Tall tales
Otway 2009 - Rider perspective #3 (Mark) Feb 09 |
| Posted by Badmin (badmin) on Mar 19 2009 |
| Tall tales >> ENDURO |
THE VIEW FROM BEHIND.
1) Signing up: a misguided thought process
It’s a long way to go to compete in a bike race.
It must be heaps of fun.
I’ll give up schnitzels and iced coffee to make sure I’m in the best possible shape – that should do the trick.
(I really had no idea what I was in for…..)
2) Pre race: - perfect preparation, perfect accommodation, perfect setup
Saw the big lobster in Kingston – love that guy – good to be passing this way again. Kendall had to pee at every road stop we passed.
Evening before the race:
Subaru after Subaru laden with lovely lovely mountain bikes was tearing back down the hill from Forrest to Apollo bay as we drove up the winding hill – a long day’s drive from Adelaide. The start line in Apollo bay, about 30 kilometres downhill from Forrest, sits at sea level, shadowed by immense (and plainly unrideable) hills of the Ottway National Park. The whole place was crawling with bikes. There was definitely some nervous excitement about the place – although I’d excitedly eaten an energy gel a little earlier and was buggin like an 8 year-old on a cordial bender, so it could have just been all the sugar.
Jittery, I found my way up to Forrest (race HQ), and with a convoy of dudes in Subarus all champing to get past to race registration, I pulled off the side of the road to let them go. By coincidence, I realised I’d pulled up directly across the road from our accommodation. I could see a few of the lads there already - bikes were being tuned on the veranda.
Delighted with easily finding my digs I was keen to tune some bit of my bike too. I think I could probably adjust the bottle cage or put the seat up and down - I was damned if I wouldn’t adjust something. Lets get going! Woohoo!
I waited for a small gap in the procession of Subarus and quickly gunned the car straight across the road into a ditch. Front wheels dangled free, back end of car and bike rack stuck way out into on coming traffic, undercarriage of the car sitting firmly on the ground – completely stuck - boo.
It was at about this point that I began to consider the advantages of a Subaru – 4wd functionality presenting as quite useful - given the current situation. It was also at about that time that Ollie and Erik noticed a half buried car in their front yard, and wandered out to help (laugh).
A ute load of guys going past spotted the bikes and SA plates on my car and stopped to help out a brother in need. Now 8 guys stood around not getting anywhere rather than the initial 2 (who had by now found a camera). The car was just too heavy to lift out.
However, one of these good men produced a snatch strap and backed his truck around behind my car. In less than 30 seconds his mates had taken control of managing traffic, hooked my car up to his, bounced me straight back out of the ditch and were on their way. Big thumbs up to all the lads from XXXXX???? who helped me out!!
I quickly got busy adjusting the height of my seat on the front veranda - hopefully I could live this down. Not everyone had seen it happen – it might get overlooked with all this bike race business. And the ditch was hard to spot at that time of day – from where I parked – you know, the angles. It was! Curse Ollie’s photos.
The rest of the evening was taken up with a whole bunch of other fluff.. pasta.. … don’t forget your helmets… can I borrow an allen key….why does that squeek? Where are my gloves? zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
3) Race day: the magic happens and then won’t go away, bloody enduro magic
Alarm - 5am! Yuk.
I felt good on just two occasions on Saturday. The first time was approximately 18km into the race. I’d just finished climbing (think trudging bikes uphill) those cursed hills and was enjoying a nice long rest and as much gel and bananas as I could stomach while changing a flat (somehow gotten while walking the bike – I really hadn’t ridden it yet). The sun was rising over the water – the atmosphere was jovial – people were in good spirits – things felt good – I felt good. The second time and only other time I felt good that day was when I eased my aching carcass into bed that night – 20 hours later. The rest was slow, drip-fed pain.
Said pain began at 5am. Nerves kept me awake for a couple of hours during the night, and it was rear-clenching horror to get up so early. The good humour of Pete, Ollie and Erik at that time of the morning was appreciated – as I recall we discussed current affairs over lightly poached eggs and fine Arabic coffee.
