Last weekend we were fortunate to have the opportunity to race locally (Floyd County, Virginia) in a benefit event to fight Cystic Fibrosis called ‘Laps for Lungs’ (see flyer above). This was 6 hour race on a new course that will be a new addition to the VCHSS next season. My son Henry and I both chose the Ironman class and were excited about this rare chance to race each other. Could the old man’s experience, superior preparation and guile defeat the young whippersnapper’s pure speed, lack of fear, and strength?
Our AA buddies Travis Jones and his son Trevor (Go Race Suspension) both came out to race with us and this made the day extra fun. Henry lined up with them on the inside line and aimed for a hole shot. I took the outside line so I wouldn’t get run over, but still be able to grab a top ten start and waited for the TEN SECONDS call from the front row of a race for the first time ever. This was a pretty neat experience. I felt confident that my KDX was well-prepared for this race with some fresh performance upgrades and extra preparation for this long format race.
When the flag dropped my new Fredette shorty kicker easily brought my 200cc’s to life with a roar. My practice had paid off and I launched off the line with minimal excess drama and aimed for the wide line around the grassy corner. Henry, Travis and Trevor tore around the big right hander just in front of me on the inside and shot down the hill towards the round bale sweeping into an acute left. Out of 29 guys I was in the top ten and feeling comfortable. The KDX had plenty of speed, the rev pipe wanted to sing. I played it cool and just matched the pace around me.
Into the woods we went - single file I just tried to settle in and maintain a buffer on the guy in front so I could start learning this course and get through the first 9 mile lap unscathed.
Planning for the race we had borrowed some jugs and had more gas than we thought we’d need. I’d brought pickle juice in a water bottle in my cooler and all the stuff that you hope you never need. My plan was to race two laps, flip my tank to reserve and finish the third lap before refueling. I was guessing that one 2.9 gallon tankful would carry me 3 laps.
About 3 miles in I took a downhill inside line to let a faster rider by and saw trouble lying in wait at the bottom before this line rejoined the trail. A slick looking tree branch the diameter of my leg lay across the trail at that certain angle that tells your brain you are about to eat crap. I didn’t have manage to pop up the front wheel before the washout started. This is another important skill I need to master.
That’s when I felt my left knee pop as I slid across the top side of my bike. Pain and bitter disappointment spread across me like a wave of cold water. I could feel my pipe hot on the inside of my right thigh as I realized the bright light in my face was my headlight. This wasn’t part of my superior plan to show my son how it’s done. The tortoise is supposed to ultimately beat the hare, not collapse like a house of cards on the first lap!
Pushing myself up off the bike the motor died as I reluctantly released the clutch. Could I support my weight on my left leg? Man this sucks! I managed to stand up and pushed through some pain to lift my bike as a passing rider asked if I was okay. I nodded to the affirmative as I continued to assess my new situation.
“Man this really sucks!” I thought as I found my knee disagreeing with my weight. If I hadn’t have had my knee braces on I knew this would have been worse.
Had to ride out of here, easier than walking, could I restart the bike? Maybe I can get over this log and at least try to finish the last 6 miles of this lap. Maybe I can make it. Or should I ride to the truck and grab some ibuprofen? Screw it, I’ll just start riding again and see how it goes. My sprained knee was to the uphill side which helped, and the short Fredette starter worked in my favor. Ol’girl eagerly fired, and off I went. It was a little painful to stand, but the dry trail wasn’t too tricky and more and more I figured out how to pick up my pace. Squeezing with my knees more seemed to help, and I sat some taking breaks wherever I could.
I passed by several opportunities to ride by the truck and kept rolling. The trail was loamy with some babyhead rocks strewn about. Steep short climbs, and descents, some creek crossings, one river crossing and then a downstream run of twenty yards across a shallow gravel bar. These features were all pretty tricky. I quickly realized the higher gear ratio of the 13/46 Jeff had recommended was working to my benefit in all of these situations. My KDX had plenty of power and I found it less jumpy and smoother handling everywhere on the course.
Slowly regaining my confidence I grabbed more throttle and began to hold my own. The trail widened and pointed up a long and steep multi-tiered, power climb after one thigh-deep river crossing. Splashing out of the cold water and grabbing second I launched over a smooth tabletop jump and pointed her up the mountain power on and clicking third. Working the clutch my green machine roared up the mountain - MAN THIS WAS FUN!!!
Maybe the best thing about this part of the course was the ROAR from the KDX as I flew up the mountain. It just had a great deep sound as I clutched it on and off in third gear over the silty, rock strewn jeep road catching air up over the water bars.
Soon I dropped down the other side hanging off the back and rolling as fast as I dared, around some berms at the bottom and into a field. The soft bottomland trail climbed gently and featured lots of yellow tape and some rather decent jumps which I aggressively attacked while ever mindful of my unhappy left knee. With a number of spectators and cameras watching this section I couldn’t let the history of the KDX be tarnished.
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We flew through the air, lacking style and grace, but with plenty of imprecision and authority! The tuned Go Race Suspension really works well on this machine, it felt amazing.
Finally I found the scoring tent and the screen showed me in 16th position. I decided to quickly hit the truck and grab 800mgs of Advil, some pickle juice and a Gatorade. Back onto the course, I tried to improve on my last lap.
Each succeeding lap moved me up in position. On my third I saw my son back in street clothes waving me through the jumps. Back at the truck to fuel he met me there and gassed up my bike (it only took two gallons for 27 miles). While dumping in the fuel he explained what had happened…
After not getting the hole shot (2nd)… (orange bike on the outside of our two AA buddies Travis and Trevor Jones)
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…he had a strong lap racing with the leaders coming through the first lap in fifth place. Halfway through the second lap climbing a steep rutted hill, he smoked the clutch and could smell it burning. He pulled off the course when it would no longer pull. Disappointed, he managed to get back to the truck and loaded up.
Going back on the course, I was sorry about his bad luck, but I still had a top ten goal in sight. The laps went by like a dream, each part of the course burned in my brain as I learned better ways to ride it smoother. My knee allowed me to stand more and I felt I was getting better each pass. The scoring tent showed me moving up and after my second gas stop, I ate some food and downed another Gatorade and some more water. I felt pretty good overall. After another lap or two (I don’t really remember) coming through the scoring tent the guy told me “one more” and I looked up and saw I was in 10th place. I hammered through that lap, with only minor mistakes and entering the scoring tent again saw I still had twenty minutes on the clock.
I could have stopped, but I was there to ride and didn’t want to have eleventh place roll up with a minute left wanting to race. Going back out on the course I still felt pretty good with only some minor cramps. The course was riding better than it had all day for the most part and I was really having fun. Ripping around the course mostly by myself in my own little world escaping the realities of life. Then I became aware of my rear tire going down. I’d started at 10.5 psi and had considered dropping down to 8-9 earlier, but didn’t! The bike was still going okay so I decided to carefully navigate the rest of my lap and hope that the guy behind me was at his truck.
Unfortunately I had to roll past all the super fun jumps I had enjoyed too.
Finally rolling into the scoring tent I was glad to see the checkered flag and ‘10th’ beside my name. Nine laps of nine miles each got it done.
The Ironman winner, Trevor Jones did 12. What a day!
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Go Race Suspension - Travis and Trevor Jones (3rd and 1st Place Ironman)
Next up… Revenge of the Rattlesnake at Wythe Speedway, Wytheville, Virginia.