The Xterra season went well I took the regional championship for my second year in a row with a perfect score.  An honor that is humbling and still beyond where I ever thought I would be within this sport. I had a few goals this season and hit most of them. I was looking to defend my win at Eureka Springs this year but it was simply not my day for racing and I ended up with 3rd overall.

out of T2 at Xterra Eureka Springs

The bike for the first time had a flawless season without one mechanical hiccup which is an historic first. I raced only on two tires this season the Michelin Race R 26 by 2.0 dual compound and the Schwalbe Racing Ralph EVO DD 26 2.1. That’s right still rocking 26 inch wheels.

The runners in Xterra are getting faster my deal breaker run is not what it used to be and that is simply from an over emphasis on the bike and a neglected running regimen. My complete amount of swim training this year was maybe four hours in the pool and my race times did not necessarily reflect that, however I did lose my last race due to a two minute deficit in the swim. I took 3rd overall again and missed the win by 55 seconds at Xterra Dawg Days. Second and first place were out of the water two minutes before I was.

Xterra Dawg Days number 306 I love the bike course at this race.

Training is for the love of the sport and I ride on most days after work, waking up at 4:45AM for a 10K run is probably the best way to start your morning. However swimming in a cement prison sucking down chlorine is not my idea of a good time. I love the bike and the run, swimming is for the fishes. Does it give me a weakness in racing? Yes and I am okay with that.

See you in 2012 Xterra my greatest competitor Kyle Grieser will be in my age group once again pushing me far beyond what I ever thought was possible in pursuit of one man. As I have gotten faster over the years he still grows as well.  Looking forward to the chase Kyle see you out there.

Now onto the 2011 Dorba series.

2011 Dorba North TX Fall XC Series

I was born and raised in Texas and have a big place in my heart for this great local series. I started racing the DORBA series about four years ago and it has been a great experience with many highs and a whole lot of learning. I started this season with a different approach to the bike and have found success with my new found interest for road riding.

The mountain bike is now at a state of perfection. A statement that I never thought I would utter. My bike was stolen many months ago and was then recovered from a very talented local Sushi chef and now  friend Scotty P. When the bike was gone it crushed me for many reasons. We had our travels and our memories together that no price could ever wage its value. From the World Championship Xterra race in Maui to my concussion in Oklahoma and my win in Eureka Springs Arkansas no bike could truly replace its place in my heart or my garage.

Gloria

The Litespeed was my project, a project that has been over three years in the making. Many thousands of dollars have been spent on countless parts looking to achieve what I call my Masterpiece. I was in touch with a friend from fifteen years ago some time back and she was surprised that I was no longer involved with the arts as that was my passion when she knew me. I am still very much an artist’s the media has simply changed, bicycles are my art. The bike is an instrument that when properly used can create something far deeper than just a workout. It is a cathartic experience waiting to happen whether for a child or an adult, the world on two wheels simply is better.

The first race of the DORBA series was at LB Houston. This was a flat course with zero elevation gain and a phenomenal amount of turns. LB Houston was one of the first courses that I road on with Bill Driegert when I first started riding and it had been many years since I had been back. Last year in CAT 1 I made the podium just once on my home course at Rowlett Creek Nature Preserve. Things were different last year I had one of the most phenomenal training partners to help develop me as a cyclist. His name was Jackson Green a PHD student from New Zealand here in the states for a short time completing his eductation. Jackson proved to be the most technically proficient rider I have had the pleasure of riding with. He was the only beast who road Single Speed in a geared Category 1 last season and he still put the hurt on plenty of racers.

Jackson your tutelage and knowledge is still used today on the trails THANK YOU.

Jackson Green. Great rider and friend.

LB Houston taught me one thing, I need more power. I had my doors blown off right out of the gate and started dead last into the single track after the start. I over took everyone after the first lap and paced a super fast rider in my division. I over took the lead on the second lap and let it all out instead of pacing. He was on me the whole time my attacks in the flats were insufficient to hold him off. We entered lap three together at the same time as I grabbed a water bottle handout he took off and dropped me like I was standing still.

LB Houston smile for the camera

I never did see him again and took second for the day. Race number two would be at Cedar Hill State Park a dusty course with a little bit of rocks and a few field crossings. I for the first time in my racing career got the whole shot and took the lead immediately. That lasted until my first washout and then my second. Two wipeouts and goodbye to first place. I lost my position and my mojo. With shattered confidence I still managed third for the day less then fifteen seconds back from first place.

Cedar Hill State Park race 3rd place.

I was now tied for first place in the series the pivot point would come down to a race in Fort Worth at Samson Park, a race that fortunately was cancelled. I was in the middle of moving and frankly had been neglecting the training and was not ” in the zone” for Samson. She is a vicious course that ends agonizingly every lap with steep loose climbs that suck the wind out of you and boil your legs in lactic acid.

The day before the Samson race I pre road and did just one lap at six o’clock in the evening. I was tired and the course was just as I remembered it from last year. Rocky loose and fast. I was pre-riding way too late in the day, I normally do this in the morning. On the ride home I did not feel good about the race. The sky had been grey all day and when I got home the clouds starting rolling in more and I could hear thunder in the distance.

My prayers had been answered and the rains came and with that the race was cancelled. This was a relief and a wake-up call. The series was now going to come down to the Rowlett Creek race. All I had to do was take first place and the series was mine. In two years of racing CAT 1 I had never won first in my division. With the Rowlett race comes closure. It is normally the last race of the year for me and right at my breaking  point of wanting to give up for the year. I knew I needed to put for more focus on intervals on the bike and sustaining hard efforts.

On race morning the weather played music to my ears and it was going to be a warm November morning. As the series progresses the participation starts to dwindle. I knew what had to be done today and was ready. I had not had a drop of caffeine in two months preparing for this day and on race morning I ingested a 5-Hour Energy Extra Strength. I was ready and on the start line feeling okay. As the race  started I pedaled as hard as  I could and ended at the back of the pack before going into the single track as usual.

Start line for Rowlett, Lucky Number 1

My heart was pumping fast way too hard and my legs were feeling dead already from that uninspiring start. A lesson was being learned about caffeine ingestion, for as long as my break was I went a bit too far with the extra strength 5-Hour formula.  I made my way up to the top three and tried a few surges to get up front and was unable to make a pass. As we entered the other side of the course I made one pass right before the trail closed up and then immediately made another pass shortly after that. I was now in the lead. From dead last to first in about twenty minutes.

As the race started to unfold I was looking at my strategy for the next two hours. It is easy to go hard develop a comfortable gap and then blow up later. I needed something slow and steady I try to never look back in races I believe in always looking ahead. I had managed to take lead in every race this series at some point and yet had not been able to seal the deal on a win.

The Rowlett course was to be the longest course of the whole series the average race was an hour and forty minutes long and today would be a two hour and twenty minute long race. That extra forty minutes was normally another lap in any other race. It would be endurance that would win this race.

I was not sure of how things were looking I could sense no riders behind me and that a comfortable gap was starting to build. I worked a lot this summer on interval training on my rides after work. Every time I passed an intersection I would start sprinting one hundred meters before. When I was through the intersection I would sit back down in the saddle. I do not use a power meter or anything scientific in my training or racing just perceived effort. I have nothing against those tools I just do not use them.

As each field crossing came and went I was out of the saddle sprinting. The race was unfolding nicely and on the second lap I started pulling a few of the earlier legs that let out before the fifth leg that I was racing released. There was an under the bridge cement off camber crossing that I have ridden under hundreds of times that never posed an issue until today. It was apparent on the first lap that the morning dew was still on the cement and that a super slick surface had developed.

Nearing the end of the under bridge crossing on lap two , the bike slid out from underneath me. My handlebars flew past the top tube of my frame and I knew it was going to leave a hell of a rash. I jumped back up and kept on riding I did not want to look down and access the damage. My left hip felt like eighty grit sandpaper had embraced it for a nice sanding. I could feel my chin bleeding slightly. The race was still on and I really could not feel a thing, too much caffeine and too much adrenaline.

Some of the damage from the fall at Rowlett

Halfway through lap three I was starting to get stuffed. Had it been any other race, we would have been done by now.  As I kept sprinting the fields I could feel the muscles in my calves just moments away from being torn and doing some real internal damage. I had to back it off on the out of saddle sprints and use more of my quadriceps to power the last half of the final lap.

As I realized the closer I got to the finish line the closer I was to winning the series. I thought of Michael and Christina. I thought of Bill and Randy and where this all started right here on this very trail in Rowlett. I told myself it would take three years to be successful at CAT1 and now I was about to wrap it up in two years.

I sprinted the finish line and like that it was done. I was hot, nauseous and pretty fried. It was a spectacular day for racing and I was delighted for many reasons. The 2011 race season had officially ended and on a high note. After seven months of racing this year it was time to take the helmet off and start embracing horrific amounts of sugary fattening foods and taking up drinking as a holiday past time.

To achieve the unexpected is a great feeling, the journey has been pushed along with great help from my sponsors, my family and friends and my passion to create moments that never seemed possible growing up. To be an athlete is still a label I struggle to grasp. As I look towards 2012 I am excited and ready. We shall see what happens.

Joey G.

The century rides that made me fall in love with seeing the world on two wheels.

The trails are currently swimming in mud from the latest rains and the build of my latest road concoction has been finalized. The same great frame but now outfitted with Campagnolo Super Record 11. In a desperate flee to get in a century ride before the year-end I was reminded of the great summer of century rides today that my good friend Mark Payne and I shared a few seasons back.

The century ride is one hundred miles in length. For Mark and I we started with journeys from our homes in Richardson to the Northern city of McKinney. This was roughly a 35 mile bike ride. We started extending the rides to Anna which turned into 60 mile bike rides. I do not recall when we decided we were ready for the hundred mile distance but one day we did it.

Not only did we do it, we survived and had a great time while doing it. I remember feeling pretty blasted after the first ride. This was such a foreign place for Mark and I. With all things new came some funny things that were learned. We were convinced that massive caloric intake was needed to fuel the ride. I would estimate we ingested five thousand calories combined. We would arrive back in Richardson stuffed from the ride, almost like walking away from a thanksgiving dinner.

The ride would start early before 5 AM normally we would meet at Renner and Renner in front of my place. We had other friends that would ride with us on shorter rides, however the 100 mile rides were always just Payne and myself, and I kind of liked it that way.

Sometimes the sun would be subdued with overcast and blessings would be had for a strong day of riding with reasonable temperatures. If the sun was to establish how hot it would get it was the wind that would set the tone of the day. In Texas she howls and if memory serves me correctly we have ridden in gusts of 40+ MPH and sustained winds were regularly 20MPH.

All that meant was an easy North trip out and a horrifically painful route home taking the wind head on with no place to hide. When you ride with the wind to your back you never really are aware of how windy it is. I was always reminded of what to expect on the way back home. Payne would say we are soft pedaling and doing 26 MPH. What was fun and joyous would turn into very hard work once the turnaround was made at the K store in Sherman.

Payne and I rode to Dennison (115 mile total ride) once and the weather was not cooperating it started raining however we were foolishly committed to riding the extra miles that day. We ran into a group of cyclist  at the K store on the return home. We shared some words and were curious to why they were standing around waiting.  As it turns out they were waiting for their wives to pick them up, apparently they could not ride in the rain?

With great distances comes a certain amount of gloating when faced with this scenario. Payne and I explained where we had come from and where we were going. As the rains came down we left the K store  with the biggest shit grins on our faces knowing a little bit of rain never stopped us from having a good time and getting our ride on.

I did a lot of product testing on these long rides. It was not uncommon to see my using my disc wheel on a century. Payne and I wore everything from Triathlon shorts and tops to bibs and jerseys, when Payne and I first met I did a training ride at White Rock in my Speedo and then we ran afterwards while I just wore the Speedo! How he has sustained me this long is still one of the wonders of the world.

Each time we would ride a century we shared only one tradition and that was Sour Gummy Worms. When Payne and I would reach Stacy Road in Allen about 80 miles into the ride I would always bust out the worms. There was never a 100 mile ride that went without these sour and sugary gems.

Sour Gummy Worms

On our shorter rides I would get a look from Payne full of inquisitive zeal, almost like a kid at Christmas waiting anxiously to open up the presents. The worms were only meant for the century rides. The worms were the period at the end of the sentence, if you could roll 100 then you would get the greatest present of all, the worms. One thing to keep in mind is that temperatures are rising as each minute passes. Gatorade is beyond mundane at this point and there are few things that will sufficiently satisfy a riders hunger. In fact there are only three things:

1. Sour Gummy Worms.

2. Ice Cold Coke

3. Snickers ( the Fabian Cancellara diet)

Riding a 100 miles will make everything relating to food and pleasure much more incredible. I recall one ride that destroyed Payne and I . Upon completion I ran to the 7-11 and picked us up some Slurpee’s after that not only did we feel better but the world appeared to be a calmer better place.

When riding on the road whether abiding the local laws or not, a cyclists cannot help but encounter trouble on the road. Payne and I have faced confrontations of sorts but all went without incident. Some drivers simply dislike cyclists. I try to refrain from aggressive behavior on the road as I know it will make it that much harder for the next rider on the road.

I will end this tale on that note. Respect the road and your fellow man and woman. For each rider out there on the road there is a story. When you see two riders or a group realize that there is a lot more going on out there then just simply riding. This is a tradition and relationship building at its finest. I recommend every person to get out there on two wheels,  see the sun rise as you spin out and embrace the world on a bicycle.

Cheers! to another summer of centuries.

See you out there Payne.

~Mark Twain, “Taming the Bicycle”

My Xterra season has finally come to an end for 2010. What was a slow beginning closed with the greatest gift of all, an overall win in Eureka Springs. As one chapter in racing closes another opens wide up and consumes me. This will make my third year of mountain bike racing and as of last week I am racing Category 1. To race with these animals is an honor.

It was a three for three finale in my last few races and a surprising abrupt end for the season. My last three races were Xterra Red River, Xterra Eureka Springs and Xterra Dawg Days. I made it to the top three overall in all three races(first overall in Eureka) and managed to run the fastest splits of those three races as well. I also claimed my first regional championship, in my six years of racing Xterra I have never been a contender for this distinction.

Xterra Dawg Days

Normally I race Xterra Camp Eagle followed by Xterra Austin. These two races run back to back weekends, which means some driving will be had. I decided not to race Camp Eagle based purely on the seven hour drive. I managed to make it down to Austin for a quick pre ride with Doug Hogenmiller to do some course research for Xterra Austin which at this point was two weeks away.

Xterra Austin still ranks as the most challenging bike course I have yet to ride on. The race takes place in Emma Park. The course is made for motorcycles not lightweight cross country bikes. The course was running backwards this year. As usual I was apprehensive when riding the course with Doug. The ledges were just as steep as I remember them and the loose over hard-pack rocky trail still made me aware of how much further I have to grow as a rider.

Descending down one of  the ledges I flew over the handlebars I was a little shaken but still able to ride on.  After completing the first lap, Doug and I headed out for one more lap. The second lap came with some tempo and with that came some more accidents. Doug nailed his saddle so hard the metal rails disconnected from the saddle itself. Only a few minutes later I flew over the handlebars again destroying my cyclo-computer and breaking the carbon rails on my Fizik Aliante saddle.  Some falls hurt more than others, this one took me a few minutes to get back up from.

That was not a cheap saddle.

I had landed on my right side bruising my hip, knee and hand. We reached the end of trail and ran into a fellow Xterra racer who had broken his frame on the course. Like I said before this course is made for motorcycles not cross country riding. Ride with caution  and if you ever have the pleasure of riding Emma park wear protective gear and be sure to ride with someone.

Emma Long Xterra Trail

I began icing my knee when I arrived back in Dallas and I thought it would only take a few days to recover. Xterra Austin was two weeks away and now I was in a predicament. I could not run on my knee nor could I cycle on it. The first Week I focused on yoga and swimming. By the second week I could ride but could not run on the knee. I realized at this point that Austin was out of the picture and that I would be able to race in Dallas instead.

It is odd how things work out some time, I had originally planned a three-day weekend in Austin.  I would take Friday off and stay the weekend with Christina. I had forgotten about a deadline with Nissan on Friday and now with that race out of the picture I was able to hit the deadline. I did not want to miss the first race of the DORBA XC series and was originally torn on missing out on this race due to a scheduling conflict

What I did not realize while racing in Burns Park at Xterra Dawg Days is that this would be my last Xterra race of the season.  It was a race that my main man Chuck Olinger won, his first ever Xterra win. I wanted to end the season in Austin as I feel Austin holds some of the strongest Xterra racers not only in the Southern region but nationally as well. Xterra Austin makes the perfect final race and a true clash of the titans scenario every year.

