Mike and Chris Shue
So there I was, after a week of being sick, wedged in between 650+ other idiots at the start of a mid-February FIFTY MILE bike race. Would you like a recipe for disaster? Mix that many cyclists, February fitness, and hours of racing. Don’t stop there. Make everyone go fast with unseasonably warm temps (low to mid 40s) and dry conditions. Run it twice on a 25 mile hybrid gravel-cyclocross route. Just to make it extra weird, include 117 age 50+ racers, the largest race category. OK BOOMER! LET’S DO THIS!
(Spoiler alert: this may end badly.)
THE START
A large contingent of guys from my local riding club (named Tiki, but the good kind, not the white trash kind) came down the morning of the race. Almost all sixteen of us staged near the front, hoping to avoid the traffic jams and crashes that can happen before the field spreads out. Sure enough, there a decent number of WTF-style slow-motion crashes in the first mile, which, if we’re being honest, were extremely funny (unless there were injuries then prayers up, obviously.)
LAP 1
I went out pretty fast with the elite group with the Tiki Boys (yes we need a better name) spreading out quickly throughout the field. It didn't take long for the favorites to surge ahead and put a gap on the rest of us. Between miles four and six separate groups began to form and organize. The lead group (which included my buddy Swifty) went out hard. I fell into the second group with 15 riders that included two NOVA legends, Taco Magnate El Jefe and Teen Heartthrob Nick C. We pushed through the surges, feathered the brakes through the rough terrain and fast descents, and generally did our best to stay upright on the gravel.
Around mile 10 I fell off the back of the second lead group, as the cold I had been battling all week started to remind me that I am just another middle-aged dude and not actually a bike-course-crushing-superhero. Or MAYBE I WAS? After all, normal feeble dudes would have come up with an excuse to skip a race over 100 miles away, but here I was, racing (also El Jefe may have shamed me into *not even thinking* about bailing).
Still, things were going due south, as my man Buckles passed me, followed soon thereafter by Jaywatts, and McRib (these are actually nicknames and not their real names. I think?)
I tried getting on the back of another group but alas, like Chris Shue in any race ever (don’t ask), I had gone out way too fast, and way too soon for a race of this distance. A minute or two later, Hardman Hans (like I said, there were 16 of us), and another rider joined me and I was just happy to see another familiar face. Hans then rudely put the hammer down and REALLY RUDELY elected to KEEP the hammer down for the next mile. Of course, being Hans, he was extremely polite about it and bid me a heartily optimistic, “I’ll see you up ahead!” as he sprayed gravel and dirt in my face (metaphorically, of course).
It was time to get sorted. I slowed down a bit, drank some water, and sucked down some Clif Bloks. As I pedaled up a paved hill I decided it was a good idea to cool down and take off my cycling cap and neck gaiter. Well, it SEEMED like a good idea. When I pulled my helmet off, my glasses, which had been on the outside of the strap, fell off. I was sure that they would hit the ground right before I awkwardly ran over them and crushed them into oblivion. In a minor stroke of luck, they got hung up on my bottle cage and I was able to grab them and put them back on. Disaster averted, I managed to stow my hat and gaiter in my jersey and clip my helmet on and thank the bike gods for intervening. I like to think that they look benevolently upon those of us who hate stopping during a race for any reason.
Still, I was in the proverbial No Man’s Land for what seemed like an hour but was probably 15-20 minutes, tops. Small groups would come up on me and I'd drop off the back as the pain was starting to creep into my lower back and quads. As I approached the final section of lap 1, I had a bit of a surge, hoping to beat my lap PR of 1:33. I came through at 1:31. Yay! GOING OUT LIKE A MANIAC IS PAYING OFF! PATIENCE IS FOR LOSERS!
I was now at the point where I was establishing different goals for myself...finish the race? Duh. Do it in sub 3 hours? GTFO. How about 3:15? Yes, ok, I think I can pull that off. BUT WAIT! What about 3:10? Ok that's it, I’ll do 3:10. It's settled. DO I HEAR 3:05? Dude. Stop.
These are just a few of the things that run through your mind riding solo while you are grinding through a 50 mile race. Totally normal.
LAP 2
After passing through the start/finish heading out on lap two, I felt pretty good! Things were looking up and this was going to be an easy second lap and would probably be over in like, an hour, tops.
It must be the energy you get from rolling through the halfway point that amps you up, because once you are out on your own again, away from the crowds, that adrenaline quickly fades. Or maybe it was the rolling paved hills section leading up to the two steep gravel descents and bridge crossings. Or both! Either way my energy was waning, and fast. I gritted it out and did what you have to do at the low point in any race - just pedal, pedal, pedal. After a few miles and scientifically approved mixture of Clif Bloks and water, it was Ramp This Shit Up time.
