Race Report: 6.5 Hours of Big Bear

Friday afternoon Wifey, B-Man and I loaded up the Soob and rolled a couple hours south to Big Bear Lake Campground in West Virginia. Home of pimped out golf carts, beer fueled hick-ness, sweet single track and The 2008 24 Hours of Big Bear.

After we paid our $20 to be able to camp at the race venue (WTF?) we headed towards the Solo pits. Ran into long time race friend and Solo friggin' master- Bob Anderson. Bob guided us to a sweet spot that he was sharing with fellow Soloist and Plum Grove teammate Stewart Staton. Bob, Stewart and their families are top notch folks and it was a pleasure to once again be sharing a pit area with them.

The afternoon was H.O.T.. I'm talking Dante 9 Circles hot!! B-Man played with sticks in the shade whilst Wifey and I did our best "city folk in the country" impersonations putting up the EZ Up and tent. Luckily Wifey's brain size dwarfs mine and proved that brain power can sometimes still win out over basic camping skills and my inherent stupidity.

Our Big Bear home.

The sun was intense, the humidity was "womb like" and I was completely soaked in sweat by the time we were done setting up. My trusty T6 cap was completely covered in salt and dripping sweat. I had been, and was sucking down water and ounces and ounces of Nuun to maintain at least some semblance of hydration. FACTS ABOUT URINE: I was peeing often and clear.

My T6 lid. Salty and stank.

When our temporary home for the weekend was set up I didn't know what to do. My back was stiff and I was filled with the nervous energy that only a ride in the woods would take care of. So, I was off for a course pre ride. The trail looked great from our on course camp spot, but upon talking with Justin from PT and others, it seems that there were several areas of DEEP mud and running water. Great.

Here's some Big Bear mud. 2008.

So I took off on the Mamasita. I felt good and was having fun cruising the course. Once I hit the first mud bog my enthusiasm waned a bit, but not enough to keep me from enjoying the trail on my bike. The folks were right. The further you got in to the course (especially on the first half) there were more and more water holes to zap your speed. My 29" tires plowed through no problem, but there was much spinning to get it done. Still, no worries- everyone would be in the same boat. No use peeing in my beer. FACTS ABOUT URINE: I'm not sure "peeing in my beer" is a saying or not. I would never pee in my beer. I've drank beer and I have of course peed. And I've drank bad beer that tasted like pee. I use this in the same vain as the saying "no use crying over spilled milk".

There was some "new to me trail" that rocked. It added more fun rocky single track and more twists before going back into the old section in the pines. I couldn't wait to ride this section at night. Bombing through twisty trail at night is one of the top 5 reasons to race a 24 for sure.

OK, OK, enough about the freaking pre ride and what my pee is like. I'll cut to the chase- I got back, washed the Mamasita, washed me, we went got pizza, got back and had a pretty good night's sleep in the tent. Compared to the sleepless rainy nights in a tent at Snowshoe, listening to folks drinking their faces off to avoid thoughts of another rainy race, this was heaven!

Up early race day to plenty of sunshine, some iced coffee and a good 5+ hour wait until race time. That's the worst! I hate waiting around for the race to start. I can only do so much double checking, and worrying. Not to mention the temps were climbing fast, and by noon the heat was gonna be intense!

You know it's hot when you try to put your bibs on and it's like trying to get leather pants on a fat girl. I mean holy sweaty thighs!! I was also in a pickle with my head gear. I had some homemade skull caps to wear under my helmet to keep the sweat off my glasses, but they weren't doing such a great job. So I went with an old cotton cycling cap. This would prove to be no match for the showers of sweat that were about the pour forth from my cranium.

As noon approached I was all kitted up and checked in. Started out to the start line so as to get ready for the run to the bikes. As I walked I met up with the Fat one. Exchanged man hugs and caught up on shit. Always great to talk with Marc. Another one of those guys that is always a pleasure to see and talk with at the races.

