50 Mile MTB Marathon, Part II: Needs fulfilled

For part 1, go here.

I had a fresh CO2, my inflater, a spare tube, my under-seat water thingy, and I was ready!  I was racing in the sport category.  I knew full well that it was highly unlikely I would win, barring some sort of freak water spout or the like.  We rolled out, and I was in the top ten.  I started moving up, and stayed very close to the front.  I didn't feel like I was straining at all, which was a good thing, because my first year I did the race, I raced the first 12 miles as if it were a 20 mile race, and spent the next 38 miles in damage control.

We're cooking along, passing some of the slower experts, snaking to one of the few climbs of any significance, and around a corner, the tail end (where the tube had been inserted) felt...squirmy.  Oh dear.  I yell to the guy behind me, "Is my tire flat?"  He yells back, "Um, yeah, it is!" to which I shout back, "Pulling over to the left!"

Pulling over with a mechanical is something I have done VERY few times in races.  In fact, I don't believe I've had a mechanical in the past three years in any race.  Needless to say, I was unhappy.  To work hard to get to the front, and stay at the front, and then watch everyone else come past, is very disheartening.  I was determined to change my tire quickly (here come the beginners) and get ready to (and now the last of the beginners) get going.  Of course, I'm praying the whole time, "All right God, what are you trying to teach me?  You have my attention.  I still want to glorify you."

I actually did a fairly fast tube change, and, since we had gone less than five miles, I had plenty of miles to chase the rest of the folks.  Let's go.  I get to the climb.  And the trailing group.

I have been much more actively training in the past 2-3 years, and I have become faster.  I remember what it is like to not be fast.  I knew these folks, if they finished, would be out here for a very, very long time.  So, I waited patiently.  Probably better than killing myself on the climb.  I finally passed them before the summit and began the descent.  As I descended, carefully, I realized benefit number one of getting the flat: I wasn't that motivated to cook through corners, so I was safe from overcooking the corners.

I safely got to the bottom, and began the LOOOONG flat section of the race.  Put it in a big gear, and go!  As I rode, the back of my bike began to feel...squishy.  I was still 3-4 miles from the first aid station.  I had no spare left.  This.  Was.  Bad.  I kept riding.  It went from squish to feeling the rim on the ground.  I stood up, and got way over my front wheel, hoping to do no damage, and keep moving.  I was caught by a couple of guys.  One had a bandage on his leg, so he was obviously recovering from something, which explained his being way back in the field with me.  They asked me if I needed any help.  Note: they were the third and fourth person to come past me.  The first two asked what was wrong, I said a flat, they said that's a bummer, and off they went.  hey, it's a race.

These two stopped when I said, yes, I needed help.  All I needed was a CO2.  They quickly pulled out a CO2, and I aired up the rear, and figured it would hold well enough.  I knew they had neutral support and a mechanic, so I'd get a new tube there.  After he let me air up he said, "Here take this.  I found it on the trail." It was a combo pump/CO2 inflator with a CO2 strapped to it.  Seemed wise, so I took it.

Off we rode, and I hammered along to get tot he first aid station.  I get there, and someone has a bike on the stand already.  I asked for a tube, and figured I'd get started myself.  He said, "I'm all out."  I was shocked.  Apparently, he brought only 10 26' tubes for us Luddites who weren't on 29ers.  He had already used them up.  Plentiful goat heads, I suppose.  Mental note: stay on trail for the first 8 miles, no matter what.  I ran my hand on the inside of the tire, and found the offending metal wire.  So it wasn't just the goat heads! 

