First, I confess that for many years I have underrated the fringe niche of singlespeeding. I didn't really see the point. I mean, why ride an inferior bike when you have a bike in the garage that is faster, easier to ride, and can handle a greater range of terrain?!? It is illogical. Why would you purposely use antiquated technology. It would be as if I were using a typewriter to write this! Don't misunderstand me, I had no problem with people who rode them. Quite the opposite, in fact. I think people like Pat D. are amazing. That guy has passed me with one gear on more than a few occasions. Why do it on a single speed though!...However, all that has changed.
About a month and a half ago I bought my first single speed mountain bike (fully rigid). I thought I would give it a try because I saw some training benefits from it. It forces you to work on your pedaling by making you either grind up hills with quad searing strength or roll downhills at rpm's that make your legs look like a blur. The training benefit, however functional, is still the boring part of singlespeeding.
After doing the majority of my rides in the last while on a singlespeed I've discovered other great things about riding a single speed. For one thing, the off-season in Calgary means that training is often done in snow, slush and cold tempuratures. All of which wreak havoc on a drivetrain. It is a great feeling to pull the bike out of the garage and not worry about it at all. No mis-shifts or skipping cassette. If you slip out on the ice there is no derailluer to bend out of shape... That is good but not the best part.
The part that has pleasantly surprised me the most is that riding with one gear and a rigid fork has turned the singletrack at Edworthy Park into a new technical challenge and the hills at Nosehill into giant mountains. In other words, it is no less fun to ride but I experience the challenge of riding a bike at my limit of skill right outside my door. A hill that was inconsequential is now a test of power and cleaning a few roots and a little drop off is now a demonstration of technical prowess... Simple is sweet!
You won't see me at any races this year on a single speed (I'll leave that to team WUSS). I'm not going all Luddite on everyone (not that there is anything wrong with that). Afterall, if I follow the line of logic that riding inferior technology equals more challenge equals more fun then I might as well ride a cyclocross bike! In fact, I'm anticipating a super trick Giant Anthem Advanced... Technology is sweet!
Have fun on the roads and trails whatever bike you are riding.
Sunday, January 7, 2007
Monday, January 1, 2007
La Ruta de los Conquistadores '06
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Well, it's actually New Year's Day today (Happy New Year!) so this story is a bit old but since this blog will be predominantly cycling oriented I thought I'd include the story of my last race. If you know a little about mountain bike ultra-endurance events then you've likely heard of the 3 day stage race in Costa Rica called La Ruta de los Conquistadores. It is the self proclaimed "hardest mtb race ever". Not many racers who have done it would disagree... Here is my experience at La Ruta.
LA RUTA: The hardest mtb race ever??? Well, I certainly don't think that I am qualified to answer that considering I've only done a handful of marathon endurance one-day races and the Transrockies Challenge, but I do have some opinions. For one thing, the competition is way higher than in many marathon races which makes it harder... But lets just consider the terrain in the first stage. Racers climb almost 14 500 ft. in basically 2 climbs over 97 km. on steep grades that are only in a Western Albertan mtb'er's nightmares! If that weren't enough, the first climb/descent has enough clay mud on it for the entire population of Canada to take pottery classes and create there own giant vase! Need more convincing... Racers dealt with a mid to high thirties temperature in 100% humidity where you sweat profusely (I mean PROFUSELY, I've been dryer in some pools in Calgary!). Still not impressed! Well, remember you rode through a rain forest with stream crossings as deep as your handlebar. That coupled with the clay mud have rendered your high-end drivetrain into a primitive chain-sucking 3 speed if you're lucky enough not to have run out of lube... Oh yes. I forgot. That mud makes your 22 pound hardtail a 44 pound "not-so-freeride" bike!
