Fair Hill 50 Endurance Mountain Bike Race

This is what I felt like by the end of the race.

I was well prepared for the Fair Hill 50 endurance mountain bike race. I had originally planned to ride a road race on Saturday and then the Fair Hill race on Sunday, but the roads were wet and rainy so I lay on the couch and carbo-loaded all day instead. I also took advantage of the downtime to spend a solid 2 hours cleaning my mountain bike. A clean bike is a happy bike, and I wanted my bike to be overjoyed to be racing at Fair Hill!

I had ridden this race last year and had a great time, even though I was plagued by drivetrain issues throughout the entire race. This year I had a couple ideas to improve on my performance. Fair Hill is an interesting race in that with a few small exceptions, the entire course is single track. This means no respite; you're always "on" to avoid going in the ditch.

I was joined by junior racer Kyle, who raced the U19 Cat. 2 class. I picked him up at his house and we made the hour-long trek up to Elkton, MD and arrive with plenty of time to register and get kitted up. The endurance class departed at 8:00AM, 45 minutes before Kyle's race, so I bid him a good race and took my place at the start. The weather, while overcast, was not raining. It was, however, oppressively humid and muggy.

The Start!

There were many riders already massed at the start, so I didn't get as good of a starting position as I might have liked (I'm too nice to push my way up to the front like a big shot). The Fair Hill course takes a two or three mile prologue around some farm fields before diving into the woods. I knew from last year that it would be important for me to make my way towards the front of the pack by the time we got into the woods or I would get stuck behind the conga lines of people that typically form when the field hits the singletrack.

Keeping that in mind, I hustled my way up somewhere near the front - burning a rather large glycogen match in the process. I was probably in the top 20-30 riders when we hit the woods. This was great for me, because instead of getting held behind the crowds, I only got put on "pause" at the first slightly technical section - after that, I didn't have any problems whatsoever getting stuck behind people. The downside to hustling up to the front was that my caffeine-fueled adrenaline afterburner was in high gear, and I proceeded to slam through the first 15 miles in something higher than the metabolic "simmer" that would have been more appropriate for a race of this distance.

You can see how the heart rate spike early on in the race resulted in a gradual drooping of effort over time.

The Fair Hill course had one thing in common with the course of the Summer Sizzler - it was extremely twisty and turny for much of its length. I came into the woods with an average speed of 14mph, and that quickly plummeted to somewhere between 10 and 11 mph as I crept my way around a seemingly infinite sequence of 180-degree turns. On one of those turns, I didn't counter-lean against my bike, and it went out from under me. D'oh! No biggie though, I hopped back up and was on my way in no time.

This thing that looks like a pile of spaghetti is actually a map of the race course.

I spent the first 25 miles or so of the race pedaling by myself - not getting chased, and not chasing. It was a little odd, but suited me just fine as there was no pressure in either direction. I just kept the throttle at the max that my legs would let it sit at, and tried to drink and eat gels when possible. I kept hearing brakes squeaking, but because the course was so twisty it was impossible to tell if they were in front of me or behind me. I kept telling myself that the squeaks were signs of someone chasing me, so that I would keep the intensity up. I did get passed by two people, which disappointed me until I realized they were the first and second place single speed riders, at which point I began cheering them on. I would pass and be passed by the second-place guy several more times before the day was done.

My hydration pack held out for the first 25-mile lap around the course, but ran dry a few miles after crossing the start/finish line for the second lap. I stopped at the next available aid station and filled up with some deliciously cold water. I had been putting down the occasional energy gel, but the nature of the all-singletrack course was not conducive to eating without stopping, and I was not going to stop if at all possible. The humidity was extremely draining, and by this point I was starting to feel the mental and physical exhaustion of both the always-on riding and the extended burn that I had put on in the beginning of the race.

Mental games began to take place in my head as I tried to convince my body to just push a little harder, just a little longer. Luckily by the second lap around, I had managed to get my cornering skills a little bit more dialed, and was able to concentrate more on pushing and less on going around corners.  The single track was not too technical, just filled with corners and roots. Even so, the average speed I was able to maintain was not very fast.

