The Next Episode

Ok, so earlier in the week, I made mention that I was quitting work to begin training more. It’s a decision that Ryan and I have made after a fair amount of deliberation over the last few months. Being a professional cyclist has been a dream of mine since the first time I pedaled a bike as an adult. Right now, I’m good. I’m fit enough to win regional stuff and get an NUE podium when the right people (don’t) show up. I’m not content with this. I feel as though I’ve reached a bit of a plateau in my ability to get faster because of both the time and physical demands of my job (as a mechanic, you’re basically on your feet for 30-40 hours a week).

Now for the realistic part- I could do this and still fail. I might reach a genetic limit and not get a lot faster than I am now. I’m aware of this. I’m OK with this, too. It won’t upset me to know that I tried as hard as possible, but there’s no way for me to be as fast as the women I want to race head to head with. I also realize that there’s not much money in cycling- ESPECIALLY women’s cycling. I’m not looking to make money. I’m basically looking for it to no longer cost me money to race. So, I’m giving it two seasons, then re-evaluating and making future plans. ‘Til then, I’m going for it.

On the sponsor front, exciting things have been happening since Interbike, and, surprisingly enough, very little of it Interbike related. My main sponsors will be Niner Bikes, Industry Nine, and Outdoors, Inc. A couple of local guys are the US distributors of Nimblewear Clothing, and they’ve offered to make a kit for me. It’s going to be black & purple. I love purple.

These companies are all being very generous in their support. While you enjoy reading the next chapter in my great cycling adventure, the best thing you can do right now is shop with my sponsors. Tell them you appreciate their support of Brickhouse Racing (and whoever else they sponsor). The important part is that they make money because of the relationship they have with my racing/blogging. Your money helps them make aspiring cyclists’ dreams a reality.

I’m in the process of figuring out what races I’m targeting. So far the list includes the Whiskey 50, Trans-Sylvania Stage Race,  Breck Epic Stage Race, and XC/Marathon National Championships. There will be more, but those are the ones that are on the radar for now.

Show of hands…

How many of you have been around here since the blog beginning?

The Kenda road team days?

How about back during my short stint on the Metro Volkswagen team followed shortly after by a nervous breakdown which led me to mountain biking?

My first 100?  (You know… the Cohutta ’10 with all the rain and thunder?)

My first road trip to Colorado? Second?

Just started reading today?

 

How about that time that I decided I’d quit working my “normal” job in the bike shop and dedicate most of my free time to racing and training in an attempt to become a professional cyclist?

 

 

 

Wait, what?

 

Race to the Canal Report

Before this weekend, I’d never ridden in the Land Between the Lakes area. So, when I had to make a race-schedule decision between either Race to the Canal on my mountain bike or Cyclocross in Nashville, I went with the “spend more time in the woods with gorgeous fall colors” option. Race to the Canal is a 37 mile (for Cat1 and Open categories) point-to-point race that takes the North-South and Canal Loop trails from the middle of the Land Between the Lakes peninsula to the canal at the north end. Other categories started further north.

Poolboy Matt came along to race the “37 Open” category. We arrived mid-day on Saturday, and stopped by the bike shop to get some trail info before heading out to pre-ride some of the course. The people at the Wood ‘N Wave shop are super nice (they also have a female mechanic, which just adds to the awesome). Matt was having some problems with a bad schrader valve on his fork, and they were really helpful in fixing it. The pre-ride was great. We rode the Canal Loop- half of which wasn’t race course, but we figured it was a good chance to get a feel for the landscape. The conditions were essentially perfect- a little bit of dampness had transformed the trail into mostly “hero dirt” (when the dirt is just wet enough to make it ultra-grippy), and the leaves were in full-on color change. I was excited to see the rest of the trail on Sunday.

The next morning, with the help of some friends, we got a ride to our start location just in time for the pre-race meeting. The 37 mile group was small enough that we ended up being started as a group rather than with gaps between categories. I was glad- the other two women who’d entered had already told me they weren’t going to try to race with me (makes me a little sad), so I decided I’d see if I could hang with the guys.

When the race started, a bunch of guys took off at full speed. I was near the back of the fast people when I rounded a corner to see one of them getting back on his bike. The slowdown was enough to let Matt and the other guys get down the trail and out of sight. I was immediately on the wrecked guy’s wheel, but didn’t ask to get around because it was pretty obvious that he was faster, but just needed to get his shit back together after wrecking. I was right, and soon enough, on the first climb, he disappeared into the woods, and I was alone.

