Yes, it truly was a Rapture in Misery.
This was an epic race from the time we left home until the time we got home. I can only speak for the members of my own team, the self-named "Team Red Wheel Junior-Varsity Choad Squad", but I will say with absolute certainty that we will be attending this race every year from now until the day we die.
On raceday I was pleased to roll out of the tent to see the Dragon wistfully preparing his legendary "Dragon-Cakes". There's just something about a chocolate chip-laden pancake dipped in Great Value maple syrup that puts a guy in the mood to kick ass. Nobody can rock a pancake like the Dragon.
Not long after breakfast Stoney reported to camp and informed us that he would not be racing today. It seems some asshole had wrecked him on the Katy Trail a few days earlier, phucking his shoulder up bad enough that it just wasn't going to happen. Asshole Katy Trail riders really should try to be more responsible.(It was me)
And so a three-man team was formed. The Dragon, Corey Case, and yours truly, Bob Jenkins joined forces to form a tripod of greatness the likes of which the world has never seen. (Or something like that.) The Dragon would be our Captain....piloting us on our way to glory.
At the pre-race meeting, the race director informed us that there were something like 180 racers, (only 3 porta-potties), and he had not been expecting so many. He also spoke of a trail-section called "Humpty-Dumpty", and explained that if you weren't an advanced mountain biker you should definitely get off your bike and walk your sorry ass across this section or you would die. There was also another super-fast-and-dangerous-as-fuck section clearly marked on the trail that was not to be toyed with. A sign with 3 red arrows clearly marked this as an area to be cautious or pay the price. Other than that it was super flowy fast singletrack.
I was elected to go first. This was to be my first "real" Lemans-style start. This would involve a fairly steep uphill run going up a rocky fire-road. As I walked down the hill, pretty much everyone around me was none too pleased at the prospect of running up such a long hill. I'm not a runner, so I was really nervous about how to pace myself. It'd be pretty embarrassing to get to the top of the climb just so I could throw up all over my bike. The one cool part of all this was standing at the bottom of the hill among the other competitors and my team-mates, including Berry "the old bastard"Vollmer, Chris "The Champ" Bopp, and Team-Seagal badass "Mason-Storm". I will admit, it was just a bit cold standing there in their shadows.
Somebody said "Go" and we started up the hill. I was having a lot of trouble not tripping over the people in front of me, so I jumped in the ditch and started running my ass off. I passed a lot of dudes that way, and before long I was bumbling my way onto my bike. On the run I had passed Chris Bopp, so I knew he would be up my ass as soon as he made it to his bike. (Must go fast). The first part of the course was a sprint-friendly area of open grass leading into a narrow trail next to the woodline. I'd say I was towards the rear of a group of about 15 dudes going through that section. We were absolutely hauling ass and I was way out of my comfort range. A large dust cloud was being kicked up behind the riders in front of me and it looked awesome.
I decided I better back off a bit to save some energy, and that was precisely the moment I heard a voice behind me saying, "Well if it isn't my team-mate Bob Jenkins!!" It was Chris Bopp....and he wasn't even breathing hard. I offered to let him pass but he elected to stay behind me. Now, I've ridden with my boy Chris Bopp long enough to know what that means.... it means he stays right on my ass telling me to go faster until i collapse or crash. Lucky for me I wrecked. After that I just let him go; there was plenty of racing left to do and I wasn't going to be able to keep up with "The Champ" anyway.
About a mile later the trail spit us out onto a levee or a dam of some kind. I saw 4-5 riders ahead of me so I decided to try to reel them in. Near the end of the levee I was pretty gassed but had overtaken them all. In my mind I was like, "Yeah, suck it bitches!" but it was short lived. As soon as we tucked back into the trail I was face-to-face with the mother of all fire-road climbs. This hill was forever long and very steep. I gave it all I had, but still wound up pushing my bike at least 50% of the way up. I think 3 of those other riders passed me on that hill. It sucked bad, but when I got to the top it all seemed worthwhile.
Well shit, here comes Humpty Dumpty. It's not hard to see how someone could get hurt right there, but I have to confess it was a pretty amazing bit of trail. It was a downward spiraling staircase; there would be a railroad-tie across the trail immediately followed by (I'd say) a 3-4 foot vertical drop. I want to say there were 4 or 5 of those, and they were amazing. There was a side-route you could take to avoid the jumps, but this piece of trail was just too much fun to avoid. I made all the drops, but I shudder to think how ugly it looked. If there had been a lump of coal in my ass it would have turned into a diamond. It was so scary, but so fun.....like grabbing the breast of Steven Seagal's woman.
Later we would all agree that the other section of "super-dangerous" trail really wasn't that scary. It was all downhill and very rocky, but it was mostly in a straight line and for the most part very, very fun. At the bottom there was a 90 degree switchback which surely punished a few folks, (***cough..Corey...cough***) but it was mostly fantastic.
