Jennifer Dilworth Hynes — mtbchk

I’m stressed at work.  I’m stressed about the wedding.  I’m stressed about my family.  At this moment, I’m stressed about the Burn 24-Hour race and the next few weeks.  Let’s see… 24-hour race this weekend.  Dirt Divas Tsali trip next weekend.  Sugar Mountain NORBA Nationals race the following weekend.  Weekend off.  Cowbell Challenge 12-hour race the following weekend (if I’m not dead by then).  Then, we’re into July…

I’m doing the Burn this weekend.  It will be my first solo 24-hour.  I’ve done a solo 12-hour and a couple of 24-hour team events.  I’m not going out there to really try to compete with the rest, but to see what I can do.  I want to push myself and see how much I can do.  I know I can do it.  I keep telling myself that, anyway.

I’m stressed that I’m forgetting something.  I have a list that I’ve used for the last few years to pack for the team events and I’ve adapted it for solo 12-hour and now the solo 24-hour events.  It’s long.  I’m amazed at how much stuff I’m bringing, only to spend a minimal amount of time in my pit area (I hope).  I started packing the car last night with the big stuff like tents, chairs and bike stands.  My bike is ready, except for the brake pads I need to change out, but that’s easy.

I’m typing this while I wait for my dinner to finish in the oven.  After I eat, I’ll be in the garage.  I’ve started to lay everything out on the floor of the garage to be packed into my plastic bins.  One bin for riding food/drink/energy stuff/personal stuff (like aspirin, chamois butter, tiger balm, etc.), and another bin for bike parts, tools, and other stuff-stuff.  I hope to get all of that taken care of tonight.  Tomorrow night, I’ll do the clothes and the other food shopping.  On my list:  oranges, bananas, watermelon, peanut m&ms, pirates booty (a strange craving of mine), and, of course, YOO HOO — my favorite middle-of-the-night-comfort-drink.

I hope I don’t forget anything.  I hope I don’t cry.  I think I’ll do yoga later tonight.  I have a knot in my stomach.

I know I’ll be fine.  I know I can do it.  I know I’ll have plenty of support.  Because….

The Spartanburg Stumpjump, held at Croft State Park, is one of my favorite XC races each year.  I love this trail.  It’s hilly (at least for part of the time), it’s technical, it’s fast in spots, and it’s fairly scenic.  When it’s dry, it’s a ton of fun.  When it’s wet, it’s VERY slick, with some red clay-mud and lots of roots.  The climbs become impassible, even hard to hike up.  The descents become treacherous and slick.  Last year, it rained heavily the night before and the morning of the race.  It didn’t actually rain during my race, but it was wet enough that I went over the handlebars on one of the aforementioned descents and rolled down a hill — all the while yelling, “RIDER DOWN!” so the girl who was close behind wouldn’t come down the hill on top of me.  Three years ago, back when they did the “Idaho” section during the race, there were ropes on the exit side of a steep gulley so people could pull themselves out.  Walking/riding wasn’t possible (I hear), due to the mud.  I never had the pleasure of riding that section in the mud.  I’ve ridden it, and it’s hard enough without mud.

So, this year, it rained a bit on Friday.  We went down Saturday, attempting to ride around noon or so.  We wanted to give ample time for the trail to dry.  Well, Spartanburg really isn’t very far from Boiling Springs, so we were really early and decided to stop at the outlet mall on the way.  After a quick run through the outlets and a stop at a wierd drive-through-or-eat-outside-only Chik-fil-A, we headed to the trails for the pre-ride.  The trail was in good condition, considering.  It was worse last year.  Saturday, it had a few wet spots, and very few really slick spots.  It could have been much worse.  The course itself was the same as last year, with a start in the grass down the road, and a turn into the trail that if you took too sharply you’d find yourself nosing down into a ditch.  The trick is to swing wide and go down the length of the ditch.  For the rest of the trail, although it hadn’t changed, it was more technical than I remembered.  The first powerline descent had been smoothed out due to people launching down the waterbars and separating shoulders and breaking collarbones.  The following steep climb didn’t seem as steep.  I climbed it in the middle ring, but I think I walked it last year.  From there, it’s almost all singletrack.  There are a couple of big climbs in the beginning, a long flat section in the middle that winds around down by the creek, and then some technical sections that you’re off the bike walking if you miss a line. Once you get through some technical stuff, rocks, and slick technical climbs, the last third of the trail is the rest of the climbing.

