Letters from dirtland

Tweaking

2009-04-14T20:24:00.003+10:00

The MTB team blog is moving to the main site blog. See you there.

The bird is the word.

2009-04-06T20:32:00.012+10:00

The Mont is largest 24 hour race in Australia, and I'm led to believe the world. It has a sense of a holy pilgrimage for southern Australian mountain bikers (like the Baum team). Load up a car to the brim with bikes, and riders, then drive the 700km to Canberra along the mind numbing highway. Once there you'll find a tent city filled with old friends and familiar faces. Though the venue changes from year to year you can be sure there will be forest that's filled with kilometres of well thought out single track.

This years race attracted 2,600 competitors, while teams were restricted to 4 or 6 riders the choice of geared, single speed, single gender, mixed genders and over 40 categories left plenty of room for everyone.

The 18km Sparrow Hill trail flowed through pine forest, it was fast, and flowing with a few roots and rocks thrown in to accentuate how sweet and buttery smooth the rest of the trail rode. The highlight was the last 2km, a slightly gravity assisted, well made, giggle fest. Every lap you come out of it with both your big ring and smile wound out to the limit before you ducked into the timing chute.

Darren took a much needed break from the welding torch and flew up to support (read: heckle), while Jim, David, Steve and I got the task of clocking up laps in the 4 man category (Baum to be Wild).

The first day is a blur of excitement, by the time night rolls in the field has spread out and you lose track of who your direct competitor is. It becomes you verses the track, the competition has to be maintained in your head. Ride, then eat, then sleep. It's a rhythm that comes naturally after a few races, but regardless of how often you've done it being roused from sleep, the body craving "just a few minutes more", it is tough to grab a helmet cold with sweat and jump back on the bike. Knowing that the 3 other riders had done the same, and were counting on you to do your part forced tired bodies to transition, a few brief words then it was up the fire road to the first single track. The dark ribbon of hard packed earth flowed endlessly beyond the range of your light. Dampened slightly by the night there seemed to be no limit to grip, only of the brains willingness to push hard into the unseen. Soon sleep was forgotten, cold banished from the limbs and the moment entered... just you, your bike and the trail.

In the last few hours, knowing you only have 1 lap to go a sense of purpose overcomes you. Bodies that are tired and aching can be pushed, knowing that this is the last time up this climb, the last time through this rock garden and the last time through this section. Nothing needs to be held back, you dig deep hoping to beat your rivals, your team mates, your last lap.

Heading out at 11:14 it was going to take my fastest lap of the race to get Steve out again for his 7th, mentally he'd finished, which only made the prospect of getting him on the bike sweeter. Legs fuelled by caffeine were smashed again and again, tyres and trails were pushed to the limit of traction. Just one more gear, just one more effort, faster, get him out there, he doesn't want to, it'll be awesome! Flying around the final corner, tyres scrabbling over the dirt I could just make out the announcer..... "2, 1, 0 and that's it!". Steve had been saved from another lap.... next time Gadget, next time!

We'd achieved a good 9th in the 140 strong field, now it's time to sleep and recover.

Sneak preview

2009-03-30T21:56:00.004+11:00

It's always good to see a course before you race it, it's even better when the trails flow like the ones at Woodend.

Sunday morning with too few hours sleep and a belly full of dodgy servo food I met a group of riders at the Wombat trail car park. As the seconds ticked by the group grew and grew, eventually we had ~20 blokes astride their bikes rolling down the fire road.

In the three and a half hours we rode my tyres never once touched single track I'd seen before. Some of it was ridiculously fresh cut, some of it was like old hidden treasure, but it was all a blast.

It was great to see everyone put some elbow grease (sweat) into fixing up a bridge broken by moto riders on their heavy bikes. The result was an awesome, hard-wearing surface.

Here now at the end of this post I must now take a moment to say that I completely chickened out of the gap jump. I Neil Robinson, chickened out of the easy gap jump that only required a moderate speed.... because I was a little scaredy cat. There, I've said it, I hope you're all happy!

It never rains it pours

2009-03-16T11:28:00.003+11:00

Steve and I managed to sneak a few hours on the Yarra trails on Sunday morning. Much needed rain had added puddles to the normally dry trails and meant concentration was needed over the slippery roots.

The smell of fresh wet earth being brought up by side knobs filled the nose. Conversations came and went, dictated by the trail and the seemingly tiny store of oxygen in my lungs.

By the end of the trails the sun had peeked out of the clouds and warmed our bodies. Concerned that solar power wouldn't be enough we ended the ride with a hot coffee.... just to make sure we'd make it through the day.

The Mont 2009

2009-03-10T13:00:00.002+11:00

We have put together a team for the Mont this year (April 4,5 at Sparrow Hill, ACT). We plan to arrive Friday afternoon and race Saturday midday to Sunday midday. We will have plenty of Baum MTBs around, so come and visit us if you are in the area.

The Mont web site is:

http://www.mont24.com.au/

Hope to see you there!

To forest good fellow, and don't spare the horses!

