Doug Smith - Angry Doctor 100km participant
"All that fixie training he's being doing around the steepness of
Balmain has paid off. I say UCI should add it to the list of banned
performance enhancements."
Well Mr Drummond has been very quiet so I will have to blow his trumpet
<urgh>. Angry Doctor, 100km mountain bike enduro, was held in the Mogo
state forest this past Sunday (my fathers' day present). This entitled
riding around the bush, up and down lots of hills. Up 3000m of hills in
fact, which my legs will tell you is quite a lot. My recollection is
hazy, but I shall recount as best my fatigue addled mind will allow.
A 7am start saw 270 riders line up in the crisp (5C) morning air under a
clear blue sky. The flag drops and the throng races off down the road
for a couple of kms before turning left onto dirt and heading up the
first hill of the day. In the middle of the pack the pace slows, riders
hunched over handlebars, puffing away. Already I have dropped my
nemesis, Rowan, and over the following 15 odd kilometres of fire trail
and singletrack build a commanding lead. Pacing with a couple of quick
guys I'm ripping through the pack, railing singletrack when my chain
goes snap. 10 minutes standing by the side of some very buff
singletrack sees most of the field stream past, including a certain Mr
Rowan Drummond. Chain repaired, back on the bike, and after a few
minutes who should I meet but the aforementioned Mr Drummond. Very
sporting I hear you say. Hah! More like, he wanted the rest, he knew
that I'd paced hard early and was just looking to suck my wheel for the
next 85 kms.
"The trail points down. Wheeee!
Lots of fun singletrack, including several kilometres of the most buff,
bermed, no brakes trail in the country."
We ride up hill and down dale before returning to the event centre at
Mogo oval. 50kms down, and both Rowan and I are feeling a tad tired,
and the second 50 is meant to have the proper hills. We stop, eat a
little, drink a little, get our chains lubed, and head back into the
bush. We pass the 55km marker. Gee, that felt like a lot of riding for
5km. We wind down some tight singletrack to a river crossing, my front
wheel gets caught up on a root and deposits me over the handlebars and
onto my head. Luckily Rowan has stopped on the other side of the river
for a wee break (literally) and I soon join him. The hills are feeling
bigger and the legs are really starting to suffer. Meanwhile, when
Rowan occasionally decides to do some work up front, I notice he's
pushing at least a couple of gears higher. Hmmm, this doesn't bode
well. All that fixie training he's being doing around the steepness of
Balmain has paid off. I say UCI should add it to the list of banned
performance enhancements.
We hit the base of the biggest hill of the day at 60km and a girl rides
past. Rowan, the South African male, is having none of it and steps it
up a notch, we soon reel her in, pass her and power to the top. We
make great progress, gaining valuable time but I feel I may have just
cooked the legs a little. At the top of the hill we turn around and rip
down a long section of fast downhill singletrack. I make some key
overtaking maneuvers and Rowan gets caught in traffic. I hit the
bottom, do a u-turn and start heading up a trail parallel to the one
I'd just torn down. I yell encouragement to Rowan who is about 30
seconds behind. The hill is steep and my legs are definitely cooked.
Rowan quickly catches up and powers ahead. 300m to the 74km drinks
station, and I badly want to get off and walk.
At the drinks station we stop, drink a little, and I guzzle down a
couple of goos. Rowan is looking disturbingly fresh. We get back on
the bikes and head up a very slight inclination. Rowan tears away, I
get off and walk. My mouth has gone dry, and I feel ill, very very ill.
My legs are jelly and I have visions of walking long stretches of the
next 26kms, finishing some time after dark. Even on the flat sections,
which I ride, I can barely turn over the cranks. Soon enough, a big
downhill fire road. Let the brakes go and pin down at 70 km/h, drifting
slightly round the bends and over loose rocks. For a fleeting moment my
mind contemplates the result of a front tyre puncture, before I tuck
into an even more aero position. Of course what goes down has to go
back up. Fortunately the hill is long and steep enough that walking is
a dignified method of ascent. Nearing the top of the hill, I step to
the side of the trail to let an ambulance through heading to the bottom
of the previous steep descent. I give a little shudder.
80kms. Finally, the nausea has passed, my legs feel like they can
reliably hold my body weight again. The trail points down. Wheeee!
Lots of fun singletrack, including several kilometres of the most buff,
bermed, no brakes trail in the country. A final river crossing, around
or through? It doesn't look that deep. My bike stalls mid-way. I step
off into waist deep water.
Fun, uneventful, mostly downwards pointing trail and road, before
returning once again to Mogo oval and cross the finish line, a little
over 7 hours after starting. Rowan is happily chewing on a steak
sandwich. I join him.
There you have it. Iron Thighs? More like lead on this occasion.
Rowan scores a deserved, though slender, 7 minute victory to bring my
abridged 07 enduro season to an end. Till 2008.
Cheers,
Doug.
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