The 5-0 Goes Green

Nothing says two-wheeled fun like a dirt unibrow and a race bike covered in cow poop. (Sorry, no photos!) I think the race promoters of the Dakota FIVE-o would probably agree with me. The 8th annual Dakota 5-0 in Spearfish, SD was one for the record books. I was fortunate to be asked to join the MWCC and crew and roll in stylee up to the land of the buffalo. It was a blast to be amongst friends including Mod and Anne, Matt and Jill Tilingast, Eric Brunt (Jimmy Johns) and Larry "Hot Pepper Harlan" Kintner. Keeping each other entertained was the key. We got so desperate at one time, Mod suggested we whip out our cell phones once we past the mountain time zone sign to see who's phone would turn first. For the record, Alltel is weak! After hitting Arby's at Al's Oasis we made a b-line for Spearfish. It was a gorgeous early evening when we arrived. Some of the War Axe crew were already there, holding a spot for us. We set up camp lickety split and got the fire going soon after. It was great to be able to get off the road and not have the anxiety of preparing for a race the next day. We still had all day Saturday to play and get ready. Saturday morning was sunny and windy. The Monkey Wrenchers (Nate Wood(s)man, Jose, Clark, and their beverage manager, Hoss) were coming up via western Nebraska and weren't going to be there until later so we all went for a recon ride of the course. We rode the section after the first aid station, which had a mixture of terrain and technical climbing and descending. About five minutes into the ride, a bee flew into my helmet vent and stung my forehead. I pulled off the trail, yelling "Bee! Bee! Bee!" and tore off my helmet. It was too late of course and my forehead was burning. There wasn't anything I could do so I put my helmet back on (ouch!) and chased after the group. When we all regrouped I took off my helmet and expected a third eye. Larry gave me the Suck-It-Up sermon and that was about it. I thought this would be the beginning of some bad luck. But aside from some crap-slinging cow patties, we all made it out fine. It was a long roll back to the van via gravel road. It was very hot and windy so in an effort to conserve my energy for the race, I put the bike in granny and spun myself silly. The rest of the day was spent icing my third eye, exploring the campground's historic fish hatchery, staying hydrated and out of the sun. Later that evening, when the MW boys went out for their recon ride, the rest of us rolled into town for some grub before packet pick up at a local coffee shop. We had to stand in line for a bit so we chatted with folks from all around. Fun times! Some 300 riders were ready to rock it! Back at camp, it was time to put the battle plan together. A dozen goo pacs, and my newest favorite power food Power Bar's fruit smoothie. Plus some fig bites and electrolytes. Kit, camelback, gloves, check. Bike cleaned up and lubed. I was happy with my tire pressure during the recon (more of that later) so I didn't touch them. Lights out at 10pm. Race started at 7:30, as in the morning, so that meant a 4:45 wake up call. That was one of the few times I appreciated a warm morning while camping. Nobody wants to get out of a sleeping bag that early if it's nipply. So I sat up and made myself some Kashi granola and fruit w/ just enough milk to make it mushy. Within a half hour or so others started getting up and soon the camp site was buzzing with folks getting ready to put themselves to the test. I threw down some camp coffee to bring the digestive track to life and then I was off to warm up around 6:45.

The line up was in no particular order. These peeps keep it real. Nobody has category numbers. You just get the next number in line when you sign up so you don't know who or where anyone is at the start. I parked it in front next to most of the Omaha/FFL crew. That was cool. Got to give the promoter a high five as he ran past us while we waited for things to get going. That guy had so much energy you couldn't help but be glad to be there. Smokey the Bear gave us the countdown and we were off. A neutral start took us about a half mile through town but at the pavement edge it was all for one. That's when I moved to the right and all the fly boys went by. I kept an eye out for any pony tails, one Sobe/Cannondale rider in particular but I didn't see any fems go by. I tucked myself behind some bigger dudes when I could and then once I was rested, I moved onto the next rider. A lovely 15 mph wind was in our face as we climbed gravel roads (FFL were in heaven) for a few miles until the hole shot. Once there, things mellowed out and it got awfully crowded.

Within a few minutes, the S/C rider went by. Clark was hot on her tail. I kept an eye on her. It was so crowded but she was being pretty aggressive and passing a lot of guys. There was a lot of racing to do, so I didn't freak out. I passed probably more aggressively than I normally do just to keep her in sight. We came to a low section of the trial that crossed a bunch of flowing streams. It was down in this area that I thought I got a flat tire. I was sick to my stomach. I was running tubeless so I was a bit concerned that I had sliced the tire. So I hopped off and gave the rear tire a squeeze. Not flat but very low. It had to have been 22 pounds. Damn! I shoulda checked before I rolled out. Duh. Well, I made it this far without flatting, I thought, so might as well continue on. I caught up to Larry who had gone by and then not long after that around the 12 mile mark I caught up to the S/C rider and she was kinda in recovery spin mode. I didn't fly by or anything. I just motored on and she didn't answer. Well, that was easy, I thought. (Rookie mistake). So for the next 3o miles I raced with my head down and the song "Steady as She Goes" in my head. Thank goodness I had forgotten the song Hoss put into our heads the night before, Match Maker from Fiddler on the Roof. What the hell?!!