2009-02-22T18:56:00.017+11:00

I don't think you fine folk need to hear about the course, no doubt you know it's bloody hilly and takes quite some time to complete. I'll do my best to keep this about my race and the experiences I went through.

Heading into the first single track at around 45km I felt great, the hills had been brutal but I felt like I could keep up the efforts all day. I was pushing my bike through the corners and flicking it around the rocks and trees. At the start of the red carpet descent the down hill'er behind wanted to pass, I giggled and proceeded to open up a gap through the fast flowing turns. Then I felt a twinge of a cramp. Minutes later both my quads were in full lock, I got off the bike and had no idea if I could go on.

I shoved food and drink down for the next 18 km. I had a choice of push hard and fail, or swallow my pride and try to survive. I decided to eat my pride, soft peddling the trails that longed to be attacked. I had to let rider after rider through, and though it was nice to see that I was in front of so many strong riders, my willingness to complete the 100km was being eroded.

At around the 65km mark I knew I was close to transition for the first time. I decided to push on to the next loop and see how I faired. It seemed unfair to have dragged my girl friend all the way down to support me, then quit. I grabbed some fresh supplies, stole a kiss and headed out to the trails.

After time I began to feel better, I was enjoying the flow of good single track, when from behind me I heard a freight train. Legs going like pistons were closing in on my wheel fast, out onto some fire road and I could feel them drawing up next to me. It was then I heard it.... "G'day Neil how are you going?". David Rusden hot off a month of secret training was flying! I latched onto his rear tyre, making myself into his caboose, and held on for grim life.

The next 20 minutes I let David do all the thinking, he was pushing well through the single track and it gave me time to get my brain in order. Out of the trails back onto the oval, I grabbed some new gels, a fresh cold bottle and headed out. 12km to go.... my brain clicked, the race was basically done, I had 1 long hill and 1 steep hill to go and them a fast trip home. Time to smash it!

Up the long fire road I set about chasing down some rabbits. The legs were feeling strong again, caffeine was fuelling my body and I was primed to punch through to the finish. Going up the last steep climb, the sledgehammer, I had a small cramp, I jumped off and one watched as Erin Francis rode past me. I decided then that I had to chase him down, I'd already passed him and he was meant to stay passed! I floored it into the single track descent, I flew past a couple of riders, it felt like nothing could stop me.... well nothing but a steep drop off over a log and the ground/my face on the other side. I picked myself up, jumped back on the bike and sprinted for home. I never did catch Erin, but I'd broken the 6 hour mark.

While I didn't achieve all the goals I had set out, I'm proud of what I achieved. I pushed through when it got difficult and had a ball.

editors note: no monos were harmed in the making of this race.

It's time to go.

2009-02-18T11:21:00.007+11:00

Last weekend was the Fire Relief Fund 6hr, Baum had two 2-man teams in action and the fund raising efforts were awesome ($35,000 donated by the riders and organisations involved).

The course was a bit of a mix, there was 1 really tough climb and 1 mind blowing descent. The "Cressy Climb" (normally ridden uphill) was turned into a thrill ride of a descent mainly due to the new berms added at the bottom. Hooking through them at full speed, overwhelmed by adrenalin was my highlight of the day.

With Ryan absent I decided to take it easy, especially given the Otway 100km is this coming weekend. I rode laps on my SS, and though it had a sub 2:1 gear I never quite managed to clean the first climb.

Jim Hsu is now in Africa, last I heard was he and his bike were on the ground, by now he should be pounding out the Kilometres (or is it Miles over there?).

Steve Caddy is talking about his return to racing sometime soon, he seemed disappointed that there was no last minute entries available to the Otway.

Darren, David and I are "all ready" for the Otway.... Ok so it's hard to feel 100% ready for a race like this, but there is no longer scope to effect the result through training. Legs have been massaged, drive trains cleaned/changed and bodies are hydrated, all that's left is to attach race numbers and enter the world of hurt.

My hopes are to beat my previous result (67th of ~700 elite men in 2007), there are plenty of strong legs entered so it's not going to be easy.

Let it flow.

2009-02-13T11:29:00.003+11:00

I found this article useful in light of heading into some big races, but wanting to help out burns victims of the Victorian Bush Fires.

It looks like I will need to wait until after at least the Otway, but I will review the importance of the races after it. My aim is to donate a pint of the good stuff within the next month, well it looks good when I see it post crash.

From: cyclingnews.com.

Can you explain the physical effects of donating blood on a person who regularly trains & races approx 400km per week? Including what are the immediate effects, how long it may take to recover & what can be done to assist in recovery? Thank you.

Jeff Gray
Wollongong, NSW, Australia

Scott Saifer replies:

It's great that you are considering donating blood. According to the American Red Cross, each unit (1/2 litre or pint) of donated blood can save up to three lives and yet less than five percent of people ever donate and less than three percent ever donate two or more times. What else can you do where you are guaranteed to be in the top five percent just for entering? (That was really for the other guys who hadn't been thinking about donating).

