One thing I can count on in this continually changing bike
racing landscape is a summertime trip to the homeland for some World Cup
racing. It always feels good to
step off the plane and feel that thick, warm air, knowing it’s even thicker
under the dense forest canopy.
Full of oxygen and roots, rain or shine, the conditions are always right
as far as I’m concerned. We had
each in the last two weeks at World Cup rounds #5 and 6 in Mont St. Anne,
Quebec and Windham, NY. Knowing
I’ll get to enjoy some time with family and friends in Maine between events is
the icing on an already sweet cake.
Not Whoopie Pie sweet, more of a mellow, sustainable sweet…
Preparation for the Mont St. Anne race seems to start at
another Mount, this one the namesake of Waldo County along Maine’s coast. Sparky keeps raking the trails and
Justin keeps riding the hell out of them, the combination of which puts a smile
on my face annually. Too bad there
are only about a half-dozen people who ever enjoy it. Or, that’s perfect.
The hooligan riding seemed to be good prep for St.
Anne. The course there has changed
over the years, but it’s always so good.
The kind of place I’d never ride a bike without back shocks. Anthem X 29 seemed to let me open it up
and have even more fun on the descent to tech zone #1 every lap. Maybe too much fun, as I caught
Christoph Sauser mid-race whilst riding quickly through the field. I really wanted to show him this sweet
gap jump off the bridge, but instead smacked something and, psssssssst. Game off, briefly, for another snazzy
tubular wheel, then, game on.
After a couple years of riding like poo at a place that’s always been so
good for me there were glimmers of past pace. Then it started raining. Perfect. And I
mis-counted laps. Thinking we were
on the bell, and that folks weren’t really putting up much of a fight
considering the impending finish, I had a Coke and went on a tear with two to
go. Oops. And sorta fun. Holding on for the last lap was a touch
less fun, but resulted in more slickness and more overtaking, so, result. The actual result wasn’t so flash, 24th
is about 5x my best finish in this fine forest, but feeling decent and having
fun is un-quantifiable. Nino
Schurter also flatted a tubular, hopefully riding like a dick as well, but
still was able to out-sprint Jose Antonio Hermida. And Max Plaxton, the most talented guy in the World Cup
field without a podium finish, finally got one. Solid work, Max, ‘bout time…
Just another Sunday afternoon in Brownville.
I like bike races and all, but I took the proximity of
Quebec to my Dad’s place in Exeter as an opportunity to implement the European
exodus model. Race, hose off, and
get the hell outta there in favor of bonus home time. Lots needed to be done during the week in Maine. There was massive flooding carnage to
inspect in Brownville with the locals.
Aunt Diane made Baked Beans for Craig family dinner. Mom had some sweet fused glass pieces
she’s been learning to create as one of the spoils of her recent
retirement. And it was raining,
which meant the opportunity to get a quick run on my favorite local river, which happens to flow past
the house on its way to the Atlantic.
Plus some more Mount Waldo riding, in cartoonishly wet conditions.
My burgeoning form now that it’s proper summer only added to
my resolve to achieve a lifelong goal at the Windham World Cup. I’ve got a tattoo that’s only available
to one person a year, that of the Singlespeed World Champ. This tongue-in-cheek event is a far,
far cry from the incredible level of competition that defines the modern World
Cup, but at the end of the day they’re both mountain bike races. Over the years I’ve done a fair bit of
racing on a singlespeed with folks on normal bikes. Fast folks.
I’ve always been surprised with the result, which has been victorious
more often than not. But how would
my relatively small, domestic sampling compare with the sport’s grandest
stage? There’s only one way to
find out…
The Windham course is pretty ideal for a singlespeed, uphill
start, consistent climbing with very little flat terrain and a fast, flowing
descent. You know, good bike
stuff. I’ve also always ridden a
hardtail there with good luck. So,
this would be my chance, then.
Hatching this plan to myself after returning home from La Bresse, I logged
onto tightjeansfixie.com and found a magic gear. 32x17.
Conversion complete, I set to training like I used to, long rides in the
hills with Jimmy on our simple bikes.
We wanked on about how riding the SS gives you mystery power in between
talking about girls and what we’d have for post-ride lunch. And I started to feel pretty
strong.