Just when I had managed to talk myself into a good mental place (at about mile 45, with 4+ hours of hard riding under my belt), I came around a corner into an unexpected v-ditch and wiped out - hard. I yelled several obscenities, probably alarming the volunteer who was trying to ask me if I was OK. I got up, stood there for a second, and got my bike back upright. My legs were cramping, and I was a little stunned. Other than that, no serious damage. I tried to convey that to the volunteer, and climbed back up on my bike. Only one person had passed me while I was down, so I tried to get back on the race wagon. However, coming that late in the race, with that much effort, drain, and fatigue imbued on my system, it took me several minutes to get my head back in the game.

This is survival mode.

Wouldn't be a good time without some scrapes and dirt!

The last few miles were in spent in survival mode, which for me is a good bit faster than some of the people I began to pass. However, I knew that the people that I was competing against were going just as fast as me, if not faster, so I eked out speed where I could and made do as best as possible where I couldn't. At long last, I hit an intersection and came across several beginner racers on a wider section of trail. I knew it couldn't be far now. I hammered down, sprinting the last several hundred meters and dropping through the finish line with a time of 4 hours and 41 minutes.

Last year, I had finished in something like 5 hours and 30 minutes, so already I was looking at a huge improvement. I hosed off, went back to the car and changed.  Everything hurt. My back was sore, and I had some startlingly strong ache in my left foot where I guess my relatively new shoes hadn't broken in yet. I had massive blisters on my hands, which surprisingly didn't really hurt. I threw on my sandals and hobbled back down to the finish line to check to see how I did. 8th place!! That was much better than I was expecting - I would have been perfectly happy with any spot in the top 30 and a sub 5-hour finish.

We drove back home and called it a day. All told it was an epic race, and a hugely challenging event for me.

Garmin Data

D&Q Summer Sizzler

Last weekend I raced my first short-track (XC) mountain bike race of the season. I'd been a little bit apprehensive because in my previous experience, the short (i.e., non-endurance) races tend to be events where you need to turn the intensity level up to "incinerate" and then leave it there for the duration. That was pretty much exactly what happened at the D&Q Summer Sizzler MTB race.

The Vehicle, loaded for bear

The race was in Sewell, NJ which is just across the Delaware River from Philadelphia. The race promoters had bumped the start times to an hour earlier than originally planned, due the excessive heat warnings that were in effect. When I arrived at the race and got out of the car, I could almost feel my skin burning. Summer Sizzler indeed!

Registration was super easy. I had brought my race license since the Mid Atlantic Super Series races (of which the Sizzler is one) is now a USAC race, but wasn't asked for it. Apparently (as I suspected) the MTB folks are a lot more laid back than the roadies.

I did a couple warm-up runs up and down the driveway to the parking lot before taking my place at the starting line. I was wearing a 70-oz hydration pack filled with iced sports drink, and had been taking care to drink a lot of water to stave off dehydration. My race started at 9:45 AM, and it was already 88 degrees in the sun.

First lap - feeling great!

The starting whistle sounded and we were off, taking a quick lap around the field before diving into the singletrack in the woods. I knew from my experience at Mohican that it was critical to go as hard as possible before entering the woods - getting stuck behind people who are riding below the level that you want to ride at sucks. I hammered hard in the prologue; I don't know how many people were in front of me before we got into the singletrack but I was definitely in front of several people, and that was good enough for me. If you can beat me in the prologue, than hopefully I won't be eating your wheel for the rest of the race.

I had never set eyes on this race course before. It was extremely twisty and turny, doubling back on itself like the snake pit in Raiders of the Lost Ark. The trail surface was very dry and dusty, probably due to both the lack of rain and the fact that southern Jersey is made entirely of sand. The combination of tight turns, high speed (sorta) and loose conditions had me wiping out pretty good a little ways into the first lap. Lesson learned, and my cornering improved for the rest of the race.

I kept the throttle wide open for the first lap - I was constantly trying to pass someone, or getting chased. There were a few very short climbs, which I used as an opportunity to sneak around a few folks. By the time my eyes were about crossed from the effort and the heat, I had crossed the start/finish line and was beginning my second lap. Somebody had rigged up a hose from the side of the building next to the start/finish field, and I got a spray of cold water as I rode by - it felt fantastic.