In the hours after a donation your blood volume will be low with a normal hematocrit. Lowered blood volume means impaired exercise ability because lowered blood volume means less blood returning to and filling the heart, reducing stroke volume. It also means reduced blood pressure and a tendency to be light-headed when standing up which is not great for riding a bike.

Over the next couple of days your body will replace the blood volume so the low-blood pressure period passes, but the volume is made up with plasma (blood fluid) rather than the normal mix of plasma and blood cells, so your blood will be dilute at that point. That is, you're hematocrit will be low and your performance will be anaemic even though pressure will be normal.

Low hematocrit in the days after a donation will trigger your kidneys to release erythropoetin (EPO) which in turn tells your bone marrow to crank out lots of new red cells. It takes about seven days for a new red cell to develop and be released into the blood once it starts developing, so hematocrit begins to rise again about a week after you make a donation.

Research on exercise says that exercise performance will be back to normal about 2-3 weeks after a donation but if you are a competitive athlete, you need to think about this a little differently. Your ability to exercise will be normal after three weeks, but you won't have been able to train normally in the intervening three weeks, so the three weeks of low hematocrit are like an illness and will require a month or more of normal exercise to fully rebuild. Full recovery also requires that you have good iron stores beforehand.

I suggest that bike racers donate only once per year and that they do so early in their rest period so that they can train normally again after the rest period. I know that donation enthusiasts might be mad at me for saying that certain people should only donate once a year, so I'll balance that by saying that all bike racers should donate. The life you save might be your own or that of a fellow rider since we do use up our share of the blood supply on occasion.

A change of plans.

2009-02-11T09:05:00.004+11:00

Fires are burning through areas we've ridden through, roads we've sweated up and trails we've loved.

Everyone has been desperately wanting to help those effected. The outpouring of support has been intense, clothes, food, money and blood pour in for those left without. Racing in Eildon this weekend (FTF HDATO 8 hr) has been cancelled and instead a 6 hour at the You Yangs Stock Yards will take place, the proceeds will be contributed to the fire fund.

I look forward riding back roads and remote trails once again, then eating mountains of food at small town bakeries and cafes. I hope that the things we are doing are making a difference to those in need.

Flow rider

2009-02-05T09:38:00.005+11:00

Some days everything seems to go right, everything seems perfect. Then there are the days that somehow go beyond even that, and the ride leaves you breathless and feeling that you've just experienced something almost spiritual.

Last nights ride was the latter. I turned up believing I'd be flat from the long hand training. I had a flat within the 1st km of the ride. Two of the fastest riders I know (AJ and Clacka) had turned up to blow the cobwebs out of their legs and we were joined by a third (Sam Bach) out on the trails.

It took a while for me to catch the bunch after changing my flat, I rode to the front to thank the boys for taking it moderately easy and decided to stay there (up the front).

Though I'm sure AJ and Clacka were never near their limit, and I certainly came close to mine a couple of times, I always felt in control. The legs were making power on demand, but more importantly my I was flying through the trails. The old adage that bike was an extension of me doesn't seem enough to describe it. Nirvana came in the form of pushing into a turn, feeling the bike unweight for a mere instant before pushing it into the next turn. I felt light and confident on the bike. Front wheel slides made me giggle, real wheel slides made me laugh and two wheel drifts were sublime.

I hope I feel like this at the Otway.

How far to Howqua?

2009-02-01T21:41:00.008+11:00

After a week where riding was restricted by the heat, getting up into the mountains for 6 hours of dirt sounded like the perfect get away and great training.

BJ, Alex, Ashley, Chris and I rolled out of Mirimbah and up 8kms of the Mt Buller road. Sadly soon after we dropped off onto some fast fire road Ashley had to leave us. A stick had ended the life of his rear derailleur and his day was done.

The climbs that followed made good use of my 22x30 and 22x34, it became a competition to see who could get the furthest up a section without clipping out, from there it was a hike before remounting and doing it all over again. By the time we crested the top the day had begun to heat up and we were all drinking fast to try and stay hydrated.

The descent down towards Howqua is a combination of pure exhilaration and fear. The trails were steep, rocky, crossed by logs.... this was not XC race bike country. A couple of sections tested everyone's brakes to the point of fade and disk warp, the acrid smell of burnt pads hung thick in the 40 degree air.

Once down to the Howqua river we linked onto a small walking track that follows the river course. The narrow track was crossed by roots and strewn with loose rocks, to the right (as we rode) it drops away sharply 10-20m down to the river. Chris managed to go over the edge and somehow live to tell the tale. He stopped only 1-2m below the trail and was in good spirits until he looked down and saw what might have been!

The trail gave us moments of beautiful flow, but also tested us physically. The continued pinches took a lot out of the body, and by the time we got through to stock yard flats we were all hot, tired, beaten and ready to head home.

Sadly the route home involved another hour of climbing, this was counter balanced by the ridiculously fast fire road descent. As a group we hit speeds of over 70kmph on loose rocks and dirt.... and it was awesome.

At the end of the day we had been on the bikes for over 8 hours, covered more than 80km and climbed close to 3km straight up. We should sleep well tonight.