So , there I stood, trying to figure out how to salvage my race.  I may be calling my race over.  What could I do?  Suddenly, "hey, do you have any Stan's?"  "Yep!"  After talking with RS who decided to be ready in case of a flat to convert back to tubeless, I put my valve in my jersey pocket.  Great!  Tire is good, we have a valve, we have Stan's!  The mechanic helped me put on the tire, and put in the Stan's.  He didn't have a compressor, so I tried to get the bead to set using a floor pump.  No luck.  Grab a volunteer.  Still didn't work.  But wait!  Random (yeah, right, random, like I believe that) guy gave me a CO2 inflator, and a CO2 cartridge.  Attach, inflate, bead seats!  Hooray!  My hopes had quickly shifted from "How will I place?" to "I still can finish!" 

That's when God started making it clear to me.  He may not fulfill all my wants (high placings, etc.) but he will fulfill my needs.  I had the conversation with RS and brought my valve.  I had my flat repaired before the race started.  I had a tube to get me farther along.  Someone I did not know gave me exactly what I would need to be able to finish the race.  That realization was worth the price of admission.

As for the rest of the race, that will have to wait for the next post.

50 Mile MTB Marathon, Part I: Pretending I'm Ready

Well, it's been a while since I've posted, and considering the mountains of feedback I've been receiving, I feel compelled to write another post.  By "mountains of feedback," I am mean that my dog looks at me with a questioning look.  Of course, Chase is likely wanting food, as he is a Labrador.  But if I ask him, "Hey, Chase, should I post again?  Should I?  Huh?" he starts wagging his tail and gets very excited.  Plus, much has happened to write about.  It seems it's always a game of catch up.  That said, I need to get someone to read the blog, as a sort of accountability thing.

On September 8, I raced in the Racers and Chasers Mountain Bike Marathon.  It's a wonderful excuse to go ride really hard for 50 miles.  The day before, I previewed the start (and end) of the course.  I wanted to make sure that I would be comfortable riding the Grandpa Bike down the only real descent from Raptor Peak.  I had been on it many, many years ago, and it was more than sketchy: exposure AND off-camber rocks.

I went and rode the course, and it was great.  I felt great.  I went fast, but it didn't feel hard at all.  Ooh, boy, was I ready.

Evidence I thought I was ready:

Sweet.  I also had an opportunity to try out something I borrowed from a friend of mine.  You see, that morning I was trying to decide if I wanted a Camelbak, or if I wanted to go bottles only.  I was chatting up my friend (I'll call him CycloCrusher, because he is really fast cyclocross racer) to ask his well-reasoned opinion, and he said, "Actually, I have this nifty thing that hangs from your seat and holds water.  I lent it to [a mutual friend].  I can ask him if he has it."  Fifteen minutes later he walks up, carrying a bag, and says, "It's a sign from the Lord."  Apparently, mutual friend walked up to CycloCrusher's desk, bag in hand, and handed it to him, without any input from CycloCrusher. 

I needed to go over the bike that night, get it nice and shiny, and get ready for the race.  While I was checking out the bike, I noticed a couple things.  These things were, in fact, goat heads.  Not actual heads of goats.  I suspect I would have noticed that during the ride.  No, these are dreaded pokey guys that sit on trails and wait for tires to leap at.

If God made spike strips

I found two of them in there.  Ack.  At this point, I need to tell you a bit about the Grandpa Bike.  It is called this because it belongs to my dad.  He'll be 76 in October.  The fact that I'm borrowing my dad's bike is awesome on so many levels.  It's an S-Works Weight Weenie Mobile.  Very light, full suspension, with tubeless wheels.  Now, I haven't been a tubeless guy, because of all the problems I've seen others have with the beasts.  Well, I pulled them out, heard some hissing, and did the pump and spin.  I checked them an hour later, and they seemed to be holding up just fine.  I was ready to go.

I went to bed, and managed to wake up without an alarm at 4:30 a.m.  I managed to get up, and spend some time in the Word and in prayer.  I wanted to glorify God and have a good time, and bless those around me.  I also wanted to go really, really fast, but wasn't too worried about it.

