Flash forward to this weekend. The cold lingers but I simply couldn’t let another week go by without racing. I got in two half-hearted workouts during the week and was reminded during both of them that I wasn’t right. Suiting up on Saturday for I an easy openers workout was a struggle. In addition to the cold, the weather was beating me down pretty good. “Do I really want to ride in 30+ MPH winds???” Nope. So I checked Facebook and saw that Pych, Tye and several others were meeting at Landahl. There it is! I quickly dressed, loaded the bike, and made it to the Argo trail head just in time to join them.

Since I was racing the next day, I didn’t need a hard ride. Thankfully, despite being with a group of really fast riders, the pace was perfect. And, just like last weekend, it took only 5 minutes of riding to blow out the cold. I felt great motoring along. After 40 minutes of riding though, a stick flipped up into my chain and snapped my rear derailleur hanger. That resulted in a 15-minute hike to the car. That’s important to today’s race because 1) equipment failure and 2) the walk caused nasty, painful blisters on both heels. Oh yeah, and mountain biking before a cross race probably wasn’t a good idea.

My quads were on fire during warm ups today. There’s nothing as concerning in bike racing as fighting leg pain before the race even starts. Needless to say, my head wasn’t in the right place either. I hit it hard two more times trying to flush the pain and then rolled to the line with very little expectations.

Just like the first Radcross, I got the hole shot and led most of the first lap. Two guys came around me going up the little hill on the back side (did I mention my legs were on fire?), but I was able to take back first when one of them washed in the corner before the barriers. We blasted up the hill and back on to the grass, then just as I started in to the first 90-degree turn, I squeezed the front brake and SNAP, the cable broke. I bobbled when the bike didn’t do what I wanted, which let the other two pass me. Then, on the next hard corner, I realized just how important the front brake really is. I had no corning control. It wasn’t long before guys started zipping by me. I had pretty good power but I couldn’t carry any speed into the corners.

Surprisingly, and perhaps unfortunately, my legs finally came under me during the third lap. But, the extra power was pretty much wasted since I couldn’t corner very well. When the race finished, I had slid from the top 3 to 9th place.

On the positive side, after racing for 8 laps with only the back brake, I became pretty proficient at maneuvering the bike through corners. I wasn’t fast by any stretch, but I gained a little more confidence and ability. I was also able to ride the sand on 8 of 10 laps.

Up next, back to Raytown BMX for Boss Cross 4 and the state races. Hup! Hup!

Murmuration from Sophie Windsor Clive on Vimeo.

Murmuration: a flock of starlings flying together as if they were a single being.

During warm ups I knew this race would be challenging. I still haven’t figured out how to get power to the ground when it’s really rough. And, this course had plenty of roughness. There was only one challenging section. Just before the BMX track the course dropped down into a small ravine and then quickly turned back up to a steep bump with a log laying across the top. It was pretty easy to ride over the log; the tight 180-degree turn on loose gravel just beyond it was the real problem. I tried several times during warm ups but never figured out the timing. I finally gave up and decided to run the entire section. After that, it was pretty much all power. Oh yeah, that and bouncing and bounding and bumping and thumping.

The race, from start to finish, was pretty uneventful. I raced in no man’s land for several laps until I eventually bridged up the lead pack of 5. But, as soon as I caught them, I popped off the back after bobbling across the barriers. It wasn’t a bad bobble but it was enough to shake me mentally. After that the barriers seemed to grow taller and become more challenging on each subsequent lap. Despite my conscience efforts to forget about em, I let them get to me every lap. It culminated in me dropping my chain while dismount with 1 to go. That little error cost me 2 places. I finished in 9th with a sore back and a bike that needs a major tune up and tightening up.

Zach raced earlier in the day and had a great time. This was his first race of the season–probably the first time he’s ridden his bike in months because of soccer, so I told him to focus on riding his own race. He lined up with 11 other juniors, 4 of whom were over 15, and the rest were 10-14. The start left me a little worried. He was last off the line and never really “got into it.” His slow start began to pay off pretty quickly, though with him passing 2 racers on the first lap. Even though I was standing half the course away from the BMX track, I could see the smile on his face as he rolled over the jumps. I knew then that he would be alright. He picked up the pace a bit more and slowly started reeling in the other riders. From where I watched, it looked like his last lap was his fastest. For some reason, he officially placed in last place even though he finished just behind Will Marshall. Any other time I would have contested the results, but since he’s not racing on a license there was really no purpose.