I managed to latch on with a group of around five racers, and as with most groups here, it featured a mix of mountain bikes and drop bar rigs. We stayed together for a few miles and after I pulled for about two miles, one of the MTBers tried to make a break for it.
NOT TODAY, SIR!
I chased him down and looked over my shoulder to see if anyone had followed us, but fortunately there were no takers. After a minute or two on his wheel, I put on the gas, passing him on a slight uphill climb before bridging to another group up ahead.
38 miles into the race and I felt better than expected. Since I was recovering from a cold, it had been hard to gauge my effort and set a solid pace. My legs felt decent, but I had a slight cramp in my right quad and my lower back was still sore. Five miles earlier, I was happy to ride by myself and just finish the race, but now with my new goal of finishing in sub 3:10, I was feeling more competitive. Time to turn it up one more notch.
I caught up to two MTBers who were going at a good pace. I got on their wheel for a mile and the guy in front pulled to the side and I followed him. He was frustrated I wasn't going to get out front and pull. Hey buddy, unless I have been given some very bad intel, this is a race! And we have 10 miles to go! After some quality “me time” (aka in-race recovery), I moved up to the front of the group. We stayed together for around four miles through some technical sections with tight turns and sweeping climbs. Around mile 43 we caught the group in front of us and started up a legit climb with a fun and fast descent on the back side. We swallowed up other riders as we motored along, absorbing their energy and spitting the deceased out the back. By the time we hit one of the final long descents, the group had shrunk to four.
THE GRAND FINALE
As we approached the final stream crossing at the bottom of the descent, I again moved to the front and slowed down to take a conservative line across the creek. I knew from previous experience there were some nasty rocks in and around the water. Just two years ago I had suffered a flat in the same spot, losing 3rd place in my category and seven places overall.
Just as I crossed the creek, I was getting ready to jump off the front and get ahead of the two MTBers. I looked up and saw Buckles looking forlorn, on the side of the trail with a flat. “Do you have everything you need?” I asked, he replied “yes” and I told him I was sorry. Bummer, he was riding strong. The Monster Cross course is so deceptive, with miles and miles of benign gravel and dirt but nefarious roots and rocks and climbs and other mayhem lurking when you least expect it. Related: R.I.P. to the forty or more ejected bottles I saw strewn around the course, violently ejected from their homes, so sad.
I’m now about 5 miles from the finish and climbing one of the last major hills of the race. In the grand scheme of things I feel AMAZING. Like King Kong climbing skyscrapers amazing. I decided I was going to chase down as many racers as possible and leave as much on the course as humanly possible. At that very moment, a big guy on a drop bar bike whizzed by me. Knowing this was my chance, I accelerated and latched on to his wheel. He was strong and had great technical skills, making it easy to stay in his draft as we caught and passed small group after group.
We were about two miles out from the finish and there were two sections that I knew I had to be in front on if I had any chance to finish ahead of him. One was a pain-in-the-ass rocky creek that required a dismount to cross. The other was the narrow bridge just before the final uphill climb to the finish line. We hit the top of the last climb and right before we descended into the more technical section of this portion of the course I decided this was it.
I made my move.
Sprinting ahead of him, I created a clear path to descend the backside without the worry of other racers. I pedaled like crazy on the descent, knowing from my previous lap that my tires would hold up in the turns, giving me the opportunity to put a little time into him before the dismount crossing. I kicked into CX racing mode, hopped off my bike and leaped across the creek, running up the hill before executing a pro-level re-mount (I mean, it FELT pro).
In an attempt to avoid a head to head uphill sprint finish, I went FULL GAS on the last punchy climb. I came out of the woods to see the small bridge and hoped he was far enough back. I crossed the bridge and as I headed up the hill I heard a spectator say, “now this looks like a race!”
Uh-oh!
I stood up and sprinted up the last part of the hill, trying to hold my power until I crossed the finish line with four riders about 5-20 seconds behind me.
What a great race on a fun course and it was so, so fast. Looking at the numbers, I put out more watts than racers with faster times - probably because I was riding inefficiently by myself for several miles. I beat my previous time by more than 20 minutes and met my revised sub-3:10 goal. With all of the variables in play, I couldn’t be happier with my results.
After the race was over, my whole crew got together for pictures and beers and war stories and maybe a little taunting. This part of the race, when it’s all over, when you are hanging out with your friends that you just raced with, these are the best times.
Can't wait for next year!
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