At the start I stood and stretched in the shade. No use getting too close to the front. I run like a horse bound for the glue factory. A lumber that always has brings back "fat kid in gym class" memories. Soon enough the count down commenced- 4, 3, 2, 1.... WE'RE OFF! OK, most folks were off. I did my lumber. Huffing, sweating, trying not to get trampled by the young and the talented. I made it to the Dos Niner. Now it was time for the flat spin prologue. I spun easily. Wifey handed up a bottle of carbo goodness for me and I tried to get my heart rate down and my breathing under control before I hit the single track.

Even with the run and the prologue loop, it still got backed up once the huge group of riders hit the single track. A couple stops, a couple dabs and finally things opened up. The plan was to do as easy of a pace as I could possibly do through the heat of the day and then increase my pace as it got cooler in the late day and evening. Try to hydrate, stay well fed and cool for as long as I could.

What I didn't count on is the fact that the power sucking mud required so much effort to get through, even a slow pace was taking a LOT of effort. I was pumping out a ton of sweat and my legs felt like they were filled with a combination of lead and lard. Sweat was pouring over my glasses, I could not keep from blowing up and even middle ring climbs were kicking my ass. In other words I was feeling like an overheated turd stuffed into spandex riding like a beginner. The mind was getting dark. Fast.

I discovered a few things very quickly on that first lap. The hat was gonna have to go. It was too hot for anything on my noggin. Next, using my half finger gloves for the first time all year was a mistake. I was quickly getting rubbage on my thumbs. I would need to make a switch. The final thing I discovered was that I was going to need to pull out all the mental exercises early in order to get my mind to a place that would allow me to regroup and focus on 22 more hours in the saddle.

After a nearly 2 hour first lap (1:51????) I stopped, ditched the hat, got a new bladder, bottle, and glasses. I failed to switch gloves (mistake) but a short rest in the shade and some cooling off with some cool water in the face via a spray bottle was getting my core temp down. Time for another lap.

I hit the first technical section with all the vigor of Viagraless old man. I was struggling up short climbs and just longed to be done with the first half of the lap. I knew things got pretty fun once I made it to the pines and just tried to stay focused, pedal and keep moving forward.

The new to me rocky section just before the pines was fun and my Dos Niner and Fox fork were the titz! I was getting some serious travel from the fork and the 29er tires were making the rock drops look like riding off city curb. I did notice my rebound was a little quick in the Fox, but I'll worry about that some other time.

After the pines I weaved through the rocky down hill to the creek bed. I FINALLY found a good line through the creek bed and enjoyed the cool water and mud. Brake pads-shmake pads I need cooled off!! Then it was a nice gradual up hill to let the bones recover from the down hill. I kept it going, but my plan to go slow on purpose was nixed by having SLOW as my only real option. I was sucking hard. I mean HARD!

Just after the rocky hike-a-bike I looked back to see Tinker tip toeing over the rocks and then mounting up to fly up the long climb. We exchanged hellos and and off he went. I kept on walking with the one goal of getting to the shade of my pit and getting cooled off again.

Another long lap and as I crossed over the bridge the announcer made it known I was coming in. Often this can be little ego boost to get me going. Now it just made me think - "If they only knew I wanted to lay down and cry!!" HA!

Once to the pit, I ate some Chex Mix (salty goodness) drank some Coke (sugary goodness) and sat in the shade for about 10+ minutes. Wifey did her best to motivate me and finally get me out on another lap. Lap 2 with the pit stop was 2 freaking 10!!

Just as I was leaving Bob A. pulled in to get fueled up. He would pass me a few minutes later. He looked in the freaking zone, but still shouted a quick "hi" as he passed. I was feeling pretty refreshed. "Maybe I could save this?" I thought. I plowed through the first few muddy rocky sections with no dabs, hit the top of the first slight climb, spun out, nearly tipped over and all my energy and potential mojo shot out of my ass like projectile diarrhea!

I now pedaled and walked around my 3rd lap motivated by quitting and thinking of ways to salvage the night. The B-Man was staying with my sister down in Morgantown, so I figured I would put in my last lap, and then Wifey and I would just consider this a very expensive camping trip to a race venue and try to have some fun.

