Going the Distance, Going for Speed
Yup, it's that time of year again, summer solstice. Plenty of daylight for ridiculous rides. Certainly the Cascade Cream Puff 100 in Westfir, Oregon (near Oakridge) falls into that category. We started making plans for the '98 event as soon as we got back from the '97 cream puff (check out the full skinny on the '97 race at the Epic ride stories website). Steve and I went in '96 and again in '97. For '98 at least 3 or 4 of our friends professed their interest. We wanted to build more endurance for this year, so we layed out a schedule of fat monkey epic rides to prepare ourselves, starting with a 6 hr jaunt through the nevada city area on new year's. We continued on, increasing the length of our rides each month, up to our trip to Moab, which included an 11 hr tour of the white rim trail. Along the way our friends started to think up excuses, and started to whine and basically just turned into a bunch of non-mtb-riding posers. They may as well all get free-ride bikes.
That's how it came to be that steve and I found ourselves making the trek alone once again. Steve's A/C gave out again this year, so to prevent a repeat of the dreaded baking drive in '96 we swiped his mom's minivan... sweeeeet. I gotta say, I always thought minivans were for useless, stupid, yuppie scumbags, but they pretty much kick ass for road trips. You just keep piling stuff into the back until you run out of stuff, then you jump in, make a nest amongst the stuff for someone to sleep, set the cruise control, and get out 7 hrs later. It was by far the easiest trip to oregon i've ever driven.
Those deadbeat oregonians finally got around to paying their sunshine bill. As a result, we were blessed with the most unbelievably perfect weather you could possibly imagine, 50's at night, 70's during the day, light breeze and no clouds. What a change from the mudbaths and snow and whatnot of previous years. We rolled into town around 2 AM on saturday and dragged out of our tents around 8 or so to a glorious morning. It took a couple hours, but we finally got some breakfast and arranged to go pre-ride the new section of the course with a couple other guys, including BlackMarket cyclocross racer Peter Smith (who was riding a rigid fork). For '98, instead of doing 3 laps of a 33 mile loop, they tacked on 17 more miles to the loop and we only did it twice. Naturally the extra 17 miles started way at the far end of the course, and no one felt like riding for 2 hrs to get there, so we went 4 wheelin' in the minivan. We drove up on gravelled roads, but we definitely stirred up some dust. The van, and our bikes, was pretty much covered completely. Luckily the van wasn't mine, so i stopped worrying about it.
Basically the first 15 miles or so (that we skipped on the pre-ride) is an endless dirt-road climb. After a long-ass time you finally get to aid station 3 (where we parked) and turn off onto the singletrack. This first new section is only a few miles long, but it's sweeeeet. It's really narrow and primitive and twisty and just downright fun. It dumps you out onto another fire road, which rolls and descends for many miles before starting another long-ass climb. Fortunately, 1/2 way up this climb, you get to switch to singletrack, which is steeper, until you finally reach the high point of the course at over 4900 feet. Since we were pre-riding, we took advantage of our leisure time and climbed to the top of the rickety old lookout on top of the mountain, from which we could just about see Australia. For some reason, steve was so stoked about dropping the rest of us that he sailed right past the lookout and totally missed one of the best views of my entire life. Oh well, i guess he's just different.
Anyway, after the lookout the trail turns down, through some very tight switchbacks and through a deceptively buff looking section that actually had little sharp rocks and trolls and stuff lurking in the shadows. I hit something and found, much to my consternation, that my front wheel was completely sideways and i was still at full speed. I somehow avoided death, but I swore to be a little more careful on that section during the race. After that it was only a mile or so straight descent back to aid station 3 and back onto the old loop.
The next 6-7 miles on the Alpine Trail is probably the most bitchin' singletrack I have ever ridden in my entire life. It twists, turns, climbs, descends, switches back, flies through the shrubbery, through old growths, through recovering clear cuts and generally puts a size xxl grin on the face of anyone with central nervous system. You need to stop what you're doing, call in sick to work, drive to oregon and ride this trail right now. If you don't ride the alpine trail before you die, you're a jerk.
After you finish that section, you get to ride on a fire road for about 1/2 mile, then it's 10 more miles of singletrack baby... sweeeeet. The lower section pretty dang fun too. There are a couple sections where your body goes more or less straight, but the bike has to weave back and forth through the rain forest and high speeds. It's pretty much 45 minutes to an hour of kick-ass high speed downhill. Then you pop out on the pavement for a mile or 2 back to the finish line. On the 2nd lap you get an extra 3-4 miles of singletrack after you pass through the finish area before you get to the first long-ass climb, then you do it all again.
After our pre-ride we headed back into town, collecting even more dust, in order to check in at registration. Since the Cream Puff is the best race in the world, they naturally had custom made laminated number plates with a race logo and the rider's name in big letters. Talk about feeling professional. We also got fed, did a fat raffle, and got the official endless race briefing. Afterwards we headed up to the hot springs about 8 miles east of town for a soak. The springs were hotter than last year, probably because they weren't diluted with rainwater. They were also covered with dead bugs, since bugs are too stupid to know the water is hot and sulphury so they land on it and die. I alternated between sitting in the roasty hot bug soup and sitting in the butt-ass cold river next to the spring to stimulate the circulation in my legs.