I felt good the whole race. I don't look back when I'm racing so whomever comes up is who I'm racing right then. I traded places with a few dudes a few times. Lots of climbing so it was important to stay energized and fed. I've been battling stomach issues for two seasons on long events and this year was extra hard. But I figured out that I was depriving myself of calories and it was making me ill and not feeling like eating so that's what I would do. Not this time. Nope. I started eating solid food by about 1.5 hours. I'm a new fan of the Power Bar smoothie flavor. YUMMY! So I munched on it and then at the 3rd aid station, about 30 miles in, I devoured a couple pieces of watermelon and filled up the camelback.

I continued on. Up a mile switch back climb on rocky service roads. Then it flattened out and then it was downhill and then technical single track and then another downhill. As I approached the last aid station about 38 miles in, the race promoter was sitting there on his 4 wheeler yelling my name. His wife was there too giving me tons of support. I turned the corner to start the 15 minute rocky road up when I heard the Mrs. yell girl power! I was well up the road, so I knew it wasn't a yell for me. It was the S/C rider. Sure enough she blew by me at a pace I couldn't match. Well, I knew it was going to be a long, nasty climb so I just did my thing but maybe a hair faster. The road had no line and at one point the only line was at the far right at the edge of the grass. About the middle of that climb she dismounted and ran up the hill. I refused to walk. In fact, at every climb I had the mantra "I hate walking, I hate walking" repeating in my head. I had to a few times but only if absolutely necessary. So I just motored on up. At one point I had to clip out after spinning out on a rock but I still refused to walk. I hopped back on and quickly got going again. Once at the top I knew what awaited me: the super sketch downhill where Ryan passed my last year. I was bound and determined to ride (slide) down it this time. So I went for it, be it at a snails pace. But my mind, and oh my lack of downhill skill, got the better of me. I tried clipping out but fell over before I could get a foot out. Like a fish outta water, I tried to wriggle my foot out of the pedal. I heard a rider coming down the trail. I yelled "RIder Down!! so they'd hear me and not crash on top of me. Luckily, he was able to stop in time. He went by and I finally got myself free from my bike. I jumped up and ran down the trail. To my surprise, someone was coming back up on foot. I assumed it was a trail marshall b/c even though the trail went pretty far down, the race route actually took a left in the middle of it and I thought this person was directing traffic and picking up stuff on the trail. As I got closer, I saw it was the S/C rider and her bike was off the trail and she was walking up to get her stuff that apparently flew off the bike as she tumbled down the trail. I stopped to ask if she was OK and she said yes so I kept going. The trail continued down and it was rutty and rocky. I was so excited and my adrenaline was just rushing through me that I was riding like shit so I had to calm myself down and get into my pedals and focus. I had about 10 miles left and it was chuck full of every terrain but the best part was it was all down hill and rolling with some power climbing. I knew I had to keep nursing that low tire so I watched the trail for evil rocks and roots. I'm pretty sure my descending was more conservative this race b/c of the pressure but I just said ok God, legs, bike, bring me home. And I blasted those last miles. If anything I was having way too much fun for my own good. The last section of single track makes one feel like they're in a bike video, constantly turning and pedaling, standing up and sitting down. Never a dull moment. Tight turns where you can't see around the corner. I almost blew a corner and skidded so hard that I thought I was going to lose that back tire. But she stayed put. The second I came out of the trees my heart exploded. I put it in the biggest ring in front and smallest in back. Remember that head wind at the start? You got it. It was tail wind all the way except for one power climb up a paved road. After that it was home free and I didn't turn it off for a second. My goal was to beat my personal record by 10 minutes and I did even better, 13 minutes! I got the overall, a new course record and solid win over some serious talent. It was a race I won't forget. It could have gone the other way very easily and it just goes to show that sometimes just riding smart and steady can reap many rewards.

My final time 4:40.

So with that I ended the race and my season. I cruised back to camp and slid into the freezing cold stream that flowed through the camp ground. I chatted with some other riders who had the same idea. I just sat there in my full kit (sans shoes) with my chocolate milk and a coke in the shade of a tree as the icy water numbed my aching parts. One of the best things about racing is being done, I always say. I love to race. I love being out there pushing myself, motivated solely by the rhythm of my breath. But I also love the tingly sensation my body has after an event like that, like I just got off a motorcycle, where my skin feels alive, my head is pounding and my ears are ringing. Five hours ago I was standing at the start line, unsure where the day would take me and now I was lying in a stream, the past few hours a blur, save for a few particular moments. It seemed like a dream.

It was time to get moving, get cleaned up and to celebrate with friends. Jesse P. and Nate Woodman and Tony Wilhelm got on a podium. Mod and Eric placed well and so did Matt. Everyone finished and everyone was healthy. Many reasons to celebrate. So I walked my cow poop covered bike to my tent and gathered up my stuff to shower. Upon entering the bathroom I took a look in the mirror. Nice dirt uni-brow.