I had a hard time getting into the hills at first. They were too long to be punchy and generally too short to get a good rhythm going. It took me a solid half hour to get a feel for the gear to use to get up as quickly as possible without blowing up halfway through. Between hills, the trail was crazy fast and flowy with lots of baby berms and perfect dirt. Pretty soon, I was motoring along and waiting for the guys ahead of me to get tired.

It wasn’t long before I saw a group of three guys at the top of a climb when I was at the bottom. I knew they had to be fading.

(caution- dubstep content)

I resisted the urge to catch them immediately and kept motoring at the same pace. It took what seemed like forever, but eventually, I was on Matt’s wheel (I wasn’t sure where the other guys were). He said he was having a bad day and let me around at a doubletrack spot in the trail. We about 1.5 hours in, so I kept the hammer down in search of the other two guys who I’d seen with him earlier.

I never felt tired, and found both of them within the next 15 miles. After ripping through the last couple of miles of race course, I quickly found myself climbing the road up from the trail to the finish line

 

Matt finished about 10 minutes later, and the 2nd place woman was about 5 minutes behind him. Our other Memphis friends, who’d raced the shorter versions, had great days as well. If you haven’t checked this trail/race out yet, I’d highly recommend marking it on your calendar for next year.

 

In paved-road news, My new road bike arrived exactly two weeks ago, and it is, quite possibly, the most amazing piece of carbon ever to leave a factory in Taiwan. I want to post a bunch of photos, but I’ve been (vainly) holding off because I’m waiting on a set of bottle cages that I ordered through the shop nearly 3 weeks ago. Hopefully they’ll be here this week, and I can show off the finished product.

 

Reservoir Cross Race Report

In order to keep travel cost to a minimum, I decided to skip the Kanis Park night race on Saturday night and just daytrip Reservoir Cross on Sunday with Poolboy Matt and one of our customers from the shop who was trying his hand at CX for the first time (kudos to him- the Reservoir course is tough and technical. Not the easiest when taking the plunge for the first time). I hate to miss a good night race, but I was being a slave to logistics.

The Little Rock area received a couple of hours’ worth of rain early Sunday morning, making the course both slick and gooey. Since everyone seems to ask, I rode the Challenge Limus tubulars that I glued up last year, and ran around 27psi front and 30psi rear. I say “about,” because I don’t know how accurate my pump is. I do, however, like how my pressure feels when my pump reads those numbers. My usual barometer for “proper” pressure is whether or not the rim hits the ground once or twice per lap when pre-riding, and it passed that muster. The Limus is a very knobby tire, and I have modified my rear one for improved rolling resistance:

 

The Open Women’s category was lined up behind the Cat4 men, Masters Men, and Juniors. Each group started about a minute apart. I’d told myself that I would race hard, but not totally destroy my legs so that I could race the men’s race afterward.

I’ve come to the conclusion that this is impossible.

We started going straight up a paved hill. I got the holeshot and never looked back. I did, however, feel at first like I needed training wheels. I started the course turning gingerly though the mud, all over the brakes. Within a lap, though, I’d trash talked myself into going full-bore. I made it my goal to pass everyone on course that had started before me. I had a few close calls with sliding front tires and a pedal strike in the off-camber section, but I took those to mean that I was doing it right. If you aren’t the greatest bike handler, the Reservoir Park course will showcase that. I definitely could use some practice in getting my cyclocross mojo back for the season.

Halfway through the last lap, I was barreling through a really fast turn off of some pavement, looking to catch the last of the Cat 4 guys who had started first. As I loaded my front tire exiting the turn, I heard the incredibly terrifying noise of base tape and carbon unzipping from each other. Luckily, I was sliding at the same time rather than gripping. I continued on with the course, only to realize that the “I want to roll off the rim” noise was a result of the loss of pressure in my front tire. I managed to nurse it around the remainder of the course and finish before it was totally flat. Winning… but not my much over 14-year-old up & coming Emma Drummond. She’s going to be hot on my heels real soon.

 

The course ended up taking out an abnormally large number of tires that day. I saw somewhere in the neighborhood of 10-15 flats during the Open race (I decided that since I’d bombed through the first race and flatted that I’d bail on the 2nd race). Poolboy Matt flatted two himself. Upon closer inspection, all three of our flats were punctures in the same shape, size, and orientation in the tread. I’ll post some high-res pics later.

SuperX

I like fixing bikes.