Saturday afternoon, it rained again (after we rode).  We went to Hops and had a yummy dinner.  We talked about wedding plans.  (Now, we have a plan.)  Sunday, I expected it to be a mess after the additional rain.  The beginners’ race was first at 9:00.  When they finished, they said it really wasn’t even as bad as Saturday.  Well, that’s good.  One less thing to worry about.  My Sport race was at 11:00.  I remembered to eat and to take care of my bike and to warm up.  I was off to a good start.  My biggest worry was the lap count.  Every year, they put our class down for three 9-mile laps, and every year we vote it down to two.  27 miles of technical trail is WAY too much for a Sport XC race.  The catch is, that the vote has to be unanimous.  It never fails that one girl wants to do all 3 laps, ruins the vote, and ends up DNFing.  Yes, that’s happened in my class more than once.

On the start line, there are 6 of us in my category, and 1 (Philicia) in the 19-29 category.  We’re all lobbying for the two-lap vote.  One girl says she kinda wants to do three.  I asked if she’s ever ridden there.  No.  Does she realize three laps would probably take us about three hours?  No.  She continues to hold her ground, though.  Madonna threatens to have me beat her if she votes for three.  Finally, they get to our class and there’s the vote.  We all vote for 2.  It comes down to this one chick.  She gives in and says she’ll do whatever everyone else wants.  I didn’t get a chance to find her to thank her and to see if she’s happy with her decision.  I’ll assume she was.

Ready, go.  I couldn’t get clipped in.  I was somewhere in the middle of the pack, but felt like everyone was leaving me.  I warned everyone about the trail entrance, since I saw some guys in the earlier race almost eat it and/or take everyone else out by short-cutting the gulley.  Our group got through it ok.  We were very bunched up in the first singletrack section.  Brian was hiding in the bushes taking pictures here….

Down the big, fast powerline downhill, up the steep climb.  “3-lap-girl” misses the climb and is off the bike walking.  I passed another here, too.  Into the woods, I’m behind Madonna, Philicia and Theresa and ahead of a few others.  We all stayed together for a while.  I passed Theresa early.  I sat behind Philicia until she slid out in a turn and I got around her.  I traded places with her for the rest of the race.  One girl from Georgia rode behind me for a while and we chatted.  She didn’t know the trail, so I called stuff out to her.  I felt like I was holding her up, but she insisted that my pace was good.  She and Philicia passed me when I dabbed on one of the technical climbs about 3/4 of the way through the first lap.  I never saw her again, but I stayed in sight of Philicia for the rest of the race.

At the start of the second lap, I was hurting already.  I tried to ignore it and take my own advice and take a few swigs of Hammergel.  That stuff is magic in a flask.  I was headed down the road to the trail, when I saw “3-lap-girl” come out of the woods to finish her first lap.  Gosh, I didn’t realize she was so close.  I sped up and made it back into the trail.  Somewhere in the singletrack, suddenly Beth is RIGHT behind me.  I had no idea she was there.  I sped it up a bit more and we played yo-yo for the last half of the second lap.  After the tech stuff and starting the last climbs, I didn’t think I had anything left.  But, I thought I was in third, and I didn’t want to let Beth beat me.  I kept going and had some more Hammergel.  I got my second wind.  I’m not sure what exactly the mechanisms are in my body, but I SWEAR I found leg muscles I didn’t know I had.  I put a gap on Beth and finished for third place.  The girl from GA (last rider in the pic above) got first, Madonna second, me third, Beth fourth, “3-lap girl” 5th (I think) and Theresa 6th (I think).  I’m obviously not sure about the last two.