A rider bridged up to us and quickly came around me. I sat on his wheel for several turns until I realized that a gap was opening. So, I started to move back around him. Only problem is I moved at the wrong time–I started around him just before a turn. My thinking was outside line, swing wide and then hammer it. I yelled out that I was coming but he jumped for the same line. We came together briefly, which caused him to unclip. When he did, he stuck his left foot into my front spokes. Ouch! I didn’t go down or break any spokes, but he had to stop and eventually dropped out (sorry again!).

I settled back into racing but didn’t feel right. My effort and heart rate seemed way too high for the output. I looked down and saw that the front tire was wobbling and rubbing on the brakes. I watched it wobble for a few rotations and then decided to ride on it. When I crossed the barriers the next time, I realized it was worse than it looked because the front tire stopped spinning as soon as it came off the ground. I rolled through the next section and then jumped off to release the front brake.

“Oh yeah!” I was running Bert’s 23mm wheels! The brakes were too tight to release even though I loosened them when I put on the wheels. I struggled with it a few more seconds and then gave up and jumped back on. And I went backwards from there, finishing in 14th place. The power required to push through the grass, wind, and bent front wheel was just too much.

So, big shout out to Bert for letting me tear up your sweet wheel, and a big apology to the rider that went down!

There’s always next weekend!

Paleo Shrimp with Saffron Cauliflower Rice

• 1 lb. shrimp
• 1/2 onion finely chopped
• 3 cloves garlic, smashed
• 1 large lemon, zested and juiced
• 4 tbs olive oil, divided
• 1 tbs dijon mustard
• 1/2 cup sliced mushrooms
• 2 hand fulls baby spinach
• 1/2 handful of coarse parsley
• 2 tsp butter, divided
• 1 head cauliflower (rice substitute rice)
• pinch saffron threads soaked in 2 tbs hot water for 10 min

Prepare the cauliflower rice by grating the cauliflower into riced-sized pieces. This can be done using a hand grater or a food processor. Add 1 tbs olive oil and 1 tsp of butter to a hot skillet. Add in cauliflower and saffron with a little salt and pepper to taste. Stir and then cover and cook until softened.

While the cauliflower cooks, prepare the shrimp and chop the onion, garlic and mushrooms. Heat another pan over medium-high heat and then add remaining oil, onions and garlic. Cook, stirring frequently for 3 minutes or until the onion softens. Add in the mushrooms and cook another 5 minutes. While the mushrooms cook, add the lemon juice, dijon mustard, and 1 tbs olive oil to a bowl and whisk. Add the shrimp, lemon juice dressing, and remaining butter to the pan and toss to coat. Cook 2 to 3 minutes and then toss to flip shrimp. Top with lemon zest, spinach, and parsley and cook until the spinach wilts, stirring to mix everything. Season with salt and pepper.

To server, add a serving of cauliflower rice to a plate and then top with 1/2 of the shrimp. Be sure to add any remaining juice to the dish!!! Enjoy.

My Dirty Kanza Experience from Keith Walberg on Vimeo.

3-Way Street from ronconcocacola on Vimeo.

This year, the organizers promised more gravel and more hills. At the start, Jim even mentioned the possibility that Cameron Chambers’ sub 12-hour record might fall. According to him, the course was abnormally fast because much of the gravel was pressed into the road bed during the spring rains. As we soon learned, his claim was spot on; what he failed to mention were the endless hills during the first 100 miles. Add in heat, strong heads winds out of the southwest and a pop-up thunderstorm, and the Flint Hills proved once again that just finishing this race is winning…something I have yet to experience.

I wish I had grand stories of sloshing through ankle deep mud, seeking shelter from funnel clouds, or even fighting around the course in survival mode. But, this year I simply didn’t have any fight in me. Even at the start line I knew something was wrong. Instead of excitement and eagerness to hit the gravel, I felt apprehensive and lethargic. I learned the hard way that there is no suffering or fighting through it when if your mind isn’t into it.

The start was fast as always. Just like last year, I watched as the front group sped away…only this year the group swelled to what looked like 30 or more racers. I sat up and watched as a chase group formed and marched off across the hills. I rode alone for several miles and then started picking up stragglers that had fallen from the front two groups. Before long, I was in a peloton of 20 or more riders. We were riding at a fast pace, but with so many working together, the effort was very easy. We stayed together until the rolling hills leading up to Texaco Hill. Then, the group slowly dwindled until I was riding alone again. I caught two more over the top of Texaco and rode with them until the first check point.

As I started rolling out for the second leg, Ben, Rick, and David rolled in, claiming they were making it a quick stop. So I decided wait for them. We rolled out, ready for a fast 40-mile leg thanks to the strong SSW wind that would be mostly at our backs.

