SLC, XC Nationals

This photo is a pretty good reflection of how far back my photo backlog goes. Yep, past the 4th of July, when Paula and I sat out on our Salida deck and watched the fireworks, after a nice ride and run. Oh, summer!! Long days, hot weather and big mountains with no snow. Our brains are trained, ever since kindergarten, that summer means freedom, less work and trips. Why can’t it be forever summer? I guess that’s why I live in Tucson… an attempt to keep summer alive… and it mostly works.

We stuck around a bit after the 4th, hoping to catch business partner and wayfaring bikepacker Matthew Lee in Salida. That never happened, so we loaded up the Corsica and slowly made our way across Colorado. First stop was the Firebrand Cafe in Gunnnison, where we went looking for Jefe Branham. Much to our surprise, he was out for a ride, not long after finishing the divide! There was a newspaper clipping in the cafe about the divide race, with a handwritten note: “I work with this guy!” The gals at the cafe were super nice. “Wait, Scott, are you ScottM?!” They admitted to being ultra blue dot junkies and reading every single forum post on the divide thread (there are over 2000).

We picked up several fresh chocolate chip cookies, knowing they’d come in handy in bribing Mike Curiak to tell us stories from his Alaska pack-rafting trip. If you haven’t seen his video from the trip, GO HERE NOW. The video is awesome, but anyone that knows Mike knows he’s an even better storyteller in person. We passed the high-noon hours listening to Mike’s tales of bears, whales and stumble-f’ing with Pugsleys and packrafts. We were hoping to let the heat of the day pass since the Corsica has no air conditioning and a leaky engine coolant system. But it was in vain. I’ve actually somewhat enjoyed the lack of A/C at times, but as we drove I-70 from Grand Junction to Green River on a hot day I finally realized that I’m “over” the Corisca, and it’s time for a new vehicle. That’s pretty significant since it’s the only vehicle I’ve owned, and it’s been such a great car that I’ve had trouble thinking of driving anything else.

my Dad, nearing hero hill

We made Salt Lake City, with just enough time to hang out with my sister and her husband for a day. For the first time in a while the whole clan was together, which is always really fun. I rode the infamous (to us) Hero Hill with my Dad. It’s a steep one, and perhaps my earliest cycling “goal” (as a teenager it took me several years before I could clean it in one shot). I seem to always find my way to it every time I visit SLC, so it’s a good benchmark. This time was the easiest it’s been — ever. I often use to wonder if I’d ever summit Hero Hill and not be breathing super hard, or have it not be that challenging.

We went to Spanish Fork for the Hobbler race, and Paula dominated the 5k. As I was walking towards the start I saw Paula’s aunt and assumed she somehow knew Paula was racing. Turns out her cousin was there racing the half marathon, and Paula was able to run in with him as he finished his second half ever.

Sunset walks with Alan, Misty and my Dad. That’s my junior high in the background. I don’t miss that place or those years.

Shoreline with both brothers and my Dad! Too much fun, and a beautiful evening.

Beard bros.

My Dad rocks. Plain and simple, he just does, and in so many ways. Here he’s powering up a steep grunt on his new bike.

SLC sunset, after doing a few short efforts on the lower slopes of Hero Hill. I tried to ‘taper’, as much as traveling and visiting with family can be tapering. I wasn’t riding much, or only short and targeted ‘workouts.’ Pretty soon it was time to head to Idaho, after an awesome ~week of hanging out with the family.

XC Nationals in Sun Valley, ID

What is someone like me doing at Nationals? That’s something I wondered several times myself. I hadn’t planned on doing the race. I hadn’t even planned on holding a USACycling license. But I wanted to race in Crested Butte, and race as a Cat1. So I bought a license and placed second in that ~4 hour race. After the race I logged into USACycling.org and noticed that the CB race had qualified me for nationals, which was in less than two weeks. I also noticed that if you placed in the top 3 at nationals you earn an automatic upgrade to Pro. I scoured the internet for results and placings, then somehow convinced myself I might have an outside shot at top 3, so I went for it.

