Greenbrier Race Weekend

The forecast for Saturday night was rain and thunderstorms. So why not take the whole family camping? Needless to say, I was worried. Family of 4 tent camping in stormy weather can be stressful. Be prepared.

We arrived to beautiful Spring weather at Greenbrier State Park and set up camp as quickly as possible. There was a nice flowing stream 50 feet from our site and the girls kept themselves busy by frolicking around in it. All was well as dusk settled in. We had a nice fire going and ate hot dogs and burritos. Not a cloud in site. Life is good. Then, the sh*t hit the fan. Thunder rumbled in the western sky and it started pouring down rain. Dive into the tent and hope for the best.

As sheets of rain pummeled our tent, we periodically checked for leakage from inside. Surprisingly, our previously unproven tent held up well to the downpour, with only one corner giving way to water. In this kind of storm, I expected water to get in. I was focused on damage control more so than prevention, but the only thing I had to do was cover the windward side of the tent with a tarp to prevent the rain beating on the wall. Within half an hour, water was flowing under the tent. Another tarp on the ground prevented it from penetrating the floor, which now had the feel of a water bed. Still nice and dry. The storms rolled overheard for the next 3 hours before tapering off and the girls were sound asleep. I'd ventured out during the storm to check things out (refill the mug) and that little stream had turned into a 6 foot wide whitewater creek. I turned in around midnight.

It was chilly Sunday morning when we woke up. Making a fire was impossible, no dry kindling. We had burritos on the stove and a pot of coffee. Kae and I rode down the race course to the lake and I noticed my right crank arm was loose. I was not able to tighten it any further and soon realized the problem. I had removed the cranks the night before to grease the bottom bracket, and forgot the crank bolt washer when re-assembling. Without the washer(RF Deus), the crank bolt was bottoming out before the cranks were tight. I needed a washer and set out to find one somewhere amongst the hundreds of racers that were arriving at the park. No luck. Just blank stares and "Dude, you're f-ed"! In the end, my wife Cyndi came up with a solution. She suggested making a washer out of aluminum foil rolled up like a worm and wrapped around the bolt. It worked!

I hate being early to the start line, mostly because standing there for 15 minutes doesn't do me any good. I'd prefer to keep riding around getting warmed up until the last minutes. So I assume my position at the back of the pack and end up waiting anyway. Probably 30 racers in my class, so I need to move up quick at the gun. GO! All out sprint for the front and by the time we reach the woods, I'm 10th or so. Within 10 minutes, I realize that I am red-lined. There's no way I can maintain this pace, but to slow now would mean giving up some places. I want to maintain this position and gradually start picking off people to move up. (I have no notions of winning this race. I am merely out here to ride hard and stick with a strategy. Remember, we tapped a Heineken mini-keg last night).

Through the first 2 laps, I pretty much maintain. I pass some, and get passed. There is a group of riders about 20-30 seconds in front of me and my goal is to reel them in on the last lap and hopefully kick it up the last climb. If I can get clear on that climb, I believe I can stay clear on the fast downhill finish through the campground and around the lake. That doesn't happen. I'm caught by a guy I've been playing yo- yo with all day. He comes by and I say, "Let's get those guys" and off he went. I can barely stay with him and we are gaining ground on the 4 riders ahead. This one is worth 4 spots if we can pass them all. At a huge mud hole, he loses it and goes off course, just enough for me to get by and I'm on the wheel of the group we are chasing. Now I'm pumped, adrenaline taking over, I pass the green and yellow jersey I've been chasing for an hour and hit the gas at the bottom of the climb. The others are gone. He responds along with my chase partner and before long they are breathing down my neck. I can't hold it together and can only watch as green and yellow grinds past and proceeds to drop me. I watch him go and concentrate on maintaining to the finish. There is still another guy right on my wheel and it will take everything to keep him behind me. I need to get to the downhill in front and open it up. Problem is, I've run into traffic. I try a pass just before the tight left into the downhill only to be shut down. Some bystanders are shouting, "You got him, pass him!" I'm right on the poor guy as his front wheel washes out and I take the high line around, up onto a rock slab, drop down onto wet, off camber roots and I hear the hecklers cheering on, "You got him go!" My heart is about to jump out of my chest....all this for mid pack in the old mans Sport class.

I'll say it again, this is why I still race. There is still work to be done, negotiate this muddy ditch down to the lake and hammer with everything I've got for 3 minutes to the finish. I get passed on the flat section one more time by the yo yo guy and finish up beat and dirty, my 3 women waiting at the finish. What a blast!