Around mile 80, Rick yelled, “Stop!”

“What?”

“Look!”

“Oh shit. Is that what it looks like?”

“Yelp. A large group is riding towards us.”

We scanned the map while we waited for them to reach us. Turns out we all missed a turn several miles back. Fortunately, back was north so the wind would be pushing us back on course. The missed turn was onto an infamous Dirty Kanza “cut through” that connected together country roads. This one dropped down, down, down, a rock (not gravel) littered trail that finally reaching two creek crossings. All the down meant only one thing: up. The road rolled and climbed for the next 10 miles, before leveling off for the final run into the second stop, in Florence.

During the drop to the creek crossing, my head started pounding. I don’t know if it was the banging and bucking, dehydration, or both, but the pain was blinding. I dropped off the back of the group and started drinking water with Camelbak Elixir. Just as the headache started to let up my feet started burning. I’m not sure if it was hot foot or something else, but I’ve never felt foot pain that intense. I loosened my shoes and took advantage of every downhill to unclip and flex my feet. Both brought some relief but the pain only worsened with each pedal stroke. Seeing the Florence grain elevator on the horizon was the only thing that kept me from pulling over. During those 10-15 miles, I argued about what was next: in or out? I decided I would take an extended break, eat some lunch, and then decide.

I limped into Florence, found Traci and the boys and ripped off my shoes. I sat for 20 minutes with my feet up before I felt any relief. While I sat there, Eric stopped by and mentioned that he was suffering like crazy but was fighting on. I also watched Jim roll out, looking fresh as he did on the line. While I was eating, I convinced myself that I had to go on. So I suit up again. Before I left, I rolled over to the gas station for a quick piss break. I rolled up and found Rick and David talking outside. David suddenly started feeling sick and decided not to go on. Something about talking with him–nothing he said, more the voice in my head–convinced me that I shouldn’t continue. I rolled back to the car, loaded my gear and drove home.

David called just as we left Emporia to tell me that a strong storm blew in, stranding Ben and Rick on the course. The once fast gravel turned to mud too thick for bicycles. I checked radar and felt a sudden rush of relief, not for the storm or the riders that were surely stuck out in the condition, but more for my decision to stop. There’s no way I would have fought through rain and mud. As difficult as it was to drop out, seeing the boiling storm on radar confirmed my decision.

Now, with two DNF’s under my belt, the question is next year? Today, the answer is why bother. But, with probably too much bike time in the past 2 months, that will surely change, especially as registration approaches.

“Yessir. We just raced on the Ouachita trail,” answered Doug.

“Well I’ll be…do you know the speed limit here?”

“The sign right there (pointing out the windshield) says it’s 45 MPH, so I’d say 45.”

“That’s right and I just clocked you at 61 MPH. License and insurance. I’ll be right back.”

“Dude! You are so getting a ticket,” snapped Rich from the back seat.

The trooper walked back up to the window and handed over a warning! If only the entire weekend would have gone that well. It’s not that it was a bad weekend; it just wasn’t the weekend I had planned. Before I signed up for the Ouachita Challenge I studied the results from last year. Seeing the sub 5-hour times of the big guys (Jeff Kerkove, Bryan Fawley, Aaron Elwell, Garth Prosser, et al), I set my goal to be between 5:30 and 6 hours. 5:30 was obviously the best-case scenario, but it gave me a goal to work towards. Unfortunately, my training didn’t fit the bill. I had good fitness but no technical skills.

We arrived in Waldron around 3:00PM, checked in to the hotel, quickly suited up for a ride, and headed to the grand metropolis of Oden, Arkansas, population 212. We planned to check out the 10-mile gravel section leading to the single track. After talking with folks at race headquarters, we decided to drive 3 miles of it and then ride the remaining 7 miles. From what we heard, it was a long climb that got very pitchy at the end. And it was. At a leisurely pace, it took us 30 minutes to reach the top. We rode the first 200 feet of single track and then turned around for the truck. It took less than 15 minutes to get back. We headed back to Waldron, grabbed some late grub, and then crashed for the night.

We drove back to Oden bright and early on Sunday. After a pancake breakfast, we suited up and lined up. Somehow I was on the front row, right behind the pace truck. After 15 minutes of racer-meeting speech, the flag dropped and we were off. The pace was immediately faster than I anticipated. Even more shocking was the jockeying and diving guys were doing. I was more than happy to give up a spot to save myself from the insanity. I fell back to 50th-ish place by the start of the long climb. I took back 20 or so places by the time I turned on to single track. I felt great climbing up to the top of Big Brushy. I even passed a few more guys before the summit. Then, I started the descent. And guys started passing me. The rocky trails banged and bucked me like a rank ole PBR bull. I wasn’t even halfway down the mountain when I started thinking, “I want this to end.” A 26″ hard tail with tube tires and a driver lacking skills is not the best set up for these trails!