I also knew that my winter training partner, Krista Park, would be at the race too. I had wanted to attend some kind of ‘national’ race, both to see how I stacked up in the amateur ranks and also to watch Krista in a pro race. I had vaguely talked about nationals (not knowing I had to qualify) or the ProXCT race in Missoula that followed it. The Missoula event sounded better overall, but nationals worked better with the SLC/family trip we had been planning anyway, and now I was qualified. So we pointed to Corsica to Sun Valley!

We had never been to Sun Valley (except perhaps me, at the start of one of my first scout backpacking trips, before my internal GPS chip had been activated and before I paid attention to maps and places), so it was fun to check out a new place. The race venue was at one of the ski resorts, which isn’t really where people ride, unfortunately. I’m so new to XC racing that I am not burned out on lame courses and the goofiness of USACycling. It wasn’t a fun course, or a technical course, or an interesting course, or even a good course for racing. But it was a course, and it was the same for everyone. I was there for a race, and there was definitely one of those going on!

After settling into our (super nice) place, we went over to pre-ride the course. For some reason I got really nervous upon arriving at the venue and spinning around. 10 years ago, back when I was an XC racer who really didn’t know what he was doing (I still don’t), I did a couple national races at Deer Valley as a Cat1. They were probably my worst races ever. I had some mild success at local races, but always seemed to fold on anything bigger. It was really funny to have subconscious thoughts from 10 years ago haunting me. I couldn’t seem to shake them as I rolled around the ‘big’ venue looking at everyone with their pro kits and pro bikes (whether or not they were pro — some were). I am usually not at all intimidated by that kind of thing, but you can’t escape yourself sometimes. It didn’t help that I realized, while there, how little experience I had racing XC. I’ve done exactly three races around or less than two hours (true XC length) in the last ~10 years. One was in Mexico where I rode away from the field, another was in Salida where I rode away from the locals, and the other was a mountain states race in Salida that I started sick. None of them had a fast start, or one where position really mattered.

I couldn’t sleep, which is rare for me — especially two nights before a race! I was able to talk myself out of the negative thoughts through the next day, and get back to myself. It was fun to ride the course fast with Krista and then analyze/strategize with her, though she wasn’t too psyched on the race and course in general. It had too much (boring/steep) climbing, mellow downhill with very little passing and aside from the man-made rock gardens, nothing challenging. Not exactly a good course for Krista’s style, or mine, really. One highlight was hearing about Paula almost making it through the rock garden, which she was excited about and had been practicing while we were riding the course.

I went to the ‘team manager / pro’ meeting, and was genuinely embarrassed by what I saw (and how it reflects on US cycling). It’s a bit of a wonder the race went as smoothly as it did, there was so much confusion and poor communication going on. I have pretty low expectations for organization for amateur races, but at the pro level and for the championships it was a little amazing that they couldn’t do a better job. I guess I sort of understand why some people get dissatisfied with traditional XC races. Luckily my skin is pretty thick for this stuff, and I mostly just found it entertaining.

XC Race morning

My race was early, so I was down at the venue warming up before the sun hit the valley. It was a beautifully calm morning and luckily I was quite calm as well. As I spun around on one of the many bike paths in Sun Valley I had just started limbering up when my rear tire went to ~10 PSI. I pumped it up and in the process pulled my valve core out, resulting in zero PSI. The next time I carefully removed my pump, and continued warming up, only to have the tire lose pressure again!! GAH! I tried to forget about it as I pedaled back to the car where a different pump and tubes (if I needed them!) waited. At the car I calmly aired up the tire again, as a worried Paula looked on. I didn’t even make it across the parking lot before it lost pressure again. OK, that’s it, it’s tube time. Paula did a great job of helping me and easing the tension. I got a tube in, then went straight to the course to burn off some frustration by sprinting up the first hill.