Chuck numero uno! Xterra Dawg Days

With Austin completely out of the picture I was now focused on my first mountain bike race of the season. I had won my division in Category 2 senior men in the DORBA series last year and was looking forward to a new division and category. I would turn thirty this year and that meant I would be racing in Masters men and for the first time racing expert level in Category 1.

Dorba 2010 XC Series

The rush of racing never subsides for me no matter how small or big the race.  I had one week to study the course and get my riding legs back. The first race of the season was taking place at the Oak Cliff Nature Preserve trail. I was familiar with the trail and was looking forward to racing the course once again. I had raced on the course twice before. The first year I bent my front wheel into a taco shape, second year had me placing 3rd overall out of 120 racers and winning my division.

I was mortified, excited and very nervous about this race. My main concern was being able to contend with these riders. I researched every name of the registered riders and did my homework to see what challenges  I would face. Luckily I had met some riders during the week that were racing Category 1 and was able to get some training loops in with them. I needed to see how these animals road the course, which lines they took, how they braked, when they hustled and when it was okay to relax and get a drink in.

As the week progressed I swapped my rear tire three different times looking for that perfect balance between grip, control and of course speed. I found myself riding at a very low 21 PSI and maintaining plenty of control in the corners. I started carb loading two days before the race and by the time race morning came around I felt and looked a few pounds heavier.

Christina was off for the weekend as we had planned to be out of town, so I was accompanied by the most beautiful of all women on race day. The morning started with some great coffee and some cinnamon bread with butter. I was now ready to race.

Cycling Culture is a unique one, you never really know what you will see or find on race day. Whether it is the water girls or a man in a huge pink pig suit, you have to embrace and love the culture. After running through the instructions from the race director, we were divided into separate groups and rolled up to the start line.

CAT1 Start Line

In just a few moments the race was going to start, my hands laid softly on my grips I took one last look ahead and like that we were off. I was blown away by how much speed these guys carried right out of the hole. I fell to near last place and was barely hanging on. It was a short venture on the streets of a neighborhood before leading into the single track. I looked back one more time before approaching the trail and saw only a few guys behind me, the rest of the pack was in front of me.

The calm before the storm.

TRAFFIC! It was all over the place, being a poor sprinter put me in the very unfortunate position of having to ride much slower in a backed up line of riders. While the race leaders were up front tearing up the trail, I was in the back sucking dust and riding moderately. When the trail opened up on the fields I begin pushing the pace to make some passes.

One thing I noticed when passing various riders was the incredible amount of professionalism displayed by the CAT1 racers. No ego, no BS nothing but respect for their fellow rider. I have encountered many riders in CAT2 who simply did not want to be passed for fear of crushing their egos. I was not too sure of my attack plan for this race, I just wanted to have enough fuel in the tank for a strong final lap.

Lap 1 came and went and with that came some new found confidence, the trail felt great beneath me. The bike was responding perfectly and the heat was still on the rise but nowhere near blazing. I had made up some spots and was around 10th place in my division out of 20 men. By now the riders were spread out, this is where I needed to be. I prefer to ride alone. Pacing another riders means following their line and for me I like to see clear ahead not the backside of a fellow racer. I set my own lines and any one who has ridden with me knows they are rough and rarely elegant.

Lap one down, water hand off area.

Lap two was coming to an end and now I knew what had to happen. One more lap till it was over I was very pleased with how things had gone thus far.  I began pacing one of the older lead masters rider on the last loop trying to save my legs for the last half of the race. My biggest concern going into this race was blowing up. I can recover from surging too hard on a run, however when I blow up on the bike it is game over.

Halfway through the third lap I was fighting for everything that was left. I had no idea what position I was in, I just kept pulling riders in one by one. I was now two minutes away from the finish line and noticed one more rider 100 meters ahead of me. I floored the gas with everything that was left in the tank, I never did catch that rider before finishing.

The race was now over I felt great, solid pace and no accidents. The bike performed flawlessly and having Christina there at the end was a real nice treat. Each lap was consistently paced at 36 minutes and some change.

Results were posted shortly and the rider that I never caught was in my division. He placed third and I placed fourth. I missed the podium by five seconds. When I decided to CAT up and race in Category 1, I said to myself as long as you do not finish last you will be okay. There is so much for me to learn out there on the trail by these riders. The most important thing I learned at this race was: Never leave anything out there on the race course, once you cross the finish line those seconds can not be undone.

My next race is this upcoming weekend, a course that will challenge everyone with short climbs and steep grades, Sansom Park ready or not here I come.

See you at the races.

Joey G.

The action shot at Oak Cliff

Bill Driegert May 14, 2005 after completing our first Xterra race in Ruston La.

My first triathlon was on May 1, 2005 it was a sprint distance that set the tone for my love of racing. It was a road triathlon and the only thing I owned was a pair of goggles and running shoes. I borrowed Bill’s Litespeed Ultimate which was made for a man exceeding six feet in height. I am a short 5″8″ and  with a seat post that was lowered to the top tube I won my age group division in a race that had over 500 participants.

My only bike riding to that point was a handful of off road rides with Bill, I called Bill once I saw the results and told him what a blast it was he told me there was a race in Louisiana he was looking into, it was a triathlon but it was all off road, they called it Xterra. After our first race in Ruston Louisiana we have been back every year since.

This season thus far has been one of my best. I have raced six Xterra races this season and have one more race before the season is over. What keeps me coming back to Xterra racing is the learning curve even after six years of competing I am still learning something new every race.

Race numbers so far for the 2010 XTERRA season.

My next race after Xterra Red River was a Championship race in Waco Texas.  Championship races carry more point value and allow racers to qualify for the World Championship in Maui. Xterra Waco would be the first championship race ever held in Texas. I planned my usual race weekend which meant driving down Saturday for a pre-ride and racing Sunday.

I arrived in Waco mid afternoon, the drive was short from Dallas and a refreshing change of pace as I am accustomed to driving for hours to some of the race venues. Chuck Olinger had arrived at the same time and we were able to ride together and check out the bike course. Rumor had it that Waco had an incredible trail to ride a real roller coaster with some steep short climbs.

Chuck and I climbed up the road and made our way into the single-track, immediately upon entry we were flying downhill and then within a second we were climbing. The trail  had obstacles that would challenge all riding styles. I loved the trail but was a bit nervous about it while riding, I did not give much thought to it and  kept on riding. Half way through the trail I broke my chain and the ride was cut short from there. What I learned from this course is to carry  a chain tool and a extra master link.

I managed to cruise the down hills and found a road that took me back to the race site. I needed to get my chain repaired and get ready for dinner with the Carter’s and the Hogenmiller’s and Vicki Ford  One thing was for sure alcohol was going to be had at dinner, I was still nervous about the trail and the chain breaking did not help matters either.

Dinner was a blast as always, we had some great Mexican food and with that came great margaritas. After dinner I prepared the bike for the race and went to sleep. It was a little past midnight now and with a head full of ideas, I awoke from a dream.

Everything was uncertain about the race until this point. Without going into too much detail about the dream I had an accident on the bike course, a crash so bad it made my concussion from last year look like a small scratch. I gathered myself and thought hard about the race and the season and everything for that matter. I did not want to risk it. So I left Waco that night, I knew if I stayed I would end up racing in the morning and everything in my heart was telling me not to step up to and race.

It certainly took a toll on me as Sunday came and went I thought about all my fellow racers and wished them well. I was upset that I did not race but stand by my decision, always trust your gut.

A week went by and I started thinking about my training, I have been lucky over the years to get by with no structure and no real attack plan for racing. I love to race and I revolve my life around living not just racing.I won’t deny my passion one bit, but I lack the compulsion and will to live only for racing.

As I race each season I set new goals and new ideas about training. After Waco I wanted to try a building phase. A six week training effort that would work on speed, distance and mental will. I found myself approaching week three and decided I wanted  to race Xterra Eureka Springs. A course that had some long climbs, rocky sections and a few technical areas. I have spent the last few seasons making statements such as “this is not my kind of course” or ” this does not suit my riding style”. Eureka Springs held some of my weaknesses and I wanted to face them there.

What I have learned is it is not a matter of course preference or weather or tires. When one is defeated it is because the other athletes were simply better prepared. This one lesson may be the most valuable of the season. Instead of making excuses it was now time to embrace my weaknesses and work on becoming a better rider.

I kept the volume up into the race weekend. I had planned to meet Mike Carter in Eureka and spend the day together before the race. I drove up early on Friday morning, rains had come and went to Eureka before I arrived. Once settled Mike and I went for a pre ride. The bike course was 14 miles long and had two long leg burning climbs that would humble even the strongest of climbers to a lethargic spin on the easiest gear.

Seven miles into the pre ride I suffered a flat that could not be repaired and like that the pre ride was over. This would now be the second pre ride in a row where a mechanical had cut it short. Mike and I went for a swim after that and then headed to dinner.

Race morning was just like any other, I double then triple checked the bike. I love racing out of state lots of new faces in the field and that makes for a very exciting race. I ran into Fred Phillips who was helping out directing the race and he informed me Tige Lamb was racing today.

Bike cleaned, lubed and race ready.

Tige Lamb was a racer you had to watch out for. He has been out of the Xterra game for a few years but was one of the strongest racers in the south when he was racing. He has had multiple Xterra wins and is a beast on the bike. Tige is also the course record holder for Xterra Eureka Springs. We had raced together in Oklahoma and he placed second overall, not bad considering he has not raced Xterra  in quite a few years. I knew Tige would be winning today, he would be  the man everyone would be chasing.

The race was to start in a few moments. Mike Carter was having an issue with a rear tire that would not hold air. He hooked up my bike pump to the rear tire so that after the swim he could put some air into it and then head onto the bike course. Which goes to show you on race day anything can and will go wrong or right sometimes

Beach Start for the swim.

The swim was now off I found my rhythm after a few hundred yards. The bike course was tight initially therefore I needed to hammer the swim hard to get as far up front as possible. I found myself feeling fresh and ran hard out of the water to get on the bike. Immediately faced with the first climb I made my way no further than 50 meters before dismounting. My lungs were blowing up and my heart was still pounding at full throttle from the swim. I hopped off the bike and started running the bike up the climb. There was a trade off here with two types of anaerobic pain, running or cycling and I will always favor running.

Out of the water, time to start rolling

I crested the top of the climb and looked down to see Mike Carter climbing making some passes. I knew there was no way I out swam Mike he lost time in transition with that damn tire problem. Within minutes Mike caught me, I was having issues finding the perfect gear on the course. I lose power on easier gears and work harder yet better on higher gear setups. I shifted into the big chain ring and paced Mike for a bit.

Mike could roll, his speed and ability looked effortless and I knew as soon as we reached the long descends he would drop me like a toilet bowl lid. We reached our first descend and like that he vanished. A few miles later I found mike putting air into his tire where we had stopped the day before because of my flat. I was now halfway through the bike course and officially on uncharted territory, never before had I raced a course that I had not studied and pre ridden before. Today I would found out what kind of rider I really was. Racing at full throttle and having no idea what lurks ahead can be a recipe for disaster.

Gliding over the rockiest and most technical section of the course I found the bike beating me up badly. It was not until a few miles later I realized the lockout was still in the ON position on my Fork from the flat section earlier. I saw another racer in front of me now and made my pass on a climb, of course I was running the bike again at this point. As I  hopped back on the bike I could see Mike Carter coming back up behind me. There was a long mountain descend down back to transition followed with some single track.  I tracked as fast as possible down the long descend with my gloves soaked from sweat I held on tightly.

Mike Carter and I road into transition together and now it was time for the run. The two hardest climbs that were on the bike were also on the run. I saw only one bike in transition when Mike and I arrived I knew it was Tige that was in the lead. When I ran out of transition someone shouted ” leader is two minutes ahead” that was all  I needed to hear.

A brutal run course that would  take the wind out of everyone’s sails separated me from winning this race.  I played it conservative on the long climbs back to back and surged hard on the straight flat sections. I was deep into the run and saw no sign of first place. I was pushing hard but losing faith in the win now. I reached the top of the final climb and saw Tige in front of me 100 meters ahead.

Fatigue and pain will always subside when adrenaline is reintroduced into the system. I attacked hard to close the gap and knew there was 3/4 of a mile left before the race would be over. I had jumped over a log and realized now what was at stake.

Every bit of volume and suffering that was done in training prepared me for this moment. There was no time to think, it was just time to do. Tige and I shared a few words and then I started to push the pace and create my own gap. A long descend down the mountain would take us all to the finish line. I kept pushing and pushing, nothing was going to stop me now. I had always imagined that this moment would be different. I thought I would have to use so many things in my head  to push the pace, but none of that was needed. It was the cheers from the crowd and the sheer joy of the moment that kept me hammering on the run. It was a great day I ran the fastest split of the day by over three minutes and that was what won the race

Final creek crossing before the finish line.

I was introduced into competitive racing by running and it will always be my Ace in the deck. As much as I love to cycle every race ends on the run.

To win an Xterra race was a dream that I have had since my first race and on June 12, 2010 a six year journey came to an end. I have been well supported and mentored along the years, below are some of the people that helped me achieve my first Xterra win.

(In no particular order)

Bill Driegert.

Bill introduced me to many things in our friendship. Mountain biking, car racing and rock climbing were some of them. I aspired very early to ride like Bill, he still sets the best damn line on the trail.

Randy Wallace and Mighty Mo.

If there were two people that challenged me the most and pushed my buttons it was Randy and Mo. These two racers laid down the ground work early and taught me what it takes to race competitively. Cheers to you two, everything you told me was 100% right!

Mark Payne.

I have ridden more miles on the bike with Mark Payne than any other person in the world. My volume stems from this man. He is the only voice that can pull me out of bed at 4:45AM to go running. Thank you Mark for always getting me out there.

Christina Toyota.

The lady that has always stood by my side and supported my passion for sport, no matter how many times I come home bruised, cut and bleeding. I love you!

Kyle Grieser.

The man who sets the standards very high every season. Every Xterra racer in the South is after this man and every year he gets faster. Thanks for making us all faster because of this.

Chuck Olinger.

One of the strongest in the South in Xterra racing and one hell of a training partner, the difference between racing and training is a thin line with Chuck, his power is uncanny and humbling.

Mike Carter.

My good friend and mentor. Mike your techniques on racing and course information has helped me time and time again, thanks for being a great mentor and always taking care of me on race weekend.

Mike G.

My brother Mike G. the man who has believed in me since day one. I would not be here without you. Thank you for everything. Next year maybe some Xterra races in Europe any excuse for me to visit you.

Thank you to everyone who has helped me along the years it has been a hell of a journey let this not be the last win, but the start of many more.

Cheers,

Joey G.

Finish Line Xterra Eureka Springs

Joey G.

I came to consciousness in the ambulance, the paramedic asked me some questions and I knew the answers, at least I thought I did. It was my first XC ride in Oklahoma and boy did it leave a mark.

4-5 hours after concussion

I had been off kilter all week my heart knew why but my brain did not have the answers. The week would end with a race in Ardmore Oklahoma and ready or not I was committed to racing on the course that had crushed me last year. In racing off road you grow to fool your own tendencies of fear.  What would never be considered in training becomes a chance for the racer to make his destiny on the course. In every great race chances must be taken and risks are had. If you are not challenged in battle or embracing your fears and pushing the boundaries of what you believe is possible, you are not racing.

The race was on Sunday and on the Friday before the race my nerves were getting to me. By Saturday I was slowly becoming a train wreck. I had contacted the race director to check on the trail conditions, rains had inindated Oklahoma all week and that meant the course would be a slick muddy mess. The conditions only heightened my paranoia and anxiety about the race.

I had planned to drive to Oklahoma after work on Saturday and pre ride the course. I decided not to make the drive and stay home. I did not want to be alone on the course riding and I did not want to spend the night alone without Christina.

Sunday morning found my nerves at an all time high. After I packed the car I wanted to get some coffee and was surprised that the McDonalds by our home was not open. The normal music was not being played in my car, today it was a calming mix of some CD’s I had made back in 2006. My adrenaline had been pumping since 5:30 in the morning and the last thing I needed was hard rock music to further my anxiety.

I was near the border of Oklahoma and pulled into a McDonalds and finally had my moment of Zen. I walked in and ordered a black coffee with three sugars. As I walked outside I looked at the rising sun across the highway, took a sip of  coffee that was perfect in temperature, taste and euphoria. I uttered the words “all is well now” and like that I was no longer nervous.

The great tracks kept playing through the speakers and I was thirty minutes away from the race site, things were finally at peace now with my mind. I was ready now.