Colin decided that he would in fact like gloves for the race and set about searching his motor home for them.
I locked myself in the bathroom in a feeble effort to shed as much weight as possible before the race.
Erik made a last minute decision to take his helmet with him, wisely.
Heath showed up on time – perhaps even a little early.
Our early rising neighbour, rang in the beautiful morning light with a health serve of foul abuse directed at us, the cars, the dogs, god himself, the girls and life in general. Serenity eh?
Nevertheless, three carloads of boys and bikes made it down the hill to Apollo Bay - on time – waving cheerfully to foul neighbour as we drove off.
Subaru foresters plagued the main street of Apollo Bay. People on bikes were riding everywhere “warming up,” like nutters. I ate 2 gels to kick things off. Breakfast gels = banana! Bing bing!
Suddenly our jovial little group become oddly serious – people took off in different directions. Before I could even loosen Joe’s brake cables, it was time to find a spot on the starting line….
- Ollie was last seen introducing himself to (staring down) Chris Joongerward. Next time I hear of Ollie he’s already back at the house with his gear in the washing machine and a roast dinner in the oven.
- Heath decided it was a good time to inflate his tyres
- Colin opted for full lycra – a telling if not glorious move.
- Jeff p1ssed off up near the front of course – I suspect he lead the race for the first kilometre in the winner-across-the-line pose – index finger in the air.
- Pete vanished somewhere too – but he could have just been standing in front of Ollie.
- Joe was last seen looking at a small computer strapped to his bike, asking his neighbour what a BSOD was.
- Nick finally stopped dropping off picnic tables, and took off somewhere after Joe – tech support perhaps.
- Erik was allegedly stretching (or looking on the ground for his helmet).
- Dan was posing for photographs – he knew everyone there.
- I stood next to Dan holding my stomach in – conscious that my new Unfit top did not quite cover my dignity should the photographs prove it was cold.
- Magically, spectators Kirsten and Trish were both last seen cuddling 2 enormous take away coffees, despite us being there for only 3 minutes and the shops all being closed.
- Maria was trying to discreetly get George to crap in the park without anyone spotting her…
Suddenly, everyone started riding off – no gun, no big GO! The start must have been by consensus I guess. We all cruised along the main street for a couple of kilometres in a big mob – so far so good, things were going well. I hadn’t fallen off or bumped into anyone else yet and I could still see 3 green shirts dotted about.
Skip to the end… (for lazy readers…)
Then we turned left and ran in to the first big fat hill. They’d been kind with this hill though (I was to later realise), since they’d put a sealed road on this one. It was the next hill that really started to knock the stuffing out. Looking up ahead, I was already several kilometres behind the front of the snaking line of riders. Jeff was still in victory pose, but was starting to slip behind the leaders.
After a long hard climb up from the main road that got the blood pumping hard, we shot down a series of dusty fire tracks that led straight back down to the bottom of a valley and sea level again. Riders were all still tightly bunched, and there was a long queue to ford the first creek. I took the opportunity to try and brush the dirt off – I was still looking pretty good at this stage I thought.
People were getting a bit toey trying to get across – the wait to get through the creek bed saw some people getting a bit ambitious, the clamber back onto bikes up the other side produced the first impressive spill for the day – some poor feller in yeller hopped on his bike and fell off the other side down the embankment into all the ivy, bracken and water. At that stage all of the other riders were still cool enough to laugh at him…
The hill up the other side just got steeper. It was the ride up this hill that I, and about a thousand other riders (apparently everyone except Joongerward) decided was impossible and walked instead. So began the process of tip-toeing in our bike shoes up very steep hills. I should have done more walking training – it went on for kilometres like this straight up – and it just didn’t end. Calves ached, heels blistered, thighs were very tired – this was not fun at all. I was exhausted and I’d not even had much of a ride yet. We’d only just stared and I was knackered.
Eventually the Kokoda track ended and popped us out at the top of a high ridge. We were now up very very high. They view was good. Feet, legs, lower back and calves aching - sick of having to look at some big fella’s rear, I scrambled on my bike and shot off down the rolling slope in front of me as fast as I could – delighted to finally stop walking.
