DirtWorks 100km

Saturday morning dawned and the weather was still set in. It was not boding well for a weekend where I expected to spend more than 6 hours in the saddle. On the plus side, all my gear had performed well overnight, with the tyres and the air mattress holding their pressures. A breakfast of bacon and eggs, then a quick trip to the shops to pick up some last-minute supplies before getting the Pi11wizard and heading south.

Pre Race:

It was a straightforward drive down to St Albans with the weather improving the whole way. We arrived in good time and set up camp alongside the banks of the river, on the advice from the DanBot. Here it is in all it’s glory:

The Unknown Rider using the mallet to good effect. The bonnet of the Rex is up as his shoes were drying on the intercooler.

We wandered around the site and met up with a few familiar faces. At the trade display was a sight to behold – Brett Belchambers’ Niner, the one and the same from his walk-on-water experience at the Solo Nationals. I had my brief “we’re not worthy” moment, and then joined the crowds for the first of a few beers. At dark, we rego’d then headed up to the Fickle Wombat for a feed. Chicken schnitzel, a boatload of broccoli (of course!), washed down with a few more beers, some dessert, a glass of whisky, in good company. The fog set in and the temperature plummeted, off to the sanctuary of my down sleeping bag. Bonus marks for me as I packed earplugs and had a pretty good night’s sleep.

The Race:

Up early to the soothing sounds of Paul Craft (RAW Track fame) on the microphone. Joined the lines to get a coffee and use the facilities. Back to the car for a light brekky and get the bikes ready. Both Ross and I were going the no-camelback option, with our hopes set on refuelling at the stations on course. It was overcast and warmer than when we went to bed, so there was no need for any wet or cold weather gear. I was still fiddling around with the bike when the elite riders took off. Ross had gone up to seed himself at the pointy end, but with 10km of sealed road to start with, I knew that it mattered little where I started. So with that in mind I was at the back of the pack with the rest of the Sunday riders. Aim – to finish at about 6:30. I felt good, the bike was good to go, and with that I rolled out over the line and onto the course.

The first 10km until the hill went by quickly. At 31km/h I was spinning along at 130rpm much to the bemusement of the other riders. I was picking my way though groups and my hr was climbing into the high 160s. At this stage I wasn’t fussed, I wanted to push hard and leave nothing in the tank. I hit the hill, out of the saddle and was easily climbing past other riders. I wasn’t even being particular about my line, simply monstering up the slope. This worked well for the first half, until bad line choice saw me wheelspin to a stop. I walked a bit further, then managed to remount near the top. Then it was back on the gas until my planned refuel stop at 25km. I was managing my fluids and food intake well, pulled in and topped up the bidon with 50:50 Coke and water. Back on the bike with the goal of another refuel at 50km. This section was my least favourite, as we turned onto the singletrack and the pummeling began. I was in a group of about 10 riders, and our pace was dictated by the guy at the front. My initial frustration was offset by the fact that I was able to get a bit of a reprieve and the hr was back down to 130. The course was a combination of sandy soil, loose rocks, and the odd slab of sandstone. Hard going, even on the big wheels. The track opened up and I was heading for the 50km mark. I rolled in and looked at my time – wow, I was on track for a 6hr finish at this rate! Topped up the bidon with water, inhaled half a PowerBar, and I was back out there. The smaller climbs presented no trouble whatsoever, but the descending was another story. I had some serious wrist pain, and every small drop-off was jarring me. My foam grips had broken free from the bars, and were freely sliding and rotating. My descending was done at a fairly sedate pace, but this kept the energy levels up and my confidence grew that I wasn’t in danger of a fall or a mechanical.

The technical stuff cleared by the 70km kayak crossing, which was a bit of an anticlimax. I fuelled up, and charged across. The bridge is wide and stable. More of a mental thing than anything else. Then it was onto a sealed section that I again motored along at 30km/h. I even managed to pick up (and drop!) a couple of gearies along the way. Onto the second big climb of the day and again it was do-able until the last few pinches. Just when you thought you were at the top of the ridge, the track would hairpin, and you’d be presented with another 100m of hill. Too much for me, and I was off and walking. Back on at the top and keeping on the happy side of 22km/h. I glanced down and realised that sub-6hours was definitely on the cards at this pace. I was now under the full, sun and was making a big dent in my fluids. I restricted myself to a mouthful every 5km, and hoped that the Garmin distance was accurate.

The last 20km were hard. There was still plenty of power in the legs, but my feet were burning and the wrists were agony. I took it easy on the last big descent over the waterbars, forded the crossing and hit the home stretch. It was again game on as we powered along the gravel road. I had caught up with a rider on a Cannondale Prophet and he was cheering me on as we paced each other in. Across the line in 5:17. That was awesome! A cold beer at the end and a chat with Rossco about his ups and downs. Read his version here.

The Aftermath:

After a cold beer and a hot pizza, we packed up and headed home. The fatigue set in and I made it as far as the shower, but left the unpacking for later. I fuelled up on lasagne and went to bed early. I was extremely satisfied with my time. I felt that I couldn’t have pushed any harder. The limitations on the day were my wrists and my feet. I knew my ride was good, but how good?

5th! Awesome! If I had found another 10 minutes I could have been standing on the podium with the Gods of the sport! In my mind I know that I probably couldn’t have found that amount of time this year. I pushed as hard as I could when I could. My refuel stops were short. Perhaps next time with working wrists and working feet I could find some time on the descents, who knows.

Next year…