The show must go on

2009-01-30T08:44:00.003+11:00

For those of you not in Melbourne, it's been hot here the past week, damn hot! Day after day of 40+ degrees (110F). Steve joined me at a weights session with Jeff Williams (winner of the GMBC raffle).

My car had this to explain why I was sweating before even lifting a weight.

After a few sets something had broken in Steve's head. Here he is looking delusionally happy.

Sweat angels.... ace!

Eats, roots and leaves.

2009-01-24T16:37:00.002+11:00

Woodend is one of those little towns with awesome trails, and a bakery filled with food. Jimmy wanted to get to it last weekend, but didn't quite make it, I always like to ride there... so when we wanted some time on dirt it was top of the list.

With bikes on the car, we headed out early.

Sadly due to fun times, few trail shots were taken.
these trails are walking distance from the car

After 2 laps of the track, one clockwise, one anticlockwise the ride was called off. My trusty race wheels had developed a case of "one of these things is not like the other ones".

Bikes packed, we headed back to Melbourne. There would be no country town baking for us, but big town coffee is almost as good.

It's all down hill.

2009-01-21T09:32:00.002+11:00

As Tour de Afrique, Hard Day at the Office (FTF), the Otway Odyssey, Mont 24hr (Corc) and Australian Marathon Champs (Big Hill) approach quickly it is beginning to feel like there isn't enough time.

Hard rides, long rides, road rides, dirt rides, flat rides and hill rides have been done, but there are always fears that more could have been done.

Without being able to see the end, we can only hope that the line we've chosen will carry us smoothly through the unknown.

Shhh secret training.

2008-12-30T10:39:00.002+11:00

With big races appearing on the horizon for Jim and I, now is the time to crack slip in some good secret training. I can't tell you more or else we'd have to kill you.

What I can say is there has been some of this:

A bit of this:

Views like this:

If you eat like this:

You could grow up to be like this:

Enjoy your silly season, and we'll catch you next year.

A day in the sun.

2008-12-15T09:36:00.005+11:00

I'm told that it's not a real National round unless it rains, and despite my midweek claims, or perhaps to spite them, the You Yangs got muddy, someone selling gumboots at the race village would have made a fortune.

The track got muddier as it we drew closer to the Expert race start, with seconds before the start almost every rider on the start line was shivering uncontrollably in the wind and rain. All this was forgotten after the gun went off, well maybe not forgotten but less important than finding a good line through the mud and moving up places.

The rain made the numerous rock gardens of the course challenging to say the least, all riders were forced to slow down, everyone was off the bike at least once, many hit the deck.

Finding the motivation to keep the pedals moving, to push through the trails and generally just make it to the line was mentally demanding of riders, this was a race of attrition.

I had a bad start, forced wide to get around riders, I had to unclip, right in the middle of a mud hole. Riding from the back of the field I grabbed a few places quickly, but soon found myself riding in isolation. Stuck in no man's land, with no idea of how the race up ahead was panning out my body started to talk to me. It told me it was cold. It told me it was wet. It told me it hurt. It told me that I wasn't going very fast. About half way through the race I had a minor asthma episode, it was the perfect reason to stop. I think the only thing that kept me going was pride. I'd like to think I've become tough enough to push through even when things get tough, so I kept going, even when the Elite field started to go through.

I thought that was as hard as it could get, I headed home, washed the bike and ordered pizza.

Sunday morning when the alarm went, I could hear the rain on the roof and motivation to get out of the warm dry bed and go race for only 20 minutes (Open Short Course XC) was not very high.

I made it to the start line with literally only enough time to swallow a gel. Next time I'll try and remember to bring a jersey and thus avoid turning around on the freeway.

The track only offered one place to pass easily, it was a short piece of fire road, after a slippery corner. For the first few laps I made up a place every time up the pinchy fire road. The pace was being driven by a sole rider from Bendigo, I hoped that it was going to hurt him later. Trying to sit on a wheel to get a draft was difficult, the mud flying of back tyres homed in with unerring accuracy on my eyes.

With around 5 laps to go I dropped back slightly before the slippery corner, and then attacked. I hoped to carry more speed through the corner and make up one, maybe two places on the hill to get myself as far forward as 2nd. Instead what happened was I carried too much speed on the corner, ran wide of the clean(er) line and lost a place to a perky young rider in red. The race was 15 metres up the trail and I didn't know if I could do it. 5th seemed like failure, but my legs didn't care, being passed had sapped my legs and burdened my heart. I looked up and noticed the kid in red was stuck behind another rider that looked in trouble. Knowing I was hurting that tiny bit less than another rider helped put things back in perspective.

I rode on, chasing down the gap to their wheels, by the time we got back to the fire road pinch we were in touch with the first two riders and I was making a move up into 4th (again). The next few laps hurt, but seeing 3, 2 and then 1 to go spurred me on to push hard, 1 move would be all it took to secure a podium. I waited behind the rider in red, I got no chance up the fire road but I was hard on his wheel. I decided the only place left for me to attack was a sloppy corner at the top of the course.