I was blitzing now man. I was going to nail these downhill sections – out of my way roadie softies. I hopped over the wheel rut and smashed down as fast as I could, paying no heed to the potholes and deep washed out line I was taking. I was passing heaps of dudes yeah yeah! In less than a minute I was back pushing the bike up another hill just like the previous one – from sea level again. Trudging began all over again – and I was fed up.
By this stage I’d seen all of the green shirts gradually trickle further and further ahead, then vanish out of sight. By now everyone was ahead of me by miles.
The scenery started to change a bit, from marching up rainforesty bracken covered hills it broke into gumtree forest, and levelled out a bit. We came back onto a sealed road section and moved onto the rolling tops and dips - still generally climbing but now with long fast downhill tracks thrown in.
I got a flat, so had myself an energy gel-picnic. Bikes whizzed by me in a big line, hundreds of people overtaking me. That sucked, but I had a nice rest as I replied, “no, thank you I’m fine,” to every third or fourth person who rode past.
The terrain was now long fast (and dangerously washed out) fire trail with deep ruts in each wheel track. Riders balanced along the ridge in between the ruts, which wore into deep and snaking cracks – with lots of dodgy spots. A short run down would lead to rideable and steady climb. A kilometre of blasting down through the dust behind people creeping along hitting the skids, a kilometre of climbing in a queue, then another blast downhill.
I was determined to get past these slow fools on the downhill bits, so took to a strategy of riding off to the side - in the bottom of the washed out ruts when they looked like they were shallow enough - and just letting the bike go for it. A couple of other guys jumped in behind me and we overtook 10 and 20 riders in one go.
At the top of the next downhill section, one of the guys who’d been tailing me on the last one, shot out around me and led the charge downhill again. I tucked in behind and we started flying past people again – heaps of fun!
About halfway down the guy in front of me flew over the handlebars. Ha! Couldn’t handle the pace. He was a big ball of dust with eyes when he stood up again.
On the next run I had a clear path in front, and let the bike blast along again as fast as I could. I was going really well, passing a few guys when I saw 4 massive wheel-sized potholes line up in front of me – no turning at this point. Nothing left to do but go for it – lent back, and popped the front wheel up as I hit the first one – flew over the two in the middle, and completely smashed into the last one. I bounced up a bit kooky and somehow exited up on the front wheel, but found myself neatly through it in the end and at about 3 times the speed of everyone else riding down that hill – sweet result – suckers!
There was, I should add, some poor fella sitting on the side of the trail just here, wrapped in a foil emergency blanket, looking very ill, sitting next to a broken bike. I guess he took the same option as me. The people looking after him saw me come bouncing through – out of control – and saw the subsequent decision cross my face “I think I’ll back off a bit from here on”.
I rode on, and as I crested the hill and rolled off around the corner, I heard the clatter-n’-slide of someone else hitting 4 big potholes out of control. Another cloud of dust puffed up through the tree tops and cheers from passing riders.
(Legend has it that Heath also took a similar approach to negotiating these potholes – he showed these wimps how pure aggression can shift large pieces of earth out of the god damn way. Mr T would have been proud). Later on I passed 3 St Johns Ambulance volunteers hiking back along the track to retrieve the poor injured bloke – I reminded myself to take it easy – and ate some more gel and dust.
Dirt was now all over my face, and sweat was making it run into a gothic motif. Dark eyes and black lips... I passed the first photographer.. made sure I was riding the bike, not walking.
I seem to recall that this kind of terrain and cycling continued onwards for a long long time. Down fast, then up, then up, crossed over the main road a few times.. down, then up, then up some more.. it was steady and long.. although I might be wrong. This bit of the ride seems to have gone blank for me.. I think I was thinking about a recipe for quiche a lot, I don’t know why. And I was wondering how some riders seemed to be dust free - odd… until realised that I was passing them, they can’t have been very riding fast.
Rode on for a bunch of time.. nothing to speak of here.
Kept riding..
Riding….
riding….. riding..