Nothing like waking up at four freakin' thirty to start your day off right. This year I didn't even consider making oatmeal. I just wandered over to the start line and helped myself to half a muffing and a cup of starbucks coffee (i guess in oregon they can't afford to buy coffee that isn't way overroasted). I also had a delicious Harvest Bar, courtesy of our VeloSapiens sponsors at the PowerFood corporation. I was nervous and jumpy, but I kept telling myself "you can do it."
We rolled out in a neutral start from the race HQ at the high school to the finish area at the covered bridge. When the start vehicle pulled off everyone pretty much kept going the same speed. After a few more minutes of pavement (replaced by singletrack on lap 2) we turned onto a dirt road and started the climb. Then all hell broke loose.
They call it a royal break in the Tour de France when all the big boys go away together. As soon as turned upwards Pete Prebus put the hammer down. Pete is currently leading the semipro class at the Norba Nationals, so he's pretty fast. He's also been on the podium here the 2 previous years, so he knows about riding all dang day. He was quickly joined by Matthew Potter and Rick Hunter, the '96 and '97 winners. Specialized product manager Ben Capron also appeared to bridge up to them. I found myself with 3-4 other guys in the second group. I soon found myself struggling to stay with them. My heart rate monitor was heading into the high 170's, about 8-10 beats higher than I really wanted to be. I couldn't believe there were that many fast guys.
The dudes I was riding with exchanged some chatter, which had the effect of totally intimidating me. It went like this:
-so, did you do leadville last year?
-yeah, but i had a crappy race, i got 11th. how bout you?
-i was 7th. it went ok.
Now leadville is the grand-daddy of off-road ultras, so i started to worry these guys were just going to chew me up and spit me out, but I gritted my teeth and hung in there, trying to spin smoothly and relax and draft where I could and keep my heart as low as possible.
We reached aid station 2 at the top of the first climb after about an hour and twenty minutes. No one stopped, but we did grab full bottles of cytomax. As we rode away, our little group was joined by russell worley, a former winner at leadville. To make matters worse, russell turned 35 this year, so he races in the vet class with me. I figured my best bet was just to glue my sorry ass to someone's wheel and hang on as long as I could.
Russell attacked on a steep section a few miles later and dropped us all, but then the trail turned downhill for a couple miles. By the time we reached aid station 3 (the start of the first singletrack) we were together again. Since I felt like I was the weakest I let everyone else go first. That turned out to be a mistake, cuz those leadville-doing, big-talking fancy lads were pretty weak when it comes to steering a bicycle. I got stuck behind the slowest of the bunch, and by the time I finally got around him the rest were out of sight. I plugged on, trying to stay relaxed until I popped out onto the fire road again. I guess Russell stopped for a bathroom break, because he came running out of the bushes about a half mile down the road and caught back up to me. Within minutes he and I rolled up through the rest of our little break, leaving them all behind except one. The three of us started up the 2nd big ass climb together. Russ stopped briefly at aid station 4 but caught up again before the summit. Part way down Russ and I got around our companion and left him, never to be seen again. I was starting to gain a little confidence now. It seemed like I wasn't the only one who started out a little too fast.
As we started onto the kick-ass Alpine trail single-track, Russ experienced some kind of chain problem. I went by with a few words of encouragement. I knew he was a good downhiller, so I figured I should take advantage of the break and get a little time on him.
I was truly enjoying the twists and turns, and not having much trouble with the short climbs when I got to one particular 1/4 mile climb through a section of old growth. I remembered having to walk this section twice last year because the ground was so soft from rain and thick pine needles that I could barely move my bike. This year i sailed up it easily until... doh!... my hamstrings started to cramp a little. Since I was only 3 hrs into the race this made me a little worried. I vowed to go easy on the steep stuff and start drinking more
After passing through aid station 2, I continued sailing down the singletrack. The drier conditions this year meant I could take more speed into the corners. I don't know if it was the smooth action of my SID fork, but it seemed like the trail was smoother this year. The only major problem I had was about 2/3 of the way down, the trail makes a little s-curve between two trees. These are not saplings either, these are big-ass, hardcore, totally immobile, fixed-to-the-earth trees. I clipped the first one with my shoulder, just enough to get some scrapes and divert my line slightly. Unfortunately my line was diverted into one nearly perpendicular with the 2nd tree, which I slammed into with my other shoulder. Luckily I only weigh 155 lbs, and my Fisher Supercaliber is only 22 lbs. The combined weight was unable (just barely) to break anything, but it hurt like hell, and I was pretty worried about my shoulder and collarbone and stuff for the next few minutes. I didn't even clip out, but just continued down the trail, saying "ow, ow, ow." I figured if I could still hold onto the bars it couldn't be that bad.
On the last treacherous stretch to the bottom there is now a tremendously deceiving corner. There's a water bar or berm or something that makes it appear not too tight, then when you're actually in the curve, you discover that it is too tight and you're sailing off into space. I cleverly threw myself to the ground before I could travel too far, and I vowed to watch for that curve next time.