I felt like I had a good race.  I love that course.  It’s worth a day-trip.  Brian’s race was cut short due to lightning.  He was happy about that and we got home earlier than expected.  He was scheduled to do four laps and only did three.  Four laps is a long hard race.

On the way home, I started cramping.  I dropped B off in Boiling Springs, came home, showered and, you guessed it….. ICE BATH!  With the warmer weather, ice melts faster, so I had to stop at the gas station for some extra ice.  It still didn’t last very long, but it SO works.  No pain on Monday.

I went to sleep early.  I slept well Sunday night.

I’ve been in “Pump School” for the last two days.  I went out on a limb and signed up eight operators and mechanics for pump school in Charlotte.  The way we operate and maintain pumps is atrocious!  But, I can only preach so much, and they only listen to me so much.  I figured if they heard it from someone else who’s “in the business”, they might start to understand.  So, I found a class in Charlotte put on by one of these industrial training outfits.  I got some of the more influential mechanics and operators to agree to go, albeit hesitantly.

Well, the last two days have been great!  There was much skepticism on Wednesday.  They claimed that “we already know how to pack pumps, why do we need this class?”  They were dismayed that they didn’t need to bring any tools or work clothes.  “What are we gonna learn by sitting in a classroom?”  They quickly learned the answer — ALOT.  Some theory.  Some practical application.  Proper operation, proper maintenance, some design, Do’s, Don’t, and a lot of “gee, I didn’t know that…”  The biggest skeptics in the group were thanking me for getting them in on the training, and are planning to take what they learned back to the plant to put into practice.  They even asked if there were more classes like that.  Hey, whatever it takes to get a more reliable plant…!

Another small success.

Sometimes it’s good to put things into perspective…..

Perspective:  When I have a bad race, I recall what being a beginner feels like.  Last Wednesday’s race at Reni brought much humility.  I went out hard and held on to the 1^st place rider’s wheel for the first 2 miles.  I couldn’t see the 3^rd place racer.  Then, my body would have no more of that.  I hit the wall and was passed after the first ½ lap (mile 3 of 12), and struggled to finish the race.  Everything was cramping, and I bonked rather completely.  Very humbling. 

The next day, however, I was reminded of how far I’ve come.  I got some pictures back from the women’s only beginner skills clinic that I led last Saturday.  (We had 33 enthusiastic women and girls out there!)  It is very inspiring to see women just starting out, and reveling in tackling parts of the trail that I take for granted that I can ride.  I remember being “new” and feeling like I could never get through the steep learning curve.  Every ride was an “event” in my life.  Every log and root was a challenge.  Riding then was an adventure.  Nowadays, it’s still fun, but in a different way.  I don’t have to concentrate as much but I don’t have as many small victories.  Now, I ride for the sake of loving to ride and feeling strong and powerful.

Practice in the field during the Women’s Only Beginner Skills Clinic:

Hitting the trail - the first uphill:

Perspective:  When I realize, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that no, I am not, nor will I ever be, an elite cyclist, I come to grips with realizing and living up to MY own potential.  I went for the VO2max and RMR testing last week.  It was a good deal for people who had done the Per4mance Training winter series.  I learned 2 things from these tests:  my metabolism is impossibly slow, and I’m fairly average when it comes to typical athletes.  My RMR (resting metabolic rate) is very low, which may explain my weight loss struggles.  Weight Watchers isn’t cutting it anymore for me - it doesn’t take into account fueling needs for racing.  I’ll start working with a sports nutritionist in the very near future to work out these issues.

In the realm of VO2max, I was just curious more than anything else about this number.  The test is hard but short.  In the grand scheme of things, I’m well above average - for the average population.  I asked how I stacked up against the people that went to Per4mance for their testing - a generally athletic, endurance-athlete, racing-type group.  According to the tester, I was right there in the average, maybe a point above average.  But average nonetheless.  (Not really any surprise there!)