Here is a stat to consider... My time for the Bow-80 (an 80 km mountain endurance race) this year was 4:24 and my time for stage one La Ruta was 7:25. One and three quarter times longer and I believe I was about 5% faster on the climbs than I was in September based on local times... Consider that 510 fit and tough people started (I might add shelling out a decent amount of $$$ to get there) and less than half made the cut-offs. If you were unfortunate enough to make the last cutoff but not get to the finish in the allotted 12 hours then you finished in pitch black Costa Rican darkness since they get almost exactly 12 hrs of light. Many of the finishers and non finishers went straight to the hospital. I don't want to take Erik's (my friend that I travelled and raced with) thunder but he finished in the top 30 % of starters and described the second climb "like a war zone" loaded with casualties on the side of the trail. If you think it was just the non-elite categories that suffered you'd be wrong. First off, I ran out of fuel and water between feed zone 3 and 4, but it wasn't just me. Top NORBA guys like Adam Craig and Jeremiah Bishop did too. Jeremiah took a shower in one of the water falls. Adam Craig, Hestler and even Paez (race winner) admitted feeling like they weren't going to be able to finish it... I can definitely say that stage 1 was the hardest single stage that I have ever raced. Anyone who finished it at all is a hero!
Enough about the course. I'll fill you in on the details of my race. My general classification goal was a top 15 coming in but when I saw the competition I knew that would be very difficult. I felt good, however, so I wanted to get top 20 on the 1st stage, make up some positions on the long downhill on day 2 and then hold my position with all the drafting on day 3.
The first stage went well. Those Ticos (Costa Ricans) like to start fast! Not like the Transrockies where it is a nice rolling start, this was as fast or faster than any xc race I've been in. I didn't get call up so I sprinted a few minutes on the pavement and gravel to work my way up to the top 30 which were starting to separate from the masses. It didn't take long to reach the foot of the first monstrous climb! I quickly figured out I was going to have to pace myself and due to losing rear wheel traction a few times I realized I needed to let a little air out of my rear tire. I let some are out because even though it was just a gravel road it was so steep that i was spinning out while sitting (in fact, I bumped Frischy when i started wandering a bit after losing climbing traction.) After changing the pressure, I tried to settle into a rhythm but was a little concerned because I wasn't in the position I wanted to be in. A little bit of riding later, I realized that I can still see Thomas and Dre H. up the hill so I figure that if they are just inside the top twenty and I'm just out then a few of the less celebrated athletes at front must be going to fade. So I just stay steady. Every mini downhill on the UPHILL I gain time and positions (one competitor asks if I race downhill). My patience is paying off and I've finished the first main section of the climb and descent. I feel good and I'm slowly but surely passing people. Every Tico that I pass urges me to slow down warning me of what is to come. I generally ignore the warnings because I figure what do they know. They wouldn't be getting passed if they didn't start crazy fast.
I feel good coming into the third feedzone right as Dre leaves it. I stomp on the pedals and on the next steep pitch I catch him, offer him some support and encouragement and move on thinking "Man! He looks like he's hurting!" This climb is about 35 km long and a couple of hours into it I pass a Costa Rican born American. In my broken Spanish I ask him how many more km to the feedzone. He answers "MUCHO! Do you speak English?" I answer "yes". He then proceeds to "encourage" me by saying "there's lots left and we haven't hit the hard part yet!" So I re-evaluated my pacing plan and was passed by said racer and couple more as I ran out of water and granny geared/pushed up the mountain. At one point I ask some of the tico support vehicles how far to the feedzone and they say 2 km... About 2 km further than that I ask again and am told 4 km! I almost break down and cry. I seriously doubt my ability to finish this stage. Attributed to nothing else other than the grace of God, I made it to the feed zone and spent a few minutes replenishing my depleted muscles but I feel psychologically refreshed knowing that I have about 3-4 km of false flat on pavement to reach the descent. This descent is like nothing I've ever experienced before. It would NEVER be allowed in North America. It would have "Fatal Accident Liability" written all over it. It isn't at all what you would describe as technical, in fact, a lot of it was on pavement. I probably maxed out at around 80- 90 kph on roads that still had traffic and pedestrians on them and no marshalls! It was chalk full of blind corners and switchbacks. One particular section was insanely steep, loaded with blood-thirsty locals watching racers negotiate a switchback which was shaded enough to have moss grown all over it. It was super slick! The bottom half was mostly gravel and it was wicked fun to two-wheel drift through all the corners. In retrospect, I literally gambled with my life on the corners of the descent. I don't think I have ever done anything more dangerous on a bike! Finally, a "tiny" little climb to the finish line (about the same elevation as Sulphur Springs or 300M in elevation gain)... Final corner, finish line in sight, "I'm going to finish this thing!"