Arriving to the site I had forty five minutes to check the bike in get my packet and prepare everything. I called Michael and told him I was now ready for the race, he sounded relieved and wished me luck.

After checking all my gear I headed over to the race meeting and ran into my homeboy Chuck Olinger, he looked ready as he always does.

I had ten minutes to make my way down to the swim and get suited up. I ran into Adam Reardon and Adrian Barron of  Team Red Licorice they both had arrived on Saturday and were able to get in a pre ride. I asked Adam how the conditions were on the trail and he stated “it’s like riding on peanut butter out there”.

The swim distance was 1600 meters, a typical double loop Xterra course. I was surprised at the water temperature as it was colder than I expected. The race was now off. I am glad to report my sighting in the water has been very good this season. Poor sighting will have you swimming further than you need to.

The field was spreading out by the second loop I would guess I was two minutes back from the leaders at this point. I felt great all the way through and exited the water quickly. We were now faced with a run to transition that was approximately 300 meters away. I was thrilled that the course had such a long run to transition; this would allow me to gap some time before riding on the bike course. I stripped my wetsuit off right out of the water and began running. A lot of the athletes had brought their running shoes with them as the distance was so far to transition. I opted to go barefooted as the ground was so soft from all the rain.

My swim was definitely on for this race. I was seeing the faces of stronger swimmers that I never see on the run to transition. After grabbing the bike I was ready to get a taste of how bad the trail would be. Adam had nailed it with the peanut butter reference, it was super slick out there. I had been passed already by a few riders.

When you ride a muddy trail the amount of wattage to turn the cranks increases. The same distance is much harder then when dry. This was a 14 mile course that had two loops. For the first time in my racing career I had planned to play it smart not hard. I let the riders pass me and I found my rhythym on the course. I was reminded of some great advice Mike Carter gave me about Xterra Austin, “just make it to the run, that is all you need to do”.

My weekend of racing in Ruston taught me to take it easy when conditions were at their worst. I needed to pace the first lap and then make any adjustments in pace and strategy for the second loop. The first loop came and went with minimal slip ups. Upon lap two the heat started to rise and now what was once a slippery course was a thick muddy mess that could break derailers and add ten to fifteen pounds of weight to your bike.

14 pounds heavier then when she started

The same racers who had passed me before were now being trickled in one by one. I found myself dismounting and running the bike a bit on the second loop, I was conserving as much power in my legs as I could for the run.

At the end of lap two on a long jeep road I had to dismount my bike as my rear tire had clogged up so much that I could no longer spin the rear wheel. I was 100 meters away from transition and having to stop to pull mud out of my rear stays on the frame. I lost a small amount of time and made my way to transition. It was now time for the rodeo.

riding into transition

When I left transition there were six bikes mine included. It was now time to run and make up some positions. I had one goal at this point and that was the fastest run split of the day. I had conserved as much as I could on the bike for the run portion of the race.

I pushed the pace at full throttle right out of the gate. This course is a fast run course with a few short climbs. Halfway into the run course I found myself passing the third overall racer and overtaking that position. I was looking for the next runner but that never happened. I could not help but look back a few times looking for one last final attack from another racer.

I had climbed a very rocky ascend and made a sharp turn onto a rocky section of trail. I never did find out where my accident was from last year until now. Flashbacks shot through me and I knew it was here where it had all happened. A chill went through me and I felt a sense of closure, I would have thought the moment would have been more dramatic, but it was not.

I was now running on the same jeep road that clogged up my rear tire, each step was made harder by the thick mud that collected on the souls of my shoes. The finish line was dead ahead and I kicked in what was left.

I was the third racer to cross the finish line, it was an honor to make it the top three overall, a distinction I have only experienced once before in Xterra Racing.

3rd overall Finish

Certain races carry more value than others to defeat a course that took so much out of me last year was needed for my own closure. This season has been great so far and I am looking forward to what is next. In life there will always be challenges and sometimes you get hurt, it is important to be honest with yourself and your passions.

I never feared jumping back on the bike, I feared never being able to again.

Cheers,

Joey G.

LIFE IS SHORT. GET DIRTY.

“I have always struggled to achieve excellence. One thing that cycling has taught me is that if you can achieve something without a struggle it’s not going to be satisfying.”

Greg Lemond

It has been a year now since my concussion  that left me damaged for the season in 2009. When I started looking at my racing calendar for 2010 I was thrilled as it was time to begin over once again. I wanted not to forget what happened last year but to move on from it.

This year I plan to pickup where I left off in 2008.  In 2008 I had finally mastered the run in Xterra racing and had made it to the top ten in most races overall.

My first race this season would be the inaugural first Xterra Muleshoe Race, a course that was seemingly fast and not too technical. I wanted to treat this race as a warm-up race. The first race of the season will usually indicate pretty clearly what needs to be worked on the most.

Muleshoe was a great course my swim time was respectable and my bike split was strong enough for me. My run fell apart a bit near the end, but I still managed to place second in my division and seventh overall. This year I am trying to dial in my nutrition strategies, weight control and last touches on the bike mechanically speaking.

Xterra Muleshoe right out of transition on the run.

My next race would be a double race in Ruston Louisiana two weeks later.  This would be the first ever Xterra EPIC, a long course race that would certainly challenge even my strongest adversaries, followed by the normal short course version on Sunday known as the Gator Terra.

A weekend in Ruston can only mean one thing. My man Bill Driegert is coming in town  from Chicago for our annual weekend of racing, a tradition that began in 2005. As each year passes I grow to appreciate the time Bill and I have together even more. We left Dallas around noon on Friday and made it to Ruston around 4:30pm, just in time for a pre ride.

The pre ride was uneventful the trail was in great shape, the air humid as always and the dirt silty and loose in the corners. A tradition for Bill and I is our Friday night dinner at Monjuni’s restaurant. We met up with the infamous Mike Carter for a carb loading dinner and a few beers.

Monjunis ! Delicious every time.

After dinner Bill and I headed to the hotel and I prepared my bike for the EPIC race the next morning. Any race no matter how familiar the course, gets under my skin the day before the event. I found myself strangely calm. Most Xterra races are 1.5 to 2 hours long. Championship races and the World Championship are the longest races and those are at longest three and a half hours in length. The Xterra Epic was to be a five hour race.  A one mile swim followed by a 35 mile mountain bike and lastly a 10.5 mile train. With a background in Ultra Marathon running and endurance mountain bike racing I felt confident in my strategy for the race.

Race morning I consumed some awesome Blueberry Banana nut bread that Christina had made for Bill and I along with some coffee. We headed to the race site and I set up my bike in transition. I was still stable and not nervous. This race was unlike the normal fast paced full throttle racing that Xterra offered. This was an endurance event, there would be plenty of time to sort out anything that would happen in the race over the next five hours. As I repeatedly heard at the six hour mountain bike races I did last season “do not kill yourselves on the first loop, you have all day to get this sorted out”.

Setting up in transition before the race

I spoke with Mike Carter and Kyle Grieser before the race started and wished them luck. The race was starting in ten seconds now. I took in a long breath, it would be a running start into the water and then the race would be off.

Cock the hammer it begins now.

The swim was less crowded than the normal Xterra races as the field was smaller, not everyone wanted a piece of this race for obvious reasons. I found my groove quite easily in the water and was forced to deal with a pair of goggles that kept fogging.  Overall the mile swim was uneventful with no alligator attacks or missing bodies, it is called the Gator Terra for a reason I am sure.

I ran up the steps to transition suffering from my usual mini heart attack from the swimming effort. My average mile in the water is usually around 30 minutes so I was right on time for the swim. Transition went smoothly and now I was on the bike climbing up a short incline before the single track had begun.

I had told myself the day before that I was going to take it easy on the first lap and then progress from there. It was raining while we were swimming and it was still drizzling as all the racers set out for the first loop on the bike course. I had made some immediate passes on the trail and had disregarded my plan of attack. I found myself at full throttle and already pushing the limits of what I can do on the bike. It felt good to be out of the water and in the trees.

I do have a great love for Ruston as the bike course favors my style of riding, nothing too technical just fast riding. The course is a winding single track with a couple of very fast down hills and a few creek crossings.

I feel at home on the course as this is my sixth year racing on it.

I had been riding on the dirt now for no longer than ten minutes  I just passed two riders and was approaching at full speed into a sweeping turn that had  some wet slippery roots to ride over before reaching the apex of the corner. With simply too much speed I found myself in the air now after hitting the roots, upon landing my front tire slipped out from underneath me.

I remember seeing the trees while floating through the air, I pushed Gloria away from me and fell hard to the wet ground of Ruston. It had never happened before but it was happening now, as my body was slung to the ground with great force, the wind was knocked out of me…..hard. My heart was skyrocketing before I crashed and now lying there on the ground I was left breathless, I moaned a sound I had not heard before.

It hurt; it hurt like nothing I had felt before.

A fellow racer had stopped to help me. I was still incapable of breathing or let alone speaking. He comforted me with his words and genuine compassion and concern. My eyes rolled into the back of my head and I could only think of one thing. “I hope I blackout before this gets any worse”.  I repeated that in my head over and over again. Within a few moments the pain subsided and I was finally able to take a breath of air.

My immediate assumption was that I had broken a rib and that it had ruptured my lung. I ran my hands across my collar bones and was relieved to feel nothing out of the ordinary. I then slid my hands across my ribs and was assured nothing had broken. I told the racer who had stopped to get on his way, he told me to wait till help came.

I took a couple of minutes and then finally stood up.

I was no longer than ten minutes into the bike course and my empire had already collapsed. Any time made on the swim was gone, any passes on the bike gone, any chance of coming back hard, gone.  I wanted to quit. I had not crashed this hard before in a race and I knew I had another five hours of racing ahead of me.

This was more than a small accident this was the crippling of my ability as a rider, my confidence as a competitive racer and worst of all my mind. It was time to make the decision to quit or to keep playing.

It is so much easier to give up sometimes, then it is to persevere.

I hopped back on my bike and noticed now the stem was twisted and stuck side ways from the accident. I clipped into the pedals  and started riding. It hurt to spin the cranks  my right side of the body took most of the damage from my wrists all the way down to my hip bones. I was aware then that it was going to be a hard long day.

I was relieved that I was still able to ride in moments of great pain it usually leaves one feeling extremely vulnerable. I now was feeling extremely grateful. It was everything I was to get back up and to keep riding, and now it was my honor to finish the job.

I road the rest of the lap with ease and patience  I was now on damage control listening very closely to what my body was telling me. What was a dream of making it to the podium was now just a mission of finishing. Each rocky piece of trail and stubborn root send shockwaves through my body reminding me to take it easy.

I made it to lap two and started to pick up the tempo. It was at this point that I realized shit happens. Stop crying about it and come back to it. My racing mentality was coming back into my head. There is always a song that is playing in my head in all races, and it usually just repeats over and over again. The song for today was an old U2 track titled Rejoice.

After the third lap I had found my mojo once again, unfortunately I was hurting badly. I had blown up already and was not in a position to recover. I realized I had another hour on the bike and was looking forward to the run.

The fourth lap came and went and now it was time for the run.

I had thought a lot about racing in the World Championship then, I had not suffered this bad in an Xterra event since racing Worlds in October. Transition was slow, hurrying up was the last thing on my mind while preparing for the run.

My neck was sore from the riding I was now faced with  a 10.5 mile run to the finish line. A two loop course that I assumed would be fast paced and fun. Race Director Fred Phillips had something very different planned. A brand new course had been developed just for the EPIC and climbing long slow sustained climbs was on the menu. The rain had subsided hours ago and now the Louisiana humidity started to cook the all of the racers alive.

My running turned into a death march pretty quickly, my race was falling apart now. My only goal was still to finish. Upon entering into lap two I had started lapping the other racers who were on their first lap.

The finish line would not come soon enough I crossed the line and was simply tapped out.

There is no greater feeling than overcoming.

Xterra EPIC finish line

The course itself was not that challenging however combining all the elements together created a brutal day of racing.

Bill was kind enough to gather my things out of transition after the race and we headed back to the hotel. I wanted to shower and sleep immediately. Bill headed back to the park to get some pre riding in before the race tomorrow.

My legs were beat to no end, I could see the muscle fibers twitching under the skin. I needed to rest,  my body as well as my mind. I closed the curtains in the hotel and attempted to sleep. The course was still running through my mind and flashbacks came soon enough, as I laid there in bad I started to crash hard.

The day was over and I could not help but think about the battle on the same field that would consume me tomorrow. One has to question motives some times. There was very little enjoyment out there in the trees, it was just great suffering.

I never did sleep and Bill returned a few hours later, we were off to the awards dinner now. I could not help but  limp as I walked, my feet suffered multiple cuts and blisters from the run and my right calf definitely had some torn muscle tissue.

The dinner was an endless supply of salad, bread and pasta. I ate with Bill, Kyle, Mike and Adrian. The food was good but I was craving some beer and I was not alone in this desire. The results were up and I was surprised to be given first in my division. The day beat the hell out of me and yet I landed on top of the podium, it was a perfect ending to a very hard day.

Podium Xterra MEN 30-34

After awards Bill, Mike and Ted Ramos (third overall) and Kristi Darby (first female overall) all went out for beers. Damn beer never tastes as good as it does after a hard race. Two pitchers later and we were done. Time to sleep.

Mike Carter Xterra badass

Sunday Morning came soon enough and now it was a day of reckoning, I limped over to get dressed and came to terms with what was going to happen today. Bill and I got some breakfast I had a cup of coffee with two slices of bread and two bagel slices.

I could not wait to get to the race site, I wanted to see all the men and woman who battled here before show their faces. We were all hurting but came ready to bring whatever we had left. I was pleased to see my main man Chuck Olinger show up to kick some butt.

Without much thought I was ready to get it on. I feared the bike as I knew the lactic acid would resurface and come back with a vengeance today. The swim had begun  and today my goggles were cooperating. My shoulders were sore from all the hammering yesterday. I found my stride and tried to maintain the momentum without blowing up.

My swim was a minute slow for my preference, I ran into transition ready to burn on the bike. I made my immediate passes on the course before the single track began. I was feeling good. The air had a nice cooling calm feeling and in the trees the heat was subsiding. This was now my kind of game, short and fast. With my undeveloped swimming it leads me to deal with extra traffic on the bike. After the first mile I had weeded through most of it and was now flying on the course.

The bike course was in great shape, a lot less tacky than the day before, she was dry and fast. The climbs while short were taking their toll on me. Before it was all said and done I was approaching the last climb on the course before exiting to the transition area. My only thought coming out of the trees was “damn that was short”!

Coming into transition I saw 15 or so bikes, which was a few too many for my tastes,I normally like to just see 5-10 bikes. I was off to the run I was thrilled, the riding had gone better than expected which meant my run would be on.

Immediately coming out of transition my radar went on. The first runner was 150 feet ahead of me, it was time to let it all out on these guys now. My stomach felt good and I had no cramps as of yet, which meant for the first time in a long time my nutrition was dialed in for the short course. Within two minutes I pulled in the first runner.

The next runner was not visible which meant he could have been over 400 feet ahead me in the twisting trails. The pace felt demanding but was something I could sustain, the next group of runners came and went. After each pass I dug deeper and started breathing harder. I shouted “CONIO!” for Michael’s honor followed with laughter. I was having fun now. The same course that beat the hell out of me less than 24 hours ago, was now blessing me with a fast run.

I had one mile left now and  had turned on the afterburners. The race felt so good at this point. One hour and thirty minutes of bliss. I looked back a few times to confirm no runners were on my heels and none were. I kicked in hard for the finish line and like that, the race was over.

I was on cloud nine upon finishing. I love a fast race and today helped me get over the sufferfest that was known as the EPIC. I managed to place third in my age group and was accepting of that but not wildly happy. I am looking to become a regional champion this year and a third place spot on the podium does not get you there.

It was now finally over with and overall I am happy with my performance. I was looking to use more of my endurance experience with the EPIC race, but sometimes the course sets the fate of your race not the individual.

Finish Line Sprint Xterra Gator Terra

The Driegert !

This upcoming weekend will be the anniversary race of last year’s accident. It is now time to punish a course that knocked me out last year. We shall see what happens, next weekend after that is a championship race in Waco.Thanks for reading.

Cheers,

Joey G.

Joey G.

It had taken me four years to make it to the Xterra World Championship in Maui. Since my inception to Xterra racing it had always been a dream. Now that I have raced it I am left humbled, grateful and most of all happy.

My 2009 season had started off with a bang, to the head that is. I had a harsh accident while pre riding the course for Xterra Red River in Oklahoma. Suffering from a concussion I was debilitated for a week. I still raced two weeks later after the accident and continued a few weeks later in Louisiana for Xterra Ruston.  Racing with a limit was something new for me. My cardiologist and neurologist advised me to take it easy on the exercise and to listen to my body, when my body was saying no I had to stop. It was the complete opposite of how I wanted to race and train.