With that said, I don’t want to resign myself to being “average” just because that’s what the numbers say.  I ride because I like to.  I race because I like to push myself.  I may never go Pro, or even Expert, but racing with others in my Sport group is fulfilling and challenging.  I want to push myself to MY highest potential.  These thoughts remind me of Teamdicky’s comment last year about these racers that win the big enduro events - they are just “regular” people. They have committed to finding their potential and pushing their own limits.  (OK, so I’m paraphrasing.)  Here’s his post: 

“Back in the 90’s I was lucky to stand on a sport class podium.  I used to read about people like John Stamsted and Rishi Grewal and I was in awe of thier accomplishments.  A few years later I jumped in and tried it and the next thing I knew I was racing Stamsted and I was standing on a podium with Rishi.
  You can admire what they do, but they are just like you.  They just choose to push themselves further.  Everybody should test their limits.  You only got one shot at living so why not see what you can do with it.
  I carry a quote with me at work from Stamsted:
“Endurance feats are great up to a point-and then they just become slogs that everyone has the physical ability to do”
  ……I just thought people should know that she (Heather Mosely – last year’s Burn winner) is just like you and me.  Eat, sleep, work, dream.”

Rich, your comments have stuck with me in the last year and inspired me to push myself more to find out what I am capable of doing.  I want to push myself as far as I can and still have fun riding. 

If only my legs looked as good as Teamdicky’s in a skort!

Perspective:  When I think there’s no way I’ll get through next weekend’s 24-hour race, I remember thinking how crazy a 12-mile ride was.  I remember when all I could handle was a half-lap at Renaissance (3 miles).  I used to reserve rides at Catawba for days when I was “feeling really good”.  Then, I got to the point where I could ride Catawba all the way through with only one or two stops.  The thought of doing 2 laps at Catawba for a Sport race was overwhelming (12 miles).  Fast-forward two years - I did 11 laps at Catawba during last year’s Cowbell Challenge.  I’m attempting the Burn 24-hour Solo this year.  That seems like a lot of riding.  When I think about it all at once, it’s as overwhelming to me as those first 3 miles at Renaissance were 6 years ago.  Again, it’s all about perspective.  Break it down into smaller chunks.  Take it one mile at a time. 

And, as always, have a Mimosa when you’re done!

After a good pre-ride on Saturday, the trails at Devil’s Ridge in Sanford, NC were in great shape.  There had been some rain earlier in the week, but the trails were mostly dry.

The race begins by riding through the moto-cross track.  Lots of big MX jumps and rollers, then into the woods, for a roughly 5-mile long trail.  It’s not too technical, and not too hilly.  It is tight in spots, but there is nothing really notable.  For you locals, it’s like Renaissance, but with better “flow”.

The morning of the race, the weather was perfect.  A little chilly, not damp.  The sport race was first.  This is good, considering my “gift of gab” (see Clemson race report).  No time to waste here.  Plus, I think it’s easier to fuel for an early race.  I’m looking around, and there aren’t too many other women around before the race.  There is another race on the same day in Clemson as part of the larger SERC series.  I think that’s where everyone else was.  I only see one other Sport woman hanging around, and she’s in the younger 19-29 class.

At the line, my suspicions were right.  It was just me and Anina — the younger racer.  They started us with the Clydesdales.  One guy (Batman — he always wears a Batman jersey his son picked out) says, “oh great — now I’ll finally be passed by the ENTIRE women’s class!”  We all chuckled.  The guy who owns the venue is a MX guy, and is used to having a bunch of motors revving on the starting line, because there is no verbal “GO” to start the race.  He just raises a flag.  This threw me off the first time I raced here, but this time I knew what to expect.  When he raised the flag, we were off.  I was having a good time.  I made motorcycle noises as I led out, ahead of most of the Clydesdales.  I guess they have more inertia to overcome, but can maintain more momentum, because it didn’t take long for them to all pass me in the MX course.  Maybe I need to work on better motorcycle noises.