I was 1/2 way around him on the outside of the corner, I could taste the podium glory. I had forgotten racing isn't polite, in my mind I saw him holding a nice tight line, giving me room to take his place on the dias. Instead he put in a beautiful block forcing me off the nice fast path I was on, forcing me to grab brakes and watch him punch out a sizeable gap as I searched through my gears. I sat up and rolled the rest of the course, 4th.

First Date

2008-12-12T09:28:00.008+11:00

Reading this article by Heidi Swift yesterday, I was finally given the concept that I'd lived through many times before and struggled to verbalise. First date nerves.

With my race at a national XC round tomorrow I'm starting to feel the first date nerves. I don't want to look silly, I don't want to look out of place, I just want everything to go well. My bike has been cleaned, and I'm sure I'll lay out my kit dozens of times tonight. Fears of turning up and have someone else wearing the same thing will wrack my soul.

Are no cuff socks too slutty? Do the 4" cuffs make my legs look fat? Which of my gloves match my kit best.... OH MY GOD!! I haven't shaved my legs!!

I know others get this before new/big races, but I wonder, do any of you also get it before a training ride with a new person or group?

National Pride

2008-12-08T11:11:00.005+11:00

This coming weekend (13th-14th) GMBC and Baum hosts a round of the Australian National XC Championships at the You Yangs stock yards. I've decided to race, and am a little nervous. All my racing has been focused on enduros, I haven't raced pure XC in so long and never at a national round.

Anyway, the You Yangs is one of my favourite places to ride, and my form is starting to pick up so my entry for both XCO and XCC are in. Jim and I went down over the weekend to scope out the course and they've made it EVIL, I honestly believe only a few of the elite elite guys will be able to ride the whole course. Oh well, what fun is racing without a good challenge?

Big Berms abound, this is ridden downhill, there are some on the climbs as well.

The course features a heap of rock sections, this is a downhill bit, but there are plenty of uphill bits like this.

One of the wooden berms near the end of the course, there are some huge ones on one of the downhills.

One of the raised sections, there are a couple on the course.

Jimmy laid it down during our recon mission.

More pics and thoughts next week after the racing.

Can't see the Forest for the trees.

2008-12-01T09:53:00.009+11:00

Jim had been planning his 2nd 3 man 24 hour race for some time, in fact it had been spot on a year ago that he'd come 2nd at the Kona 24 in a 3man. I on the other hand became an independent sub contractor for the My Mountain 6 man team, something (a 6 man) that I hadn't done for years.

The Kona 24 is a bit special in that it has 3 separate tracks used through out the course of the race (no pun intended). While this can have an occasional hiccup during change over between loops, it provides entrants with an opportunity to ride on much more trail than they'd normally see in a race. All 3 loops were accessed up a short steep switch back climb that got pretty dusty by the end of the race, but the rest of the course(s) consisted mostly of flowing single track and minor fire road uphills (climbs is too strong a word).

The forecast was iffy, but thankfully only a drizzle visited the race and it departed soon after smelling 600 unwashed mountain bikers riding around in circles.

Like all 24 hour races, the real crux of the experience is laps starting anywhere from around 1am to 5am. It's dark, it's cold and normal sane people are in bed already. Most riders with an early bunch ride the next day would have retired to the warmth of bed hours earlier.

In his three man team Jim struggled through his trials, I think the lowest point in the race was when trying to open a gel packet with his teeth, he tore the entire packet open instead of just the top. The low lasted only a short time, the sugar gained from licking his gloves soon had him back in moderate spirits.

Come morning Jim used the same cup he had used for noodle soups, to make a coffee. As the sun slowly rose in the east he decided that coffee with little green floaty bits wasn't enough, and added a packet of instant hot chocolate to his coffee. I'm still unsure how good it went down, but from experience I know everything tastes fantastic on the morning of a 24.

I was the last rider of my 6 man team, so when the race started I just wandered around chatting to riders and soaking in the atmosphere. What I should have been doing was stretching and warming up. My first lap hurt me, my legs were tight, I wasn't feeling the flow of the trail and consequently it was my slowest lap. Being the last rider I was scheduled for a 3:00am lap, I got up from my quick nap and headed to transition. Standing in the 1º morning air, I had no idea that my team mate had been delayed in starting, so I waited... and waited... and waited. The lap itself was good, my legs were starting to feel good and though the light from my HID (helmet mounted) was often blocked by waist height shrubs or head height trees I felt I was hitting the trails with good speed. And that was the worst of my race. The next lap was dawn, I managed to catch up to Erin Baxter (racing in a 4 man) and then worked together to push out a good fast lap.

The highlight of the race for me was my final lap, I wanted to ensure that another rider got out, and I'd heard that "Mariners Run", a trail with big fast berms, was included in the loop. I donned a long sleeve skin suit consumed and a bucket load of caffeine and gave everything. Just before the feature climb at the start of the lap I was passed by Paul Van Der Ploeg, and spent the rest of the lap making motor bike noises as I tried to catch him. Anyone who's seen Paul ride would already know that I never caught him, but I was proud to say that after catching me he only gained 45 seconds. Being in a 6 man meant I was fresh for Mariners Run and no other section of trail elicited more BRAAAPs than those great big flowing berms.