It was this predicament that left me very grateful just to be a part of Xterra and to still be able to play the game with my favorite competitors on my favorite courses.

I ended up racing five Xterra triathlons this season, the World Championship would be my sixth. It was not until Ironman Buffalo Springs 70.3 that I had felt like my normal self this season. I had experienced various prescription drug side effects which had my heart sky rocketing and my lungs crying at the worst times in racing and in training. After getting off the drugs it would be two months later for things to feel right again.

To prepare for the race I had taken a month to focus again on what I had lost and that was my running mojo. It had been some time since I felt fast on my feet and I knew that getting my speed back was necessary. This race is very late in the season and while I was looking forward to kicking back and closing the chapter on another year, I was not in a position that allowed such relaxation. It was now more important than ever to get back into race shape.

Getting back into race shape means a couple things. Number one is weight; ideally I like to step into the ring at 138 lbs. In the off season my weight bounces between 150-155 lbs. I had not achieved my race weight range in over a year. This year I would not achieve that goal either. I arrived to Hawaii at 145 lbs; I had developed the speed on the run in training and felt confident in my ability.  My power to weight ratio is strongest at 138 lbs, anything more is just excess anything less is a loss of too much muscle mass.

The other aspect of race shape is getting familiar with swimming once again. The swim would need a few key workouts to get acclimated with my stroke and the water. Those workouts felt strong leaving me confident that a thirty minute mile in the water would not be a problem.

The course in Maui is different from any of the courses in the world of Xterra. It’s the longest course and so far it proved to be the most challenging course I had ever raced on. The course climbs over three thousand feet of elevation on the bike. For those that live in mountainous areas this is a walk in the park. For an XC rider from the flat lands of Dallas the climbs would prove to be quite a challenge.

Christina and I arrived in Hawaii on Wednesday in the afternoon; this would allow plenty of time for acclimation and preparation for the race on Sunday.  Aunt Joanne and Uncle Eric arrived a mere thirty minutes before we did from Kansas City. We headed immediately to the Makena Resort which is where the race was being held. We attended a dinner in the pool area of the resort that was being held for the sponsors of the race. Uncle Eric is the president of Zorrel and comes to Maui every year with the always incredible and shamelessly beautiful Aunt Joanne.

First night in Maui

The bike course is not available for any type of riding before hand, the course meanders along the same path every race with just a few changes annually.  Xterra had setup a pre-ride course that was a portion of the run course combined with an existing trail.

Upon the first morning in Maui I went for a run on the beach. Seeing the beaches of Maui for the first time up close was a treat. The water was like nothing I had ever seen; it’s clear and immediately calms the soul no matter what may be lurking in ones head and heart. Unfamiliar with the area I played it safe and went along a trail that was heavily occupied with tourists out for there morning walks.

First time walking on the sands. Bliss

I saw a few Xterra athletes out there as well; odd how one can recognize another athlete perhaps it’s the determination on their faces or the look in their eyes. The caliper of athlete was something different though. The few people I saw looked strong as fit people do, however these men and woman were not weekend warriors. Maui was the meeting grounds of Xterra’s best in the world and that was very evident when I saw the racers that I would be competing with.

The run had went well, one thing for sure Maui had hills and my loop was less than a minute longer on the way back to the hotel which was odd as I thought it would be at least five minutes longer with all the hill climbing on the way back to the hotel.

Later on in the day I had finished assembling my bike and wanted to check out the pre-ride course. The course was a few miles away from our hotel. I checked in at the bottom of the hill with the director and after that was on my way. Without any hesitation the course climbed immediately and when I say climbing, I am not referring to some thirty second interval. Minutes would pass, tectonic plates would shift and over fifty babies would be born before the climbing would end. After twenty minutes of climbing I had reached a right turn on the course. There was a young girl there handing out water and directing traffic. I asked her “Are we still going up”? She directed me to the right; everything from here was now downhill.

Pre-ride Xterra practice course.

The course turned into a few rolling hills and then some nice drops I was mortified and curious to how my bike would hold up. She handled like a dream. As the trail descended I could feel the bike sliding out from me. It’s hard to describe but for this type of riding you want to be very tight on the body in certain places and loose enough in other areas so that the bike can wiggle its way through the trail.

The lava rocks played tricks they were very large at times and at other times felt like marbles in their rolling manners. The sound they made was a familiar one; I had ridden quite a few rocky courses this season and felt very comfortable on this type of terrain. The humid hot air and loose ground would make a challenging setting for the Xterra World Championship.

Say Aloha to the lava rocks.

I ended up riding the loop twice then heading back to the Makena Resort to wash my bike. I was quite pleased with how the bike handled and very happy with my tire choice, the bike section was definitely my kind of course. Very fast when things were going down and some climbing that burned my legs in the best way.

I was afraid to say it, but was already thinking it, was that it? The course certainly presented its challenges but did not appear to be insurmountable by any means. Too early to count the eggs before they had hatched I decided to keep my mouth shut.

The next day my legs were a little sore from the run and ride but overall I felt great. I needed to get into the water today and see how much the swim was going to hurt. I was very excited to be swimming in the ocean. Christina, Aunt Jo and I went down to the water in the afternoon. There was a buoy out in the water about 600 meters from the shore, I wanted to swim out and back from the buoy and that would be the day’s workout.

My concerns originally were with the tides of the water. I went into the water and started the motions; it was surreal to see water so clear. I could see everything beneath me. It was less then twenty five feet from the shore that I started to see the fishes. I kept swimming towards the buoy, sighting was proving to be more difficult than I had imagined. The waves and ripples of the ocean were blocking my view of the buoy.

I had made it to the buoy and hopped up on a floating ball that needed some company. I sat there and reflected for a few minutes. It felt incredible in a world attached to everything and everyone it was a great feeling to be so far away from the rest of the world. There were other swimmers out there but none at that moment, it was just me. I thought about a few things. I thought about how fortunate I was to be out here, I thought about my loved ones and lastly I thought if there was a shark attack now, they would never find the body. So I left after that.

The swim back was a nice one, the current helped by pushing me towards the beach and I was very pleased with the workout. The next morning I would be running an Xterra 10K event with Christina. This was a great opportunity for me to see the run before the race.

Finished with the practice swim

The10k race started in front of the Makena Beach Resort and then made its way to the street before leading us out onto the trail. The initial climb would be the first climb on the cycling course, until today the course had been off limits. The climbs would take us to where the right turn was on the bike practice course; from there it was a series of climbs and downhill’s before reaching the beach. The run course had two beaches that would be run on.

As Christina ran I asked her if she missed it. Christina had started her racing career four years ago when I did, we came up together, my desires led me to triathlon for her it was running only.  She looked great out there strong and sexy of course (worth mentioning).

Xterra 10K Start

It was a very fun event, everyone had a great time and unlike some other events everyone had a smile on their face. The course was a very challenging one, but again my thoughts came to the same conclusion, was that it? The course is actually a seven mile race but they still call it a 10K. The run certainly presented some very challenging terrain and climbs but again nothing that I felt was too much to handle.  It would be tomorrow that my assertation of the course would change dramatically.

It was now race morning, I checked my transition bag in the morning to ensure everything was in tact. I then jumped into the shower for my ritualistic pre race cleansing and shaving. Christina and I made our way to the Makena Resort and now it was time for me to setup transition and check my gear one last time. After getting marked I made my way to transition.

Gloria in Transition

Transition area race morning.

The course was notorious for destroying bikes. This year would be no different. I had injected two to three times the amount of tire sealant into my tires. I installed the thickest heaviest tires that I owned. I installed the thickest grips to absorb the downhill descends the course would throw at me. After finding my spot on the rack I needed to do a final check on the PSI for the tires.

Like warriors of our past getting inked before the battle

The course can break hearts as well as bones. It was less than twenty four hours ago that last year’s World Champion Ruben Ruzafa of Spain took a fall on the course. The same course I had ridden earlier that day had sent this champion to the hospital with multiple injuries and over thirty stitches. He would not be defending his title today. These things went through my head all night; I respected the course and the island as well as all my competitors and hoped for a safe race.

2009 Maui World Championship racer, the course strikes again.

I said my goodbyes to Aunt Joanne Uncle Eric and Christina and made my way to the beach. I was tense and very on edge I waited inline on the beach to be blessed by the highest priest that is there every race. It was thirty minutes until the race would start.  My heart was racing, I felt ready just not stable.

The World's finest are about to duel

The National Anthem was sung and then the priest made her blessing to all the athletes.  After her blessing I was next in line to receive my very own blessing. My eyes were watering from the prayer, a four year journey was to end at this moment, and now a new adventure would begin. I walked into the water and it was at that moment that my soul found its peace. It was now time to honor my family, my name and all my supporters, let the game begin

The cannon went off violently and five hundred and fifty of the world’s best triathlete’s ran towards the water to swim a two loop mile.  This was not my first rodeo and a crammed violent swim was something I liked. As I have always said as soon as you get into the water its nothing but elbows and assholes, getting punched, kicked and pushed around is expected. I swam at full throttle for the first two hundred yards trying to escape the madhouse. As we approached the first buoy I could see I was having some trouble sighting and definitely ended up swimming a little bit more than I needed to.

After the second turn I was now approaching the beach it would be a short eighty yard dash on the sand, and then back into the water for one more loop. By now the traffic was spread out and I was now able to set my own line and see the buoys a bit easier. So far I felt great the water certainly had a tranquil effect on me. Surrounded by such immense beauty, Maui would prove to be the greatest course in the world to suffer on.

Upon the last quarter mile of the swim I played with my strokes in the water, surprisingly some of the strokes still had some pull and I was able to make some passes even at the end. A seemingly uneventful swim left me with a heart that was pounding around 170 BPM and a body that was about to receive a brutal butt kicking on the bike course.

Out of the swim running to transition.

I ran into transition and things went well I was on the bike in no time. The course starts with a little bit of road time before approaching the trails. I put my gloves on while riding and consumed half of my water bottle. The trail was approaching and I was settled enough to get ready for some climbing. I veered to the left of the course and started making some passes immediately.

Ready for the suffering

After rolling onto the trails first climb, I was still riding with the big chain ring up front, stubborn and glutton for pain I did everything I could before I would drop into the smaller ring. That fairy tale lasted no more then ten minutes. The course was in great condition lots of loose rock but no ruts so the line was a clear one. Twenty minutes into the course I was feeling great, the passes were still coming and the bike was feeling great. I was already out of drinking water and looking for the first water station.  The station was three miles ahead.

Heartbreak Hill humbles the pro's to walking as well.

A few more miles in Texas means less than twenty minutes out here in Maui that meant a lot longer. The bike course has a few sections that are named and if that section had one that meant more suffering was to be had. The first climb is the infamous heartbreak hill. I knew I had arrived when I saw a fleet of cyclists walking their bikes up the hill. I had watched the World Championships from years past many times over and over again. I was now actually climbing heartbreak hill, it was at this point that I realized the climbing on the course was going to take its toll on me.

Elevation profile for the bike course.

Lactic threshold is something I actually enjoy; in an odd way it feels good to me. However on this course I felt lactic acid build up and fatigue like nothing I had ever felt before. As each climb would slow me down, it was always followed by another climb. I was still making my passes but the course was starting to fatigue me and I started running out of gas.

I had finally arrived at the first water bottle drop area and was in desperate need of hydration. I stuffed one bottle in my shirt and the other into my cage. I needed the water immensely; I combined that with some Gu and kept on with the suffering. I could feel my body hunching more and more over as the course continued. The climbing foot by foot was humbling me to my beginnings in racing. The course was now winning the fight.

Suffering is one of the things I love most about racing. At your most challenging moments in racing you can see something in every racer, for me it’s my will. It was a story four years in the making and now I was hurting like never before. I could not have been happier. Each turn would be a set of more climbs. My heart could only hope for some descends.

The course had finished most of its climbing and now the drops started coming one after the other. The course had no grey area, you were either climbing like a snail at speeds that a toddler crawling could pass you or you were knee deep in loose rocks at speeds in excess of twenty five miles an hour.

The climbing had beaten me and I was ready for the fast stuff. My body was fatigued to a new level and as each of the million pieces of lava rock passed under my tires I could feel each microscopic movement move through me like a tidal wave. Every bone was rattled, and every muscle was shaken to levels that were alarmingly unfamiliar. The descends wore me down to a level that had not existed yet in my mind. I hoped after the climbing that the pain game would be over. Every muscle in my body tightened up, as I bombed into the drops, fractions away from riding out of control.

As each section would pass I grew with more and more confidence but was not ready to push at full throttle on the downhills. I said to myself before going into the race, no matter how good it feels, do not get ahead of yourself on the drops. The course will hurt you in ways you never imagined.

I had stuck to my guns and was having a great ride. I had planned on the race taking three hours; I could tell that was no where near from happening at this point. I was about to enter into “the plunge” which is the courses most dangerous downhill section. I approached a sweeping left turn at twenty miles an hour when it happened.

The rocks on this course shifted the bike in an unpredictable manner. I was experiencing this all day, but could grasp what the course was throwing at me. My rear tire started to shift and I responded to that, the turn was approaching so I veered to the outside and wanted to cut into the corner at its apex and sweep right through it.

My rear tire never stabilized and it was in one micro second that I knew the inevitable was to happen, this was going to be my first crash on the course. I pushed Gloria to the right and let her go as I rolled onto the lava rock. I immediately looked behind me for other racers. The coast was clear I stepped to the side of the course and luckily a volunteer was there, he asked if I was okay and I was.

Bill Driegert told me when I started riding off road if you are not crashing then you are not riding hard enough. I had crashed many times in racing and in training and after a while I got used to it. I remember when I first started riding how it would happen in slow motion and then it would take me a few minutes to recover after the impact. After a few years I no longer needed the recovery time I simply kept on riding.

However this time was different, the impact was hard I had landed on the left side of my body. I was not in a position to jump back on the bike I needed a moment. I could feel the sting of all the open wounds that were being polluted with sweat blood and dirt. I looked up at the sky and remembered what a lot of people told me about this course. They said “just get through it; just make it to the finish line, that’s all you need to worry about”.

It was an interesting moment I had done so well on the local level of racing but here at the world championship I was just another pawn in a very large game of chess. I thought about my boss Steve then, he had also stated just get through the course. I tried to hop back on the bike; however my chain was stuck behind my rear cassette and was jammed between the spokes and the rear hub.

I lost ten minutes of time trying to delicately un-lodge the chain from the gears without bending the cassette, breaking the chain and destroying the rear carbon derailleur. After the repair was made the course looked a lot different. I knew early on it was not going to be a three hour race, I knew as soon as the climbing started that making it to the podium was not going to happen. The competition and the course were crushing me and there was nothing I could do, other than my best.

Survival of the fittest now, I needed to play my cards right and get through the last couple of miles I had a few more climbs before making it back to transition, I had now completed near two thirds of the race and was running on damage control. I knew the run was going to hurt like nothing else before. I could feel my left hip barking at me from the impact, my knee was bleeding as well but it was not the cuts that hurt me, it was the impact and the speed. I had made it to the main road now and was headed to transition.

Heading back to transition for the run

On any other race I would be ready for the run, ready to move up some positions and make my mark. Last years season of Xterra had me running in the top three if not the fastest run splits of the day. That kind of performance was not to be displayed today.

Transition went flawlessly I had my shoes stuck to the pedals and my dirty feet were planted on top of them, my gloves were removed and stuck into my shirt and I made it in and out of transition in no time.

It was time for the death march now, what the bike course had offered was a near duplicate representation of suffering and insanity for the run. We started out on the road before arriving at the trail head. The first climb was just a tease. The course yesterday had felt like a challenging yet very doable course. Today it was sufferfest 2009, check your whining at the door.

I was running on fumes at this point. Some of the climbs crippled me to a walk. I thought about Ryan Lauck at this point. There were many hours of mind numbing climbing that had been done in the Wasatch Mountain Range and for that moment I was at one with my man Ryan. If ever there was an event I could relate any of this too it was running in the mountains of Utah.

We were now done with all the climbing so let’s throw in some rocky ankle breaking down hills now; at least I could hold some kind of momentum on these portions. I knew it would be another mile before the sand traps would appear. The ocean has never looked so beautiful. I can not emphasize enough that no matter how bad it got, it was the most incredible place to race in.

approaching the beach and the sand

My energy levels were not in a position to recover, every step before had felt challenging but now I was up against the worst of it.  The sand dragged each foot slower than any pace in the race thus far. The beach would lead the runners to some single track then to another beach that had black sands and large lava rocks that break runner’s bones. In 2005 on his way to a first place finish Nico Lebrun fell on the rocks and broke his arm.