Day one is done and I have a shower and check the results and I'm totally stoked to see 17th and relatively close to big time pros! Day two is supposed to be much easier. Whewwww!! Wait a second, much easier than day one doesn't mean easy! Over 8000 ft of climbing up a volcano this time in one climb! However, I'm looking forward to improving on yesterdays position since this stage has a relatively technical descent. I would describe it like the rocky sections of Little Elbow Downhill in Kananaskis for about 25 km but remember you are topping out at almost 3000 metres high so you are in clouds at the top! The stage starts in the San Jose, the capitol city, and heads straight up. The climb is a mix of pavement and gravel but predominately pavement. It reminds me of the pictures that I've seen of the Alpe d'huez. You might think that the start was casual after the pain of yesterday but in a 3 day stage race, apparently, there's no time for slow starts. In a matter of a 2 km or less I was in the lead group of 20 or so. To my left is Adam Craig and Dre and to my right is Tinker Juarez. Dre turns to me and says "Jon, look back." I look back to see that already there is a huge gap to a large peloton. About 30 seconds later I see Leonardo Paez attack and gain about 75 meters in a matter of seconds...No one responds! I keep my pace steady as the group starts to stretch out to a long line with gaps in it. My legs are still very sore from yesterday and breakfast is sitting heavy still so I decide to let myself slide back and ease into my pace.
As we reach the switchbacking pavement, I take notice that there is a relatively strong headwind from the east that hits us every other switchback. My legs are coming around and I'm catching and gathering groups of racers, mostly Ticos. I'm organizing pacelines but I'm doing at least 75% of the work. The good thing about this is that the Tican support vehicles are feeding me left, right and centre! Eventually, I notice a gap as I start a switchback into the headwind. I yell "Vamos! (let's go)" but no response other than a pained look so I decide to solo it. I didn't have to solo long to catch another small group but the same scenario happens, So as the grade eased near the top I attack hard and am minutes behind a strung out group that contains Dre and a Portuguese pro Joao and some others.
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I chug a Boost at the top of the volcano and start descending like a mad man. A couple of km in I swallow my Canadian pride and put on a windproof vest as I realize my extremities are getting very cold. The vest hit the spot but it meant I had to gamble even more to catch the guys. I didn't catch Dre or Joao but I had caught some Ticos that they had passed. I believe I was in the top 15 possibly a 13th but that might be a bit optimistic.
I was running UST tubeless tires with Stan's (like using the pill AND a condom) so I wasn't worried about flatting and I was riding with my typical reckless abandon style when I heard the air blow out of my rear tire suddenly! "Oh Crap!" I quickly take off my tire and see the valve is bent and not sealed so i bend it back and tighten it. I was hoping I would be able to just top it with air and go. I attempt to fill it with my co2 cartridge and it just blows through a large slash that I hadn't noticed. I then take it all apart and put a tube in it and go to start riding again only to realize that my front has flatted too! I only brought one tube and used both co2 cartridges on trying to fix the rear flat twice. I resort to begging and trying to take apart my front wheel but the tubeless valve is seized. I'm stuck. I borrow a co2 cartridge from a friendly racer and top it up with the Stan's sealant pooled right on the hole. It kinda works but I can tell it's losing air quickly. In a matter of minutes I'm descending on a flat front tire again but I know there is nothing i can do so I just keep given'er. All of the sudden Psssssseeeeewwwwwww. My rear tire has flatted again. I go to the side but no one wants to stop to hand me anything since they are going so fast. I decide to ride the rest on my rims. Riding as smooth as I can on the rims, I cringe every time I hear metal on rock. After a few km of this I pass a Tican support vehicle and beg for support. Thankfully, they oblige me. All they have is a mini pump so I pump up my front tire as hard as I can (this is when Erik passes me in a blur). I replace the rear tube again and pump up to some ridiculously high pressure. Then I hammer as hard as I can. On one paved corner I two wheel drifted past Tom Ritchey! I get to the finish very disappointed and frustrated in 45th I believe... My GC position was 22nd.