Just as the banging and bucking reached the I’m-done point, I popped out at the first aid station. “AHHHH!” I flew through the station, and on to the long climb of Blowout Mountain. The first 25 minutes of climbing weren’t too bad. I passed several guys but also let several pass me, especially in the technical areas. Then I reached the dreaded rock gardens…two miles of walking! I lined up with the others and hiked to the top. The walking was actually a nice break that offered a little rest for my legs and lower back.

I checked my watch as I rolled over the summit and noticed that I was still ahead of schedule by 20 minutes. Perfect! But, just like Big Brushy, the descent killed my time…and my lower back. I knew I was in trouble when Rich blasted by me like I was standing still. He was here and then immediately out of site. And then a women. And then a single-speeder. No matter how much I tried to speed up, the rough terrain kept me in check. Just like Big Brushy, the single track dropped out to a fire road just as I reach the done point–hands tingling, lower back screaming, and head pounding.

I dropped two Tylenol and gobbled a Stinger Waffle during the respit. I rolled through the second station and started the second Blowout climb. Where the first climb was rocky and technical, this one was just steep. I rolled past a few people that were walking and started to wonder, “what’s better rolling at 4 MPH or walking at 3?” How about riding at 5 or 6! So I dropped a gear and forced myself to pick up the pace. It seemed like 30 minutes of grinding, but I finally rolled over the top. Just like last time, everyone (plus a few more) that I passed on the way up zoomed past me on the way down. After 20 minutes of descending, I popped out on a gravel road and started the 10-mile drag to the next check point. With a 20 MPH headwind, I needed a wheel, but no one was in sight. Everyone that passed me was long out of sight and I didn’t want to wait for whoever might come up behind me. So I dropped my head and put my roadie legs to work.

All that was left was the infamous Womble Trail and a short run on gravel and then pavement. I stopped by the 298 aid station to top off water and eat a pickle. I checked my time and calculated that I was behind my target time by about 10 minutes. Fortunately, the Womble was faster, with less climbing, not as many technical sections and flowing lines. I picked my way through woods and soon found myself running a 12-inch section of trail cut into the hillside. To the left, a 45-degree incline up; to the right, a 45-degree drop down, down, down. The trail also started pitching upward, too. I didn’t mind, though, as long as it didn’t buck and bang me like the earlier sections.

I reached the next aid station in relatively no time. A quick check of the watch and I was less than 5 minutes off schedule. Cool! According to the lady at the water jug, I had 10 miles of single track and 4 miles of gravel to go. She forgot to tell me about the nasty cramps that were waiting for me about half way through the single track. My right quad seized so fast and tight that I didn’t even have time to clear the trail. All I could do is stand over my bike with my right leg stuck out to the side. Standing there, with all my weight on my left leg, caused my left calf to cramp. I dropped the bike and fell to the ground in pain. I didn’t know if I should rub my right leg or stretch my left one. Neither would have helped. My muscles were angry and only time and electrolytes were going to calm them down. So I sat there. For 20 MINUTES! Waiting. Drinking. I tried to stand up several times but felt that snapping twitch. “This is ridiculous.” Other than two cramped up legs and a sore back, I felt great. But, I was completely incapacitated. I stopped counting people as they went by after the 15th person passed me.

When I finally started rolling again, I was determined to take back some of the places. I finished the single track and jumped the chain to the big ring. As soon as I got up to speed, the OC reminded me who was boss. The road slowly pitched upwards and seemed to keep getting steeper and steeper, eventually reaching what seemed like a 20% incline. Fortunately, I was passing people as they walked up the hill. Seeing them drop behind me kept me going. I finally reach the top and started the 5-mile run for the finish. I rolled from gravel to blacktop and used every once of the 20 MPH tailwind to blow me home. As I rounded the corner for the finish, my right leg screamed “done!” I had to stop and stretch with the finish line and all the spectators within ear shot. Fortunately, the cramp passed quickly and I rolled across the line before anyone could pass me.

All said and done, I finished in 6 hours and 26 minutes. While I could never ride the course as fast as Kerkove, I agree with him: technical skills! And, just to add my own 2 cents: a full-suspension bike!!!