Since I was the only one in my class, I can’t say I was really “racing”.  I had a bunch of fun, though.  I tried to keep the Clyde (Batman) in my sights who was convinced that we would pass him.  We had three laps to do.  At the end of the first lap, I caught him, right at the finish line.  He slows and tries to get me to pass, while telling me he’s about to puke.  The place was not a good place to pass, so I tell him I’ll pass him around the next corner, and THEN he can puke. 

I’m not sure what happened, but he sped up, didn’t puke, and we kept riding.  For the second lap, I kinda forgot that it was a race at all.  My mind wandered all over the place and I just rode.  On the third lap, I saw Batman again, so I tried to catch him.  That’s when I started to remember that it was a race afterall, even if I was only racing myself.  I booked it through the third lap.  In the field I saw the front of the Sport men’s class approaching quickly, about to lap me (that usually happens earlier in this race).  They have 4 laps to my 3 for this race.  There was a group of 3 all together, with about 3/4 mile left in the race.  When they caught me in the last section of singletrack, I pulled over, stopped, let them go by, and cheered them on.  Races that close are exciting, and I didn’t want to mess them up, especially when I knew I would get “1st place” in my race regardless.

All-in-all, it was a fun day.  I never caught Batman again.  He left me when I stopped for the other guys.  I got a huge plaque with a picture of a racer on it (“Hey!  That’s not me!”).  It was the same one they had on the plaques last year.  Devil’s Ridge is well-known for their good swag.  In addition to the huge plaque, I got two Kenda tires (my current favorites!), some grips, and another pint glass.  I could open a bar with all the pint glasses I’ve won from racing!

We have a couple of weeks off from racing, then Spartanburg Stumpjump, then comes the BURN 24-hour race.  Oh yeah, that’s coming up….. now I’m nervous again….

Like many of our other races lately, it rained the Friday before the race — hard.  We had planned to leave from Boiling Springs early Saturday to pre-ride and register, but it was still raining steadily Saturday.  We didn’t leave until after noon.  When we arrived at the trails, it was still pretty muddy, so we went ahead and registered for the race and decided not to pre-ride.  The girl who registered us assured us that it was the same course as last year.  Still, it made me a little nervous not to pre-ride, if only just to remind myself of the trail, and sections to watch out for.  Oh well.

Instead of pre-riding, and since we couldn’t check into the hotel yet, and since it wasn’t really time to eat again (hehe), we went and wandered around the greater-Clemson, SC area.  We walked along the edge of campus, near all the bars and t-shirt shops.  We went by the athletic fields, where a fraternity-type softball tournament was going on.  It reminded me of my days at Ga Tech.  I played on a couple of Greek softball teams — my sorority’s team (we sucked) and a “Beer-league” coed team.  We were REALLY good, considering the amount of beer that was drank during the games.  I think it’s because we were heavily loaded with normal A-league guys who also had “trained” for the beer-league.  We won the CHAMPIONSHIP!!  Ah, the memories.

mmmm.  Beast Light.

So anyway, on to the race report.  (As exciting as Beast light really is…)

Sunday we got to the trails by 8:15.  My race wasn’t until 10:30, and Brian’s was at 12:30.  We watched the beginners’ race start, and from there, the morning gets a little fuzzy for me.  I really can’t remember what I did from about 8:45 until 10:00.  Brian says I was running my mouth.  I guess he’s right.  I have a tendency to socialize.  But, while I was socializing, I wasn’t fueling, hydrating, warming up or getting my bike ready.  At 10:05, I realized what time it was.  Oh crap.  I grab my bottle of Hammer Heed, start drinking.  I drank half the bottle, jumped on the bike and started warming up by riding up and down the fire road.  Brian handed me my Hammer Bar at the top of the hill at 10:25.  I ate half of it, and put the other half in my rear jersey pocket.  I headed for the starting line.  Hmmm, this isn’t starting out well at all.