So, the next 24 is up in Canberra early next year. I think Jim is looking to take it easy in a 4 man, while I'm looking for more of a challenge... maybe something like a 4 man.

The state of play

2008-11-19T11:25:00.002+11:00

It has come to my attention that riders in enduro races have begun shirking IMBA rules when it comes to tagging a team mate.

Section V (iii) of IMBA regulations state that all tags must consist of a vigorous butt slap. Section V (iv) does allow for teams to tag with a kiss, but even this has been snubbed in favour of hand slapping.

This weekend at the Kona 24 hour I hope to see a correction of this unsportsmanlike behaviour.

It wasn't me, honestly officer!

2008-11-17T10:44:00.007+11:00

The officer 6 hour saw a pile of Baum riders (that's right the collective pronoun for Baum riders is a pile) descend for a day of tough climbs and wickedly fast descents. Ryan and David raced together while Jim and I recruited independent contractors to make for 3 teams in the 2 man category. Steve Clausen made the long trip with his brand new Cubano to race in mixed pairs.

The track was short and fast, climbs were steep and loose and the descents rode best when you felt right on the edge of control. This was one course that seemed to reward an aggressive style and short, hard, precise braking before laying into the loud pedal(s) once again.

It took us some time to find the mid race results, in fact it was within the final two hours that we discovered that Jim and Erin were holding 2nd, Ashley and myself 3rd and Ryan and David were in 7th. With only 24 minutes to go Ryan and David had climbed to 5th and Ryan headed out on his final lap, ~20 seconds later Ashley came through to send me out again, I screamed back at Ashm to stay in his cycling kit, I love hurting myself to make a team mate go out again. I was worried that Erin was due in soon and Jim would be right on my tail. I tried to block the thought of 3 Baum riders chasing each other through the twisties, and concentrated on the one in front, Ryan.

I caught Ryan just before 'heartbreak hill', and he stuck with me until the trail pointed downhill and got rough. Twice during the remaining few ks Ryan, an unstoppable climbing force, bridged back to my wheel on hills. The effort to beat each other lead to our fastest laps of the day. I crossed the line to see Ashley dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, I’d lapped in 23.09 (14 seconds of the race to spare) and while our 3rd place was secure I still demanded he changed to go out again. Sadly he was too comfortable in civies so I had to console myself with the BBQ put on by the scouts.

Mens Pairs:
2nd: Jim and Erin {Team = TripleDouble}
3rd: Neil and Ashley {Team = When Ash & Neil Kombine(WANK)}
5th: Ryan and David {Team = Baum}

Mixed Pairs:
6th: Steve and Jodie Clauson {Team = Pink Bits}

Full results.

B(a)um Bandits

2008-11-10T11:07:00.008+11:00

I apologise for the lack of pictures, my point and shoot camera is hiding... somewhere.

Jimmy, Ryan and I headed to Rosewhite for the Gravity 12hr. We'd decided this would be a great training race for all of us, especially on single speeds (hard man decision #1).

The rain was coming in sideways and heavy on Friday night, which caused concern that we'd be sitting around in soggy kit for hours on end. The decision that we'd ride in two hour blocks was made (hard man decision #2), that way each rider could change between their laps and stay comfortable. On the fast course this equated to 3-4 laps in a row then 4 hours of sitting around enjoying the increasing pain expression on the face of the team mate who was out lapping.

Well the morning dawned and it turned out to be awesome weather, a couple of small drops visited us for 3-4 minutes then continued on their merry way. The course was a flowing affair with nothing too technical to hamper speeds. We all ran 2:1 and this seemed to work ok given the up or down (few flat areas) of the course. A slightly smaller gear would have been nice for some of the pinches.

Jim went out first and had to contend with the LeMans start and the first few laps of traffic. He did a great job of putting Ryan in to clear space so that he could pound out some consistent roadie laps. I'm serious about consistent too, his first three laps were separated by 7 seconds total! I got on course around 12:30, and my first impressions of the course were mixed. I walked/ran up heartbreak hill and the red carpet hill, but felt comfortable with my pace. The next couple of laps I cleaned the whole course, but it took some deadlift style pedaling to get up heartbreak and carpet hills.

By the second round of laps we had put ourselves in a group of around six teams all vying for a top 3-5 place. Our hard training session was in danger of turning into a race. After Jim had punched out his last few laps, Ryan had once again proven that as a roadie he makes a mighty tough mountain biker, he tapped out ultra consistent laps all day on the rigid Ristretto. My last set of laps crossed the day/night barrier, and I rode the last two under lights.

When I finally crossed the like 12 hours and 15 minutes after the race had started they guys had packed up. I quickly threw my gear in the car and began the journey home without any idea of our final placing. Dreams of a warm comfortable bed and a hot shower carried me down the Hume towards Melbourne at 1:30am.