Running on the sand is anything but fast.

My brain had melted miles ago and the finish line was approaching there was plenty to think about though. The race had not been anything like I expected. The climbing took a chunk out of me that could not be replaced. The run made me feel like I walked a 5K. The finish line was a glorious site though. I stepped across the line and could finally stop. I just completed my first world championship.

Finish line of the hardest race I have competed in.

I race a lot and have predicted near every possible problem that I would encounter in racing. I have a specific goal time going into every race. I know the exact type and how much ammunition I am going to use. These are the kinds of things you learn when you race as frequently as I do.  I had planned to live my whole life in this race. The last time I had done this was in 2007 on my first sub three hour marathon. That race took everything out of me and left me emotionally and physically incapacitated in the end. I wanted to do the exact same thing in Hawaii. For me it was the most sought after race and it took four years to make it to the starting line, this race was would need more than a strong effort to get to the finish line.

I knew the course would be brutal and I had planned to use my own pain, my own history my good times as well as my bad times as a fuel. I had a full tank and yet I never tapped into that for this race. I shouted Conio! only once in this race and that was only because I felt I had to, as I had not said a word all day. I thought about Michael at that point in the race and poof, like that the thoughts disappeared. Certainly thoughts of my loved ones went through my head in the race. But where was the drama?

The world is a stage and in racing I love a good show. In my own head I could make any race feel as big as the Olympics yet I could not pull that off here in Maui. The greatest thing about racing in its simplest form is OVERCOMING. Everything you believed that was not possible is not a factor when you race. Race day is the only time you can ultimately prove to the world and most importantly to yourself, it’s not what you are it’s who you are.  I have stepped up to the line of many races and have been nervous beyond belief. I frequent the restroom a lot, I tremble, however all of that changes when the gun goes off. When the game starts anything can happen. I have gotten as far as I have with that belief. Anything is possible on race day.

After Hawaii I came back to Dallas with a plethora of incredible memories. I also realized that I have unfinished business in the mountains of Hawaii. In 2010 I will attempt to qualify again to make my return.

I had signed up for a 10K race the next weekend after arriving home. I had not raced competitively in a dedicated run race in over a year. It was time to get back out there and see what I would need to work on over the winter.

I had spoken with my boss Steve about the 10K and how for the first time I had no idea what I would run time wise. For the first time it was an unknown. Steve believed in me and told me I would do great. He said “Joey you raced in the World Championship, you now are different”. I had not thought much about that and race day came soon enough.

I performed my usual pre race morning routine and made my way over to the Arbor Day 10K. I had decided to wear all black for sentiment. When I started racing I always wore all black and I wanted to be nostalgic and see if I could find a little bit of myself out there, the old me, the runner.  As soon as I slipped on my headphones and put on my black sunglasses which by the way were completely unnecessary as it was heavily overcastted that morning, I felt it. Steve was right I surveyed the competition and normally what would have me edgy was doing just the opposite. With approximately 500 runners between the 5K and 10K  I was not shaken I was not stirred I was stoic. I cranked up the jams, and began a short warm up, my legs felt great, my head was in a great place and I was ready to see what I still had.

I knew the first mile would tell me everything; it was a 5:52 first mile. It was slower than it was a year ago but not by much. I started to notch up positions and get settled into my running groove. My breath was controlled and the music had never sounded better.

The 5K split off was ahead and nearly everyone in front of me turned around at the U turn point, the 10K racers would proceed ahead. The second mile took forever and before I knew it I was in second place overall looking for the fourth mile marker. I had lost complete site of the lead runner. I realized I was being strung in slowly by the third place runner from behind and I was not going to let that happen. It was time to attack and to crush some competition. My kick was not there though; I gave a solid effort but nothing like I used to be able to do. With one more surge left in the gas tank I was not in a good place to defend my position. We had a half mile left in the race and now the third place runner was pacing me. We shared some friendly words and I began to pace him from behind, I figured it was time to play some head games.

I stalked him for all of twenty seconds when he surged and I could not respond. Out of gas and now looking at .2 miles left of course I gave what I could. The one thing I had forgotten was how much it hurt to run this hard, my head was hanging low and I was ready for this to be over. I crossed the finish line feeling great about my third place overall position. It was not until a day later that I realized after looking at the results that the front runner dropped out and I was now second overall. I lost that race overall by nine seconds. I was not mad I was grateful that I could still be a contender in the local race scene.

Finish Line Arbor Day 10K

Next weekend would have me wrapping up the Dorba XC mountain bike series with one last race in the very short series. I would need to win once again in my category to bring home the overall title for senior men Cat2. The course was a familiar one I had raced here last year and camped over night with Michael. However last years race started with me having a flat tire while riding up to my start. I rushed back to the car swapped in a new tube and then started racing, I started the race with a six minute deficit. Less than two minutes into the race I got my second flat. This was a defining moment for me last year. I had been plagued with mechanicals all season and this was not how I wanted to end my last XC race for the season. I decided to fix the flat and race as if it was my last chance to. I finished a few minutes back from second place but was nowhere near making it to the podium.

I had been dropping pounds off my Litespeed bicycle since Hawaii, Gloria would be entering the ring now three pounds lighter than she was in Hawaii. Before the race I wanted to get in ten minutes of riding on the trail to test out the new tires and brakes and get a feel for how the bike felt. Upon my first sharp turn I wiped out and dropped the bike from underneath me. I lowered the PSI in both tires and went for a second loop, upon the second loop I washed out on a descend that turns immediately at the bottom. I lowered the tires down to their minimal amount of air which was 20 PSI. I did a longer third loop and nearly bit it again. My group was staring in a few minutes; I rushed to the start line and had a few minutes to get my head on straight.

I knew what I could do but not exactly what I could not do on the bike. Fast technical downhills were out of the question.  Fast sharp turns were out of the question, the tires lacked the tread on this course. The twelve creek crossings (6 per loop) would be a problem as well. This was not the predicament I wanted to be in however this was the last race of the season and I wanted to make my mark.

Normally per the expert advice of Bill Driegert I would pace the lead rider then make my move later on in the race. Not today though I was ranked third overall in the last Cat2 race out of 130+ riders and today I was going for number one overall. My group left the line and I mashed the pedals as hard as I could. I had ridden twice with my new grip shifters but this would be the first time to be racing on them. I don’t care how much field testing gets done on any new product; nothing will tell the story like racing will. Training can not duplicate ever, the kind of pressure and torture I put my bike equipment through.

Sram XO gripshifters with Hope mini brakes

As each turn meandered through Solavaca Ranch I could hear the sound of a rider behind me. This was some what surprising as I thought I would drop the whole group right off the line. I wanted to break this course down into two simple laps. Lap one test the tires and see what I can and can not do. Lap two unleash hell.

On the first fast downhill turn my rear tire slipped on me and within one second of me reacting I was passed just like that. I knew then this would be a tough race to win, I could not push the bike all the way or anywhere near full throttle. I paced this rider for a few more miles and could see how this was going to end up very quickly; he was young, slender and very fast. Climbed like a goat and could cut a line with the best of them in trees. The only advantage I would have was to maximize my power on the field crossings.

This worked out well we must of swapped positions four or five times. I suffered two accidents but still won my division. The race beat me up a bit. Although I had won I was somewhat disappointed in my performance. A win is a win, but my standards since Hawaii had been raised. I did not want to just win I wanted to make a crushing out there on the course. What Hawaii had taken from me in the mountains had given back to me ten fold with ambitious aspirations and a new standard of racing. Things were different now, I’m different.

Finish line Solavaca Ranch I won the series for CAT2

Hawaii had humbled me and made me remember what it’s like to suffer horrendously on a course. It may sound morbid but there is a calm feeling when I see the scars on my left hip from the accident on the course. A part of me finds comfort knowing that some of my blood sweat and tears are still on the island and that I will always have a reminder of what happened out there with the scars on my body. I want to come back next year and show my competitors as well as the island what I learned. It took four years to get there and now it will take one more year to prepare my mind as well as my body for the next one.

Thank you for reading.

Joey G.

Until the next story bah bye

Every year I say I will race less and yet that never changes. Xterra Camp Eagle was race number two in a three week three race odyssey. The first race (Dorba OCNP Bike Race) had gone well and I was looking forward to the camp eagle race that I had a mechanical problem at last year.  It had rained the day before and during the race, what conditions normally prevail in Texas were not happening that day. The temperature dropped into the seventies and the rain came down. On a normal perfect day it would be in the hundreds and very dry.

My rear derailleur and hanger was destroyed five miles into the bike course that year. I ran my bike back to the transition area and hung it up. I ran the remaining five miles of the bike course then came back to transition to run another four miles of the run course. I was not given any points for the race or even an appropriate finish time, but I raced the course and did it my way. It was a frustrating day but I still finished, my season was plagued with failures and mechanicals and quitting then was not how I wanted to finish this race.

I came into Camp Eagle this time with more confidence in my cycling ability than ever before. My commitment to the bike meant I was lacking on the run and the swim. My strength had been the run last year but that was changing this season. It felt like the season had just started for me though. Since my concussion I had been on prescribed medication that had me having mini heart attacks when racing. Having to hold back in training and racing was the furthest thing from what I ever wanted to do.

Every race this season had some side effect of being drugged up. My neurologists and cardiologist told me to take it easy and listen to my body. Every race this year had some point or multiple points where my body was tapped out, it felt as if I was giving too much throttle and I simply could not hang with my ego. My brain was telling me to go at race pace yet my tainted drug induced body had other plans.

I had gotten off the drugs a few weeks prior to the three race odyssey. My first day of reckoning and realization was at the Goat Neck Tour in Cleburne. It had been only four days off the sauce and I decided to bring my Single Speed out for a little spin. My man Paul Robinson and I were going to ride together; we checked in and headed to the start. I could not spot another single speed rider in the seventy mile group that was leading out first.

I had ridden this course a few years back and had what I would call a religious experience. I went out way too hard and blew up on the course. I felt near death at the end. I was not looking to duplicate that this time. The tour had begun and Paul I started off together. We covered a few miles and were getting things warmed up. My body felt the way it had felt for the last three months and my legs felt tired already. We started hustling on the hills and started passing other riders.

Paul told me to go ahead and ride how I normally ride. I did not want to do that but I figured what the hell lets mix it up a little. I picked up the cadence and started pulling a small group. I pulled too hard and lost the group from there I went to the next group and so on. After twenty short miles I realized what was going on, I had become the old me, my blood no longer was inundated with a chemical flux that had side effects, that only became apparent at crucial moments in racing. The miles ticked away at the tour I pulled a few more groups and then went on a solo pursuit. I had planned for the seventy mile bike ride to take about four hours on the single speed. The course is pretty hilly for Texas and the wind is usually a factor.  I realized I had about fifteen miles left and felt great I started hammering at this point. I had made it this far but blowing up was still a possibility however the road to the finish would not be much further. I completed the seventy mile ride in Three hours and nine minutes. Way ahead of schedule I knew then that the drugs had been holding me back.

So here I was at Camp Eagle I had raced four Xterra races already this season but had yet to feel like the old me. I had arrived to Camp Eagle in about six hours; the drive was uneventful and anything but exciting. It was one o’clock when I arrived and the Texas heat had just started to sizzle. I parked the car and grabbed the  bike I wanted to go for a two loop ride. It was a ten mile loop,  I wanted to familiarize myself with the course once again. It was hot dry and dusty just the way I like it a far cry from last years conditions.

The trail this year was running very differently they had added some new stuff and excluded other areas and had us staring on the other side of the park that was used last year. I began riding in the direction that we did last year the trail initially had a horror of a climb that slowed down the best of riders. I made it up the climb and then was faced with a new section. The downhill’s were fine however the ascends were very technical and rocky, one bad move and you could fall off the side of the trail. Falling is fine and inevitable in off road bike riding. However if you have the choice to fall it’s best on dirt, at Camp Eagle it’s 90% rock 10% dirt. Dirt and trees will scratch and make you bleed, however rocks destroy bones and good spirit.

One of the challenging ascends at Camp Eagle

I had already fallen off the bike twice(within the first twenty minutes of riding) trying to figure the ascends out and decided to move on. It was hot outside and my water batter was already half empty, my mind was wandering which was not good. When riding off road it’s imperative that you leave the baggage at the trail head, a foggy mind will get you into trouble quick. I had made it down to the creek beds now it’s a beautiful area where creek waters use to flow, but was now a magnificent rock garden with hidden challenges and a barely visible line to read.

It was only another mile till the halfway point. I made it there and saw a nice picnic table needing some company. My thoughts were not focused on the ride; they were drifting in and out of processes and ideas like an algorithm with no purpose or mindset. I needed to sleep and relax the drive had me tapped out and not in the right mindset for riding.

I leaned my bike up against the picnic table and laid on top of the table to take an hour nap. I figured I was tired from the drive it was imperative to regain my focus and ride the rest of the route. When I woke up I ran into my friend Vicki who I would be rooming with that night. Vicki wanted to ride the creek beds again to figure out the best line and I wanted  to ride that whole section again. So we were off.

I still had problems on the ascends, I knew on race day I would be running them instead of riding them. I needed to ride the rest of the trail so I went off alone to ride the other half. This half had a long climb with switchbacks, upon the climb I ran into two riders from Dallas, one that raced CAT 2 (same division as me) and another ride who raced CAT 1 (expert level rider) we chatted and rode the course together, this side was cake, nothing but climbs and fast sections of course it was rocky, that was inescapable on this trail.

That night I hung out with the Austin crew and then we all went to bed around 10:00 PM. The morning had come soon enough and it was time to unleash hell. I dropped my bike into transition and did all of my normal race morning duties. After the race meeting everyone headed down to the water. I stayed back and focused on the water that we were about to start in.

My head was somewhere else, normally filled with anticipation and wander, I felt alone. This had been the first race without my greatest supporter, Mike G. An ocean had divided us and as much I could feel his presence, my spirit was not there. Mike it’s just not the same without you.

The race was about to go off and I was nowhere near the start. I slowly made my way to the water as the rocks are sharp and walking barefoot has its consequences. I pulled my wetsuit on and started to get it situated on my arms and chest. The race director screamed “15 seconds!” I had a spectator zip me up in the back. I walked into the water and started to make my way to the front. As soon as I had made it to the line, the race was on.

The swim was a simple out and back and it felt pretty good. I made it out of the water and started to make my way up the stairs that led us to the transition area. I walked the stairs, I then ran to the transition area. What the hell was I doing walking the stairs? This is a race not a casual get together!

My transition was slow as my casualness towards the act was just that, casual. It was now time to ride the bike, what I had been waiting for, time to represent. The course right out of transition has a nice downhill which leads you to a very rocky section that rides along the stream we had just swam in. The long climb was approaching fast and this was where I planned to take a chunk out of the racers and move up several positions. It was upon my first pedal stroke that I felt an unfamiliar feeling in my legs…..fatigue.

I suffer in training regularly with fatigue and lactic acid however in racing it’s an unfamiliar factor. Adrenaline and the pure rush of racing can suppress many things; lactic acid and fatigue are some of them. The power I had less than twenty four hours ago was not there, there was no coming back now. As I kept riding I was  perplexed with the predicament I was in, it was race day, it was Xterra and I was not in the zone.

I had made it past the first part of the bike course and was ready to face the tricky ascends that had challenged me the day before. I dismounted and quickly ran my bike up them, there was no point in attempting to ride  them, not this day and not in this mood. I was  now approaching the rocky creek beds when it first happened. I flipped over the handlebars on a rocky downhill. Minutes later I clipped a tree on my right shoulder I had my second accident. The tree grabbed my right shoulder as they always do and threw me to the rocky trail.  Minutes later in the solid rock creek beds I lodged my front tire between two rocks and went over the handlebars again. Profanities vociferously came out at loud levels. I quickly got up and shouted what the FUCK! are you doing out here!? After three accidents in ten minutes my brain was melting and my heart simply was not in this race. I finished the lap and was then off for the run.

The run started with one hell of a climb and then ran through some tight rocky single track. My heart skyrocketed on the climb and never really settled down. I found my rhythm and made some passes but could not engage full throttle nor did I want to. I completed the race bruised scratched and fried, I placed second in my age group and could care less, I had a seven hour drive back to Dallas ahead of me now.

For the first time in four years in any race my heart was not in it. The whole race felt like a training ride, no adrenaline, no greatness, and no glory and I felt it more than ever. There was no Michael and that had a lot more impact on me than I had considered. After saying good bye to my Austin friends I hit the road back to Dallas.