I think there was the magic carpet ride about now – the big timed descent. I spent it following some other guys along – couldn’t really get past. And there was a climb in this timed descent and there was lots of chewed up track that would have been good, except that it was sketchy cos it was chewed up. Anyhow, got down safely – still no falls. Terrain got drier.
I think I came near the oval at Forrest! I saw it – so I figured I must be getting close, but the trail turned left and I rode into the start of one of the custom made MTB loops – some great singletrack. If I was feeling good, instead of completely stuffed, it would be bloody great fun . Lots of nice burmed turns, rollercoaster dips and jumps – and miles and miles of it gradually looping back around on itself, down and up and around a valley – and people on bikes were everywhere – if I knew I could cut across to where they were and shortcut forwards rather than backwards – I would. It was all a bit confusing – but the track was fun – at last! Just keep truckin’ no idea how far..
Then I did come to the oval – 68km completed – wahoo! Furthest I’ve ever ridden.
I stopped and hopped off my bike and filled my drinks. I wondered if I should hang around for a while and do something – everyone else seemed to be doing something important – opening eskies for food, fixing bikes, mixing fancy energy drinks.. but I got bored so hopped back on the bike and rode off. Was a bit scared that I’d only been there for a minute and that I’d pay for it up ahead – had I eaten enough, did I drink enough? Ah well.
On my way out I saw jeff already coming in from the second leg. He was a mess (although in fairness he was 28 odd km ahead of me). He looked like he’d just fallen out of a rear. The only words he uttered were “I’m dehydrated. I’m stuffed. and Pete’s in front of me…”
Delighted to see that everyone else seemed to be enjoying themselves, I relaxed back into cruise mode and celebrated with another energy gel – ah what the hell.. I had two – strawberry and vanilla – a cocktail.
I also reasoned that Jeff would be one of the first few riders in our mob – so it meant everyone was less than 28km ahead of me. Not so bad…
This next leg, as I recall, was pretty much a highlight. Perhaps due to the six or seven gels that I ate as I rode along – gradually getting more and more sugared up - and the fact that the track was finally starting to get less crowded – I was able to cruise along – watching out for nice turns or rollers to hit, and actually enjoy the track. There were some great sections – and it changed steadily so there was always something new popping up. I discovered a spare protein bar in my bag – and gobbled it too.
After about an hour of this, my sugar rush vanished and I felt flogged. In addition, the track changed to more scrubby forest, with fallen logs and branches littering the track – forcing you to hop over logs and work that little bit harder. No opportunity to sit back into any sort of rhythm. Bastard fallen logs. Hop.. hop.. hop hop.
I also noticed I was getting pretty untidy – few close calls. Reminded myself to keep it in shape and not to get lazy – better eat another gel or something.
I was still passing more people than were passing me. Keep on truckin’ man whoop whoop!
A whole bunch more riding.. ate some gels.. had a few laughs… long bloody way that was….
The Final Assault – tears, hatred, threats, war, utter utter pain and cuddles.
I was pretty stoked to come rolling back into the forrest oval for the second time. I was feeling ragged, but I had made it – and I knew that as long as the last 12 km were similar to what I’d just been riding for the last few hours, I could make it – hell.. I might even enjoy it. I ate a preventative gel.
Passing back out from the oval, Jeff, Joe, Pete and Nick were all standing in the shade of a tent. I was gutted to see they’d already finished and were relaxing.. but also noticed a few faces still missing. I couldn’t be less than 12 km behind anyone now! As I rode past, Nick (the awful sod that he is) shouted out, “Go mark.. it’s character building”.
I thought about this as I rode off along the nice flat road. What did he mean character building”. Character building has to mean some sort of climb. “The sod” I thought. I’ve got enough bloody character. I’ll stuff his character down his throat if a bloody climb pops up now – I’m wrecked. But how bad can it be? We’ve already done all the climbing at the start – we’re up high now. No one said anything about the last stage being tough. Everyone was talking about the hills at the start. It can’t be that bad?
Oh dear…
With the benefit of hindsight I can now say conclusively that I now have 20% more character than I ever had before the race. I would suggest that most of this 20% was accumulated during this last 12 km. Nevertheless, I still intend to get Nick back one day for pointing it out beforehand.