Third lap - starting to hurt!

The second lap was a little less stressful. I went into it going hard, but eventually found myself riding alone, with nobody in sight. I kept telling myself to push, you can't relax because somebody will catch up with you. By the time I was 3/4 of the way through the lap, I began to care less - even though I had been drinking steadily, the heat had been taking a toll. I wasn't struggling, but was definitely starting to settle into a maintenance mode. When the guy I was chasing ducked off the course right before the start/finish, I knew that the heat was causing some attrition and that if I could just hang in there I would probably do OK. I got passed by one racer, he grabbed my wheel and passed me when I took a turn slightly wrong and got hung up on a log.

Coming into the third and final lap I got a very nice hose-down, and then began to pass people. I think a lot of them were stragglers from the Cat 3 / beginner race that had started earlier in the day; either that or they were people in my race that were hurting. Either way, none of them was going fast at all and they were all very courteous about allowing me to pass quickly. I began to wonder how I was doing, really. I had settled into a maintenance mode, pushing as hard as I could without blowing up. 

The sun was sizzling!

After what seemed like quite a long time, I popped out into the field and breezed through the finish line. I staggered over to a tent that was set up and pounded several small paper cups full of water - my hydration pack had run dry about halfway through the third lap and I didn't want to get a dehydration headache (those suck!). I went over to the hose and washed off all the dust and sweat that had accumulated, and doused my head for good measure. By the time I had gotten changed and had all my gear situated in the car, they had the results posted. I had gotten fifth place in my category! Out of 29 racers, I was very happy with that result. It was a tough day on a fun track, and now it was time to go cool off by kayaking.

Boating!

SkyMass++: Here There be Dragons

One day, while poking around in Strava checking out other people's stats and rides, I came across a route that I'd never heard of but looked extremely intriguing. The official route (if it is really "official"; I have no idea) is called Skymass, which is because the ride goes through Skyline Drive ("Sky") and the Fort Valley area of the Massanutten Mountains ("Mass"). Plus, Skymass just sounds cool.

The route I followed was created by some guy hopped up on Easter jellybeans, or at least that's what his ride title suggested. I called it SkyMass++, because it adds around 35 miles to the 80 mile Skymass route, and posted it to the Baltimore Bike Club calendar as "Here There Be Dragons", because I had never ridden the route before and had no idea what to expect. (Geek note for those that may not have already known this: in olden days before cell phones and GPS, people used things called "Maps" that were not based on millimeter-accurate satellite imagery; sometimes these "Maps" were incomplete, and the cartographers showed areas of unknown geography as blank areas labeled "Here There Be Dragons". I.E., we don't know what's here, so caveat emptor).

I posted it to the ride calendar because some company would have been nice, even if they slowed me up or I slowed them up. I got two emails from interested parties; one bailed because it was going to be too hot out (forecast was for 100 degrees in the valleys). and the other bailed because the ride start was too far away (2 hours from Baltimore). I had asked for a 7AM start time to try and beat the heat, but changed my mind at the last minute and decided that I wanted to start riding at 6AM. It was going to be REALLY hot, and I wanted to get as much riding under my belt as possible before the heat became a major player in the endurance game. With that thought, I posted a cancellation for the group ride (citing lack of interest and high heat) and decided to take American-style unilateral action and go it alone.

My headspace at 3:30AM

The ride starts in Front Royal, Virginia, which I have always viewed as the gateway to Shenandoah National Park. Front Royal is about a two hour drive away, and sits at the northernmost end of Skyline Drive, which wends its scenic way along the crest of the Shenandoah mountains. In order to reach the ride start at the time that I wanted to, I got myself up at 2:30AM, made breakfast (to be eaten in the car), packed my gear, and hit the road around 3:15AM.

I got to the start around 5:30 AM. While I was getting my act together, a group of cyclists rode by my in the pre-dawn light and asked me where I was headed. When I told the guy that asked me that I was headed over Woodstock Tower Road, he shook his head and said, "Pretty sure that's a gravel road up there, son." Well, I had kind of guessed that from looking at the satellite imagery of the route, so I nodded and kept assembling my gear. They rode off, and I finished putting my things together.