As I hoofed up one of the last muddy climbs, I saw Stewart coming up behind me. He looked sort of bad, asked if I needed anything and said- "THIS SUCKS!!" I figured if a fast, experienced Solo rider like him thought it sucked. It SUCKED!

Once again as I bombed down from the bridge to the check in tent I heard the announcer say my name and give me Solo props. He then mentioned my sponsors- Bikeman.com, Salsa Cycles, etc., etc., I was overwhelmed with embarrassment at my performance and felt that I had no right to even have a freaking sponsor! I was putting a performance filled to the brim with suck. I make a formal apology right now to all the folks that help. I'm sorry. I had nothing. I pray it was just a bad day.

I clocked out, and slinked back to my pit like an embarrassed beaten dog. When I walked down to the pit, I saw Stewart ditching his clothes. His bad ankle had gotten worse with all the clipping in/out and he was done. Wifey did her best to motivate me, but I knew what I had in the tank... Nothing! Just the desire to stop.

Wifey and I made the descision to stay the night, get some beverages and hang out with Stewart, his wife, and Bob A.'s family. We would eat some food, drink some beer and help Bob try to get on to the podium. Something we were confident he could do.

I then spent 30 minutes taking a shower that had all the water pressure of being peed on by a Chihuahua with freezing cold urine. Wifey and I picked up some beverages and Mr. Staton (Stewart's dad) fired up the grill to cook some of the best burgers I've ever tasted in my life! FACTS ABOUT URINE: I have never been peed on by a Chihuahua. I have been peed on by a Wiener Dog though. It was nice to at least have water to get some ass stank cleaned up. Although it took a LOT to get 3 laps worth of mud off my legs with said cold dog like golden shower.

Bob A. was out on his first night lap and his 6th lap. We all waited, keeping track of splits, and waiting for Bob. We waited a LONG time and no Bob. Now he had been lapped by the leaders. Where's Bob? Blair was getting nervous and we figured a mechanical had set him back.

Eventually after what I think was like 3 hours Bob showed up. Walking down from the camping area. He had just had some serious bonk, stomach issues, a nap in the weeds and a ride on quad up to the check in. His race was over. All 3 of us- finished! Blair did her best (as Pit Wives do) to get him back out there, but he was done. Bob is a unique person and was still in good spirits and ready to join us in trying to have some fun.

The 3 of us made the commitment to stay up through the night, eating hot dogs, drinking beer and heckling at/yelling support for the racers still going. We took the shit of the day and molded it into a good time. Talking bikes, lamenting ever doing another 24 Solo, and having fun till 4 A.M. did a LOT to ease the pain of quitting. I was glad to have some friends to share the night with.

There was a ton of suffering out there on the couse. Not just from me, Stewart and Bob, but from at LOT of other racers. I overheard the EMS crew say that this one one of the busiest events they've done so far. Lots of folks going down from the heat and the brutality of parts of the course.

Cheers to the folks that kept it going all night. Cha-Cha Steve S. put in a hell of a fight, Ernie kept pace with Tinker, and Tinker was FREAKING TINKER! He's a "freak" in the nice guy, 47 year old endurance f*cking freak sort of way. It was a pleasure to watch him race.

Jury is out on any more 24s. But since I only did 3 laps I may have the mojo to hit up the 12 Hours of Cranky Monkey now. Time to look in the mirror and see if somthing more than a 36 year old, pointy nosed bike geek is staring back.

Big thanks to Wifey for her support. She did it all, and rocked! Also thank to all the folks the yelled out encouragment to me. It was appreciated. Thanks to Ian for not only buying my Reba that he rolled on his back up Waltworks, but for dropping off some Hammer Endurlyte Powder to me on Friday. BTW, check out Ian's lap times! Holy shit dude! He and the Dirty Dawgs lit up the 5 person Co-Ed division.,, Great job!

Time to forget about this event. It will be hard though. I looked forward to this event and spent a lot of scratch to do it. But I brought my "D" game to the table. Tough love I guess. But I gotta tell you, tough love sorta sucks.

Later.