I don't think I'll change my tire set-up next year. It was just a sharp rock and bad luck that started a string of flats. I asked the race mechanics for 2 new tubeless tires since the original ones were undoubtedly wrecked after riding with no air.
The next morning before stage 3 I look at my wheels and the front is tubeless but the rear isn't. Assumeably, they didn't have a tubeless valve to put in since my rear one was damaged. It is only about 6-7 minutes before start so I just have to deal with it. This stage is relatively flat but it still has a pretty painful climb off the start and an even more painful one about a third of the way through. I climb like I have been which is good enough for the top twenty but I'm feeling a lot of drag. We start down some rough gravel road downhills and the first one I lose a water bottle and further down my rear tire blows. It takes forever to fix since they are brand new tubeless tires with a tight bead!! Frustrating!!! I finally fix it ride again like a mad man. A Tico yells at me "ES LOCO!" And I think "sweet." Not two minutes later "bang", another flat tire. I'm out of tubes because this stage was supposed to be unlikely to flat at all. I check my tire thoroughly but nothing. I have quite a bit of luck getting tubes from the back-end-of-the-pack crowd. The wheel is fixed, though I break my mavic crossmax quick release using it as a tire lever. Luckily, it still works. I start riding again...and flat again! Of course the same people that I just passed see me again and are generous to me. This process happens 7 times in a matter of an hour and a half. By this time I am just a tourist since drafting plays such a huge role in this stage and i have no chance of catching the fast boys. However, I really don't want to DNF (Did Not Finish) and the cutoff time is approaching. On my last flat I'm examining everything and I realized that my rim has burrs in it from riding yesterdays downhill with no air. I theorized that the burrs are causing small leaks in my tubes until I get too low pressure and pinch flat! I figure if I can pump up my tire high enough to seat the tubeless bead with my mini pump then the tire bead should cover most of the burrs. It takes a while but I do it and it seems to work although it was a very slow leak to the end of the race.
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I go as fast as I can and manage to make the cutoffs and pass more than a hundred riders left in La Ruta. There was really no point in drafting on the long flat sections since I was so far back that the speed of most surrounding riders was considerably slower than what I could muster myself. There was a small climb on this stage that was about 6 km long but it was so hot that I rolled up all my spandex so as to not overheat on it. I looked like a triathlete with ridiculous tan lines and massive plumbers crack which at times turned into the full moon. Oh well, it gave some of the hurting riders that I passed a chuckle or two. Honestly, though, I think that is the hottest I have ever been!
I worked my way to 61st place at the end of the stage. I passed tons of people on the train tracks and bridges. Incidentally, these train tracks are fully functional with trains using them that you have to get off for. Also, this area of Cost Rica is quite dangerous. One new racer friend that I met was hoping to buy some sustenance in one of the villages was told by a Tico support car to "keep moving, too dangerous... Gringos can't stop here". Another guy had a gun pulled on him at one of the bridges and was mugged! Sketchy!!!
I've never seen a better sight than the Caribbean beach where the finish line was. I peeled down to my shorts and dove into the water where I floated around buffeted by the waves until Erik came and got me. He likely thought he was going to have to give me mouth to mouth!
I recommend this race to anyone serious enough to take it on. It is brutal and awesome at the same time. As Roddi put it, "an eleven on the pain scale!" And Roddi's pain scale is pretty intense. Search for it if you want an entertaining read about last year's La Ruta.
Cheers everyone.
LA RUTA: The hardest mtb race ever??? Well, I certainly don't think that I am qualified to answer that considering I've only done a handful of marathon endurance one-day races and the Transrockies Challenge, but I do have some opinions. For one thing, the competition is way higher than in many marathon races which makes it harder... But lets just consider the terrain in the first stage. Racers climb almost 14 500 ft. in basically 2 climbs over 97 km. on steep grades that are only in a Western Albertan mtb'er's nightmares! If that weren't enough, the first climb/descent has enough clay mud on it for the entire population of Canada to take pottery classes and create there own giant vase! Need more convincing... Racers dealt with a mid to high thirties temperature in 100% humidity where you sweat profusely (I mean PROFUSELY, I've been dryer in some pools in Calgary!). Still not impressed! Well, remember you rode through a rain forest with stream crossings as deep as your handlebar. That coupled with the clay mud have rendered your high-end drivetrain into a primitive chain-sucking 3 speed if you're lucky enough not to have run out of lube... Oh yes. I forgot. That mud makes your 22 pound hardtail a 44 pound "not-so-freeride" bike!