The results have been posted and showed that we managed to chase down 7th and 6th placed three man teams in the last few hours and we finished only 12 minutes down on 3rd in the category. Overall we placed a respectable 11th and I think everyone was pretty happy with these results considering the decisions we made.

Dirt rider roundup

2008-10-23T09:44:00.008+11:00

There hasn't been much racing for the past month, but that has just given everyone time to get some training. So here we go, a quick update on what everyone has been up to and what's coming up.

Jim Hsu has been training on his road bike up through the hills around Melbourne. I caught up with him at the FTF Wednesday night ride this week and he had this to say:
{Neil} So Jim, tell me how is your fitness shaping up with Tour De Africa only a few months away?
{Jim} My fitness is getting back to good shape.
{Neil} What's on the cards between now and then?
{Jim} The Gravity 12 hour should be fun on the SS, it's been a while since we did a race for fun. I'm looking forward to the road crits [this weekend] for a road race virgin it's daunting... and the XC series during the summer.
{Neil} Thanks for the update Jim, finally just before we go can you stop hurting me on our weekend rides?
I wasn't able to make out Jim's response as he had attacked.

Steve Caddy has caught a mild strain of what is being described as "the bird flu". He's put a good face on it, preferring to discuss the gains in core strength he's made while coughing for the past month.

Ryan Moody declares he hasn't been training because "I feel like the new challenge is to not train and then turn up to these events and just smack myself! It has worked in the past, and the feeling of placing ahead of others, especially when they 'have' been training is extremely satisfying!"

Rumour has it he's been doing a lot of rock climbing to help him deal with the big bumps on the rigid single speed at the Gravity 12 hour. "I will be riding the single speed ridged again and may even sport a carbon saddle just to save some grams and toughen me up some! I'm looking forward to smashing myself up big time, hanging with like minded, non trained MTB buddies while having giggles about awesome berms and whoops, cranking it between trees and rock, and attacking the competition like it's a road race!"

David Rusden has been working furiously down at Baum HQ, and rumours have it we might even see his new bike soon. Potential unveilings may occur at the Surf Coast 6 hour or Kona 24 our... I hope he remembers the times I've lent him my bike.

Neil Robinson, well I've been practising monos and stoppies while trying to get some good training blocks in. Work has been killer, but there are a few races early next year that excite me, and make me want to be faster on the bike. With those goals in mind I've been training super early or late, trying to get some long hours in to my legs. I've done some racing on the track with good results and will race with Jim and Ryan at the Gravity 12 hour, it will be a good chance to see how I'm fairing mentally and physically, I'm hoping I don't regret suggesting the single speed team. Look out for us racing as the B(a)um Bandits.

Four Rides of Remittance

2008-10-05T21:22:00.005+11:00

Four rides is the standard period between the rusted post-layoff state and the beginning of feeling dialed. No fewer seems to do it, any more and it's going to be a torturous return. Four normally kicks it off.

One
The nerves begin at four o'clock, spidery excuses crawling out of the back of my mind and all over my will to ride. It's cold. It looks pretty windy tonight. The trails will be slippery and dusty after months of so little rain. But the excuses stay on the shelf for tonight and when Jim comes by to ask if I'm riding my mouth makes "yes" sound decisive before ego's hesitation can issue a maybe.

That doubt is there in my legs too. The ride out to the trail-head is too fast. Tyre pressure is too low, or too high. There's some kind of kink in my shifting.

Nods of greeting in the group and idle chit chat pass the time in the cold air and cold HID light until two or three riders leak away and the rest give chase. Against my will I'm off after them because hanging back to ride with the 'B' group - weekend warriors and sport class racers - isn't going to take me where I want to go. I'm heading for further and faster, for better. Improvement hasn't come that easily to me in the past but the formula I'm sure of is simple in its ability to beat you into shape: ride with people who are faster than you are.

The file into the first line of singletrack is haphazard and messy. The drop-in is steep with a ninety degree turn at the bottom and not well suited to the stutters of nervous riders at the back of the bunch. I drop a little off the back with a couple of other stragglers. Ego claims I'm faster than these guys but reality is proving otherwise.

My legs are cold and burn with the acceleration needed to regain ground lost to fingers too desperate for the brakes - brakes which come on too strong, too soon and too late. These tyres don't grip, especially the front one and my hips aren't committed to the turns, my outside foot too often unweighted. My head dips to light up obstacles I didn't quite catch on their way through the beam and I trace them with with the light on their way under the front wheel. When roots and ruts jump out of the darkness the old fear reflex stiffens the body to brace for impact, but only ensures that there is one.

Whose quantity is lacking: light, lines, recovery.
Whose number is too generous: logs, ruts, false edges, black creatures in the shadows.
Whose nature is elusive: cornering, braking, gravity, traction, dust...

Fucking dust! It's almost impossible to see through. It's in my lungs. There's too much for my eyes to take in as it lunges past and upward and at me in an unfocussed rush. My mind replays songs from the day and I'm only half surprised to find myself on the ground feeling like the devil just kicked me in the side. I lose the tail of the A-group and get picked up by the Bs. My hip is midnight blue and yellow-green for a week and a half.

