Padden Mtn Pedal, 24 July 2011

 

Racing is fun!  I entered the 2011 Padden Mountain pedal in the Sport Singlespeed class, to give it a try.  The course was three laps of Lake Padden's expert loop, a mild xc trail above the lake.  There were seven of us competing in the category.  We started Le Mans style, with a short run to grab our bikes and sprint away towards the trail.  I was initially surprised by the speed of the pack, but then I realized that only the guy next to me was going that fast.  He dropped away after the first climb. So there I was, first mountain bike race ever, and already contemplating first place.  I should have known it wouldn't be that easy...

The first lap was too easy.  I kept a mildly fast pace the whole time, and even had some fun on the downhill.  Rolling into the second lap, I sat up on my bike to give my sore hands a break. I even gave the water station people a hang loose sign to show them how relaxed and cool I was.  For the first few climbs of the second lap, I was still feeling pretty good.  It wasn't until the steepest climb that I really started to feel the pain.  My legs began a lazy lullaby, murmuring quiet messages about not pushing, walking up the steep hill, and taking it easy.  One look back changed all my ideas about a smooth sail into the win:  there was another single speed competitor right on my back.  I struggled up the next couple hills, riding harder through a desperation born of surprise.  Unfortunately, I couldn't hold onto the panic surge.  I stopped just before the descent to give my lungs a break and pull out my gloves to comfort my aching, sweaty hands for the rough ride down.  My newfound rival passed me.  His polite inquiry into my need for assistance was nice, but I knew what was really going down.  The race was on.

Map of the course.

Both my competitor and I were on rigid, steel, single speed 29ers.  If you don't understand that, it's bike jargon for 'hella burly awesome rig'.  In my fading leader's egoism, I assumed that I would be faster on the descent than my rival, but this was not to be.  He proved a worthy match to my bike handling abilities.  We quickly banged our way down the hill, scraping around the sharp corners and careening off unseen rocks.  Cramping, tired, and sore, my poor hands were nevertheless up for the challenge.  I stayed behind the green-shirted racer as we climbed a few short hills and swept through the transition zone for the third and final lap.  As we cranked together up the first hills, we exchanged some breathless dialogue.
"Go ahead, take this climb," said my rival.
"Oh, be my guest!" I eloquently wheezed.
"No, really."
"Yeah, no."
"Okay,"he conceded to my superior race tactics, and on we went.
We flew past countless riders from the heat before us.  These would be from the older age groups from the sport category, most of whom were riding $5000+ dream machines.  Although my rival crushed the wills of the slowpokes by whipping around them, I was forced to wallow in their wake until another passing opportunity presented itself.  Pain was the present, and appeared to be very present in my legs' future as well.  I could tell that my competitor was tired, too, but he spared no opportunity to pass other racers in order to pull ahead.  Thoughts of second place bubbled up to the surface in my mind.
"It wouldn't be that bad... Your first race, and you've already done so well... Just give it up"

However, my competitive side also had a say in the matter and I sprinted through another group of slower riders to keep that solitary green shirt in my vision.  I was not winning, but I sure as hell wasn't falling behind.  By the time we reached the last of the climbs, I knew that I had a chance.  We were right next to each other at one dismount section.  He pulled ahead, but there was nothing to stop me now.  I stuck on his tail, waiting, watching, ready to make a move.  Another hill, out of the saddle to grind up.  A quick corner.  A short downhill.  Then, I saw It.  The Passing Place.  In an instant, I knew exactly what I had to do.

Charging!  Photo credit:  Vince Ryan Photography

After a short section of straight downhill, the course led into a gnarly technical uphill which was too tight and rocky to ride.  I'd walked up it on both previous laps, and I knew that the primary line was easily circumvented by  climbing up the side between two trees.  I saw this shortcut as we rolled up to the hill, and I knew that it was best chance of taking the race.  Green-shirt, my rival, turned left and dismounted to take the primary line.  Right behind him, my plan in action, I gave a short burst of power to my pedals and jumped off my bike in order to leap up a log, running up the short rocky section and passing my rival!  I was stuck behind a slow rider, but the technical downhill prevented any passing maneuvers.  I yelled out "Trail!" as we shot by a rider walking downhill with their bike in hand, and saw a corner-cut to the left.  However, I was already on the main line and I focused again on the rider two feet in front of me.  Slowly, slowly he negotiated the last switchback when, out of the corner of my eye, I saw my competitor taking the shortcut I had seen before!
"Oh hell no!" I said to myself, and took off in a dead sprint.  Green-shirt lost speed in the tight turn, and I quickly closed the ten feet between us.  Seeing this, he took off as well, forcing me to go off-trail and across some branches.  Fans along the trail whooped and hollered to see the mini-race happen, as I sucked up the impacts and kept the pedals moving to sprint directly into a sharp downhill corner.  It seemed like the last minute when I felt my rival back off, and I slammed on the brakes to negotiate the turn.  Another couple switchbacks, and we emerged onto a broad path.  It was all downhill from here!

Still, I had to keep the pace up.  We got stuck behind yet another slow rider as we descended a loose, rocky trail towards the finish.  I could hear the other rider close behind, and moved over to prevent a pass.  Suddenly, a turn came into view and the rider ahead of us went right to take his final lap.  This was it!  I had to go, go, go, sprinting, cornering with plenty of speed to spot the last corner and take it inside, before bursting out of the saddle to blaze down the final stretch, not looking back, just going hard on my pedals as fans cheered and clapped and I heard my sisters yelling and there was nothing but the end of the tape when suddenly, out of nowhere...

I crossed the line.  The race officials ahead of me screamed:"Slow down!" even before I realized that I was done.  Yes!  I felt the win instantly, and almost directly afterward felt the burn from my final push.  Exalted, breathless, and exhilarated, I stumbled to my waiting family and let out a loud laugh of joy from the thrill of the race.  I did it, I finished.  I had won.

So, in summary,  racing is fun.  I met some great people, including the second place guy, Matt.  It was a great time.  I'd really like to do it again.  I don't know if I can repeat my virgin victory, but I know that wherever I finish, it'll be next to other bikers who are also having a blast.  And it will most definitely be worth the entry fee.