So what was it, what disrupted the cycle? I needed to move on and think about next weekends Xterra Austin race. I had six days to find my mojo, get fast and prepare to ride the most challenging Xterra mountain bike course. A midweek training ride and run with my main man Chuck Olinger had given me back some of my confidence. Chuck and I were going to race together so we left for Austin on Saturday morning.

I woke up early Saturday morning before leaving to get a run in and clear my head, I needed to shake Camp Eagle out of my veins, the sun was rising and displayed a beautiful site that helped to cleanse my mind and spirit. Great music streamed through the speakers and I felt a rush of emotion overcome me. Things felt as they should and I knew I was ready now. Chuck and I left around nine and headed down to the great city of Austin. Of all the Xterra courses, this is one you definitely need to pre ride to get familiar with.

The beautiful sky on Saturday morning

I had raced Xterra Austin last year and destroyed my pedal on a boulder making for a very exciting and scary ride. We started the ride up the highway to the trail head. I looked at Chuck and he was the first to say “I am breathing a little heavy” I was doing the exact same thing, wandering if it was just me hurting we both found comfort in the mutual suffering.

The trail was familiar and recognizable even though I had only ridden her twice, she still had all the curves and sensations that sends chills up every rider’s spine. To say the trail was technical would be an understatement, she’s got drops, climbs and rocks that roll and change the dynamics of the trail as each rider makes a pass.

Chuck and I made it through the initial “easy” section without any problems. We had a local rider from Dallas that was now riding with us, he held a good line and could ride. Chuck led the ride with the new rider in the middle and me in the back. I wanted to stay back from these two as I needed to study the lines differently. Riders on full suspension bikes can roll over and down things easier; I had to take different lines at times on my hardtail frame.

I had a lot of issues as soon as we reached the more technical sections my front tire kept sliding off in the loose dusty sections and I had already started to have accidents. My bike is setup for XC racing in Dallas which means fast fast fast. I ride with a drop up front just like I do on my TT bike. The drop was too much for this trail, I had to pull my body behind the seat to balance the bike on the downhills although effective I do not prefer this style of descending. My front fork was malfunctioning as well it would only travel three inches at maximum, which was about a third of what it should be. We wrapped up the ride and headed off to Mellow Johhny’s  for packet pick up.

Picture illustrates the downhill position, notice how far back Christoph is behind the saddle, again effective but not comfortable for me.

Mellow Johnny’s is quickly becoming iconic, it’s a quaint little bike store with some great bikes that were used in the tour and a friendly staff. After packet pickup we had dinner with my good friends Vicki and Laurie Allen. We headed back to Emma Park and camped over night tomorrow would be the big day.

Sleeping was intermittent and noisy, Emma park was a beautiful place when the sun shined however when the sun went down, the obnoxious drunken people came out. I woke up at 6:00AM, chuck was already up and went for a little run. I needed to work on my bike and change the cockpit up, if I could raise the front end it would help me on the downhills from being too far forward and top heavy. I flipped my stem up and stacked my spacers below the stem instead of above, this lifted me about 3 inches up front which was all I would need.

The race was staring  soon after transition was set up, Chuck and I headed over for the race meeting and swim. Chuck said a prayer for me as we stood by the water, it was a very nice gesture, on this course you definitely need angels looking over you. The race had a wave start and luckily I was in the first wave, Chuck would start two minutes after me. I lined up behind pro racer Shonny V. and drafted her for the first hundred yards she dropped me like a toilet seat lid after that.

Swimming is my weakness in triathlon however I do not mind swimming when racing, I find my rhythm and hope that my cycling strength and quick run will make up the lost time.  It was a two loop swim, which meant by the time I got out of the water Chuck and all the lead guys would already be on their bikes riding toward the trail up the road. My transition went pretty well and before I knew it I was on my bike riding up the steep road to the trail head.

I made some passes immediately and tried to make my way as far forward as possible, my heart was starting to race and my breath grew very heavy however my legs felt great. I may have been mortified by the trail yesterday, but today was a new day, I was curious to see how lifting the front end would feel and lowering the tire pressure up front for better traction. The initial trail is easy in comparison to the harder sections. The first section has one loose downhill section with a sweeping right turn, and one uphill that is rocky loose and just painful to ride.

My bike started barking at me on the easier side of the trails which initially frustrated me greatly. My chain slipped off the front chain ring twice and at one point slipped behind the rear cassette directly onto the wheel, when this happens it makes a very loud grinding noise.

I made it through the entire single track on the easy side and was now faced with the longest climb in the race, last year I ran the bike up the hill as my legs were blasted. This year I just kept my head down and started the grind. My bike only has two gears up front, I removed what I always refer to on all bikes as the “bitch” gear, if you can’t handle any trail on the two big gears up front its faster to run the bike. I have been running a 2 x 9 setup for two years now and have never regretted it. I reached the top of the hill rather quickly I looked back to see three riders making their way up. I wanted to increase the gap from these other riders before we reached the scary stuff.

I crossed the road and was ready for the challenges that lye ahead. The course gets more and more challenging as each mile ticks away, you receive initially a little tease and then it starts to hit the fan. The descends began to come one after the other and I was very pleased with how the bike felt. The changes I had made earlier in the day put me in a much better position on the bike for this course.

one of the many ledges at Emma Park, notice the depth.

With the exception of one massive ledge drop off I made it down every scary downhill section the course had to offer, a completely different scenario from yesterdays training ride. The scary sections were marked with a skull and cross bone banner right before the trail got dodgy. After each pass I grew with more and more confidence about my ability to handle this course.

The bike section had emulated the effort last year completely, have a real scary pre ride then sleep on it. Race morning always has something different planned for each person out there.

The climbs started to come now, one after the other. I felt good about the race so far and had not thought about how I was in such a “blah” mindset the week before at Xterra Camp Eagle. No accidents had occurred yet and my legs felt great. Upon one of the longer climbs I shouted the word “¡coño!” It was from then that I knew I was back from the dead and that last weekend was just a memory.

I picked up the word “¡coño!” from a great Showtime show  called  “Dexter”, one of the characters named Miguel Prado would use this explicit word in times of great stress or anger. I use it when I have to dig deep when the efforts are starting to inflict a lot of pain upon my body. As vulgar as it may be, I love saying the word as it always reminds me of Michael, I sometimes think of Julien as well because he says it too, usually followed by me saying it then Michael repeating it and then Julien having the final “¡coño!”

Calling upon Michael’s strength in a race is not uncommon; his strength was now summoned by me shouting the word “¡coño!” I realized earlier in the week that the race at Camp Eagle was just not my race, the word was never uttered and that says volumes. There will always be a disconnect from all things real when racing and when this does not happen, it means something is definitely off.

What gets me excited about racing is the same feeling that drug addicts have looking for that initial “high” that got them hooked in the first place. In my four years of racing I have experienced so much joy and so much pain. I have competed in about eighty events in the last four years, everything from 5k’s to fifty milers, to aquathons in France to the Ironman(attempted) 6 hour mtn bike races to 100 mile training rides back to back.

I watched a lot of movies growing up and with that comes a vision to want to make things epic. Growing up I was anything but athletic. Mike and I were two chubby kids with lots of energy but no athletic abilities. It wasn’t until our late teens that either of us took up running. Running had started it all. More than just a simple action of one foot in front of the other, for me it was a separation from all things real and apparent.

Life is like a movie in so many ways a lot of us are just stuck on the boring part. Whether it’s the forty plus hour work weeks or the daily grind, day to day living can lack some luster at times.

When I race however all that changes, I have always favored the underdog in every great sport movie. We all want the little guy with nothing to lose and everything to gain to win. When I ran my first race I was overwhelmed with the rush of racing, it wasn’t the competition it was the exhilaration of living through a race. It made me grateful and humble, it’s always an honor just to be able to inch the line and start, when so many can not.

In every great sport movie or story there is a tale of struggling and every competition has its dramatic moments, its intense petrifying actions can cause your heart to skip beats and the hairs on your neck to stand straight up. For me every race has that potential and sometimes, just sometimes I get to experience that incredible rush.

Whether winning a race or breaking a course record each of  my greatest moments have played out in my head over and over before and after the race. It’s incredible how surreal the pursuit feels when going for the number one position. The scenario of stalking the prey is no different than in nature. Racing is 70% mental and 30% physical for me. My heart and soul hurt more than my legs after any hard race. It’s more than numbers it’s my life on the big screen with a very small audience. I can make the movie an Oscar worthy performance or just send it straight to DVD. Only you have the power to paint a masterpiece when on the course, you reap your own hard work.

Now back to the race, as the bike course came to its end I faced one last horrific climb. I dismounted and ran the bike to the top then crossed the road. I had maybe another two miles ahead of me now before heading to transition. I was very happy about the ride, I didn’t have any accidents and I cleared everything on the downhills.

one of the last climbs before getting back to the easy side

As I raced towards the final descend that would take me to transition, a song had popped into my head. My bike until this point had not been granted a name. For whatever reason Gloria came to mind, the bike was now official. We had spent over a year together and yet I always referred to her as “The Litespeed”. I could not help but laugh and feel such glee, the toughest part of the race was behind me, and now I had a soundtrack playing in my head that captured the moment for me perfectly.

Open this link in another tab it will play automatically to hear the song that captured the moment perfectly.

G L O R I A

Transition looked pretty slim not a lot of bikes so I was very pleased. It was now time to see if I still had the run in me. I saw a fit looking guy about three hundred yards away in an all black 2XU race uniform. My radar immediately went on and that would be the first guy to go after. My heart was pounding and my breath was anything but controlled, it was a panting noise that only a French bull dog could duplicate. However the heavy breathing is very normal for me and is kind of my trademark.

Out of the fields and into the worst ascend the course offers a volunteer shouted “you are in the top ten”. That’s all I needed to here, I knew my pace on the bike was lacking and would put me back from the top guys; I was on the top ten list, which at Xterra Austin was an honor for me. I paced another runner in front of me and did what I could to pull him in, I made the pass but as soon as I did his cadence picked up. Half way into the course dehydrated and approaching complete exhaustion I did not want to duel with anyone. I let it hang on the flats and unleashed on the slight down hills.

The course was now approaching its end; I kept looking back as I knew I was slowing down. I had no attacks from behind but still was on edge. The trail lead me to the rocky ledge that was the same uphill and now it was a downhill. The drop is near straight vertically and about fifty feet tall. I looked back one more time and saw two jackals.  The finish was less than two minutes away. Its going to be easy once I get past the downhill, unsure of what these two were capable of, I thought “okay show them you are a runner”. I bombed the downhill and grabbed onto trees as I carried way too much momentum, I could feel the pull of my shoulder sockets disconnecting as my arms were slung onto the thin trees.

Finally at the bottom I hit the gas hard and sprinted down the road to the finish. I managed the fifth fastest run split. Last year I was at the top of my game with the running, coming into the race ten pounds overweight was very apparent when I was trying to move faster out there.

The race was over now, after checking the results the two guys who almost caught me on the run where in my age group. I placed first in the group and was pleased with the results. I would have liked to have been faster on the bike; however my cautionary measures got me to the finish with minimal bloodshed. This race is something else and everytime I approach this course it still gets me spooked out. Looking forward to doing a lot better on the bike next year.

Next race Xterra Worlds in Maui.

Thanks for listening.

Joey G.

Certain things are hard to forget and other things just need to be forgotten. Last weekend I rolled up to the staring line at my first XC mountain bike race of the season. The race was at the Oak Cliff Nature Preserve which is a hop skip and a jump outside of downtown Dallas.

I had participated in this race last year and did not finish, I bent my front wheel in half on my second loop. I tried to finish after I bent the wheel back but it wobbled too much and I had six miles left to cover before completion, my first mountain bike race ended in failure.

When I was a child my father taught me how to ride a bike, I was scared and it was anything but a hallmark picture, tears fear and blood are the only things I remember. One never forgets how to ride a bike; one just learns how to ride it better and faster. Racing is the next training ground, there are no training wheels but plenty of learning is to be had in the trees.

I wanted redemption for the series and the course. This race last year set the tone for last seasons multiple mechanical difficulties, its unfortunate when these things happen whether its multiple flats, destroyed drive train or bent wheels. Last season in Xterra and in XC racing I experienced it all.

This year I have already tested with three different wheel sets and multiple tire combinations looking for that “perfect” setup. Right now the bike feels great.

I started training on the course two weeks ago; the course for was to be raced in the opposite direction as the prior year. The course might as well have been a completely different set of trails. The zigs and the zags that were once familiar were just faded memories, now it was time to study and learn a completely different course.

I found the course to be more difficult backwards than forwards. There were three different areas that I had to ride a few times before finding the perfect line. The next weekend I road the course Friday and Saturday before the race on Sunday. By this time I was clearing all the technical obstacles on the course, with ease but more importantly with confidence.

some of the trail at OCNP

I ran into Sammy Paulus on Friday’s ride, Sammy was the very nice man who found me unconscious earlier this year in Oklahoma while pre riding for the Xterra Red River course. It was great to finally meet the man who saved me, had I not been found who knows what may have happened. Thanks again Sammy.

I went to sleep Saturday night with ease I had ridden the course as much as I had planned and I felt ready. I woke up early on Sunday morning I wanted to clean and lube the bike. I then had two double shots of coffee and made an incredible MP3 list to rock out to on the way to the race.

The music was a mix of some of the eighties and nineties music and a lot of the stuff I grew up listening to. It was no further than a mile from our house when it settled in. The passion for racing and the emotions that quickly followed, tears streamed down gently and I could not help screaming from the tops of my lungs.  I was glad to be alive and ready to race. The moment was consuming, it reminded me of when I first started racing how epic everything felt before the start.  The weather was perfect sunny bright and hot. I arrived to the Preserve and needed to get checked in, the race would start in one hour. I checked the bike a few times, pumped up the tires and road a short bit of the course to make sure the tire pressure was perfect. Now all that was left to do was wait. There were approximately 130 racers in the category two division.

The first group was the single speed division. These animals willingly ride with only one gear unlike myself who has 18 gear options. I found a calm nature in me right before the race start. The single speed group was off and now my group was ready to leave in two   minutes. I inched up to the start line and there it was…. doubt. I was having doubts already I surveyed the competition and had plenty to look at.

This is what a Single Speed Mtn bike looks like

I have always said in the world of mountain bike riding and racing you need two things confidence in yourself and confidence in your equipment. I thought of my last six hour mountain bike series in the winter and how I covered 72 miles and was up there with the top guys. I thought about what had happened and what had not happened yet this year; this was no place for doubt. 15 SECONDS! The call from the race director disturbed my thought processes and images. I looked at my gears and made sure I was ready. I pulled my right foot up to the top of the crank. It was go time now. Breathe in and breathe out, now unleash hell.

There was a ¾ mile stretch of road that went through the neighborhood that we had to ride through before settling into the single track. I got a great tip from Tim Rawlins who raced CAT 1 earlier in the morning, he told me “Don’t go all out on the road, let the lead guy set the pace, get on his rear wheel and then jump him right before the single track entry”.

The pace was fast, the lead guys were setting a tempo that was hard to rival with, the last portion of road was all uphill before the single track entry. I jumped up to third position before we hit the dirt. I wanted to be first but third is what I had to settle for the two other riders had more sprint in their legs than I had.

My initial concern was the first few minutes of riding it takes me about three minutes before my brain and body balance and then I can go full throttle in the trees. After a mile of riding on the trails we had already starting making passes on the first group that let out. So far the pace was fast but not out of hand. I had my sites on the second place rider. When he made a pass I made a pass and so on. Eventually a few riders got between me and the second place rider. The bottlenecking scenarios already started to happen on the trail. A few of the single speed goes would make a mistake and that would cause a back up on the trail.

Eventually I passed the second rider and now I was in second place, first place was gone and I could not see him on the trail. I kept telling myself this is a long race you will catch him just focus on getting some passes in. So that’s what I did, I was halfway through the first lap and my eyes finally locked onto first place. I was very excited at this point. I had a plan that would simulate what I did when I raced pure running races. I would stalk the rider; I wanted to see who this rider was and how he rides. I pulled up behind him and settled in for a few miles. He was fast no doubt he could hold a solid line. He had a tendency to lay down his foot into the fast hard corners.

The heat was settling in my bibs and jerseys were saturated and I consumed as much fluid as possible in the straight open fields. The game was over now; I had established myself on the field and had seen everything I needed to see. He was fast and it was an honor to be here now and to have made it this far. The trees had opened up and there was a steep climb approaching. I hammered it and made the pass. I was now in first place.