The Start!

For "expedition" rides like this, I tend to load down like a pack mule. I had a frame pump, spare tube, patch kit, secret link, multi-tool, and tire levers in the bike-repair department. I had energy gels, stroopwafels, extra sports drink powder, electrolyte pills, and electrolyte fizz tablets in the "food and health" department, and a phone, cash, credit card, and emergency cue sheet in the "misc." department. By the time I was done loading up, my jersey was bulging out the back and my saddlebag was about ready to pop. My new thermal water bottles were full of cold Perpetuem, my GPS was mounted, and my tail-light was blinking and ready to go.

I pushed off away from the car, and spent the first mile or so fiddling with my GPS. I had the entire course loaded, so I put it into turn-by-turn guidance mode, and set the on-screen parameters to display the cadence from my cadence sensor (I'd had it turned to a different mode for my mountain bike ride the previous evening). By the time I was really riding, the sky was getting lighter and I could tell it was going to be a fine day.

Farmlands at dawn on the way to Fort Valley

The temperature was cool and I found myself flying effortlessly along gently rolling picture-perfect blacktop, surrounded by lush farm country with green mountains off in the distance. After about 15 miles of the bliss, I made a left-hand turn and began traveling south through Fort Valley, with the Massanutten mountains rising up on either side. The road continued to be perfect for zipping along at a brisk 18-22mph, no headwind, no travel, and a very smooth road surface. Eventually I began to see a bit of haze in the air, caused by the wildfires that had been burning for a few days on the outer flanks of the mountains. The fires were well away from where I was, to the point that the smoke was pretty well diluted and did not cause any coughing fits.

Dawn in Fort Valley

Excellent roads in Fort Valley

As the sun just began to peek it's baleful eye above the tops of the trees, I made a right-hand turn on to Woodstock Tower road, the first major climb of the day. Heading almost due West, the road begins at a very steep grade and then mellows out a bit. The surface was old but good asphalt, and I began to question the words of the cyclist that I had spoken with at the outset. After a few short miles, however, he proved to be correct, and the road surface turned to dirt covered with loose gravel. This was not like the hard-as-asphalt dirt roads you find in civilized states like Vermont; this was good-ol-fashioned Virginia country road.

Fort Valley

My speed dropped to a crawl as I traveled up the hill. The rough surface not only caused the traction of my tires to drop, but it forced me to zig-zag around trying to find the hardest-packed spots of roadway to pedal in. I can usually clear an average of about 7-9mph on all but the steepest paved climbs, but this relatively gentle slope had me traveling more in the 4-6mph range.

The Massanutten mountain range is shaped like a giant ellipse; it's essentially a 35 mile long ridge on either side of the ellipse, with no real significant peaks on it. The Woodstock Tower climb had me crossing straight across the western ridge. The climb had about 1,000' of ascent to it. About 700' in, I joined up with a spot where, oddly enough, we were riding our mountain bikes the previous week. However, this time, when I got to the top I did not take the trail into the woods but continued down the other side of the mountain.

Switchback descent into Woodstock

The descent into Woodstock was sketchy as all get-out. The road was not extremely steep, but had the same loose-gravel surface as the ascent. There were also some (ok, a lot of) harrowing 170-degree switchbacks. Thankfully, the switchbacks had little elbows of pavement installed on them, which greatly reduced my chances of flying off into the woods. After about 8 of these, I was back on the paved road for the descent into Woodstock.

Downtown Woodstock

In Woodstock, I made my first water stop of the day at the local Sheetz gas station. For those of you who have never experience the splendor of a Sheetz, they are a large Mid-Atlantic phenomenon that serve as a fueling station, rest stop, social gathering center, and mini-restaurant all in one. I bought a couple bottles of water and a granola bar, put the shades on, turned the taillight off, and kept rolling. 30 miles in now.

The route continued South after Woodstock, eventually turning back East and climbing to another crossing of the Massanutten range. This one was only about 750' high, and was paved the whole way. That made things nice and steady, just grinding out the pedal strokes one after another. I crossed into Fort Valley, cut straight across, and climbed out the other side. The descent on the East side of the Massanutten was a blast; I reached my top speed of 47mph on the steep, well-paved road. With spirits high and the legs only starting to feel the slightest bit toasted, I flew downhill towards Luray and my second stop of the day.