It’s mostly about solving (or preventing) a problem (or several problems). Usually, it’s a worn out, broken, sticky, or otherwise compromised part, but sometimes, frame manufacturers give mechanics a problem with brand new bikes… the perfect example being the presence of normal, road bike cable housing stops on a cyclocross frame.

I’ve posted before about my dislike of open cable on any bike that will be ridden in any condition other than “dry.” It’s just dumb. There’s no point in putting a break in a bike’s cable housing if there’s any chance that, on a regular basis, you’re going to ride the bike in a manner that would foul the cables with mud and/or water. Even so, it’s how most cyclocross bikes are manufactured.

In the past, I’ve just dealt with it, changing out shift cable and housing on a somewhat regular basis for a stable of cyclocross bikes. I’ve also used Gore sealed housing kits, only to find that while, yes, they do keep stuff out, with modern shifters (cable routing under the bar tape) and drop handlebars, the amount of drag is terrible because of the interaction between the stiffness of the housing and bend from shifter around the bars (in their defense, the sealed housing kits work beautifully on mountain bikes and road bikes with the older-style, externally cabled shimano shifters). Just recently, I zip-tied a full length housing to the frame of Ryan’s “A” bike. It works flawlessly. I’ll also be the first to admit, though, it doesn’t look very good.

So, when I installed a Gore housing kit on my new Cannondale SuperX (yeah, I’m doubling up on Cannondales this season) and the shifting was crappy and heavy, I decided to go one up on the solid housing by using a drill to convert cable stop to “housing holder.”

Side note: Before I tell you all about taking a drill to my bike, let’s talk about warranty. Some bike companies can be evil, and, if you modify your frame in such a way, then your seat tube cracks up the middle, they’ll refuse your warranty, even though it’s highly obvious that the two events are, in no way, shape, or form, related to each other. From my dealings at the shop, I can tell you that Cannondale is not this sort of company (Niner isn’t, either). However, it goes without saying, that if one of my drilled cable stops breaks, falls off, or suffers any other cable-stop related malady, it’s my fault, and there is no warranty to speak of. Your frame manufacturer may be somewhere in the middle with their warranty philosophy… I’d advise you to find out prior to drilling if that sort of thing concerns you.

With that out of the way, let’s get to the good stuff.

I started by looking around on the internet for technique recommendations. I saw some good advice about protecting the frame with tape in case the drill bit gets jumpy, so I put a layer of Gorilla Tape around the downtube housing stop:

 

Next, I started with a small drill bit. How small? No idea on the numerical size, but it was a little bigger than the existing hole. Even with a not-so fresh drill battery, the bit went through the carbon stop like it was made of butter (so easy, I ended up not using tape when I drilled the stop on the chainstay. A metal stop may have offered more resistance). I prettymuch just repeated the process with increasingly large bits until a piece of 4mm housing fit through the stop with just a little friction. Done and done:

 

Depending on the frequency of cable stops on your frame, you will likely still need to use at least a couple of zip-ties to run the full-length housing. I typically wrap a piece of electrical tape around the tubing prior to mounting the housing/zip tie in order to keep the frame from getting rubbed at the mounting location. It’s still not perfect on the “looks” scale, but it’s a lot nicer than having the cable housing run next to unused housing stops.

Side note #2: I use Jagwire L3 lined cable housing for the best shift quality, though I’ve used less expensive stuff with equal success. The thought that using full-run housing will noticeably increase friction and drag on the cable is balderdash. Sure, from a physics standpoint, yes, there’s more friction on the cable when there’s more housing. However, I’d like to see you do a blind, side-by-side test, and see if you can tell the difference in lever feel between broken and solid housing. You’re sure as heck gonna notice a difference when the broken housing gets fouled. I digress…

I rode yesterday. The verdict? AWESOME. It’s only a matter of time before the Scott Addict CX undergoes the same surgery:

 

With the forecast for Sunday’s Reservoir Cross looking like “mud,” I can’t wait to plow through the slop with perfect shifting.

Cyclocrunk

I just noticed on my “stats” page that a lot of people are finding my blog via searching for “Cyclocrunk.” The series started tonight, and, for various reasons that would likely bring drama to my blog, I’m not doing it this year. Here’s the link to the Cyclocrunk site, and, if you need more information about the race than what the promoter has provided on the site (such as location, race format, etc.) you should call Victory Bicycle studio.

