Mountain bike racing season. They all generally start at the same time, end at roughly the same time, and have their ups and downs...sometimes more of one than the other. We train, we suffer, there are setbacks, rewards and ideally some good fortune along the way. 2011 included all of that and then some. It was a mental contest as much as a physical test...a time and motivation challenge.  And in then end, it all worked out all right.

Things started fast. I distinctly recall DT stepping on the gas at one of our farm rallies early in the year. It was a bit of a shock to the system and I pinged him afterwards to see what it was all about. “Time to get serious.” Or something to that effect. I admit that it seemed a little premature to my still-happy-to-be-spinning legs, but I went with it.

The first go at the Snotcycle in late January was an adventure: failing to process how far the race really was from my abode, driving in some not-great conditions, and then racing in half a foot of snow. It was a serious early season challenge that I was unaccustomed to.

Lots of walking, and falling.

I walked away pleased with 2nd place and a nice pair of socks to keep my then frozen toes warm. From then on, there was plenty of rallying, and a good bit of winning. No need to go into great detail here, partially because the details elude me, but I was sitting comfortably atop the Virginia Off Road Series (VORS) Singlespeed standings after a handful of races. As the  Middle Mountain Momma approached, I felt pretty confident. I had done a double ascent out in the Hills o’ Dyke in 34x19. Times were good. May 5th arrived and I was unsure of what race to ride, the XXC or the XC. Despite the encouragement of my friends to hit the XX, I caved to the pressure of VORS standings and I went w/ the XC race, as the XXC would net me nothing, VORS-wise.

As it turns out, racing at an XC pace in Douthat in 34x19 is hard. Very hard. I got dropped, blew a tire, and my spine. I exploded something in my back while cleaning a switchback late in the race. Things were bad in the weeks after. I’d rest, recover a bit, ride and then suffer. A 30 mile gravel ride one month after the Momma did me in. The spine was jacked. Hips were corked. I was laboring to walk. In hindsight, compensating for the original injury may be what did me in. But it didn’t matter. I was miserable.

There was talk of spinal injections, but I couldn’t get into that idea. At the recommendation of my brown skinned sugar plum,  I went to a sports-med chiro for a few weeks...maybe months...I lost track. I can’t say what ultimately got me fixed up...the abuse he put me through, or the series of focused stretching activities and a general awareness of posture and its direct impact on the nerve in my back that had been squeezed, twisted and tweaked, but I got back on the bike. One month after the disastrous gravel ride that did me in, I eased my way back, very conscientious of the situation in my lower lumbar. This was around July 1st. No chance I’d hit the 2nd race at Camp Hilbert, but the Chimney Chase on July 31? How could I not? So I got focused, and set my eyes on a competitive return.

The Chimney Chase would be my test. Hilbert3 was one week later. Despite missing Hilbert2, I could still win the series with a strong showing @ the last race of the series. But I had to get through the Chimney Chase, which I did. The hills hurt, the back was sore, but I rallied, took SS and felt OK doing it. I recovered and shifted my focus to the next Sunday. I felt confident, but as with any race, especially an SS race, it all depends on who shows up. And as luck would have it, one of the faster dudes that I know on a SS was there. I went out hard and led lap 1.

Heart rate through roof, 30 seconds in.

Lap 2 was a recovery lap. Still quick, but nothing like the Pro/Expert pace of lap 1. When lap 3 rolled around, my tank was empty. Mr. Speedy went by, quickly, and I settled for the 2 spot. On the upside, that was enough to get me the series win w/ the points from the victory @ H1. Bittersweet.

“Training” was hit or miss from then on. I’d rally when I got the chance, but finding good time or the motivation to train in the random other time that became available was a chore. I was still in 1st place in VORS, sorta wondering what would happen if I just sat out the rest of the season. I thought about partnering up for the 18 Hour race, but I decided against it. The Paranormal came around. Another race with no VORS implications for me. I arrived with the intention of rolling a lap or two, but mostly just taking pictures and some video. The Dude wasn’t having any of that. He partnered me up and sent me on my way. 4 laps and a few beers later, I went home. It was a good, low pressure shindig. Not nearly enough of that going on these days.

Some time in early November, I found a few race result sheets online and discovered I was no longer sitting atop the VORS Singlespeed standings. I’d be lying if I said that didn’t sting a little, having been in the driver’s seat all season. I conferred with those I confer with, trying to decide how much I really cared. The universal consensus: screw it. I didn’t need to win VORS. It was meaningless. I was fast. Riding was fun. And there were only two additional opportunities to get points: The 18 Hour race, which I had already sworn off due to a detailed cost/benefit analysis, and a newly introduced RRR Duathlon. Having not run a mile at speed in nearly a year, two 2.5 mile runs didn’t sound feasible. And as The Dude says, foot travel is miserable. So that was that. It took some effort, but I shrugged it off. It was a good season. Drink some beers. Move on already.

Problem is, I wasn’t really ready to hang it up. I had an opportunity to get it back. I chewed on some numbers, and realized that I wouldn’t even need to do that well @ the Du to get back on top. So I started running. Not real hard, and just a few times a week. I inched the mileage up faster than is generally recommended, but we aren’t talking about big numbers here... I think I topped out @ 5 miles. I did a few running intervals here and there. And I rallied every chance I got. I started feeling some quickness creeping into the legs. My final rally w/ DT before the race was a good one. He filled my head w/ delusions of grandeur, and I walked into Pocahontas feeling OK about myself.

And then I ran. Faster than I probably should have. I finished the first run around 9th. Got on the bike and rallied hard. Calves started to go near the end. Finished 3rd. Swapped shoes and went for another run. This hurt. Nerve pain in the foot. Quads and hammies on the verge of lock-out. I managed to baby-step myself to the finish, clinging to 3rd overall. And I got all the points I needed to get back in the VORS 1 spot. Pretty good day.  It took about 3 days for my legs to return to normal. It was a good burn though.

And now the season is really done. I didn’t cover as much ground as I have in years past, but the ground I did cover went by pretty fast. I hit new lows, and probably reached some new highs as well.  The VORS win feels good. I told myself early in 2011 that if/when I took the VORS singlespeed class, I’d likely be done with that Category moving forward. I’ve taken it twice. Its time to let someone else have it. Don’t get me wrong, I’ll still be on an SS in 2012 and beyond...its what I do, but I’ll focus on another category...other races. New challenges. Maybe get back to the SM100. Maybe the Wilderness too. We’ll see. The thing is...those aforementioned time challenges...they aren’t going anywhere. Training time will be limited, mid season motivation will be tough to come by. Things aren’t getting any easier.

The beautiful thing? The hot momma and two active little monsters that make training time hard to come by are an amazing delight. As much as I love a good rally, I really love every moment I can get with these folks. Every ride is a trade-off of sorts...I’m missing time with those boys and my lady...time I’ll never get back. But there’s balance to be had. The rally is good for the soul. Find balance.