As I approached Luray, I starting seeing folks in time trial helmets. Weird. Then I saw some police, and a volunteer fiercely trying to user her flag to wave me into making a right hand turn. I remembered that today was the Tour of Page County stage race; they had a time trial and criterium in Luray that day. Only I could drive two hours, ride 50 miles, and somehow find myself in the middle of a time trial. Go figure.

My lunch plans for Luray were scuttled, as the deli that I wanted to grab a sandwich at was closed until 10AM, and I had reached it a little bit ahead of schedule at 9:15AM. I stopped at the local visitor center on the way out of town and filled up my water bottles before attacking the long slog towards the mountains. This was my least favorite part of the trip, even though it was quite scenic. Long, flat segments of road, with a very slight headwind. At this point, some 55 miles in and the sun just starting to beat down on me, I was starting to feel that super-early wakeup time.

Elevation profile going into the big climb

I kept going slower and slower. Thinking that I was just losing energy and feeling demoralized, I ate a waffle and a gel to try and perk myself up. However, as I noticed my cadence continue to slow, I thought to myself, gee, I wonder if I'm getting near to the climb. I looked down at the elevation profile and lo and behold, I was indeed starting in on the very broad shoulder of the climb up to Skyline Drive. I dropped a couple gears and settled in, knowing that the next 2,000' of climbing were going to be quite long.

Beginning of Redgate Road

The climb started out on a wide, paved road with an almost imperceptible grade. I was expecting dirt, but I didn't know when. The wide road turned into a very narrow paved lane (the bottom of Redgate Road), and a sign notified me that I was entering Shenandoah National Park. So far, so good - I was still moving along at a pretty decent 9mph clip. Then the pavement went away.

Middle of Redgate Road

My pace dropped to a crawl, even slower than what I had been doing up Woodstock Tower road, because now I was starting to get fatigued. I ground on, up and up and up. The road seemed to go on forever, with endless switchbacks. Here is where I thought to myself "No amount of wishing is going to make your crankset compact". I unzipped my jersey, as it was hot and I was starting to get soaked in sweat.

Skyline Drive! Finally!

Despite the heat, the struggle on the rough gravel surface, and the battle against gravity, the climb was still enjoyable - it was in the middle of the woods, there were no cars, and it was very pretty. After what seemed like an eternity, I came across a couple hikers (who eyed me a little oddly, riding a road bike on what was close to being a hiking trail), and a trailhead that let me out onto the blessedly smooth surface of Skyline Drive. After the plodding pace up Redgate Road, Skyline Drive felt like hopping on a conveyor belt. I still had quite a bit of climbing to do, but it became a simple matter of grinding it out - no thought required. Which was good because by this point, my capacity for thought was starting to become diminished.


I pedaled my way a few miles to Skyland, which is a sort of hotel / cabin / restaurant establishment. I availed myself of their ice cold water fountain, and then purchased what was one of the best cookies I have ever eaten. I even got to sit down to enjoy it! The temperatures at 3,500' were nice and cool, and a gentle breeze came in off the Shendanoah valley. It was very pleasant, and I probably could have sat there all day. Eventually I dragged myself back onto the bike.

Epic cookie at Skyland

After Skyland, the ride became a blur of slowly spinning up long but gentle hills, and cruising down stupendously long descents. I stopped again for water at Elk Wallow wayside, and continued the trek towards Front Royal and the car.

The descent into Front Royal was about 8 minutes of zipping downhill at 35-40mph. After so many long descents, my neck was starting to get tired from being tucked into an aero position! At one point, I actually had to slow down because the cars in front of me were going too slow. As I lost altitude, I could feel the temperature creep upwards, and by the time I reached my car, it was sizzling hot. I was glad to have made it into the mountains before that heat kicked in, because it was brutal!

I tiredly got my gear situated, and began the long drive home. It had been an epic day, one of the best I have ever had on a bicycle, and something that I would jump at the chance to do again.