Here is a stat to consider... My time for the Bow-80 (an 80 km mountain endurance race) this year was 4:24 and my time for stage one La Ruta was 7:25. One and three quarter times longer and I believe I was about 5% faster on the climbs than I was in September based on local times... Consider that 510 fit and tough people started (I might add shelling out a decent amount of $$$ to get there) and less than half made the cut-offs. If you were unfortunate enough to make the last cutoff but not get to the finish in the allotted 12 hours then you finished in pitch black Costa Rican darkness since they get almost exactly 12 hrs of light. Many of the finishers and non finishers went straight to the hospital. I don't want to take Erik's (my friend that I travelled and raced with) thunder but he finished in the top 30 % of starters and described the second climb "like a war zone" loaded with casualties on the side of the trail. If you think it was just the non-elite categories that suffered you'd be wrong. First off, I ran out of fuel and water between feed zone 3 and 4, but it wasn't just me. Top NORBA guys like Adam Craig and Jeremiah Bishop did too. Jeremiah took a shower in one of the water falls. Adam Craig, Hestler and even Paez (race winner) admitted feeling like they weren't going to be able to finish it... I can definitely say that stage 1 was the hardest single stage that I have ever raced. Anyone who finished it at all is a hero!
Enough about the course. I'll fill you in on the details of my race. My general classification goal was a top 15 coming in but when I saw the competition I knew that would be very difficult. I felt good, however, so I wanted to get top 20 on the 1st stage, make up some positions on the long downhill on day 2 and then hold my position with all the drafting on day 3.
The first stage went well. Those Ticos (Costa Ricans) like to start fast! Not like the Transrockies where it is a nice rolling start, this was as fast or faster than any xc race I've been in. I didn't get call up so I sprinted a few minutes on the pavement and gravel to work my way up to the top 30 which were starting to separate from the masses. It didn't take long to reach the foot of the first monstrous climb! I quickly figured out I was going to have to pace myself and due to losing rear wheel traction a few times I realized I needed to let a little air out of my rear tire. I let some are out because even though it was just a gravel road it was so steep that i was spinning out while sitting (in fact, I bumped Frischy when i started wandering a bit after losing climbing traction.) After changing the pressure, I tried to settle into a rhythm but was a little concerned because I wasn't in the position I wanted to be in. A little bit of riding later, I realized that I can still see Thomas and Dre H. up the hill so I figure that if they are just inside the top twenty and I'm just out then a few of the less celebrated athletes at front must be going to fade. So I just stay steady. Every mini downhill on the UPHILL I gain time and positions (one competitor asks if I race downhill). My patience is paying off and I've finished the first main section of the climb and descent. I feel good and I'm slowly but surely passing people. Every Tico that I pass urges me to slow down warning me of what is to come. I generally ignore the warnings because I figure what do they know. They wouldn't be getting passed if they didn't start crazy fast.
I feel good coming into the third feedzone right as Dre leaves it. I stomp on the pedals and on the next steep pitch I catch him, offer him some support and encouragement and move on thinking "Man! He looks like he's hurting!" This climb is about 35 km long and a couple of hours into it I pass a Costa Rican born American. In my broken Spanish I ask him how many more km to the feedzone. He answers "MUCHO! Do you speak English?" I answer "yes". He then proceeds to "encourage" me by saying "there's lots left and we haven't hit the hard part yet!" So I re-evaluated my pacing plan and was passed by said racer and couple more as I ran out of water and granny geared/pushed up the mountain. At one point I ask some of the tico support vehicles how far to the feedzone and they say 2 km... About 2 km further than that I ask again and am told 4 km! I almost break down and cry. I seriously doubt my ability to finish this stage. Attributed to nothing else other than the grace of God, I made it to the feed zone and spent a few minutes replenishing my depleted muscles but I feel psychologically refreshed knowing that I have about 3-4 km of false flat on pavement to reach the descent. This descent is like nothing I've ever experienced before. It would NEVER be allowed in North America. It would have "Fatal Accident Liability" written all over it. It isn't at all what you would describe as technical, in fact, a lot of it was on pavement. I probably maxed out at around 80- 90 kph on roads that still had traffic and pedestrians on them and no marshalls! It was chalk full of blind corners and switchbacks. One particular section was insanely steep, loaded with blood-thirsty locals watching racers negotiate a switchback which was shaded enough to have moss grown all over it. It was super slick! The bottom half was mostly gravel and it was wicked fun to two-wheel drift through all the corners. In retrospect, I literally gambled with my life on the corners of the descent. I don't think I have ever done anything more dangerous on a bike! Finally, a "tiny" little climb to the finish line (about the same elevation as Sulphur Springs or 300M in elevation gain)... Final corner, finish line in sight, "I'm going to finish this thing!"