I don’t need to describe this for those that rode it, because I think, like me, this last slow, endless slog uphill is the only bit anyone can remember clearly. About a kilometre of straight steadily climbing firetrail lay in front. It wouldn’t have been much of a bother at the start of the race, but now, completely exhausted. It was enough to take everything you had left.
I resolved to make it to the top of the ridge, just one kilometre away – surely it would give us a break and go down from that. Instead, arriving at the top of the ridge, youd see the track turn slightly to the left and continued on at exactly the same climbing angle – all the way off into the distance – up to the horizon – another ridge 1 kilometre away. I therefore resolved determinedly to make it to the top of this ridge, surely then it would go down. But as I crested this one, the track turned back to the right – and continued on. .. .and up as before – another kilometre, another ridge.
The sun was now overhead, the shade was gone, the air was hot and still. Id lost my drink bottle. The gels were causing my stomach to knot – but I ate another one anyway – anything to distract me from thinking too much. My left knee was clicking and twinging. The track would level out, or maybe feign a slight roll down.. but sure enough, before you got a rest.. it resumed its steady climb up to the horizon, turned.. and climbed up to the horizon, turned again, and climbed onwards. I tried to invent fresh swear words to describe it with.
About 3 or 4 km up Nick’s character mountain, I thought I could see, in the distance a familiar jersey, way up in front. It got closer, and yes I could recognise it was wearing my gloves. Colin couldn’t find his this morning so had borrowed mine. I had two sets of gloves that were going to finish the Ottway – woohoo! Go gloves!
I ate another gel and prepared to put on a bit of a spurt to catch up to Col. Powered by pure banana flavoured gloop and dirt - I managed to catch up, although I suspect Col was actually sliding backwards down the hill towards me. My gloves were going pretty well though. Poor Col was looking a bit wrecked. He mentioned that he’d tapered off his training poorly, and I could only agree at this critical stage in the race, that drinking beer and sitting on the couch may have been a poor strategy. Otherwise though, I thought he’d had the perfect preparation, so I was not inclined to accept any excuses – hell, the guy even brought his own house to the race – he should have been well rested!
I ate another gel and kept at it. My gloves were now falling behind, but I was pretty concerned that I was about to fall in a heap with all this bloody riding and I’d be passed by my own gloves. My left knee was doing mad things inside – it was clicking and I’m fairly certain the ligaments were preparing to down tools.
I have to admit, I was beginning to have arguments with myself now - out loud. “cmon mark you can do it.. just keep going and we’ll have a rest at the top of this hill”. “NO bloody way can I make it up there – why can’t we rest now? Look, there is some shade just over there. If I wait till we get up to the top of the hill you’ll just make me ride up the next one!” “Don’t be an idiot.. keep going man.. cmon, you’re nearly there, It might be a nice rolling down hill stretch at the top of this – get up it man!” Why should I believe you, you lied to me about the last hill ten minutes ago. You already owe me a rest.”
I was getting on my nerves. But I was also presenting some convincing arguments both for and against. I turned it into a lunch meeting and ate another gel.
Now that I was sunburnt too, the trail finally turned left off the side of the b@stard firetrail and, for a change, got steeper. So I got off and walked. It was shady singletrack at least, so I figured that I’d argued a compromise from both perspectives.
The walk up didn’t last long, I came upon a bunch of guys all preparing to ride off down what hinted at being the big hurrah – the turnaround back down hill towards the finish line. These guys decided that rather than let me, a single rider go past, they’d all quickly get started in front of me, and then block the track and raise clouds of dust for the entire descent back down the hill. In almost 0 visibility we trickled – in fairness at a reasonable pace given the tiredness now – down what could have been really really good fun. Some phat tyres would have been right at home here. Pity that 11 or 12 of these fools were on the brakes in front of me. I tried to enjoy it.. Wrists were aching now from braking. My bike was the same colour as the ground – and the air, and my clothes, my skin, and the 10 guys in front of me. Sweat was making small trickles of mud cake around my nose, eyes and neck.