I drove out to the race course, had plenty of time to get checked in  and get my number.  I chatted with some folks, including a guy I had raced against before.  He was bemoaning the fact that he just got back from a trip the night before.  He also had a flat tire, and put a tube in, but figured he'd bring his valve, so he could convert back to tubeless if he had a flat on the course.  Throw in the valve, some Stan's, and air it up.

I then went off to get the bike together.  Looking at the front wheel, I found...another goat head.  I pulled it out.  Hissssssss......  No worries, just pump it up, and spin the tire.  Didn't hold.  I have 10 minutes until the scheduled start.  There was neutral support, so I went trotting over there and had him put in a tire. Anxiety was setting in.  (I know, be not anxious...) He put in a tube, and made sure I had a spare, and an extra CO2, and I went off to line up.  The start wasn't exactly on time, so I had another five minutes to stand around, chat some more, and get ready to race.

Looking back, I thought I had it all together.  I thought I was a man completely ready to race.  Smoooooth.  Maybe a couple more Os in that word even.  Prepared.  Then, one little thing happened, and I was thrown for a loop.  Had the fact the God is sovereign, and the fact that He loves me, and the fact that all things work for the good of those who love Him, according to His glory, and the fact that it really is just a bike race, actually sunk in, I would never have been anxious.  I hope and pray that the next time a little something goes wrong, I can remember all of that.

As for the race itself, that will need to wait until the next post...

It isn't about the bike

A couple mornings ago, I became aware that all the good stuff is by His strength, for His glory. I was thinking about Aaron Gwin, and the rider he is.  Trek certainly wants us to give the bike lots of credit.  How ever, just as it is with Ronaldho's shoes, or Jimmy Page's guitar, or Stephen Spielberg's camera, you can't give the credit to it.  You can attribute it to how well it was made, but, more so, to the power of the one using it.

Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.

I cannot strut about, any more than Jimmy Page's guitar can say, "Oh yeah!  It's all me! I did it all by myself!"

I want to walk in humility, and give God all the glory. 

Getting meta, lighter loads

I looked at the date of my last post: June 8th.  "Oooh, I'm a BAD blogger!  How can I let down my imaginary legions of fans and followers!  Whatever shall I do?"  Then, approximately 1.7 seconds later, I thought, "Why am I condemning myself?  The past is gone.  Move on."  After that I realized that my quiet time has historically been much the same.  I would do well for a while (longer than I did well on the blog, for all of you keeping score), then totally lapse.  I am now doing better with my quiet time, but only because I have someone holding me accountable. 

I guess that means I need to recruit some followers.  Get some accountability.  Hmmm.....

On to mountain biking!

Right now, I am borrowing my dad's bike.  That's right.  He's 75.  He's got an awesome mountain bike.  He uses it.  And I don't mean for picking up something at the store.  No, he uses it for mountain biking.  So, that's pretty awesome.  Well, the bike is pretty great, too.  It's full suspension, and weighs under 23 lb., with pedals.  And he let me borrow it.  As a kid, we all want keys to the car.  Now, I want to ride my dad's bike.

Off I went riding this bike.  I climbed a local fire road, and went way faster than I had on my normal steed, which is a 32 lb 5.5" travel All-Mountain beast.  Note: I am not an all-mountain beast, but riding that bike is cushy and leaves me as fresh as the morning dew.  Not fresh morning doo.  That would be gross.

Anyway, the lighter load made it so much easier to climb.  Even hike-a-bike became pick-up-the-bike-and-trot.

If you are familiar with the story of Pilgrim's Progress, you know the primary quest-y thing is a man named Christian has a tremendous burden that he is trying to get rid of.  Just as riding becomes easier as I shed pounds from the total load (I have a few spares I carry when I walk), my spiritual life gets easier as I shed things.  A couple nights ago, I went through my Device and deleted a bunch of unnecessary albeit mildly entertaining apps.  I'm trying to reduce time loads, weight loads, distraction loads, so I can enjoy all those things that matter in the long run.  The sad but funny thing is, I've caught myself being irritated when I get interrupted by something important when I'm doing something meaningless.  I'm sure I'm the only person who has that problem.