Soon I was sprinting up the hill for real. I didn’t get on the front line (they don’t call up people with no points!), and had a few moments of frustration as people were in front of me and I couldn’t pedal like I wanted to (all out). I broke free and joined the top five guys, only to look up the hill and notice we were already catching the tail end of the group that started in front of us. And so the race continued from there on out — passing slower people constantly.

making my way through the first rock garden, as the guys in front of me run it – photo by Paula Morrison

It might have been easy to get frustrated and dislike the race, but the playing field was level. The guys I was racing were having to pass everyone I was and on the same narrow singletrack we were climbing. I saw a few people fall off the edge either trying to ride something, or getting on their bike in a shelled state.

Everyone seemed to be racing full bore, focused and determined. National Championships (even at Cat1, which is sort of funny to call nationals) will do that apparently. I just loved it. Though it was hard to tell where I was in my age group, I knew I was somewhere near the top 5, and it was so incredibly close! This was a well matched fight, and it was going to come down to who raced the best and who wanted it the most. This was most apparent on the brief 2-track climb at the top of the lap. It was the only clean place to pass people, so everyone drilled it. I guess there was less than 1% difference in strength between myself, 3rd, 4th and 5th place riders. And even the leaders were not that far ahead. It was anyone’s race.

Anyone’s race, but a short one. 1:20 was all it took to do two laps, so every second counted.

Coming down the first descent I was surprised to be coasting away from the guys behind me. I guess I’m known as a decent technical rider, but have never been a particularly fast descender — especially on smooth trail with no real challenges. I quickly discovered I could pass riders by cutting a few of the switchbacks on the inside. But the guys I was racing seemed to be doing the same thing — we were just passing slower riders.

I haven’t ridden this hard all year. I guess that’s why I’m here racing — to see what’s possible. It would have been so easy to yield and come in at 95% effort. Top three isn’t going to happen. Well, not if I roll in at 95%! Better make it 100+. Leave everything out on the second climb, because after that it’s just the downhill and that’s it.

I tricked myself into believing that, but even my best effort wasn’t enough. Two guys in my category passed me on the two track at the top, and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it. I was already grunting and turning myself inside out, and though my fitness was close, it just wasn’t quite enough.

Luckily the race was not over at the top of the climb. I kept the gas pedal on, using every single millimeter of trail where pedal force could be applied, and stayed off the brakes as much as I could. I reeled one guy back in, and after both of us dodged a rider who had fallen off the side and was pushing back up to the trail, I got him on a switchback he stalled out on.

I was in sixth place now, and closing in on 5th. I could immediately tell, once I got on his wheel, that I was smoother and faster. I had that advantage, but he had the better advantage — he was in front on a very tight course, with trail quickly running out to the finish line. I tried to cut a switchback, but he nailed it, and ended up just in front me. On the next one with a clean inside line I went for it again, and just about T-boned him. He did exactly what I would have done — fight long and hard for the position he had earned. He wasn’t going to give it to me, nor should he. Of course we were letting the guys ahead gain time as we exchanged blows with each other, but I couldn’t do anything about that.

There weren’t any more switchbacks left, and passing on a straight was suicide. But… what about the rock drop? From watching him corner the switchbacks I guessed he would take the turn into it wide, and with just slightly less confidence than I had. As we sprinted up the short hill that rallied into the berm above the drop I remembered seeing a couple U-23 guys taking the far left line, off a drop, and it seemed to go smoothly — for them.

Sure enough, he went wide (the smoothest line) and I started cutting the inside. This race was not worth crashing both of us, so I was not at all comfortable being close enough to cause a crash, so I went far inside, toward the drop.

I remember wishing I had pre-ridden this line. Then my mind shut off and the adrenaline took over.

full travel!

Not the smoothest landing! But I paid for every millimeter of travel on my new fork, so I may as well use it all, huh? I came out of the drop just in front of him, and all that remained was one loose and wide turn. I sprinted it in, and was blasting out of my skull excited. I didn’t care what place that was for (turns out it was for 5th) — that was mountain bike racing, thru-and-thru, and totally awesome. That’s what I came for. I never thought a 1:20 race at a ski resort could be so much fun. And I never thought AZ rock skills and in-air bike handling would pay off in a cross country race!