Day one is done and I have a shower and check the results and I'm totally stoked to see 17th and relatively close to big time pros! Day two is supposed to be much easier. Whewwww!! Wait a second, much easier than day one doesn't mean easy! Over 8000 ft of climbing up a volcano this time in one climb! However, I'm looking forward to improving on yesterdays position since this stage has a relatively technical descent. I would describe it like the rocky sections of Little Elbow Downhill in Kananaskis for about 25 km but remember you are topping out at almost 3000 metres high so you are in clouds at the top! The stage starts in the San Jose, the capitol city, and heads straight up. The climb is a mix of pavement and gravel but predominately pavement. It reminds me of the pictures that I've seen of the Alpe d'huez. You might think that the start was casual after the pain of yesterday but in a 3 day stage race, apparently, there's no time for slow starts. In a matter of a 2 km or less I was in the lead group of 20 or so. To my left is Adam Craig and Dre and to my right is Tinker Juarez. Dre turns to me and says "Jon, look back." I look back to see that already there is a huge gap to a large peloton. About 30 seconds later I see Leonardo Paez attack and gain about 75 meters in a matter of seconds...No one responds! I keep my pace steady as the group starts to stretch out to a long line with gaps in it. My legs are still very sore from yesterday and breakfast is sitting heavy still so I decide to let myself slide back and ease into my pace.
As we reach the switchbacking pavement, I take notice that there is a relatively strong headwind from the east that hits us every other switchback. My legs are coming around and I'm catching and gathering groups of racers, mostly Ticos. I'm organizing pacelines but I'm doing at least 75% of the work. The good thing about this is that the Tican support vehicles are feeding me left, right and centre! Eventually, I notice a gap as I start a switchback into the headwind. I yell "Vamos! (let's go)" but no response other than a pained look so I decide to solo it. I didn't have to solo long to catch another small group but the same scenario happens, So as the grade eased near the top I attack hard and am minutes behind a strung out group that contains Dre and a Portuguese pro Joao and some others.
.JPG)
I chug a Boost at the top of the volcano and start descending like a mad man. A couple of km in I swallow my Canadian pride and put on a windproof vest as I realize my extremities are getting very cold. The vest hit the spot but it meant I had to gamble even more to catch the guys. I didn't catch Dre or Joao but I had caught some Ticos that they had passed. I believe I was in the top 15 possibly a 13th but that might be a bit optimistic.I was running UST tubeless tires with Stan's (like using the pill AND a condom) so I wasn't worried about flatting and I was riding with my typical reckless abandon style when I heard the air blow out of my rear tire suddenly! "Oh Crap!" I quickly take off my tire and see the valve is bent and not sealed so i bend it back and tighten it. I was hoping I would be able to just top it with air and go. I attempt to fill it with my co2 cartridge and it just blows through a large slash that I hadn't noticed. I then take it all apart and put a tube in it and go to start riding again only to realize that my front has flatted too! I only brought one tube and used both co2 cartridges on trying to fix the rear flat twice. I resort to begging and trying to take apart my front wheel but the tubeless valve is seized. I'm stuck. I borrow a co2 cartridge from a friendly racer and top it up with the Stan's sealant pooled right on the hole. It kinda works but I can tell it's losing air quickly. In a matter of minutes I'm descending on a flat front tire again but I know there is nothing i can do so I just keep given'er. All of the sudden Psssssseeeeewwwwwww. My rear tire has flatted again. I go to the side but no one wants to stop to hand me anything since they are going so fast. I decide to ride the rest on my rims. Riding as smooth as I can on the rims, I cringe every time I hear metal on rock. After a few km of this I pass a Tican support vehicle and beg for support. Thankfully, they oblige me. All they have is a mini pump so I pump up my front tire as hard as I can (this is when Erik passes me in a blur). I replace the rear tube again and pump up to some ridiculously high pressure. Then I hammer as hard as I can. On one paved corner I two wheel drifted past Tom Ritchey! I get to the finish very disappointed and frustrated in 45th I believe... My GC position was 22nd.