Two
"Yes."

I am riding tonight. My voice is firm and positive, my tone says "of course I'm riding!" Somewhere in the back of my mind a less confident "maybe" just lost its chance to escape.

Tyre pressure, the air, the ride out stay off my mental case tonight and once I'm rolling something which has been missing begins to build: anticipation. Legs turn better circles, the saddle is welcoming.

We're chatting in the car park when someone new rolls up. He's friendly and eager, but also of a starkly different body type to the gathered riders. "Boy, you guys look pretty serious", he observes. "I hope you're taking it easy tonight!" When no-one from the regular B group shows I ask him if he knows the trails. On his assurance that he does, I tell him to hold onto the back as long as he can and not to be discouraged, explain the two group system and his misfortune in making tonight his first outing.

His introductory words are almost prophetic. The route is new and novel, and led by a pair of Elites intent on tearing the legs off of the entire group. I just hold on through the first batch of rapid-fire singletrack. I'm not completely there but the bike is beginning to feel good -- double good if I'm on the wheel of someone with an eye for the line.

There's this point where your body starts to react automatically to what your eyes saw in the light a half second ago, but your brain panics and you're stricken by a wickedly sickening sensation that your physical reactions are outrunning your conscious perceptions. And I'm on point, balancing - nailing the weight shift and line maybe three corners in a row before choking up and braking or overshooting.

We storm out of the riverside trails and into suburbia. A nuclear ball of high intensity beams ripping up the streets. Blinded, cars slow to crawl and hug the curb. We pass a house full of music, drunk revellers on the front lawn whooping loudly as we whip past. At a rail crossing we swam through the waiting cars and in their windows I catch shocked and bewildered office-faces, pale as death in the HID glare behind the glass.

The pace is relentless and the group thins as moves uphill, jumping the gutter onto a narrow side walk. If just one car pulls out of a driveway here things will get mighty nasty mighty quick... Thoughts better not considered.

Very suddenly the path is gone, terminated by a cobblestone ledge that must be hopped by the group steeplechase style. A very uphill singletrack takes the place of the path and charges up between old houses smelling of woodsmoke and evening roast. The trail canopied by trees, carpeted by Autumn Herself, about twice as long as you want it to be and it explodes into the back of a dead end-street. Two left turns and there's another suburban single trail, same decorator, same destination.

The bunch doesn't let up on the pace and kicks down a side street a'ways before hanging a vicious right turn into an private driveway which in turn forks into an alleyway - more riders lost out the back. The alley feeds a rear-of-way access road maybe two thousand metres long, still dirt from the old days where the dunny man's cart would come and collect the household sewerage. The road is a flashing tunnel of old paling and corrugated iron fencing and at the end spews us out over a road and into a trail which dives back down to the river, back to the trails.

My legs are on fire, have been for what seems like an hour when a low hanging branch tears the light off of my helmet. Lights out: blindness. I stop and re-fix it to my lid. The bunch is gone, but I'm happy to have held on for so long and on my way back I find Brian, who has also been dropped after a crash took away the confidence needed to rail night time singletrack at full speed.

Three
"Riding tonight?"
Of course; I ride every Wednesday night.

Tonight my bills are paid. The bike sings and tightens and grabs a hold of the line when pushed. The tyres are eager for the dirt and though there are mistakes and misses, my body is relaxed and unfazed. Be not like the inflexible the twig, Grasshopper, but yield like the boughs in the breeze.

The lines began to reveal themselves and my eyes are beginning to see singular things to aim for instead of armies of obstacles. Though I’m far from the charging head of the trail-eating beast I'm not swinging off its tail anymore now either. I'm somewhere in the middle.

With my eyes, brain, legs arms and digits dialled again there’s time to notice things like the computer - we're holding 35km/h on narrow trails, through trees that leap out of thick darkness. There's time to notice too that I'm having big, dripping spoonfuls of fun. I am on my way back.

Four
Four is a road ride epilogue.

Four is 40 yard fog at 5am, big breakfast, a flasher on each end and pushing sleepy legs out of the city into the hills. Four is mist collecting and dripping of the front of my cap. It's rhythmic breathing and the waking birds, winding, climbing roads. Empty, winding, climbing roads. Shafts of sunlight like God's fingers through the trees. Feet and hands so far beyond numb they feel the size of pizza boxes, and just as dead.

Four is climbing til it hurts, til it stops hurting and hurts again in different places. It’s vinyards on rolling hills in the early post-dawn.

Four is passing out into sleep on the couch. It’s ‘Honey, just go to bed already’, doing so without remembering and not waking for eleven hours.

Four is Saturday. Sunday is for rest.
Monday, the training week begins.

Jumping the Shark

2008-09-29T21:22:00.004+10:00

Well my time in Canada is done and I'm safely back home in Melbourne.

There was only one race that I didn't recount here, another CX race with young Tom a couple of days before I flew out.

Here is me pre-race doing my best Fonzie impression. Needless to say the race that followed was nothing worth writing home about.