I approached the finish line at the end of the first lap feeling pretty good. My beautiful and brilliant wife, Stacia, was there to cheer me on. I hopped off my bike to attend to refueling needs and took a moment to get an update. The leaders were 17 minutes ahead (not bad, hopefully someone would bonk). One of the wonderful volunteers filled my camelbak while I got some delicious PowerGel and some more cytomax and gave Stacia a kiss or 3. Then I took off, rolling easily through the singletrack along the river. I still hadn't seen any sign of Russell Worley, so I was starting to think I had a chance.
I was pretty happy about the 2 lap format. When we did 3 laps, i always found the 2nd one to be truly demoralizing. After 3 hours or so, you're pretty dang tired, and all you can think is that you still have to do the whole freakin' thing again after this one. It turns out that 2 laps is also pretty hard. I hit the first big climb and just about stopped. My back was killing me, my quads were starting to cramp, my tummy was unhappy at the huge quantities of cytomax and powergel I was ingesting. Life was getting pretty suck-filled. I coped by sitting up and pedaling no-hands where I could, to stretch out my back a bit, and by standing up on the pedals in a big gear and just letting my weight slowly take me down. I was starting to get worried, because I couldn't imagine anyone could ride much slower than I was going
Miracle of miracles, I didn't get caught on that climb. I kept looking back where there was a good view of the trail below me, but I couldn't see anyone. I slogged onward past aid station 2 and then 3 and hit the bitchin' new singletrack, which brought a smile to my face.
When I emerged on the fire-road again, I only got a couple miles before I looked back to see Russell coming up on me. Damn! He went by really fast and put the hurt on me in a big way on the rest of the downhill section. I was amazed to see him so fresh. He was already out of sight by the time I got to the foot of the 2nd big climb.
Unfortunately, the big climb the 2nd lap was at least 3 times as long as it was the first lap. I was truly dying. I started to worry about Stuart, the single-speed maniac who beat me last year. I felt certain the whole field would roll by pretty soon. I reached aid station 4, where the world's friendliest and most helpful volunteer was ready to fill my every biking need. Unfortunately all I could do was grunt at him unintelligibly. I knew I still had a ridiculously steep single-track climb to go, and I was so tired I was seeing spots. I was still coherent enough (barely) to check the time splits and see that Russell had only gained 4 minutes on me in almost an hour. Maybe I wasn't sucking as bad as I thought.
The single-track part of the climb was fortunately not quite as long as I remembered, and before long I reached the top. Finally I started to feel OK. From here on out the climbs were all relatively short, mostly only 2-3 minutes at a time, though there is one gentle uphill on the Alpine trail that takes about 10 mins. I blasted down to aid station 3, where I found that I had lost only an additional 2 minutes. I started to feel like I was going to hold on to 6th place at that point. I tried to pick good lines through the twisties, no easy feat when you've been pushing hard for 7 1/2 hrs, but I motored along, trying to stay consistent. Now my worry wasn't so much my legs as my upper body. My shoulder was still pretty sore, and between braking, descending, bouncing and standing on the downhills I was having a hard time holding myself up on the bike. To make matters worse, the fastest, bumpiest, downhilliest part of the course was still to come!
I reached aid station 2 for the last time around 8 1/2 hrs. Stacia was there, so i got more kisses and stuff. Russell's lead was all the way up to 10 mins now. It didn't look like he was going to bonk, but neither did it look like anyone else would catch me. As a result I got to relax a bit and just enjoy the downhill. My arms were starting to feel better, and I was perking up all over, so I smiled and grinned and just plain rode. I went pretty slow through the shoulder-eating trees, but survived them without incident.
All the way down I was thinking about that tricky curve. I was totally prepared for it when it came, and..... I still missed it! Fuck! I went off the trail again, but at least stayed upright and didn't bounce off any planets. I got back on the trail and figured it would be a good idea to just take it easy and make sure I didn't have a disaster. So I did and as a result I didn't
In contrast to previous years, when I was so hammered I just burst into tears at the finish, I felt Ok this year. I rolled up with a big smile, put my bike down and found a lawn chair to sit in to await the arrival of the next couple riders. Russell ended up with 14 minutes on me I think, no shame in that. The next guy to come in was crazy single-speed stuart, 30 minutes later. Yee haw. After that, several more riders came in in the next 1/2 hr or so. I ended up 6th overall, with a time of 9:25, compared to 8:42 (i think) for winner pete prebus. There were around 50 finishers out of 70-some starters. Team-mate Steve Jakubiak was 20th or 21st, a long-ass ways behind me. On the other hand, he's done almost no training whatsoever this year. He just went out and rode it.
As usual the Cream Puff 100 was the highlight of my year. I didn't have any equipment problems whatsoever, which no big surprise because I very rarely suffer mechanicals. I had good results with cytomax and powergel. I managed to eat 1 harvest bar, but otherwise it was all gel, oranges and cytomax, and quite alot of them at that.
If you want to do the Cream Puff next year (and if you don't you should change your mind) write to creampuff, 1689 Charnelton Street, Eugene, OR 97401-3913 for some info.
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