I don't think I'll change my tire set-up next year. It was just a sharp rock and bad luck that started a string of flats. I asked the race mechanics for 2 new tubeless tires since the original ones were undoubtedly wrecked after riding with no air.
The next morning before stage 3 I look at my wheels and the front is tubeless but the rear isn't. Assumeably, they didn't have a tubeless valve to put in since my rear one was damaged. It is only about 6-7 minutes before start so I just have to deal with it. This stage is relatively flat but it still has a pretty painful climb off the start and an even more painful one about a third of the way through. I climb like I have been which is good enough for the top twenty but I'm feeling a lot of drag. We start down some rough gravel road downhills and the first one I lose a water bottle and further down my rear tire blows. It takes forever to fix since they are brand new tubeless tires with a tight bead!! Frustrating!!! I finally fix it ride again like a mad man. A Tico yells at me "ES LOCO!" And I think "sweet." Not two minutes later "bang", another flat tire. I'm out of tubes because this stage was supposed to be unlikely to flat at all. I check my tire thoroughly but nothing. I have quite a bit of luck getting tubes from the back-end-of-the-pack crowd. The wheel is fixed, though I break my mavic crossmax quick release using it as a tire lever. Luckily, it still works. I start riding again...and flat again! Of course the same people that I just passed see me again and are generous to me. This process happens 7 times in a matter of an hour and a half. By this time I am just a tourist since drafting plays such a huge role in this stage and i have no chance of catching the fast boys. However, I really don't want to DNF (Did Not Finish) and the cutoff time is approaching. On my last flat I'm examining everything and I realized that my rim has burrs in it from riding yesterdays downhill with no air. I theorized that the burrs are causing small leaks in my tubes until I get too low pressure and pinch flat! I figure if I can pump up my tire high enough to seat the tubeless bead with my mini pump then the tire bead should cover most of the burrs. It takes a while but I do it and it seems to work although it was a very slow leak to the end of the race.
.JPG)
I go as fast as I can and manage to make the cutoffs and pass more than a hundred riders left in La Ruta. There was really no point in drafting on the long flat sections since I was so far back that the speed of most surrounding riders was considerably slower than what I could muster myself. There was a small climb on this stage that was about 6 km long but it was so hot that I rolled up all my spandex so as to not overheat on it. I looked like a triathlete with ridiculous tan lines and massive plumbers crack which at times turned into the full moon. Oh well, it gave some of the hurting riders that I passed a chuckle or two. Honestly, though, I think that is the hottest I have ever been!I worked my way to 61st place at the end of the stage. I passed tons of people on the train tracks and bridges. Incidentally, these train tracks are fully functional with trains using them that you have to get off for. Also, this area of Cost Rica is quite dangerous. One new racer friend that I met was hoping to buy some sustenance in one of the villages was told by a Tico support car to "keep moving, too dangerous... Gringos can't stop here". Another guy had a gun pulled on him at one of the bridges and was mugged! Sketchy!!!
I've never seen a better sight than the Caribbean beach where the finish line was. I peeled down to my shorts and dove into the water where I floated around buffeted by the waves until Erik came and got me. He likely thought he was going to have to give me mouth to mouth!
I recommend this race to anyone serious enough to take it on. It is brutal and awesome at the same time. As Roddi put it, "an eleven on the pain scale!" And Roddi's pain scale is pretty intense. Search for it if you want an entertaining read about last year's La Ruta.
Cheers everyone.
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