The traffic now was slimming down; I could now focus on setting my own line and riding the way I wanted to. So far the bike was doing everything I needed it to. The tire pressure was perfect; the brakes were hot but working one hundred percent. My energy levels were not dropping. I was now approaching lap two of the course. When I rolled over the timing chips I got some cheers I believe it was Sammy and Tim but I do not recall I was focused on grabbing an extra water bottle and taking in as much as possible and then poured some on my back and then threw it in my back pocket.

My Gatorade supply was about ¾ consumed, I decided I would not drink that until halfway through the second loop. By now I was catching the faster Single Speed guys they were not easy to catch by any means. I had cleared all of the technical areas I had difficulties with in training flawlessly, the race was going as planned.  However my legs simply could not turn over the cranks as fast as I wanted them. I kept telling myself “second place is right behind you, stop slacking, stop getting comfortable”.

Lap two going for gold

Getting comfortable is what it kept coming down to, this racing requires a substantial amount of focus and determination. If my legs were not burning in the open fields then I knew I was not trying hard enough, at no point should racing ever feel good or easy on the body.

I had depleted all of my Gatorade now, I grabbed some water from the bottle I picked up at the halfway point and took in as much as I could. The trail got technical and I dropped the bottle. I now had no water, which was fine I practice this in training; this was not going to be a problem, years of deprivation training prepare you for these moments.

When I studied the course before I had planned on using the big ring on my bike 90% of the time and the middle gear 10% of the time up front, today however it was 99% big ring and 1% medium ring. The middle ring would only see two minutes of use on the course. The climbs started to take their toll however; the lactic build up was growing in my legs. I had made it to another open field and started to crush the pedals with all I had, I wanted to build a gap, there had been no one behind me that I could see for the last few miles.

At full throttle I dropped into the descends that took me deep into the trees. With too much speed the bike got away from me, the back tire was off the ground as well as the front, I tried to pull my body back to counter balance the descend but it was not going to happen. I tossed the bike to the left and prepared for the crash. I landed on my right hip then rolled onto my back while sliding downhill on the rocks.

I went into the downhill way too hot and took a fall because of it; as I laid there on the ground I quickly slapped each collar bone. Both still in tact and unbroken. I said aloud to myself “get up fatass we got a race to win”. I picked my bike up and jumped back on the saddle. I was shaken up but needed to regain focus quickly, luckily nothing on the bike was damaged the gears were still shifting like butter and I was ready to wrap this up. I could feel the open wounds bleeding on both of my arms and legs, my right hip felt like it hit the side of a brick wall at twenty miles per hour.

The last part of the trail was nothing technical just pure aerobic depleting insanity. I kept the pace up and finally got out of the trees to the last few turns before the lap would be complete and the race over. I could not help but look back, if an attack was going to happen and a position to be lost, this is where it would happen. There was no one behind me the coast was clear.

The finish line was now in front of me I coasted over the timing mats and the race was finally over. A race that set the tone last season was now a memory. Today was my day and now I could relax and reflect on the race. I had won; second place was over four minutes back. I ran into Sammy and he saw how dirty I was and remarked how every time he sees me I am falling, which was true, every time Sammy has seen me I have been bleeding from somewhere. It was a great way to start off the XC Dorba series I can’t wait till the next one.

The Missing

It is hard to fail, but it is worse never to have tried to succeed.
Theodore Roosevelt

This is the story of my first attempt at the Ironman distance; as usual I was unsure of my performance before race day. A lot off athletes train long and hard all winter for this race and come to bring their best show early in the triathlon season. Honestly I can not make comments like that, my training was off since the winter I maybe logged five hundred miles this whole year on the bike, and as usual my swim training before this race was a handful of swim practices a few weeks out. Was I prepared though? Sure.

The journey started on Thursday April 10 when I found out the American Airlines flight taking Christina, Mark, Kristin and I had been cancelled. My training buddy Mark Payne already had a back up plan. We rented a van and drove all night Thursday to Tempe Arizona, fifteen hours later we had arrived, on time and ready for packet pick up.

Upon arrival Mark and I settled into registration and made our rounds of things to do such as pick up the bikes, check in etc. The small college town of Tempe was booming with Energy it was electrifying. There were over two thousand hot, hairless bodies with more bling equipped bikes than the Tour De France prologue, the scenery was amazing.

Picking up myLitespeed from Tri-bike Transport

On day two, Saturday morning I woke up at 6:30 a.m. and went for a seven mile run around town to clear my head and get into my race state of mind. Plenty of things had been floating around in my head and I needed to decompress and mentally prepare. I went out for twenty minutes at an 85% pace and coasted the rest of the way to loosen things up a bit. I found a quiet place midway through the run, I sat down and reflected for a bit and considered a lot of things.

I thought about my first Triathlon on May 5^th 2005, I remembered the rush and the euphoria of combining the three disciplines. Memories of the fifty plus races I had run in the last three years shot through my mind at a rapid pace, the highs and the lows, the wins and the losses. I was now here in Arizona soaking up the rays of the sun overlooking a highway. Tears streamed down my face, I had finally arrived, I decided a few years ago that the Ironman was the ultimate triathlon distance and I was determined to get there one day.

I had visions of the world championship and one day being there. I didn’t expect to achieve a Hawaii slot on this race, but I had planned to perform well and if all things went as planned, well who knows anything can happen on race day.

My pleasure and some of my deepest pains come from racing. Some races have left me on cloud nine and others have destroyed me. I have had deep religious experiences on various courses, and have lost all hope fighting for the finish. To win or to lose, there is nothing certain on race day. The course will truly decide the fate of your race. After reflecting and cleansing my mind I headed back to the hotel, a weight had been lifted and I was now ready to race.

Mark, Christina and I grabbed some food from the local Safeway and got Kristin some coffee. After we got back Mark and I headed out for the Gatorade Endurance open water practice swim. We slipped our wetsuits on and jumped in, the water was frigid at sixty five degrees, my coldest swim to date. We swam a quick out and back and were out of the water in less than fifteen minutes. Afterwards we biked through town to ensure the bikes were tip top and race ready, our hotel was located a in a kind of dodgy area and needless to say some eyebrows were raised when the locals see two guys on funky looking bikes one in all black spandex sporting an Aero helmet. After the ride I took a crash nap and later on we all headed out to dinner, Tempe has only one or two Italian restaurants, Christina made reservations and we slid right in. I did my ritualistic all I can eat meal of bread and pasta.

We headed back to the hotel after dinner; all of my race gear had been prepared earlier in the day, so all that was left to do now was sleep. I made sure to set two alarms to wake me up. I have a reoccurring dream about not waking up on time for races and I had set my phone as well as my watch to go off the next morning. My dreams would become my reality as none of them went off the next morning. I woke up naturally however and everything was copasetic. I met up with mark and we both had our Peanut butter sandwiches for breakfast and got ready. Within twenty minutes we were in the van heading to the race start.

I brought my Ipod with me, as we walked from the van which was parked on the roof of some building the tunes came on and it was literally music to my ears. The first track was Rage against the Machine’s, Bulls on parade to awaken me. I felt like a boxer going into the ring for a title fight. I was officially in the zone and ready to rumble, which was exactly where I needed to be.

Transition bags from the swim to the bike

Mark and I dropped off our special needs bags, checked our bikes and received our body markings. You could feel the energy from all the athletes and spectators; this was world class racing and today would be my day. Mark and I got our wetsuits on and eventually said goodbye to our better halves and jumped in the water. To my surprise it had warmed up and was not near as cold as the day before. Mark and I shared some words and the cannon went off. Welcome to the WASHING MACHINE! With over twenty two hundred competitors the arms were flaying the kicks were brutal and the elbows pounded your body at all angles.

The Washing Machine

The 2.4 mile swim is not exactly something I thought I could muster easily; I struggled to find room to get comfortable and work in my horrific custom strides, the infamous “Superman” and the always ridiculous “Striker” I aimed for open areas to get some room to spread out my stroke, passing people was difficult as I kept getting crowded from all angles front to back and side to side. We were swimming right into the rising sun. I thought about Christina and how she said she would never race triathlon because of the swim. The sheer violence of the swim is not for the light hearted. I constantly had to look ahead to make sure I wasn’t going to get kicked in the face killing my hydrodynamics, thus slowing me down. Swimming in the pool and being here now was a far cry. My arms felt strong and I felt that the swim was going very well. I could site the turn around coming soon. The surrounding swimmers started to veer left looking to make the U turn.

I finally made it to the turn around, we were 1.2 miles deep now the bottlenecking of bodies on the corner was tight, and again it was back to the washing machine, the return to transition would be a more mild journey, now that the race was spread out. I hung to the far left with a few other guys and was sighting well I now was able to bust out the Superman glide and was feeling strong and slippery in the water. I had feared the swim the most, but was happy with my performance so far and was on pace or at least I hoped for a respectable time.

As my arms pulled me through the water, I thought about my Bikram Yoga instructor Farky and how in class we lift our arms above our heads and place our upper arms against our ears in certain postures, I duplicated this with my stroke in order to streamline my body. I could hear his voice ring through my ears “that’s it Joey, that’s the way” in his Hungarian accent. I hadn’t swam much at all this season; I had planned to use Bikram Yoga as a tool in the water. My arms were stronger, my body was more streamlined and my breathing had reached a larger capacity, everything that I theorized that would be effective had worked in the swim, it was brilliant. I stepped out of the water in one Hour and fourteen minutes. I was roughly in 1000^th place. I exited the water briskly had my wetsuit stripped off of me and ran into transition. I used the restroom then ran to transition and grabbed my bike.

Exiting transition with the bike was a little hectic; bodies were running towards the one single exit at an alarming rate. I exited without incident crossed the red mount line and then clipped in, I looked up and saw a curvaceous tunnel of screaming spectators and chaos in front of me, after my first stroke of the pedal I knew it was going to be on. My boss Steve and I had gone over with extreme scrutiny how to break down the bike portion and how to break down my fellow age groupers. I was going to progressively get faster peak in the middle and then slow it down on the way back to prepare for the run.

The bike section was 112 miles long a total of three loops, the winds had started to gust already and the heat was starting to rise. I felt I wasn’t sweating enough in the dry heat. I poured water on myself every ten miles to keep cool and fresh. I kept my tri jersey zipped up all the way and remained on the aero bars as long as possible to maintain the most aerodynamic position. I wanted every single advantage that I could take aerodynamically speaking. I spent hours prior to this race with a micrometer and a level getting the bike to its most efficient fastest position. Although daunting its against the fury of the wind and the climbs that leave you breathless that make you appreciate all the time that’s invested in proper bike fitting, every gram and every millimeter has its place and purpose.

Second loop on the bike

I had broken the cycling portion down into six different sections. The three laps had two very different scenarios, the outbound trip was taking on a headwind at full fury and the trip back to transition was assisted with a strong tail wind. I preferred the course to be set up in this manner; I worked hard on the way out and reaped the benefits on the way back to transition.

My first loop was strong going a bit against the plan I was hungry, and juiced on the moment I attacked hard against the wind and the subtle inclines. I consumed one of my cliff bars and started my usual drug regimen of sports legs and Endurolyte pills. Feeling no pain other than having to pee, I decided to dismount and relieve myself at the turn around point and grabbed some new bottles. The first lap on the return home was by far the fastest. Geared with a 54 tooth large chain ring I was holding thirty plus miles per hour with ease, a soft pedal as Mark Payne always says.

Approaching loop two and the turn around I was excited to see Christina and Kristin it’s a rarity to have support at any race so it means a lot to me when some one takes time out of their schedule for me to support my ambitions. I had started to reflect on the plan that Steve and I spoke about before I left Texas. The hill approach, progressively faster with a slow taper to prepare for the run, I started out slow and easy on the second lap. The winds had increased and I realized this was going to be tough.

While waiting in the registration tent a few days prior, Mark and I ran into Paul Bashforth, a fellow who trained with Mark at last year’s Multi-sport camp in Lake Placid. We talked shop and some strategy about this race and he gave me one little gem of advice, he said “do not fight the wind, just go with it”. I didn’t think much about that until I was out on the course; I was getting passed by other athletes now on the second loop. I kept my head down my energy was starting to drain, the subtle inclines came slow and steady and it felt like forever until the road would flatten or the wind would cease, the turn around was just nowhere in sight.

Me in the red, Payne in the pink and Paul in white at registration

This was the essential turning point of the race, this was the first time I was feeling the pain of Ironman racing. I had a plan though to revive myself, I consumed one Gu and would be stopping to get my special needs bag after the turn around. I eventually arrived to the turn around point dismounted again, urinated and refilled my bottles once again, it felt good to stretch. I was feeling a little more upbeat after the Gu solidified in my system. Five miles later I arrived to the special needs bag area. TWO FOURTY SIX!!! A young man screamed I pulled to the side of the road and the volunteer opened the bag up for me.

I had two key things in this bag to bring the zombie in me back to life. Red Bull and chocolate chip cookies from some truck stop in west Texas. Cookies and Red Bull this is my ultra marathon nutrition staple, its bullet proof and guaranteed to deliver energy. I poured the Red Bull into my water bottle, took the cookies out of the wrapper and headed on my way. The cookies tasted great and the red bull was a familiar nectar that got my blood boiling and my heart back to its race pace. Unfortunately at this point I wasn’t able to consume any real solid foods, the bars I had brought along for the ride might as well have been poison. I just could not stomach them and their consistencies.

I thought about Ryan Lauck and his one hundred mile Wasatch Run, I remember running with him in the darkness against fatigue and the cold shivers of night, he could not eat, and had no desire to. It had all started to make sense now, I had tried to feed him all night but it just wasn’t enough, endurance events like Ultra’s and the Ironman require a lot of nutritional intake. At this point in the race I was out of Gu and had no solid foods to consume. I was having trouble taking down Gatorade now as well; these key foods in their absence would be the beginning of the end.

The Red Bull had kicked in and so had the Gu it was a huge burst of caffeine in one setting coagulating in my system to release like a bomb. I looked to the sky and asked “Christina and Michael where are you?” I needed their support, their warmth and their energy. When things go wrong in race I always look for them in the clouds. Within moments my cadence had begun to rise. My tunnel vision had engaged and my heart and breath started getting erratic, this is what I refer to as “the blur”. When this happens to me, the shit hits the fan and I start popping. A glance down at my computer revealed thirty nine mile per hour pace. I was there in Arizona for this moment, the sugars started boiling in my blood, my lungs expanded and compressed like tremors under the earth’s surface. This was the interval section of the race and I knew this would last only for a moment, and it did. I slowed my pace after a mere minute and was soft pedaling with the wind at my back at a comfortable 25 MPH, a far cry from the twelve to thirteen MPH against the wind less than an hour ago.

Its moments like those that keep me coming back for more races. There is an energy that pulses through your system, when someone that you love, believes in you. That love can cultivate into an energy that surges through your body like electricity and lifts you “the blur” was the best moment of the whole race; I was closer to Michael and Christina beyond any form of physical measurement at that one moment.

I was four hours into the race and I had not seen Mark yet I wandered how he was doing and how the race was treating him. The winds howled and were relentless. I reflected on our many rides together, many centuries, some of them back to back and always with wind going against us or with us. Train how you race, and race how you train, we had talked up Arizona for months and were ready for the game. One of our most recent training rides was cut short due to a gusting 30 MPH wind, a wind so strong it blew me off the road twice in the ride.

I was on my third loop ten miles deep and I heard Mark coming, Lew Carbon wheels make a special sound that I can’t quite describe, I pulled my head up from the drops and he blew right by. I didn’t have a chance to say anything; I pedaled on against the wind. The third lap out was great, my slower pace on the second outbound lap was paying off. I had managed a 21.01 MPH average on the first lap and slowed down to a 17.99 MPH average on the second lap and was now pushing 18 MPH against the wind, I felt strong, the day was reaching its middle point and I was happy that this was my last lap.

The heat was catching up to me though, I could not stomach the Cliff bars I had brought and my special needs bag was completely depleted, my Gu supply was gone as well. I was taking in as much fruit as possible at every aid station. I had trouble swallowing Gatorade now as well as water. I was force feeding myself as I knew that proper nutritional intake was essential to successfully completing this race. I finally reached last turnaround point on lap three and decided not to stop this time.

I dropped down a few gears and started the soft pedal with the wind to my back; my energy levels were starting to drop off rapidly. The caffeine in my system had dissolved and my tank was about to empty. I lacked the power to engage full throttle on the last part of the bike course. Holding anything over 22 MPH was a struggle, my previous loop had maxed out at 39 MPH as my top speed which lasted only seconds. I had blown up several times on the bike in training but never in a race. The pace on the bike had felt comfortable and controlled. My nutrition though was not consistent with the effort. Thousands of miles had been covered in training with the same nutritional regimen yet today in the deserts of Arizona it simply was not working.

