 91+ degree heat was becoming a painful reality for handfuls of riders yet this is where the first serious climb took place. To get to the timed Stage #2 riders had to climb up fire/access roads to the neighboring mountain, where event organizers had built 2 new trails for the race. Certain sections of the climb were too steep for even the best of riders considering the overbearing sun and lack of shade across the dirt road. Many people found themselves hiking rather than biking. (By the end of the race I wasn't sure what felt worse). Upon arrival to the beginning of Stage 2, I found that many riders were hanging out, catching a breather, the atmosphere was very relaxed considering that we all had to drop into another section of downhill mayhem, followed by the same suffocating climb again.

I had the misfortune of not pre-riding #2 on Saturday as I'd run out of time. Big mistake! The lack of knowledge of the trail severely hurt my time, but that's not to say that it wasn't fun. The fresh trail was loamy and forgiving in corners, which made up for the unforgiving, freshly uncovered roots and rocks. With occasional fallen logs turned into drops and the occasional butt-to-the-back-tire steeps, it was an absolute thrill ride. Sadly, it was a short stage. Once the time had stopped for my run at the bottom, I knew it was time to climb again. On to Stage #3.

I (as well as plenty of other riders) was trying not to keel over in the glaring sun by the time we'd finished the last stage. Somehow the climb the second time around wasn't as bad. My legs must've warmed up all the way. The atmosphere at the top (Stage #3 was right next to #2) was very much the same, laid back, and everybody waiting their turn to drop into the trail. I was waiting around, everyone else content to take a breather, and had decided that there was no better time than now, dilly dallying at the top was no place to be and I craved the adrenaline that this stage was going to provide. I had had the pleasure of riding it the day before, so I was expecting the ridiculously steep, loose soiled, off camber entry, as well as all of the tight corners that followed that you could slide into. What a rush, I had forgotten however, that once out of the fresh trail, you had to cruise through wide open ski runs that contained the nastiest water bars that I'd ever seen. Speed scrubbing before these was a must to avoid getting sent into a collar bone crunching fail. Thankfully there was opportunity to make up some time with a sprint to the finish at the bottom.

Having finished Stage 3 it was time to once again climb and find my way to #4. This climb was cut in half, splitting at a midway point from the climb that took riders to the previous two stages. 4 was the shortest out of all of the race's segments. Timing started on a bridge that served as a great sprinting platform. Once off of the bridge, racers had to rush down a mild grade ski trail, with a few tricky water bars and lots of loose rock. No real corners here, just sprinting and maintaining speed. The real bonus on this stage was that there was a fun jump at the end right before the timing checkpoint. The let down was landing the jump and hearing the casing of my tire stretch (the rim also gave a little, as I'd previously broken a spoke). The end was now in sight, the final stage was coming up.

Thankfully, like the beginning of the race, participants were allowed a lift ride to the top to start the downhill run. I shortly found out why 4 had been such a short stage though, #5 was the longest, gnarliest, craziest stage out of them all. It began right after the lift. Riders flew in and out of small doubles and both natural and man made berms. The track also crossed a small bridge with a mini wall ride, many riders gapping the bridge. I fell a little short as my compromised wheel had flexed and scrubbed to much speed on the corner before the bridge. After this section it was a sprint down an open, rocky double track followed by a sharp right into the woods. From there on in, it was rock strewn switchbacks, small drops, and jumps all the way to the bottom, occasionally crossing open grassy segments. This part of the race was most definitely suited for those riding 7" travel "big mountain" bikes. Was it fun, absolutely! The shared consensus seemed to be that this race was a highlight of the race series so far. Good turnout, good vibes, and lots of fun!

Highlights of the race/trip:

Event was well organized so the riders could just ride and have fun!

Free camping in the parking lot

A timing system that worked flawlessly!

A true mix of up and downhill terrain and a fun yet competitive attitude. Exactly what Enduro is about!

One of the most fun things I've ever done on a mountain bike

Lot's to do around the area when not pedaling. North Conway is nearby with great food, as well as being surrounded by the beauty of the White Mountains (White Mountain National Park encompassed a very sweet swimming spot, very close to the mountain, that features waterfalls and natural slides)

With all of the mechanical issues that I had I still didn't come in last!

Downsides:

2 dropped chains in the first stage

1 broken spoke, puncturing the Stan's tape and tubeless seal

2 stretched-casing tubeless tires

1 tick bite by the largest Dog Tick ever seen on the Eastern Seaboard

1 massive sun burn

and Hammer Perpetuem Chews, probably the grossest thing ever.

