Cat 4
The trio of Gregg, Stephen and Christian Duncan rolled off the line together for 2 laps of the always challenging Tokeneke race. Gregg continued to race well, finishing 25th. Steve and Christian rolled in close behind at 30th and 32nd.
Masters 50 +
Here is the race re-cap from our own Dana Ravenburg:
I thought it was supposed to easier in the older brackets...at least that is what I thought before Sunday. I must say it was an almost perfect day for a race. A little warm, but I will take that over rain any day. I originally had no intention of racing the rest of the summer. An injury in the middle of the season had put me way behind, and I had decided to just ride and have fun this year as I recovered. I don’t know why, but about a week ago, I started to feel good, and I toyed with the idea of a race. Tokeneke for me sounded like a dumb idea to get started on, but it hung in the back of my mind. I perused bikereg.com to see what was out there. I noticed the MTB World Cup in Windham, which sounded even more stupid than Tokeneke, but definitely exciting. I watched a video trailer for the World Cup. I clicked on it again. My pulse ran a little higher, as I clicked on it again. The delusions of grandeur started, and I got sucked into the idea, that maybe, just maybe, I might do okay. Like a bug drawn to an electric bug zapper, I knew I was going to race. I just needed to figure out which race I was going to get zapped at. Of course I would do well. I had just entered an “easier” bracket at age 50, and besides I had shaved a pound and a half off my bike with some carbon rims with tubular tires from Dillon. What was there to worry about?
Before the race, it was good to see Stephen, Gregg, and Christian, and we rode together briefly, then I made my way to the start line. I did not want to start with a poor position like last year. As I lined up near the start line, I started looking around. I know that a race that is designated both a State Championship and New England Regional Championship will draw a different crowd than a local charity ride. They drive from Maine, or fly in from California. One guy from was the Dominican Republic. Who would do that? Some of these guys looked like they had been on steroids their whole lives. It was a big field of 68, and included the 60+ group. There was only one slouch…and he was on the Litespeed with the carbon rims.
The race started on time, and we immediately went into a high, but sustainable pace. No problem, I will just warm up here on the race. I am feeling good, maintaining near the front, but not working too hard. We hit the first decent hill southbound at a nice clip, and we already started dropping a few people. The heart appreciated the effort, and I recovered nicely on the descent. I love that descent towards the dam. Being near the front, crouched low, nobody on the brakes, 50 mph, it is awesome. As it opens up near the dam, our first fans cheered for us as we blew by at a nice clip. I knew the real test was coming with the climb on the west side. There is a steep pitch, then another not quite as steep, but twice as long to get started, followed by another four or so, that are not as bad, but put it all together and it just sucks. I was well positioned going in, and did okay for the first half of the first pitch. Now a number of people are passing me, and I know that it is not going to be good. I can’t believe I am starting to get shelled just eight miles into it. I am not the only one. The peloton was growing a nice tail of guys like me, but the main body still holding together. My mind is screaming “Dig! Now!,” but I am starting to blow up. My strategy shifts to linking up with some others, try to organize, and maybe catch up. I can still see the peloton not far up, so I believe it can be done. I catch a wheel, and we suffer together in silence, as the sweat really starts to pour out. We catch another guy. I am hoping he will work with us. He does for about 30 seconds, and then he goes off the front. He downshifts, which causes his chain to jump. He curses, and jumps off the bike to repair it as we pass. His curses get fainter the further we go. In between gasps, I introduce myself. The other rider is Dennis O’Brien from Massachusetts. I know the pain will last about 18 minutes, with a nice big descent, followed by a 2 mile climb to the feed zone. Dennis is starting to fade a bit, and he encourages me to go on. I told him to hang in there. I lied and told him he is looking strong, and if we work as a team, we might catch up. We settle into a nice rotation, and Dennis seems to get better. My mind does a continuous loop of the song “Face to the Floor” by Chevelle as put my head down and just grind. I mash it on the downhills, trying to capitalize the strength of my aero Litespeed. Dennis is still hanging tough. We catch a couple more guys who are of no help to us. There is a group of four that we seem to be gaining on with each little riser. I start to believe that this might work. The big descent improves my mood as I mentally prepare for the 2 mile North Hollow Climb. Dennis is now grinding up the hill with no issues, and the group of four seem a little closer. At the intersection after the feed zone, I don’t know how, but Dennis made a left towards Berg Field. I call out to him. A race official yells, and a little too slowly he realizes he is off course. I don’t want to, but I slow down, eat half a granola bar, and wait for Dennis to catch up. He apologized and we got back to work. As we climb the last hill before the dam, I hear the siren of the motorcycle leading the Cat 4 35+ crowd. I am irritated, as I know this means I am about 10 minutes behind my group. The group swallows up Dennis and I as we crest the hill, and we go bombing down together. It feels great again to be going fast. Gregg and Steve are leading the way and looking strong. I am excited for them, as I think they will probably do well with how good they look. As we pass the dam, one of the 35+ guys decides that he is the bike police. You know the type…as the road bike community has the occasional socially maladjusted putz with an unfounded superiority complex. He notices by my number that I am in the 50+, and he says, “You need to get out of our group!” I told him, “I am not in your group, you are in my group!” As he slid to the right, I noticed he had either a Zane’s or Fitwerx type colors on, and thought to myself, if he would motor that bike like his mouth, he could have his own group…way up in front. As we started up the west side climb again, I let the group go, while Dennis and I regrouped. We struggled up the hill. He laughed when I told him the group story.
We passed and got passed by the stragglers from the 35+ group. Halfway up, I started to feel the effects of not enough food, water, and a little too much fatigue. Dennis paired up with a 35+ and they advanced. I suffered on my own and started to think. Why didn’t I join my young son Erik for the weekend up at Highland Mountain Bike Park in NH? It would be so easy…ride the lift up the mountain, ride down the Cat’s Paw or Hellion, and all smiles. The heart rate would probably never get above 90. It would be awesome. What was I thinking?! On one of the flats near the top, I see a medical vehicle, and someone in the ditch all scuffed up. I slow down to see if the medics need assistance. They said no, and as I pull away I notice he is in a Zane kit. I really did hope he was okay anyway. The final climb and I catch myself cruising instead of racing. I remind myself to get moving, but I am really feeling poor. I cross the finish line with a few polite claps from fans that were not there to watch me. I appreciated their muted enthusiasm anyway.
I rode to Berg field and put up my bike. I went to the blue sauna (port-a-john) and had a few minutes of introspection as the sweat dribbled off my nose. After the sauna, it felt great in the 88 degree heat as I made my way to the snack bar. There was a guy at the picnic table that looked the way that I felt. He had the thousand yard stare that looked like “where did it all go so wrong?” I supported the local soccer club by ordering some food and drink. I don’t even like Coke, but I got one anyway. It was the most wonderful drink I ever tasted. I did not even come up for air as I gulped and slobbered the whole thing. I licked the coke dribble on the side. I really wanted another one, and I started to feel better. I figured I would just check the results online. I rolled down the windows, and headed back home. I found the song “Face to the Floor” on my phone and dialed it in. I grinned as I cranked it up, and suddenly I felt great, and was glad I did the race anyway.
Results
44th place out of 51 starters at 2:28
Some personal records, but 4 minutes slower than last year.
The 50+ group was the fastest group that did the 44 mile circuit. Over 7 minutes faster than the 35+ Cat 4’s. So much for an easier pace.
I need to hydrate and feed better. Train more. And train more on hill sprints.
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