“Eventually, all things merge into one, and a river runs through it.”

June 2nd was supposed to be the second of 10 races in the NashvilleCyclist criterium series. I got to LP Field an hour early so I could change and warm up without worrying about time. After our team’s strong performance at the Gatorade Criterium the Sunday before, I was very excited about pushing for another team win. As we got closer to race time, I noticed the wind start to pick up. In addition to the wind, there was a rather ominous looking cloud formation just North of downtown Nashville and headed directly towards us. Fifteen minutes later everyone was seeking shelter under the overhangs of LP Field, or in their cars. Our start time came and went and eventually Tim Hall called off the race.

“It’s just a parking lot crit”, I kept telling myself as I drove home, but it still felt like a big loss to have the race postponed. I had underestimated how much I wanted – no, needed – that endorphin hit you get from a hard race effort. It seemed like a lot of other racers were feeling the same way, as the racing community was buzzing on facebook (literally and figuratively) after the race that wasn’t. Everyone drowned their disappointment with a few cold ones.

So my inevitable upgrade to Cat 4 would have to wait for at least a few more weeks (I am closing in on the ten road starts needed to upgrade). Not a huge deal. Sunday would bring another opportunity to race, but offroad instead of on this time. After sitting in the heat all day on Saturday at the Fat Tire Festival, I wasn’t exactly looking forward to racing in it the next day. Still, I woke up stupid early on Sunday and drove out to Hamilton Creek to help set things up.

The race started at 10am and we were still messing around with stuff up until the last minute. Fred even committed the cardinal pre-race sin of wrenching on his bike right before a race. We were divided into two duo teams; Fred and Jonathan on team 1, Todd and myself on team 2. We let Jonathan and Todd race the first lap, which meant that they also had to stuff their legs into hot, itchy burlap sacks and potato-sack race for the unique twist on a Le Mans race start.

30 minutes after they dissapeared into the woods, Jonathan and Todd popped out signaling time for Fred and I to take our first laps. For the next six hours we settled into a rhythm of hot lapping Hamilton Creek’s lakeside trail, cooling down for 30 or so minutes, then spinning the tightness out of our legs for another fast lap.

We showed up with only the intention of having fun and riding a few hard miles on the bikes. No one bothered to check on lap times or results for the majority of the day until Jonathan walked over to the official’s tent with around 2 hours left in the race. He came back to our pit area holding up 1 finger on one hand and 2 fingers on the other “We’re in first, and you guys are in second”. Wow. I walked over to verify and sure enough, Jonathan and Fred were in first by around 12 minutes, followed by Todd and me. Third place was trailing us by more than 15 minutes.

Our next laps were attacked with renewed energy as we realized we might podium a race we hadn’t even planned on taking seriously. At 2:40pm, Todd entered the woods for his fifth (last) lap, and I sat down hoping he would be back within enough time for me to take my fifth lap. Only laps completed by exactly 4pm would count towards our total, and we had been averaging lap times around 35 minutes all day. 30 minutes came and went. 35 minutes. 40. After 44 minutes, Todd rolled through the relay point, “Sorry I took so long, I got a flat”. With only 35 minutes left on the clock, I kicked off.

There’s a zone you sometimes get into when racing that is different than when you are just riding around. It’s an odd mix of being hyper-aware and completely unaware at the same time. Supremely focused on each moment while retaining no attachment to anything. Very zen. On this lap, an Orc battle from the Lord of the Rings could have been happening ten feet from the trail and I wouldn’t have seen a single sword blow.

For the entire lap I was one mistake away from a hard crash. Pushing the pace and not thinking about how much time I didn’t have. When I got back to the two-way entrance, I had a good feeling that I had time to spare. Tim Spencer called out “TWO MINUTES to go!” as I rolled past the official’s table. Skin of teeth.

Jonathan Woody and Fred Cothren in 1st, Todd Essig and Nathan Taylor in 2nd

Rob Z(ielinski, not ombie) and I joined up with Todd Essig and Jonathan Woody from the Harpeth Bicycles Racing Team last night for a couple of laps of the 6 hour loop at Hamilton Creek. We mostly took it easy. I say mostly because Jonathan didn’t – that guy is fast off road.

Rob hadn’t been on a mountain bike for a while due to a shoulder injury, so he picked careful lines through the rocky sections and chose the bailout options on some ledges. I can’t blame him since Hamilton Creek is a hematoma waiting to happen if you ride it carelessly. The trails are rocky and rooty, with some of the lines either requiring a pachinko-ball maneuver in between narrow slots, or a hop up onto a foot high ledge in order to clear. I was riding “heavy” since I’ve been off the mountain bike for several weeks and could hear my chain slapping the chainstay over the roots and rocks. On technical trails like Hamilton Creek, it helps to ride “light” and absorb the larger hits with your body instead of banging into them and letting the bike take it all – especially on a hardtail. The sound of the chain on the chainstay is a pretty good indicator of lightness, and mine wasn’t sounding light.

Once we had covered a few miles of trial I started to get my Hammy groove back. I picked a few tougher lines requiring more pop up onto the ledges instead of rolling around them, and worked a bit on flat landing some of the shallower drops. Photo Op Drop still requires a last minute chicken out move. I have yet to take the main line on this 2-3 foot ledge, always opting for the step down to the left (not the full bailout line, mind you). One of these days I will go out and just practice this drop until it’s second nature, but not tonight.

After a full lap of the race loop, Jonathan and I split off from Todd and Rob and headed back in for another partial lap. I made it to the far side and was riding smoothly, but missed a line through a slot between two boulders and got thrown sideways into the rock pile. A few choice words uttered (therapeutic cursing. Mythbusters proved that this lessens pain) and I made sure that no permanent damage was done to the bike. I was fine too, but could feel a deep bruise in the palm of my hand and a few on my hip. Pretty light losses for a still inexperienced mountain biker at the most technical trail in the area.

Jonathan wanted to finish out the lap, so I turned around and headed back to the trailhead. I sessioned a few of the ledges several times in each direction (drop off, climb up, drop off, climb up) to work out the post-dirt-nerves. Line selection is key to this trail, as is technique. If you hit the wrong rock at the wrong angle, speed, or body position, you lose. Tonight I lost, but since I hadn’t wagered much my losses were minimal. By the end of summer I should have enough time out there that I turn the house odds in my favor. The trail is only a few miles from work, and the race loop is short enough to make a lap and still be home early. It’s still a rigged game, but I say bring on the rocks.