Charity Ride Report: Tour(s) de Cure and MS Cape Town Getaway: by Jeremy Bousquet

By: Jeremy Bousquet

When I set my goal of completing 1,000 miles for charity this year, I did not know what to expect and I remember the day I realized I would be completing almost 8 full centuries and two double centuries this year, all while raising money for charity. As the first rides quickly approached in early May, I was wondering if I was ready, if I trained enough, and what riding a hundred miles on a bike was going to be like. Before I had time to completely freak out about this, the Tour De Cure Gran Fondo came up on the calendar, and I found myself sitting at the start line, ready to complete my first ever century ride (that's me on the far right in the front row).

The elephant in the room is that almost three years ago I sat in my bed with the latest news that I was facing yet another surgery to fuse my ankle to my lower leg in an attempt to save my foot (and eventually my leg) from being amputated. I sat in that bed at my heaviest weight of 461 lbs, facing a textbook of medical problems, any of which could end my life very soon. It was at that point that I decided to change who I was, and the weight loss journey began. Because of modern medicine, a staff of people who believed in me, and most of all the drive and will to live, I currently sit at a healthy weight of 213 lbs, having lost 248 lbs (and counting). I turned to cycling as a means to push myself and to generate physical activity, which in my situation is a hard thing considering that much of my body does not like to stay in place when I move about.

The decision to ride for charity in 2013 came to me as a means to give back to the medical community and individuals that face medical issues like I did, plus I wanted to give back so that maybe someday someone fighting to live could succeed like I did and become a life long cyclist or play it again athlete. As it stands today, July 3, 2013, I have logged well over 1600 miles on my Trek Madone. I have accomplished 390 miles of my 1000-mile-for-charity goal and I am honored to do it as a part of the Qualey Granite/Rose Bike Team.

Tour(s) de Cure- 2013

            My first two race/rides of the year happened to be for the same cause and a cause that hits home for my family and I. The Tour de Cure is an event to create awareness and cures for type 1 and type 2 diabetes. This year I signed up for two events, the Tour de Cure in Topsfield, MA and the Tour de Cure in Kennebec, ME. Both events where very well organized and both had very challenging century rides. With the events taking place in picturesque regions of Maine and Massachusetts, cyclists were treated to great beautiful scenery. The Tour de Cure in Topsfield had about 800+ riders for the event, 117 of which where doing the century ride. The Kennebec ride had fewer registered riders overall and only 40ish brave riders registered for the century.

The Tour(s) de Cure where both conquered with ease for me as my group training rides and team setup helped me prepare for the events. Great nutritional support from Honey Stinger products and a perfectly tuned bike from Rose Bike made the event possible, and even enjoyable. All said and done, in both events I was able to average an 18+ mph pace for over 100 miles, as both races went over the advertised distances. Two down and many more to come…..

M.S. Cape Town Getaway

            This event has become my favorite event so far, and I know that what you are saying. It being only my third event of the year and riding season, I do not know if another event can top this one. The level of organization, the volunteers, the riders, and the food and beer, and oh ya, the ride its self, all set a bar for all rides to reach for. First, you need to understand that this is a two-day ride; you ride from UMass Boston to Mass Maritime in Bourne, MA with possible routes ranging from 78 or 100 miles (Naturally, I opted for the century). Then if that was not enough, you got your rear end out of bed and pedaled another 78 miles to the end of the cape in Providence Town, MA, all to raise money for a great cause, to support people who are battling M.S. and to find a cure.

            Over 2,000 riders rode this event and raised well over $2,000,000 for the cause. The ride itself started off with a little rain and very muggy conditions. As the day progressed, the moisture in the air did not want to go away, and this made for slick conditions and even sketcher riding lines. With the range of  riding abilities that where present on the road, an accident was bound to occur, but this event did not see a single crash that reported an injury or loss of bike. I attribute this to the level of organization, communication, and presence of police and traffic guards at every intersection.

            It’s one thing to have police presence and great route markings, but to move over 1800 bags, store over $1,000,000 in bikes, and feed well over 3,000 people is quit an undertaking and one that this ride did with ease. To say it is one thing, but to see it in action is another. I take my hat off to the volunteers, the police men and women, and most of all the riders for creating an event that was well planned out, well funded, and most of all, very enjoyable for everyone. I was happy to wear the green and white team jersey and to share my ride with our team and sponsors. Most of all, I was honored to represent the Qualey Granite/Rose Bike Team, the state of Maine, and to ride for an awesome cause.

Bring on the next one……