First Look Back
This summer, I did four bike races. I've never had a season so focused on competitive biking. Before this summer, the only races of this caliber I'd done were the 24 Hours of Moab, and the Butte 100, and I wasn't in good shape for either.
Now, after doing more races, I've learned a lot to apply to next year.
I think 2014 was my last year for this race. It was certainly my last year for solo.
The course is awesome, The course they've stuck with for the past five years or so is a great ride, and a very underrated race course. I love the flow of the ST, love the way the hills, such as they are, are distributed, and the way if you're brave and know them well you can rail the DH sections w/o brakes. There's a lot to love about the race. Great people come to this race too; it's a great crowd in the pits. It's amazingly scenic, in an area that people just don't visit as much as its aesthetic appeal merits: that kind of open prairie wheat belt type of terrain that stretches on an on in the upper Midwest.
It's the race I've done the most. Done 24 Hours of Moab twice; 24 Hours of Rapelje four times, once as a three person team and three times as a solo.
It's my local race. Crazy there even is a local race in Stillwater County MT.
It should be a no-brainer.
Unfortunately, even in its best years, there has always been a contrarian, hipster, PBR, kind of in your face uncool vibe about this race. It's an anti-race and proud of it: no prizes, no frills, etc. I dig that. I know the farm where my coffee was born. I love an ice cold PBR. At a certain point though, for a bike race, that approach gets old.
Specifically, I'd like results. People like results. I don't need fancy prizes, but giving something to only the 1st place rider is kind of not cool. Give us the top three riders or teams at least. A beer. A six pack. I don't know. A toy cigar. And post results. There have never been any results posted for the years I did the race- only some of the years, and even then only the first place.
Then, in 2014, there was even more of a kind of shrug-it-off vibe. The restaurant was often closed, and when open was not exactly the most welcoming place.
One of the features about this race is its billing as a fundraiser for Rapelje. There's a whole backstory behind the race and Stockman Cafe etc etc. It's supposed to be practically community service to go support the race and cafe.
But the cafe and town in general seem unappreciative during the race, much less any of the other 363 days a year. If you try going to Rapelje when the race isn't there, and walking into the cafe, it's aggressively awkward. When I went, the welcome fell somewhere between Deliverance and and a bad Western movie where the guy walks into the bar and the record screeches to a halt.
The website is down, and the ownership / management of the race seems in limbo, so it could end up being a moot point. But I think next year I'll skip it. There's also the scheduling; it's very draining to do this race the weekend before the:
This is my biggest regret as a racer, maybe ever. I trained pretty well for this race. Could have done better, will do better next year.
Leading up to the race I had a nasty cold which lingered for about a month. That really set my training back. Then we got super busy with a bunch of random errands that all coalesced the week before the race. Then the whole region got socked in a crazy storm for a week or so leading up to the race.
Even with all those stumbles, I started the race feeling great, all the more amazing because it was pouring rain, and I mean POURING RAIN, during the start, the first hours of the race, and the weeks leading up to the race.
So starting alone was a feat. 100 registered and I think around 45 started.
Feeling good in the deluge was another feat. Four or five people turned back before the ST four miles in.
Overcoming some small issues in the beginning was another feat. I was totally waterlogged, from every inch of my backpack's fabric inside and out to the inside of my brain, everything was soaked, and that causes issues, which I kept dealing with, and dealing with quickly.
And I was in the zone. What I remember from that morning is the fun of the race, and the stunning scenic attributes of the trail which I did not anticipate at all. This area is amazing. What I don't remember is pain or discomfort. I didn't suffer the whole day. 47 miles of riding the mud in the pouring rain and I had a blast. The aid station volunteers commented all day on how I was in the best mood and was the funniest of all the riders they had seen that day.
So the race was going great.But I got impatient, and as I wrote about in one of my
most cliche blog posts, I just couldn't resist the urge to haul ass on the seriously fun DH sections from mile 10-45 or so. That section rocks.