Not quite strong or fast enough to keep up at the start
though. Which I expected, and
wasn’t too concerned about. Not to
be self-deprecating, but I’ve been far from lighting it up in the first five
minutes lately… Fortunately, the
last-minute discovery of an even more ambitious gear (34x17) that resulted
from, shall we say, manufacturing tolerance drift, meant that I had no choice
to ride up to about 40th by the top of the first climb. Sweet, this might just work. My brain was pumped on riding fast and
making this happen, finally. Too
pumped evidently, as close following of the dust-train (evidently the inches of
rain that fell on Maine this week missed the Catskills) resulted in a kind of
burly, scary high-speed wreck.
First point of impact, shoulder.
Second, back and elbows. Dang
it. Or something to that
effect. A brief pause to wheeze
and curse (which I’m sure sounded hilarious) and I was riding gingerly down the
hill to fix some things at the pit.
Dang it. It took a lap or
so to get my wits back about me and by then the momentum was gone, replaced by
some solid discomfort. I caught up
to the mid-30’s after a few laps and was trying to fake some momentum but it
just wouldn’t come. Body-slamming
myself was a poor choice from a physiological standpoint…
Appreciate the cheers for the alternative setup, folks in the woods...
Martin Allen Photo
From a mental standpoint, the Singlespeed Challenge was
great. I finally got to do
it. And from the solidly stoked
Windham crowd’s reception, folks were into it. Thanks for the cheers out there, boombox PA crew and
everyone else lurking in the woods.
I mightn’t’ve made it up some of those pitches without y’all. It just might have worked had things
gone a little differently. 37th
place is OK, but I genuinely thought I could ride in the top 20 on that
thing. Better that I didn’t, as my
ability to deliver a decent high-five was questionable. Or put on my pants…
Just to clarify, I mean absolutely no disrespect to the
institution of World Cup racing that’s provided me with an amazing focus and
purpose for the last decade. In
2006 I started experimenting with a single front chainring in World Cups. It worked awesome and has ultimately
become a very common setup at all levels of XC racing. Doubtful that the proper single will
ever be a common sight, but you never know. It’s fun to try things out, just in case… I completely understand (and was
sternly told as much after the race) that plenty of people support our
Rabobank/Giant Offroad team and they expect a certain level of professionalism
at events. I like to take a broad
view of what being a professional is, probably broadened by my innate
American-ness… There were so many
smiling faces out on the course, screaming their heads off for someone who was
going out on a limb. Hopefully
those impressions last a lifetime, they certainly will for me.
The devil’s advocate would say that, with recently improving
form, I could’ve ridden a bike with gears (and maybe even shocks, it got rough
out there!) to a respectable finish.
Maybe so. Over the last two
and a half seasons, since shredding my knee and joining this Rabobank team,
I’ve had a continual inability to do just that, regardless of how hard I
work. There’s always
something. This continual disappointment
has burrowed deep into my brain and, as a coping mechanism, I’ve stopped
considering podium finishes as a realistic option. In some way, the one-gear challenge was a way to have World
Cup racing be a kind of unknown again.
A personal challenge. And
it was…
Now I know. It
can be done. But it’s probably not
the future. I saw Burry Stander,
who’s riding a single chainring and always pushing the limits of equipment, out
on the course before the race, he’d heard of my plan and asked what the hell I
was thinking. I told him it was an
experiment, a make or break one.
He responded that it’d probably break me. He went on to win in Windham. Smart guy.
Pretty awesome that our US Olympians all slayed it on Saturday. Todd Wells rocked it in 4th,
his best result ever, Sam Schultz was only a minute off the podium in 10th. Damn, fellas, glad you’re in shape and
looking on track to make us proud.
Georgia Gould was even more agonizingly close to the Win than last week,
a puncture in the last kilometer resulted in her running toward the line while
Catherine Pendrel and Katerina Nash sprinted around her. Save it for London, Georgia. Lea Davison finally punched her podium
ticket as well, coming home in 5th in front of her extraordinarily
stoked family. Warms the heart,
Nugget.
I’m glad the little mountain community of Windham was able
to pull together after the destruction of Hurricane Irene last August to not
only rebuild but put on their third installment of a great event. The little details like a “ride the
pond” challenge on Thursday evening and solid concerts Saturday after dark
really tie together our traveling MTB circus. Hats off to Nick, Lori and the rest of the crew for making
it happen and to the UCI for letting them start us on the downtown bridge that
washed downstream ten months before we stood on it.
I heart the East Coast racing. That said, I might not be here, for this at least, next
year…
Stevie Wonder wave, Kenduskeag Steam, Bangor Maine.