 

 

 

 

Clear Creek Challenge Race Report

Based on how sleepy my legs felt on Saturday after taking nearly a week off of the bike (including Interbike: 3 nights of sleep deprivation, 2 days of flying, and 2 days of walking/standing around on concrete), I knew that racing Cross Country on Sunday carried a strong risk of being a partial to total shit-show. However, Ryan and Poolboy Matt were looking forward to going down to Oxford for the Clear Creek Challenge race, and I didn’t want to disappoint. I figured at the least, it’d serve as a high intensity jump start back into training for Cyclocross.

The race course is largely rolling and flowy with a few bigger hills and a couple of lightly techy spots. Because of the rolling nature of it, the downhills and turns have a high ratio of reward for risk, and people who are familiar with the trail definitely have an advantage. I have ridden it a couple of times, but it’s been at least a year since then. I wasn’t sure how much the four other women had ridden it, but the group at the line included Laureen Coffelt, who never goes anywhere unprepared.

When the promoter gave us the “GO” signal, I momentarily attempted to implement my usual XC strategy of letting whoever thinks they’re fastest get the holeshot and going into the woods 2nd wheel behind her. However, the other women rolled it like they were starting a 50 mile road race, so I threw down the hammer and took the lead.

The initial portion of trail is twisty and fun. I don’t know what went on behind me, but I was able to build a lead by trying to stay way off of the brakes. I could still hear that the other women were close, and the trail constantly doubles back on itself, so there’s no “out of sight, out of mind” until you’ve got a heckuva lead. I kept pinning it until the trail was a little quieter. About 30 minutes in, the singlespeed leader (who had started a couple of minutes after me) caught up to me and let me know that Laureen was deep into 2nd and was a good bit behind me. I’d decided that I was going to chase down cat 1 men (who started 4 minutes ahead), so I didn’t let up.

The rest of the first lap was uneventful. I did my best to tune out the burn and stay off the brakes and eventually caught a cat 1 man. I passed through the start/finish area at just under an hour & 10 minutes for the first lap. I wasn’t sure of my lead until I re-entered the woods and heard someone yelling for Laureen as she was coming in to the pit area. Holy CRAP she’s close!

Pace-wise, I couldn’t push much harder. I was keeping up with nearly the same effort I’d started with, and still felt like I was flying up the hills. Feeling a little more confident with the dirt on the course, I kept trying my best to maintain speed and momentum. I kept seeing Laureen on the double-back parts of the course, and figured she was about one minute back… if I slowed down, I was dead in the water.

Thankfully, I didn’t slow down. Well, actually, about 1/2 a mile from the finish, my quads started to cramp like mad. Luckily, though, I fought through to finish in front, and was able to polish off another 1:09ish lap…

 

So, it was a good day. I like being pushed. I hope Laureen has plans to race some cyclocross.

Fool’s Gold 100 Race Report

Like I mentioned before, I went into this race with nothing to lose. Even though I recovered physically from my adventures out West, I’ve been an emotional sh*tstorm ever since coming back from Breck. I did, however, feel ready to face another 100 miler following my 100 mile breakup following Mohican back in the early parts of the season. It was the same weird combination of emotional exhaustion and magical leg power that I got during the latter part of the Breck Epic that propelled me upwards in a way that I even found surprising.

This feeling was confirmed on Friday afternoon when we pre-rode some of the first climb. I kept having to rein myself in because I felt like breaking the cranks off of my bike. Save it for tomorrow…

Too bad 100 mile promoters can’t allow a “late start” option for the racers who won’t be battling cutoff times on course. Ryan (who raced the 50 mile version) and I were up for 5am breakfast and out at the winery for a 7am start. The course began with 2 miles of neutral rollout. Surprisingly, it was neutral enough (my frame of reference is whether or not singlespeeders can keep up. I was riding geared, but I watched a large singlespeed pain-train develop behind Gerry Pflug during those 2 miles).

I wasn’t far behind Amanda and Cheryl when we reached the course, and, surprisingly enough, I was able to pace them with a non-heroic effort. I had no idea where Brenda and Lee Simril were, but I figured that if I was watching Amanda and Cheryl race, that I was doing alright. We reached the turn up the first climb, and I fell into a great rhythm. I’ve come to realize that, even though I’m not on a singlespeed, I can always pretend. I found a comfortable gear to stand on, and never looked back. It wasn’t until we were several miles up into the steeper sections of the climb (about 35 minutes in) that I lost sight of Cheryl and Amanda (it looked as if Cheryl turned the screws and Amanda made efforts to follow). I kept my own very awesome-feeling pace.