The Tatanka 100 has amazing terrain and it was seriously fun riding. That's another thing I remember even now in great detail: the world class ST, and in particular the world class DoubleTrack on the Tatanka 100 from miles 5-45. I'm a big DoubleTrack guy. Never gets enough cred. There are guide books for ST only, but what about a good section of DT?! I love it, and Tatanka has it in spades. I didn't get to see much of the course after that, because I tore my sidewall open about mile 45 or so.
Walked into the next aid station.
For a few weeks, I thought fatbikes had an innate weakness in this area, and I was really despondent about Shrek, especially as
I tore the replacement sidewall three miles into the first ride after Tatanka, Turned out to be freak luck, and I've been great ever since. Surly Larry is the best front tire in the world, other than the old school WTB Velociraptor.
Anyway . . The regret comes in there. I really wanted to see the rest of the course so bad. And I wanted to finish. I was so ready. I know I can not only finish, I can do well at this race.
So, next year, I'll be back. I can't wait. I'll be in even better shape. No 24 Rapelje beforehand, and better training, and I'm planning on keeping this foundation I've built this summer and building on top of it even more, for this race in particular.
The Maah Daah Hey may be my favorite race. Not just this summer: ever.
I must admit to a bias; it's the first one I've won.
They provided a special category for fatbikers, and I won a cash prize and everything. So grateful to the organizers that they did that; it's such a cool, progressive idea. I love it.
Which leads me to the organizers: what a world class race!! Of all the races I've done, this was the best organized and executed. The aid stations, the start and finish line vibe, the friendliness, it was just of the charts. I can't say enough about that; you'll feel welcomed and part of something special all throughout your time there.
And their work on the course really shows: it's a luxurious ribbon of ST that spools out into the harsh TRNG like a yellow brick road. Its mile markers are a seriously cool feature, keeping track of your progress all day long.
TRNG are amazing, a real paradise. Very enchanted with the area. Loved Juniper Campground.
As for the race, the flow of it is just great. All 4 sections have unique vibes, but throughout the common denominator is phenomenal ST that is always climbing or descending, never strolling along.
Section 1 is dominated by the first big climb, where people are clambering for positions. After that, it's up and down two or three big times. This section does have the most flats if I recall correctly. The only flats really.
Section 2 was the brutal one for me. Physical difficulty was offset by the scenic qualities though. This was probably the most scenic section of the whole trail. The river bottom was two miles of insane ST that reminded me of the Bosque trails in Albuquerque, all flowy sandy fun through a cool Cottonwood river bottom. The river crossing itself was sublime. It was an almost surreally cool and beautiful experience.
Section 3 was one I ran blind, all my electronic gadgets were broken or out of batteries. My memories are ones of almost meditative qualities: it was a very zen like very checked-out type of section for me. Not being able to really know how close to Aid Station 3 I was, I made the decision to kind of check out mentally. My thoughts for probably three hours of that day were just kind of on a loop: "Drink. Pedal smoothly. Drink. Eat. Stay smooth. Stay cool. Drink. Eat. Don't panic. Stay smooth. Goddamned this is nice ST!!!! Don't forget to drink. etc etc."
After a change of clothes at Aid Station 3, I went out refreshed, traveling light, and full of pluck for section 4. Section 4 is the most unique. You get away from the canyon-carved heart of TRNG, and you get into a rolly, open hill type of environment. The ST changes, still constantly up and down, but each hill seemed smaller. The trail is smoother, visibility better, and exposure almost not existent, where earlier sections of trail had serious consequences if you fell. Section 4 was more of a cruise, in a good way. It was like flow country trails.
I'm bringing the fam to this one next year. It's a very family friendly event, with well-manned and very scenic aid stations. It's also a good one to have a ride for, given the disparate start and finish lines. I really love the race, and can't wait to go back.
This was my biggest race ever, and the most recent. I only got back a week ago. It was a pivotal race for me.