Lined up, there were 5 of us in the Sport 30-39 group.  Ready, GO!  The race starts (and ends) with a 3/4 mile long steep fire-road climb.  It will sap your energy very quickly.  Since our class does two laps, I’ll be climbing this hill three times.  At the start, I can’t seem to get into a gear that I like.  I’m spinning, no, I’m mashing.  Shoot.  What am I doing?  I settle in as we start up the hill.  I realize my inability to quit gabbing and my lack of preparation have left my legs feeling like tinker toys as we get to the steeper part of the hill.  I have nothing.  I watch most of the group pedal up the hill ahead of me.  Halfway up, Brian is standing on the sidelines cheering.  I look over and say, “I’m just not feeling this one today.” 

Into the woods, I’m ahead of one other racer, and I can just barely see the others ahead.  We ride through the singletrack together.  This is her “home” trail, and I’m afraid I’m holding her up.  I am sketchy on the trail, because I don’t remember it from last year (should have pre-ridden!), and it’s a little damp and a little slick.  She insists that she doesn’t want to pass, and is just pacing me, so I continue on. 

At the creek crossing, we catch Madonna, who has messed up her line in the crossing and is getting back on her bike.  She gets in line with us, and I make some comment about not really having any lungs, so if they want to pass, just let me know.  Also, if they just want to pace, let me know and I’ll “up” the pace.  I must have upped the pace, anyway, because next thing I know, it’s just me and Madonna, with the other rider nowhere in sight.

As Madonna and I ride together, we start chatting.  She’s not really into this race either, since they didn’t arrive at the venue until 10:20.  She said something about how fun it was riding together, and that we should do it more often.  I said, “yeah, except you’re always WAY ahead of me!” 

As we continued riding, (I don’t really consider what we were doing “racing”), I become acutely aware of a very prominent headache.  I keep drinking water and taking some Hammer Gel, but nothing helps.  As we near the end of our first lap, we run into Madonna’s husband checking out the singletrack before his race starts.  He rides the big hill with us, and that gives Madonna a little more motivation to speed up, and I never saw her after that.

As I continue to ride, I am more and more bothered by this headache.  Going into my second lap, I decide not to worry too much about racing.  These trails are fun to ride (except for the huge fire road climb), and I decide just to ride it out and have fun.  I haven’t seen the other racer for quite some time, so I know I’m not last.  As I begin to relax and just ride, my headache gets slightly better.  That’s how I rode the entire second lap — just riding.  Enjoying the trail.

I finished 4th out of 5.  It was a big difference from last year’s race.  I was ELEVEN FULL MINUTES SLOWER this year from last year.  To be fair, last year I had a “trail angel” to help me.  A “Clydesdale-class” racer who had a mechanical issue decided to ride out the race rather than DNF, and he rode behind me for my entire second lap.  He helped me catch and pass the leader of my race  (I still ended up second, since she passed me on the last climb).  Every time I slowed down, he would let me know.  He didn’t let me slack off at all.  I wish I had him with me at all my races!

Anyway, even though I was fourth, I got a pretty good prize bag, with some Cane Creek socks, lube, bottle cage (which I needed) and some other stuff.  Looking back, I think my headache must have been from either low blood sugar or dehydration.  I’m guessing blood sugar, since I didn’t ride long enough for dehydration to really set in.  Lesson learned.  Don’t run your mouth.

I posted a while back about a job posting for an engineer with half the experience making significantly more than I do.  (The job is still open, by the way).

NOW, they posted a job for a construction manager (the one that was here quit).  This one is for NO ADVANCED DEGREE and 10 years of experience (High School or GED is all that is needed), making $8000 MORE than me.  COME ON!  Does my degree not count for anything?  Does my experience not count for anything?

Let’s just say I’m really peeved and feeling a bit minimized right now.  Need to start looking…

I just spent the last 45 minutes writing my race reports.  When I clicked “Publish,” I got

FATAL ERROR.

Dammit.