I sunk my neck and head into my collar bones, “stay aero” I said to myself we are almost home. I had been burping the whole bike ride and throwing up a little each time in my mouth. The heat was noticeable but it wasn’t anything unfamiliar to me. The distance was long and hard but again nothing out of the ordinary. The bike portion was now over I started in position 934 out of the water and was now in position 401, the hill strategy had paid off. I entered into transition a bit light headed and took my sweet time putting on my run clothes and going to the restroom.

I was done with the swim and the bike, now it was time for the real show, the marathon, I had been told all year from various athletes “it’s all about the run”, as an ultra marathoner I simply wasn’t worried, I felt dizzy but not too concerned, its only 26.2 miles. I had some great volunteers attend to me in transition and upon exiting got lubed up with sunscreen. Let’s begin the rodeo!

First loop of the run

 

 

Mile one came soon enough on the run, I was getting my doors blown off by the hotshots who had plenty of gas in the tank around me. I wasn’t worried I needed a mile to warm up and get loose. Christina was there shooting pictures and screaming I heard nothing nor saw anything which was actually pretty bad as I desperately was looking forward to seeing her. My first mile was a 7:53 my second was 7:40 my third was 7:38 my fourth was 7:14. The negative splits were happening my stride was engaging my mind was racing and I was feeling no pain. I was taking in every bit of fluid and food I could get my hands on at each aid station.

I remember thinking “ show these people Joey, show these people how a runner does the big show” the passes felt infinite and with every stride I was getting stronger, the nauseous feelings had dissipated and now I was on fire, the course was simple basic and filled with enthusiastic cheers from the onlookers and volunteers. I was pleased thus far with the performance and happy that the race so far was a pleasant one. I completed the first lap feeling solid, the scenery was pretty good and now I only had two more loops on the run.

My eyes spotted a familiar stride on the course, Bright orange colored New balance shoes and this absurd hat which clearly belonged on a fishing trip with a 12 pack of beer. It was Payne, holding his own and just getting started on the run. I hadn’t spoken a single word all day other than “thank you” to the volunteers, we chatted for a few minutes and then we had separated. Mark looked great, stoic calm and in control of the race.

I had reached mile ten and was looking forward to approaching the half marathon point. If I could complete the first half the rest would be cake. My pace was slowing but that was expected the temperature was in the mid 90’s and I was a little under nine hours into the race. I had planned to take it easy in the second loop and let it all hang on the third. I wanted to mirror the performance that I had achieved on the bike.

I started to struggle with my run before reaching mile eleven, I told myself “you can stop once you hit the aid station, don’t start walking”. I reached mile eleven and took some seconds to get something to drink and cool off. I took a jolly rancher from a volunteer; I thought the sugar would revive me. I approached the climb up to the bridge and had lost my pace. I slowed to a walk; I figured walking the hill would be a good idea. I continued pass the climb however and was now walking onto the bridge, volunteers were cheering me on but I felt nothing.

The shit had hit the fan and I might as well been numb. The blue skies that were absent of all clouds were now an endless abyss of white nothingness. I could hear the dragging noise of rubber on hot concrete; I could not muster the energy to lift my feet any higher. I had covered 126 miles so far and now was feeling the fatigue of the distance. I had crested the halfway point on the bridge and seconds had turned into minutes. I stumbled to the side of the bridge and sat down. I just needed to rest; I felt horrible and had trouble holding my head up.

As I sat there on the side of the road two spectators came to my assistance. It was obvious that a soldier had fallen and that I was in dire need of help. These two angels poured water on me and gave me some to consume. One of them had a small fan which they used on the back of my neck, rather than feeling better though, my condition was only worsening. I began vomiting repeatedly, we sat there for about thirty minutes, one of the girls grabbed a fire dept worker and they checked me out. They transported me to the medical tent which was at the end of the bridge roughly two hundred yards away.

I was attended to by a nurse who had worked this race since its inception. He had me slowly taking in fluids as I did not want an IV drip. I was getting very cold so he placed some blankets on me; within minutes I had a hot flash and started vomiting again. I just needed to lie down and recover. I was in medical for about thirty minutes. I had stopped vomiting and had consumed two bottles of water. My heart rate had slowed down and my body had resumed somewhat of a normal capacity. I stood up and was no longer light headed. I was ready to finish this race. I checked in with the Medical director on how I should approach re entry onto the course. He then asked how I got here. I showed him where I was and said the two firefighters drove me here from the bridge. He then informed me I could not complete the race as I was transported there, whether it was two hundred yards or two feet it did not matter, it was technically outside assistance and transportation was involved and frankly that is not allowed.

I had refused the IV as I knew that was unacceptable but the transport scenario I had not considered. I figured I would just walk back to the point two hundred yards away and get it started again. The race was now over for me, it all happened so fast that initially I wasn’t that upset, I met up with Christina and Kristin and had some more fluids and eventually pizza. We waited for Mark to finish and he looked great.

While waiting though it had all started to sink in, the abominable feeling of complete failure, call it what you will but it was simply that, I could not complete the objective at hand. Hearing all the finishers cross the line as we waited for Mark could not have felt any worst or endless. The looks upon their faces were of a complete defeat, but their souls illuminated through their sweaty salt filled pours with one of an overcoming nature.

I wasn’t a quitter and damn it I wasn’t going to get shut down. But it had happened, the “what if” scenarios shot through my head left and right. I knew what had happened; the nutrition got the best of me and it’s not something I could have controlled. What had been working for the last two years in all forms of training and weather did not work today. The same nutrition that landed me a 2:15 Olympic distance time last season, had failed. The cliff bars that have carried me well over a thousand miles of running did not work today.

After having many days to reflect on the disappointing loss and a race that crippled me physically I have come to some very real conclusions. Making the most of a bad situation, my optimism is all I have sometimes. Of all the things I considered in training while preparing for the race, failure was simply not one of them. Why had it not been an option? The idea of not finishing a triathlon has never occurred to me. I have pulled out of three races now in my career thus far. Rockledge Rumble 50K November 2006, Bandera 100K January 2008 and now Ironman Arizona, a weak stomach crippled me at Rockledge. I came back the next year to win overall and set the new course record. The Bandera 100K shocked my knees and my body into painful sensations I had never felt before, avoiding injury I quit after 31 miles of running that day.

My stomach has waged many wars and won in the past, the sting of failing the Ironman has burned more than any defeat though. I came to Arizona to overcome all challenges and to finish strong; I didn’t come to Arizona to find out what my limits are. “The wall” is something you hear about in race stories; it’s the classic mile twenty of any marathon or the finishing leg of long distance triathlons. “The wall” is a debilitating state that makes the distance you have been racing very apparent to the rest of your body all at once.

So what the hell happened out there then? The usual receptors were firing off during the race but I was feeling nothing. In training I think there is always a tug of war battle with your body and your mind. If you have the heart then you don’t have the lungs, you may have the legs, but not the guts to go to that next level. The mind works in the same way, as hard as the race was my mind did not comprehend any of it, fueled by the moment and absorbed in something way beyond physical pain, I felt fatigue but nothing that was insurmountable given the circumstances.

I engross myself at every single race no matter how big or how small. My tunnel vision developed in my last Olympic race of the season in 2007, I was in pursuit of a 40 year old bad ass on a slammed Cervelo P3C, the race on the bike might as well have been just him and I. I didn’t see or register anything else on that portion of the race other than catching him.

One of the largest factors of racing that brings me back every single time, is the complete disconnect from everything that is real and apparent. The visions, the pain and the glory of punishing yourself beyond reason are more rewarding than anything. I have an alter ego when I race, everything looks different, I think different and I feel different. When the gun goes off, it’s not about work, it’s not about my relationships, it’s not about money, it’s about right now and making the most of the moment.

When I started racing three years ago, I never thought I would ever win an age group or a race especially. I didn’t have the confidence or the background to be successful at the sport. Years later I have broken many barriers, overcoming failure has been the hardest one to swallow, and every time it happens it hurts a little more as my own expectation levels have grown. I can condition my body to run harder and I can condition my mind to disregard pain while racing, but it’s my own pride that is my Achilles heal.

el fin

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I never thought of losing, but now that it’ s happened, the only thing is to do it right. That’s my obligation to all the people who believe in me. We all have to take defeats in life.
Muhammad Ali

I came back to Ruston Louisiana for the fourth time with my best friend Bill Driegert to compete in our annual Triple Race weekend challenge. The bitter taste of failing at Ironman Arizona was still in my mouth; it was only three weeks ago that I took on a race that crushed my spirit and some of my beliefs in myself. I punished myself in training a week after Arizona as a sadistic way to cope with the disappointment and mixed emotions I had been going through. I emailed Bill a few days before he arrived to town with a Spreadsheet breaking down every race we had done in Ruston since May of 2005. The improvements simply were not there, I told Bill that will change this coming weekend.

In the three years of racing in Ruston Bill and I were anything but threatening to the lead guys, we had done well in the past, but simply not great. We had placed a few times in our age groups but never crushed the course or gave the top ten guys a scare. Last year we came into this race simply unprepared, Bill had some knee issues and I was just untrained. The three race odyssey was an Xterra off road triathlon, a 2 mile run and lastly a sprint distance road triathlon.

The equipment this year was different, inspired and heavily influenced by Bills talk of how awesome a hard tail frame was I built a bike from scratch over the winter. A carbon Specialized S works hard tail with all the trimmings of Spinergy wheels and XTR drive train. Bill had assembled an equally impressive Litespeed Pisgah with XTR wheels and a unique blend of XTR and Sram components. This year we would have no excuses for equipment failures or component reliability. We were rolling on the best choices money could buy.

 

 

 

Red S Works

 

Bill’s Fast Pisgah

The weather in Ruston was a predicted thunderstorm that would rain all night long. Flashbacks of the 2006 race fluttered through my head, a wet muddy mess and a slew of bike accidents. I went to sleep that night a little worried but realized if it was wet and muddy it was going to be like that for everyone. The race started at ten in the morning so sleeping in late was an option.

We arrived to the race site an hour early and got everything situated and setup. Bill went off to get his rear tire repaired as it was having trouble sealing and I set up in transition. I slipped on my racing flats and headed off onto the course, I wanted to check out the dirt and see what type of condition the trail was in. To my surprise the silt felt great, it had poured all night but the course was literally perfect, just enough tackiness to give perfect traction in all the corners and climbs.

I ran a little more to warm up and ran into Kyle Grieser. Kyle is the guy who usually wins this race; my first year here in Ruston Kyle won the 20-24 age group and left me to take second with a total time that was fifteen minutes behind his. I was impressed with his ability and as we came back every year Bill and I saw his progression from age group athlete to what he is now an Xterra champion and one of the few USAT Elite athletes, the man is simply a tank of fitness. We spoke for a few minutes after my warm up lap of running, he mentioned he saw I was running faster, I told him of my run training over the winter and mentioned the Ironman and my winter marathons. It was a real compliment for him to even notice my running.

The beauty of Lincoln Parish Park

It was ten more minutes until the race would officially start; I stepped out of transition and performed my Bikram Yoga breathing exercises, warming the body from the inside out I found a lot of peace between the breaths. My mind was clear my lungs were ready so I made my way down to the beach, I saw Bill warming it up in the water.

I got behind Bill at the start as always, the countdown went off and before I knew it, I was in the water swimming hard. The two loop swim course is fast short and a lot of fun. I had made it through my first loop and as I was exiting the water I saw a racer pulling his wetsuit off already on the beach. It was the weirdest thing I had seen all day. I thought “why would you use your wetsuit for only half of the swim?” I ran onto the beach and reentered the water. I was now finishing up the second loop of the swim, the competitors were spread out much more and I was able to spread my stride as long as possible.

I exited the water and immediately started stripping the wetsuit down to my waist, I saw Bill fifteen feet ahead of me running towards transition, I remember thinking how the hell did he get his wetsuit off so fast? It turns out the guy pulling off his wetsuit halfway through the swim was Bill, his zipper busted open within the first minute of the race and he swam the first lap with a busted wetsuit that acted as a literal parachute killing any form of buoyancy the suit would normally provide, its only under these circumstances that I would every rival a swim time comparable to Bill’s.

Bill and I had entered transition together however I was still pulling my wetsuit off while he grabbed his bike and left transition. I finally got the suit off and my gloves and shoes on. I left transition and was ready to play catch up. I could spot Bill about three bike positions in front of me. I passed one racer immediately on the bike and was now in pursuit of the next guy, I had quarter of a mile to reel every guy in before I would catch up to Bill. I exhausted all efforts to pass every one and right before the trail turned into single track I had finally caught up with him. I stayed with Bill for a mile or so and enjoyed the line he set on the course.

It was classic Bill Driegert riding style fluid smooth lines, the most efficient climbs and riding style that looked effortless when he raced. My breathing was still erratic from just trying to catch up to him, once my breathing had calmed I pulled up next to Bill on one of the open areas and said to him “I am going to do something very stupid” and then I went for the pass.

I wanted to ride with Bill for the whole race as I knew it would be a fast smooth ride. My ego however wanted something else, I figured I could go all out now and hope for the best and expected more than likely that Bill would catch up with me towards the middle of the race due to me either crashing or just blowing up. My mind was already racing at full throttle but now things were different, it was just me and the trail not a soul in sight to catch. The pace was hard and my body was disregarding every last bit of its recognition. The trees blurred by and the roots of the course rattled through the carbon frame to my spine. Bill had been riding like a slippery stream pass all the rocks and roots and I was riding like freight train off the tracks.

I spotted two more riders ahead of me and caught up to them I stuck to their tails for a few minutes to catch my breath and tried to take both of them out on a single turn with a clever inside pass. That plan backfired and I ended up on the forest floor after clipping my shoulder on a tree. The two quickly passed me and I jumped on the bike as fast as I could. There was another open section about 400 feet away so I made my pass at that point. Looking back perhaps I should have just waited for the open area to make my move, not on the single track.

The course was in perfect shape; I was feeling very fast on the dirt and was maximizing power and speed with an infinite amount of shifts between the middle and large gear up front. It had been a few miles now and I had not seen any other races in a while. I loved it; I wasn’t sure of my place and had not considered it at all at this point. I blew past some volunteers and heard you are in fourth place. I wasn’t sure if I heard that correctly from the volunteer so I kept pedaling on as usual.

Exiting the trees into one of the open areas I saw a glimpse of the racer who was in third place, he was about two hundred yards away from me, there simply wasn’t enough bike course for me to pull him in at this point. I was approaching the second to the last climb of the course and was starting to feel a little burn in my legs. The last half mile has the two worst climbs you will encounter all day on the course. I approached the final climb and dismounted and ran the bike all the way to the top. The bike portion had gone perfectly and I did not want to even bother trying to take on this insurmountable climb on the bike.

I crested the top jumped back on the bike and then hit the downhill, this downhill is scary fast. Top speed 33.4 MPH on loose dirt. Approaching transition I normally spin my legs out to free up some of the lactic to prepare for the run. Today I dropped the gears almost to their maximum and sprinted towards transition. I barreled into transition jumped off my bike and realized what was really happening, I was the fourth man in. There were only three bikes on the racks in front of me. I slipped on my racing flats grabbed my race belt and started hard into the run.

Upon the slow climb into the trees I spotted third place finally, the jackal I had not been able to catch on the bike was now on my radar and with every strike against the Louisiana ground I Was growing stronger and faster. It took me a few minutes but what was once far away was now two feet in front of me and now I was able to make the pass. A young built marine in his twenties who apparently could mountain bike and run like a bat out of hell.

The trail had closed back up to single track; the fear of being attacked from behind was pulsing through my head as I looked back in paranoia. I was in third place, I just needed to hold the position and keep the pace up. Not nearly as much concentration is needed on the run as is required on the bike. I felt at home on the dirt, jumping the roots and flying through all the twists and turns, it felt more like fun than work. The pace felt so good though. I was now approaching the last six hundred yards of run, the race was almost over. I began my kick early on. It felt great, so far the race had been perfect, the trees opened up to all the flags that lined the finish line and the sun was brighter than ever now with no coverage, the finish line was in sight and I felt like a million dollars passing the line. I had done it finally; I made it to the top 3 in Xterra. Kyle Grieser and Mike Carter were waiting at the finish line.

The run improvements were there, I ran the fastest run split of the day. The marine came in at fourth place about four minutes after I crossed the line, I had done it I had crushed the course. Bill came in a few minutes later and looked great. He won his age group and came in eight overall. This was such a moment for both of us, Bill shaved ten minutes off his best time out here and I shaved near fifteen minutes off my personal best. We had finally arrived. Bill and I usually landed in the top twenty, and this year we had made it to the top ten.

 

Bill taking the gold in 30-34