Popping out the bottom about 15 minutes later, as the dust cleared, I read a sign and crossed a small creek (lots of people were washing off). “The Sledgehammer” it read. Never an encouraging name for anything to do with bikes, I thought to myself “at least it’s not Character Builder”.
The Sledgehammer was the worst climb of the lot. It was so steep and I was so rooted. I walked a few steps and stopped. Walked a few more then sat. Walked a few more then cried. Walked a few more then had a tantrum. Walked a few more, then begged for a lift. Walked a few more, then ate a gel. Should have done that ages ago. Even so.. heels were blistered and I could only push 5 or so steps without stopping to stretch my back out. But while very very steep, all that character I had built was bursting out, and I managed to grumble onwards After a short kilometre of horrific steepness, it rolled back towards level.. and we were back on the bikes.
Guys around me were now staring to discuss how far to the finish – some were even starting to hussle again – a bit of a race feel came back. We were gathering speed and heading downhill again, almost back to the start of the big firetrail that I’d just spent an hour climbing up – we were looped back around again - we were on our way to the G D Finish line wahoo! The trail hit a fenceline and turned right up a sharp climb - only 100 meters or so stood between me and the side of the firetrail - which I knew ran downhill, all the way back towards forrest oval and the finish. I was gonna make it! Just gotta scramble up this bank.
(I found out later that the Pete and Jeff showdown also came to a climax here: Jeff had apparently overcome his dehydration and had determinedly got in front of pete – although it was still very close. Pete had rolled into the bottom of this 100-metre scramble, and there at the top of the sandy bank, Jeff was nearly up to the top. Pete shouldered his bike and started running up the bank, silently, sneaking, closing the gap down to just a few metres; it was going to be on to the last. Jeff looked around but Pete quickly ducked behind a bush. Despite being out of sight, Jeff’s eagle sense for new bicycle equipment recognised the 1 month old mavic rims purchased on CRC on December 15 2008 sticking out to one side of the bush, and yes those brake cable outers looked brand new and came from the same order, and weren’t they some fancy new cleats sticking out the bottom that were purchased in late January? – it was Pete! Quick as a flash, Jeff scuttled up the last few metres of the climb and hopped on his bike and was gone. Sneaky pete, looked back out from his hiding spot and saw only clear blue sky. His dash for glory was over.)
I, however, had no such showdown on the cards – but looked around to check for a sneaky Colin just in case. As I stepped over Pete’s puddle of tears and up onto the fire track back to forrest, I opened a celebratory gel – chocolate this time – what the hell.
Arriving back at forrest for the last time was a tease. You ride right up to it, but just before you burst onto the oval, you turn and ride slowly, right around the oval and through a bunch of sandy bog traps before you get to, at last, turn and head in towards the finish line.
The unfit team and support crew were mostly there by the side of the finish run, and I got a pretty good cheer as I went past. I think it was cos I pulled and awesome wheelie as I rode past. Kendall was definitely impressed by it – I don’t think she’s seen my wheelie skills before.
All the other riders were also sporting gothic looks, black legs, arms and necks – and red eyes that peeked out through gritty Robert Smith faces. Everyone that is except Ollie, who was at home with a jigsaw puzzle – passing the time. Im not sure any dirt got on him either. – he sits too far from the ground for dirt to reach him.
I celebrated with a Kebab.
To this day, I think I am the only rider to actually put on weight during the Ottway Oddysey. I consumed enough calories to power a small village, and drank enough water to fill the lower lakes. But I don’t think I pee’ed once.
All in all.. I think I enjoyed it. It had a sense of achievement attached to it – Id never ridden so far before. I think it was sort of fun – Im not sure. I did like the riding part.. just not the hurting part.. or the walking.. or the back ache. Or the blisters.. ah well. I think I’m addicted to Gel. I might buy a Subaru too….
A few pix here - > unfitracing.com/pages/gallery/otway-09.php
Last changed: May 13 2009 at 3:16 PM
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| By Unknown on Mar 20 2009 at 2:18 PM | |
| I didn\'t see any kebabs, maybe next year kebab energy bars/gels can be made. | |
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