At the halfway point there was a little "Aid-station". A dude was sitting under an awning playing music, handing out energy drinks, bananas, cookies, oranges, and BEER. As the evening wore on, he would have all kinds of disco balls and lights on his little camp.
We went across the levee and straight back into some more badass singletrack. There is no way to describe it all, other than to say that you should definitely go there next year.
Eventually the trail spit us out into an open field again. I could see people ahead so I started reeling them in again. (I guess those Katy Trail rides are finally paying off). For whatever reason I did really well at catching and passing people in this section. Soon we could hear cowbells and fans screaming, and not long after that we were back on singletrack. This lap was almost over. I could see a guy about 100 ft in front of me, so I did what I could to catch up with him. When I finally did catch up I noticed he was running pink streamers from his handlebars. Oh shit, all I could think about was how all my friends were going to see me finish my first lap behind some ass-hat with pink streamers. This fucker had to be dealt with in a hurry. When we came out of the woods into the open grass area I made my move. I couldn't waste oxygen with all of that "on your left" bullshit, so I passed him going through the tall-grass and sprinted until my lungs exploded.
I handed off the baton to Corey Case and watched in awe as he proceeded to destroy all who rode before him. The man was on a mission and his lap-times are proof.
Next was the Dragon, who blasted off on his fully rigid singlespeed to complete our trifecta of badness.
Anyone who wanted to take 4th place in this race was going to be disappointed. The day was ours and we knew it.
After 2 laps on my fully rigid '69er I knew I couldn' t do it anymore, and neither could the Dragon. We were done and we didn't give two shits about any of the names Chris Bopp was calling us. I decided to sit trailside drinking beer and supporting other racers. 5 or 6 beers later I was sitting there thinking that if I could ride Corey's full suspension rig.....maybe I could do it?
And so we decided to share the bike. My 3rd lap resulted in a laptime equally as pathetic as the 1st 2, but I didn't care. I rode half the course, then had a beer with the guy at the "Aid Station". (He was a super cool dude, btw.) Then I finished the lap.
Corey meanwhile, was turning in ridiculous laptimes. Where the fuck did he come from? Here I was thinking we were pretty close to the same speed and now he's crushing me by 10 minutes? I heard he even finished faster than some guy whose name rhymes with Pris Chopp? Again I say, WTF?!?
Then the rain started. Corey came in from his 3rd lap and reported that the trail was slicker than possum shit. It was dark now too. Soon it would be a slimy mudfest.
I have to admit that by this point I had a serious boner. Shitty weather conditions get me all excited for some reason. The rain really started coming down when I was about a mile into the trail, and I thought I might have to have the smile surgically removed from my face. It was indeed a slop-fest; the rocks were super slippery, mud was everywhere, and the rain was coming down harder and harder. Visibility was shit, and in the lower parts of the trail there was a very thick fog. The force of the rain coming down was only outmatched by the force of the water coming UP off of the tires. One time I wrecked on a fast downhill and I actually passed another rider while sliding in the mud.
It was fucking E-P-I-C.
I have never had more fun on a mountain bike than I did on that rainy night. The dudes at the "Aid Station" were in full-on party mode by the time I got there, and I just had to hang out for a while. Somewhere on the trail I passed a super-hardcore female Mesa rider, and eventually I even wound up riding side-by-side with none other than Team Seagal's Casey Ryback. He and I eventually wound up joining forces with 3 other dudes and riding the last 3 miles together.....until we got to some serious mud and I got left behind.
A great race course, a great group of friends, loads of beer, and epic weather conditions.....what more could a person possibly want?
I know what I want... I want to do it again. I'll see you chumps at the Tall Oaks Challenge!!!
The ensuing storm destroyed my digital camera, but here are a few shots courtesy of Mr Case and his woman whose indian name is "Talks without a point"
The Dragon begin begins his merciless assault on Crowder Park as the world watches in fear (scary background music)
In perhaps the most "photoshoppable" picture of all time, Corey Case sets out to lay waste to any and all lap-times logged by anyone wearing a black jersey. Note the rider in the background (who looks a lot like me) clearly suffering from a horrible case of manginitis.
"The Mitch" begins his battle at Crowder Park. Previously in the day, The Mitch won an argument with the race registrar whom tried to argue that his first name was not "The" and that his emergency contact should not be "Jesus".
Geriatic olympic superstar Berry Vollmer is seen here. (Note: Gynormous cloud of ass-dust has been cropped from image so as not to disgrace the aforementioned Mr. Vollmer. May his bowels rest in peace.)
Here we see some fast bastard mounting up on a pretty sweet Hardrock '69er with disc brakes. Nice bike lardo!!
Here we see Chris Bopp telling me to "quit being a bitch" and get back out there for another lap while Stoney and the Dragon look on in disgust at my weakness.
From left to Right, The Dragon, Corey Case, The Champ, The Mitch, and Mr. Barry Vollmer. I didn't want to be in your fucking group photo anyway, you assholes.
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