I stopped briefly at the first aid station (18 miles in) and took off down the road to the first section of awesome, zoomy singletrack. The next few hours would me more of the same. I felt great. I kept up with the same strategy- eat, drink, and don’t go too hard. There’s still another lap to do. Other than that, I didn’t think. I felt like robot programed to steer my bike through a 100 mile bike race. I finished the first lap in 4 hours, 30 minutes (looking at women’s 50 mile times, it could have been a helluva fight in that race). Then, my brain woke up.

Once I was started back up the hill to the next aid- a cooler drop, I felt tired. My head was listening this time instead of tuning out the fatigue. I made the mistake of thinking about how I could be back at the car, having a beer and eating lunch. I thought about the prospect of riding another 40something miles. Then, I remembered how I’d sworn off 100s earlier in the season for the same reasons. I loitered around the cooler drop long enough that Brenda, Lee, and another one of their teammates were pulling in as I was leaving. Well, damn.

The next hour or so, I swung wildly from “screw this” to “stop thinking and keep doing what you were doing when this didn’t suck.” Then, Brenda, Lee, and the other guy caught back up to me at the horse trail before the Bull Mountain loop. I didn’t put up much fight at that point. However, as I rode through one of the meadows that punctuated parts of the trail, I noticed that I was headed for a large, black cloud on the next mountain.

If you’ve never heard the horror stories of the 2010 Fool’s Gold race, I urge you to start poking around the internet for photos and race reports. The mud on course is a special type of wonderful- when it gets wet, it turns into liquid sandpaper. It destroys any moving bike parts it touches. So, when I saw the cloud, I decided that I needed to HTFU and get through the Bull Mountain part of the course ASAP so that I could avoid the worst case scenario.

When I arrived at the aid station at the base of the Bull loop, there were ambulances. I didn’t think much of it, but as I was filling bottles & having a snack, I caught wind of a guy who had wrecked, broken his pelvis, and been laying out there with paramedics trying to reach him for several hours (Bull Mountain isn’t really hard, tech-wise, but it’s got some sketchy downhill spots that can eff you up big time). As I started the climb, I realized that the timing of the guy’s wreck was just right for when Ryan passed though. I started envisioning Ryan wrecking and breaking his pelvis. Then, it started to rain.

I was in “chase down the guy with a broken pelvis” mode. I made it to the top of the mountain and started to pick my way down. I was rolling along at a good clip (not edge-of-control fast, but not holding back, either- maybe about 10-15mph?), when I rolled over some off-camber roots. Before I could even register the noise of a sliding front tire, I was flailing through the air and watching the ground approach my body at a high rate of speed. My right knee whacked into the base of a pine tree, and the rest of me landed on various other roots and ground-bound objects.

Ooooooooooooowwwwwwwwwwwwwww

(That’s all I could think for about a minute)

I thought I’d broken my knee on the pine tree. Blood was already running out from under the mud on my knee and shin, and it hurt to wiggle my toes inside my shoe. I poked around on my torso to make sure that my ribs felt intact. When none of them hurt, I decided to get up and get back on the horse. My right bar-end had twisted itself straight up, so it took me a minute to fish my multi-tool out and re-position it. Luckily, the bike was OK. I was hurting.

Eventually, I caught up to the guy who had wrecked. He was being gurney-ed out, and a train of about 4 guys was pushing bikes behind him. I saw a bike the same color as Ryan’s (it’s an odd blue-ish turquoise that’s not very common) and my heart made it nearly to my toes before I realized the fork was white and the guy in the stretcher was balding. I made my way around the procession and finished the last mile or so to the aid station.

The next section of trail is slightly downhill and lots of fun, so it helped get my head back on right. My knee was aching, but I figured it’d hurt just as badly whether I went fast or slow. I finished the last 15 miles back in my “groove.” I ended up coming in about 9 minutes behind Brenda with 9 hours & 1 minute. Fourth place, and, surprisingly to me, good enough for 5th in the NUE series.

 

Here’s the post-race interview. It’s long and full of inside jokes and innuendo, but it’s also the only one I’ve done following more than one post-race beer. Enjoy:

 

Watch more video of 2012 Fool’s Gold 100 NUE Series Final on thom.cyclingdirt.org

 

It’s not often that I let my head get to me during a race. It gets to me during 100s. Shorter races, I can destroy myself. I can ride outside myself and find new levels of pain and enlightenment. Through this season, I’ve realized that 100 mile races, for me, are an exercise in boredom and extended fatigue. My future in racing is not in the 100 mile distance. I’m OK with that. I’m glad that I gave them a hard run and figured out that my strengths lie elsewhere.