A Blown Engine

I rode into work this morning, with a purpose.  I don't mean getting to work, which was something I planned on doing.  I mean, I was trying to break 40 minutes.  I've done this before.  However, since it happened, I (a) broke my pelvis, and after recovering, I (b) gave a double-unit of blood.  I am now getting back up to speed, and, even with a pretty hard week of riding under my metaphoric belt (who wears a belt when they ride?), I figured I had a shot. 

I left the house.  Big ring immediately.  Got up to speed, and started going.  Back off a bit, then worked it going up the hill.  As I arrived at the summit of the climb, I eased off, because I knew that I needed to save some for later.  I can't go all out the whole time; if I try, I'll blow the engine.

Which brings me to my lesson.  I need to have times of rest.  That rest is optimum if it is a capital "R" Rest.  That is, I need to take time away from the world, and glowing rectangles, and the noise, and sit quietly in His presence.  Otherwise, I'll blow my engine.

The source of my joy

I rode to and from work yesterday on the trails.  I felt great, and rode well, and had a wonderful time.  And that's okay.  However, there is a danger.  It's an easy slope to slip down that starts with enjoying the ride.  Then, it moves toward the ride brings me joy.  This is followed by the ride is the reason for my joy.  That's a bad place to be.

I need to be careful.  I really do enjoy riding, but the ride can't be the reason.  It all has to point back to God, because God makes very clear that he will not share His glory with another.  In addition, if I am depending upon the bike, it will let me down.  I would then have the problem of being without joy because of a bad ride. 

It was the first ride with the new tires.  The new tires are really quite grippy.  I'm sure there's a lesson from that, too, but all I have so far is "Whoo hoo!" 

Holding things together

Sometimes, I don't even need to get on the bicycle to get a good lesson from it.

Last night, I checked the tread on my tires.  Wow.  I still have knobs, but they aren't knobby anymore.  More like bumpy.  Chunks of the knobs are no longer there.  I don't think they grip anymore; rather, they mildly resist sliding.

Obvious decision: Change the tires.  I wasn't sure if I was going to ride to work this morning, but I thought it made sense, and would take 15 minutes, maybe.  I flipped the bike upside down, and took off both wheels.  I got the tires off, removed the old tires, and put on new ones.  Very pretty and clean and with well-defined bumps.  I pumped up the tires, and prepared to put the wheels back on the bike.  Putting on the rear wheel, I was having a challenge getting it into the dropouts.  That wasn't unusual: What was unusual was: the derailleur and derailleur hanger were no longer attached to the bike. Ack!  Okay, throw it in reverse, and see what happened.

I was missing one screw, and the other had come unthreaded, but was still on the hanger.  I don't know if this had happened as a result of my crash in November (that story gets its own post).  But one thing seemed apparent: the back of my bike was held together by a stack of parts.  The quick release held the derailleur hanger (mostly) in place.  When I removed the wheel, everything came apart.

I received two lessons from this one.  First of all, I want to examine what is holding me and my life together.  Am I leaning on a stack of worldly things that, if a single item is removed, everything else falls apart?  Or, am I really and truly relying on the immovable Rock?

The other, more obvious one, was that I contemplated riding at all.  If I rode, there would be no way that I could go to my son's Bible Olympics today across town.  I knew my wife wouldn't be able to be there for the whole thing, so he may have won, or not, but wouldn't have a parent to share the moment with.  He had practiced a bunch.  And here I was, ready to ride my bike to take care of my own wishes instead.  I have plenty of opportunities to ride.  To make this extra clear, when I had the bike kind of assembled, still missing a screw, one of the tubes had gone flat overnight.  I got the point, finally.

I went to the Bible Olympics.  Only two kids got all the verses correct.  My son was one of them, and I got to hug him.  I am thankful for my bike's mechanical failures.

I hope I can save my bike more damage and remember this lesson.