Smoke from wildfires in the Massanutten Range

Garmin Data

Brownstown Road Race

I picked teammate John up early in the morning for the fairly long carpool up to Brownstown, PA for my 3rd ever road race. I was registered for Category 5 racing, which is the Novice class. You need to get 10 road races under your belt before they let you upgrade to Category 4, so Brownstown, being cheap and relatively close, was an excellent opportunity to build my race resume.

In the morning I ate a pretty decent breakfast, a bagel with jam and fruited yogurt. Plenty of carbs, low in fat, and some good protein. I hadn't eaten this meal for breakfast before (usually it's cereal or oatmeal), but it seemed to settle in well and I didn't have any stomach issues throughout the day.

I missed the Browstown exit and we ended up getting there a little later than I would have liked; plenty of time to get registered and get my gear together, but not enough time for a decent warm-up (I was able to get in a very short warm up though). On the way in we drove by teammate Pat, who was warming up for his race.

The Scene at the Start

I rolled up to the starting line at the back of the field, mostly to say hello to Pat who was at the front of the field in his race, which was starting immediately behind ours. The lap counter read 4 laps, which was a little surprise to me, as I had thought we were only doing 3 laps. I was glad though, because the course was only 5 miles long. 3 laps wouldn't give me an opportunity to leverage my endurance (which isn't great compared to some, but is what I view as my biggest strength) and let the pack whittle away. The official blew the starting whistle, and we were off.

I knew that being in the back of the pack was a bad place to be, so I gradually worked my way forward during the course of the first lap. I used one of the several small short hills to attack a little bit, and found myself in the first few riders coming into the start / finish line. I tried to hide in the pack, but the pace was pretty relaxed and I found myself coasting along out front for no reason. After a while I was able to coast enough that someone else got bored and passed me, and then I grabbed their wheel.

I got out front so I could have an easier time in the corners. The dude with the helmet cam was actually really strong and pulled a lot.

The second and third laps played out like this: I pulled, realized I was doing myself no good by being out front, sat back in, got bored, pulled again. We were doing a pretty decent clip, and the race adrenaline had me a bit worried about my heart rate, which was jacked to levels well above where it normally sits during training. During the times when I was sitting in and letting the pack do all the work, I would sneak a couple sips from my water bottle filled with sports drink - it was very hot, so I knew that staying hydrated, electrolyted, and fully sugared up were key.

This must have been after the break that I didn't notice.

Somewhere along the line, probably towards the end of the second lap or in the middle of the third lap, I think there was a break. I had no idea, because I was way up front. I heard after the race that the pack sort of split in two, with half the pack dropping off the back and the other half forming a very large break. This explains why so many people were shouting things like "short pulls!" and "good rotation!" and "pacelines! Pacelines!". Of course, most of the riders didn't heed the instructions and encouragement from the whips; I think this was probably due to inexperience in the Cat 5 field (myself included, obviously).

At the beginning of the fourth and final lap, I ate the caffeinated energy gel that I had been storing in my jersey pocket for just-in-case. I knew that it takes a few minutes for gels to really kick in, and I wanted to be as strong as possible for the finishing sprint, which I knew was coming; I'd guessed by the second lap that it would all come down to the sprint. With that in mind, I tried to sit in for most of the fourth lap, and then when we got into the final few turns and hills, I gently maneuvered myself towards the front of the field.

This is what I look like when victory slips out of my grasp by a bike length. "Huh??"

By the time we reached the final rise before the finish line, I was ready to go. I attacked hard about halfway up the hill, after my momentum wore off. I was able to hammer out a cardiac-nebulizer nuclear bomb of a sprint, but the glycogen stores in my muscles gave way to the onslaught of lactate acid, and my effort started to droop in the final meters before the finish line. It was at that point that I saw in my field of tunnel vision something that I hadn't seen since I started the sprint: another wheel. My home stretch of empty road had been invaded my someone else who had started his sprint moments after I did, and hence was able to overtake me in the final split seconds of the race. He had another rider practically gobbling up his wheel, and the two of them edged by me to take first and second place.

All told, it was an excellent race, a good learning experience, and more good times with Team BBC. I stayed to watch John's race and then we headed home, eating some excellent burritos and watching the Tour de France prologue on the way back.

Garmin Data