It didn’t even occur to me that Paula (and a lot of others) had seen the pass, let alone that she got photos of it! Thanks Paula! I didn’t need any bottles (barely drank anything the whole race), but it was awesome having you out there!

photo by Paula Morrison

Yay podium! Wanted third, but got fifth. I’ll take it.

Pro XC

We went back to the condo to regroup before the next race. I tried to pass on some of what I learned during the race to Krista, even though she was racing a somewhat different course. I pulled myself back together, went back to the venue and used my SuperD pass to get a ride in the gondola to the top of the resort. There was an upper aid station on the pro course that was difficult to get to — but not if you had a SuperD pass and a bike! Carrying bottles and ice made the SuperD descending a bit difficult (fork dive!) but at least I got to see what the upper portion of the course looked like.

I arrived at the aid station to find that only one other person was there to feed. It was a great place to watch the race since it was the top of a stupid steep climb (straight up the resort). I got to see some good old fashioned suffering.

photo by Paula Morrison

Krista attacked hard at the start, taking Georgia Gould’s wheel for the first part of the race, but the altitude and length of the climb was too much for her. By the time I saw her she was back in 20th place, behind people she is faster than. From there she climbed her way back up a few spots every lap.

She was able to pass some people on the downhill switchbacks, and even tried a pass on the rock drop (above) after I told her about my little move there. That was pretty cool to see / hear about. So it wasn’t a good race for her, but it was cool just to watch her race and to run support. Paula was down at the bottom, running around like a madwoman, calling out placement and times and snapping photos.

SuperD

I signed up for the SuperD purely for fun. This was my first one ever, so my only goal was not to get too excited and crash. I kept it waaaay conservative and knew I wouldn’t place well, especially with people that came just for the SuperD lining up! (as we were lining up one guy walked four people in front of him, to me, and asked that I let him by when he catches me, though he was starting 2 min back).

Well he never did catch me, and I was riding quite well through the course, passing my 1 minute man (I had no 30 sec man) pretty early on. Unfortunately tire inflation woes would hit me again — my front tire played the same trick that my rear did on the XC warmup. It went to 10 PSI, and for a while I couldn’t figure out why I was so sloppy on the switchbacks all the sudden. I was close enough to the bottom that I just rolled with it, but since I had no mental determination to race this thing hard, it really threw me off. I ended up 6th place, and just 2 seconds off the podium. It wasn’t the greatest or most interesting SuperD (half of it was just the XC descent, which was now totally blown out after all the racing), but I still quite enjoyed the novelty of racing mostly downhill. Next time!

I wrapped up the evening with a solo shred on some real Sun Valley singletrack. It was so refreshing to ride non-ski-resort trail. The trail felt like a cushion of soft goodness, and my tires just floated through it. So this is what Sun Valley is about…

The next day we were planning to head back to Salt Lake City, and then Salida. But both Paula and Krista were in favor of us heading to Missoula for the next national series race. Here we were, with bikes, fitness and time to race (a few work things were going on, but nothing that wasn’t portable). So, why not? Well, it wasn’t that simple, and it took me a couple hours of characteristic indecision, but in the end we pointed the Corsica north, through Salmon River country. The biggest failure was leaving our camping gear in SLC. We drove a dirt pass out of Sun Valley that tortured us with campsites replete with bubbling streams, green meadows, flowers and deep shade. We thought about “camping” in the car, but didn’t even so much as have a blanket with us. EPIC FAILURE. The Corsica is equipped with camping gear 99% of the time for just this reason…

I bored Paula with stories and inside jokes from the summer I spent as a wilderness ranger based out of Salmon. It was really cool to revisit the town, river, burrito shop and even the bunkhouse where I lived and watched crappy VHS movies out of a giant tupperware tub in between exhausting 8 day backpacking trips. That was a good summer. And so has this one been.