Second race in a row I was the fastest fatbike.
Spearfish really emerged as a special place for our family. We have so many random connections there. Ran into an old friend from Bozeman on this trip, who turns out to own two of the big restaurants in Spearfish. Talked to my dad who was on this very trip researching our family history and from him I found out that some our family history took place in Rapid City. My Uncle Bob was born in Rapid City for example. And after a summer of Dakota travels, even my little Absarokee Johnson clan has quite a few nice Spearfish and Dakota memories.
So it was great to race there. Spearfish City Park is a phenomenal park. I love parks, and this is a great one. As a start / finish area, it's unparalleled.
Described the race in pretty good detail in my race report. An extra week of reflection has centered mostly around my fall towards the end. It's been a slow recovery. Three main injuries: scrapes along my arm, elbow, leg and hip; one nasty puncture / impact injury where there must have been one little rock right at my pelvis that took a dime sized divet out of me; and deep nasty bruises on my hip and quad.
I tried to have the impact wound and the scrapes checked and cleaned at Spearfish Hospital Emergency room. Love Spearfish, but that Hospital is the single worst medial facility I've ever been to. Give me a Malaysian village Clinic any day over the Spearfish Hospital.
After 2 1/2 hours I left. I hadn't been seen by a doctor, and they refused to let me eat or drink. After almost three hours of no eating or drinking, following a 50 mile bike race, that was becoming an issue in and of itself, forget about my injuries.
We went to the Walgreens and got first aid supplies and soda, and then we went to the Spearfish High School parking lot, let our dogs play, and I drank for the first time in hours and cleaned my wounds with Yokie's help. It's awesome to scrub surface wounds with Hydrogen Peroxide, soft bristle tooth brushes, and tweezers in the dusty stoners' corner of a HS parking lot, with four Advil that kicked in well after the procedure if at all as the only pain killer.
Since then, it's been tough to sleep or ride my bike, so it's been a mellow but ironically unrestful recovery.
Started to ride my bike, in town with my daughter, on Friday. Going for a big ride soon, maybe tomorrow. As I get started, I'm back at that stage of the race cycle where I'm jonesing to race again.
There's a cycle where you get so stoked for a race all year long. At least I do. I obsessively read other people's race reports or blogs about the race, any info I can get from the website. I plan out my training approach, which is very loose- just planning when I need to suck it up and get out in the cold to start training. I do this all winter. Even the fall the year before, like right now for next year. Then the race comes up so quickly a lot of the training race goes by in a flash. Then, honestly, during the race even, and certainly in the hours after, there is like a post-race low, where I can't believe I did that. I always say I'd rather have spent the time at home playing video games. Or at White Sulphur Springs. Races like these hurt. It's not a good feeling. Sometimes I myself don't even understand why I do it. This lasts for an hour. Maybe even a month sometimes.
I certainly went through it after Dakota 50. Especially with the injury. I spent almost a week wondering what the )*&^ I did with my summer and why. Now, I'm back at the point where I'm planning my race schedule for next year, and starting to ride nice and smoothly to start the long buildup towards fitness for next year.
As I do so, the Dakota 50 is a no-brainer: I won't do it next year.
I loved it, and even with the fall I have no regrets. I cannot wait to get back and ride the trails in that area, and may plan a week or weekend of riding in the area next year aside from any races. And the scene was insane; I'd like to go back to watch, or maybe to volunteer at an aid station or for a course sweep to pick up the goo packet wrappers or something just to be part of the whole weekend.
Having said that, 700 people is a lot in a race. I need to build up a much better sprinting, muscle type of base for this one. My slow burn kind of fitness, perfect for a 100 miler, left me wanting in the beginning of this race, where you really need to sprint for at least 4 miles or so, better yet even 10, to lock down a position in the clear towards the head of the peleton for the duration. I think I can get there, but realistically not next year. It may take another year or two of consistent work to build up my base for that approach, and I plan to.