What’s next? (other than a break from training while I take on LasVegas and Interbike) a few beers, a couple of late season regional XC races, and prep for Cyclocross.

Missing a good time

Judging by the photos and videos I’ve seen from face-friends, I missed a good time at the SM100 race.

This makes me a little sad- Shenandoah has always been a great race with an even better post-race party. Even though the race lost its  “final of the NUE series” billing, this year was no different. However, I’ve been in a slump since Breck. My legs felt fine within a few days of being home, but mentally, I’ve had little more motivation than to sit around and stare at the walls. I couldn’t bring myself to pack the car and get to the race. Maybe if I could have teleported myself and all my equipment there on race morning? It’s possible… there’s still that whole “Ride 100 miles” thing to get through, too.

This weekend, Ryan and I are going to Fool’s Gold. He’s gonna race 50, and I’m going for 100. I’m almost looking forward to it- the singletrack on course is a lot of fun ever since the trails were re-worked following the storm/mud debacle two years ago. Right now, there’s a 50% chance of rain on Saturday. My plan is to ride the geared bike, but the singlespeed is coming along as backup.

My bad start to the season, results-wise, kinda screwed me up for NUE series points. I’m going into this race with a similar feeling that I had before the super-awesome Wheeler/Stage 5 of Breck Epic- mentally vacant, physically unsure, and with absolutely nothing to lose.

Solidified

I knew I’d make up my mind eventually.

Saturday morning, I headed out in the rain to meet the guys from 901 Racing on their mostly social/partial hammer ride. It was sprinkling rain when I left, and alternately sprinkled/showered all the way to the meet-up spot in Midtown (unlike Breckenridge rain, when it rains here in August, the temperature stays well into the 80s). When I arrived at the coffee shop at 8:30, no one was there. I waited around for a few minutes, but, by 8:35, was tired of standing in the rain and figured they’d bailed because of the weather (I thought about waiting on the back porch of the coffee shop, but there were three people under there smoking. I’ll take rain over that). So, I rode back home, giving me nearly two hours of solo rain riding.

Turns out, they were all just really late.

I honestly didn’t care. I’m still recovering from Breck Epic- both physically and mentally. Physically, my legs are steadily gaining ground. They ache with hard efforts, but seem to be tracking back towards “beast mode” at a steady pace. Mentally, my transition back to the reality of non traveling/racing is an exercise in re-learning how to feign interest in the mundanity of everyday life. Unlike physical recovery, this isn’t a smooth, steady line of improvement. Suddenly, it’s time to deal with work, people, and not having the “job” of racing my bike 4-5 hours a day. It’s coming back slowly.

If you’ve been reading here the past week, you know I’m trying to make up my mind on a September schedule. I have tried not to stress this decision since I figure that it would become more obvious as time crept along. Like my previous indecision about the Pierre’s Hole race, the answer came to me during a ride. While I was soloing in the rain, I hashed through everything in my head with little to no interruption and was able to come up with a more concrete plan that seemed to settle well into my brain.

Next weekend is the Shenandoah 100. I don’t feel like driving to Virgina to race 100 miles. It’s one of my favorite courses and an even better party following the race, but the drive to get there takes longer than the race itself. Also, with the growing popularity of the race, there are somewhere in the neighborhood of 600 people in attendance. It’s getting crowded. I could use the NUE points, but I just can’t convince myself that I want to go, and, as I’ve discovered in the past, if your head isn’t in it, bad things happen.

Also happening next weekend is a more local, shorter race- the School of Hard Nox 50. It’s in Mississippi. Depending on what Coach says to do, I might try that one. However, there may be one weather-related issue…

Race location:

The kicker:

I have no idea what the trail’s capacity is for terrible weather. So, the race’s fate rests in the hands of the weather and my coach. I’ll happily go either way.

The weekend after that is Fool’s Gold. Ryan and I are going to that (he’s decided to race the 50 mile version). While the start/finish location of the race makes it a terrible spot for a post-race party, the course itself is entertaining. It’s also the final race of the NUE series, so I get to say goodbye to all of my endurance racing friends for the winter.

Then what?

I’m going to Interbike. I can’t back out now- I’ve already bought the plane ticket and a pack of business cards. I’m flying out on the 18th and back on the 21st. I dread it, but, at the same time, I am relatively certain that I’ll have a good time. Hopefully, while I’m there, I can impress some important people with my endless charm and good looks.

The time following Fool’s Gold (encompassing Interbike) will likely contain my post-season break. Gotta rest before I start getting ready for cross…