A few people asked me for a race recap, so here we go.
This was my first moto race ever, it was completely legit and limited to five hundred riders that went off in rows of five at a time, I think every thirty seconds they sent a new group. The race was held on private property that covered three large quarries. Total miles were 62, three of which were on double track/the road; the rest was in singletrack.
The best way to describe the race to my mountain biking friends was to compare it to Allaire trail wise. Of the 59 woods miles:
- 25 miles were essentially like riding the Glass Trail
- 15 miles were essentially like riding Micks trail
- 9 miles or so of Operation (right trail along the paved road)
- 10 miles or so of trail like the play area across the street from the Hospital Road lot (up and down steep hills 1-2 stories tall
Conditions:
- It rained for a solid two hours before we went off, then for another two hours while we rode. Add in the snow melt and it was muddy, trails were 30% clay. I went off in the 94th row out of 100, so ruts, mud and wet exposed roots were everywhere.
Rules/Format:
- We run a laser transponder on our helmet, we are sent into checkpoints where our transponder is scanned. There are several of these checkpoints as well as a fuel/food stop halfway through. These events are timed, essentially when following the role chart you can get somewhere “too fast”. Speed limit was 24th for most of the time, 18mph at other points - good luck holding that speed. I was going much slower.
The Ugly:
I dropped the bike four times, towards the end that gets rough as it weighs appx 270lbs. My guess is I made contact with almost 300 trees. I lost some plastic from the bike on one of my falls.
Here we go:
Typical nonsense - for the first time in a long time I could not sleep the night before. Running on adrenaline and limited sleep I made the hour drive to Deep South NJ. Arrived to rain and familiar faces. After registration there was a lot of “hurry up and wait”. Being this was my first race, I wore what I do when I ride locally - Carpenters Pants and a Hoodie - what a mistake. My buddy was a row behind me, he has raced many of these and guided me similar to our favorite Wookie (miss you Frank) with others at the beginner ride.
The Start:
This must be what skydiving is like. We got to the start area ten minutes before we were scheduled to go. Essentially rows of five gunning a 100 foot stretch to get into the singletrack. My row was made up of two NYC guys who have raced three of these, a PA guy who was cool AF and racesmany of these, then a B rider. I was racing C class 40+ - the slow guys. As I watched rows go in front of me, my nerves set in. To top it off, my camelback chest strap ripped in half as I sat at the start with two minutes until I start - I figured no time to fix it so no biggie. “ROW 94, YOU HAVE THIRTY SECONDS”. And we are off, I kept searching for double track, but it never came. For the next ten miles, that broken Camelback strap killed me. The trail was fast, like Micks trail at Allaire with bits of tight tree/tight turns. My camelback kept slipping down my shoulders, I could not throw my weight around at all, it became dangerous. My buddy in the row behind me passed me, so I know I am losing ground. Then I made contact with a tree and dropped the bike. I picked it up and kept pushing but was limited to 65%. I kept trying to check the role chart, but I started to feel so behind I gave up on it. Finally, I told myself the broken camelback strap was going to hurt me, so I stopped and started to hunt for a zip tie in my ill prepared and broken camelback. Ten minutes in I had one zip tie in there - fixed my camelback and took my windbreaker off and drank some much needed water. Ten miles in, 52 to go and I am now most likely dead last as soooooo many people passed me when I stopped.
The Comeback - Miles 10-33 (to the fuel stop)
Holy cow, I can balance now and no longer have a 15 pound camelback falling down my shoulders (water, food and moto tool kit). Since I started in the back of the pack, stopped and was passed by everyone, there was only one way to go. The next 15 miles was a wet Micks Trail/Glass trail. I started passing people regularly (rev engine and they pull over to let you go). I am so behind, I no longer care about the roll chart - I just want to catch up to my buddy that passed me, and about twenty miles or so I do just that with speed. At this point. It started to feel like some of the fat bike races I competed in, there were participants that kill it in the first 1/4 of the race to bonk later, I am just getting in my grove and start passing the bonking riders. Amped, I am now at a point where I am the aggressor, what a change. I have probably passed thirty bikes or so coming into mile 28.
Mile 28 - The Danger.
It got REALLY muddy, I came into a section where they had pallets for us to ride on, as the clay based mud was deep. This section was a mile or so long, I passed another ten bikes, two of which were the NYC guys from my row, one of their bikes was buried in a mud hole, you could not see the rear wheel it was so deep, the two men were trying to pull it out. With this momentum I started to feel REALLY good. Then I got into a section what was made of clay millings, the piles were one to two stories high and had been there for some time, trees grew in them - it essentially looked like the play area at Allaire next to the parkway just with another story added - well beyond elevations normally seen in Southern NJ. We were racing up and down these hills, which were made of clay with wet exposed roots everywhere. As I came in there were slower riders that were stopping at the apex of each hill to check out the downhill and figure their approach, this was slowing EVERYTHING down, most hills had room for one bike up top. I could hear the engines of bikes I passed coming, so I decided to attack. I started to pass riders on the uphills without knowing what was on the other side, I was fully committed thinking “it is south Jersey, it won’t be tall or steep”. Wrong. We were in a sand pit, laws of Pine Barrens nature do not always apply. Either way, one rider was slowing me down and I decided to attacked on the steepest hill we rode, as they stopped at the top I fully committed and slammed the throttle in first and held it, passed them at the top only to see a group of ten people or so staring at the other side, a steep 20 foot tall downhill at thirty degrees, the first five feet was near vertical (that I was now falling down) - at the bottom was a tight right or you slam into trees. The bike was pointing down, it was so steep I was essentially laying down on top of the bike and my foot could not reach the rear brake - gravity took the bike down the hill and I grabbed the front brake to try to stop the bike as I uncontrollably hurled towards the trees, at the bottom I popped the clutch, with the front brake slammed the bike endos and turns in the direction I needed to go without stalling - it was unreal and i could not repeat if I tried. If I were not in a race I would have never tried this, nor have I ever ridden and unstable like this, even in Moab or southern Cali.
Fuel Stop.
Halfway though - I pulled in and there were what appeared to be 100+ bikes, twenty or so trucks with people fueling and eating. I got to my buddies truck where members of his club were, but there was minimal urgency. Most noted they would time out (hour behind where they should be) so they decided to stop. I slammed a water, box of raisins and tried to pee but was hitting dehydration. I fueled up and left.
The second 31 miles:
From Mile 31 to forty I felt great, I was determined to finish and not get hurt. It got quiet, and I started to count the miles around
Mile forty. The course was so beaten down, that the tread became a single line maybe a foot wide, if you were outside of it the tread was soft and would cause loss of control if you got in. In one instance I clipped a tree with my handlebar. This caused me to Whiskey Throttle (hand throttle, so if you grab the bars for dear life the go juice is engaged), the bike ripped into a wheelie gaining speed from 10-20mph fast, I controlled it with the clutch and rode out, but I was getting tired and it scared the turd out of me.
Mile 41 - Sufferfest
It was getting quiet, my thunbs were now so sore, I could barely hold the handlebars. It felt like I did two back to back days at Mountain Creek with 20 runs a day. My shin took some damage one of the times I dropped the bike, I was so hot in my work gear I couldn’t wait to get out of tight sections to get some airflow. My tail was so chaffed from sliding in the saddle in my soaked work pants. Around mile 50 I stopped to try to pee and drink water, I wanted a cold Gatorade so bad. When I stopped, someone passed me - the one rider from my row I could not account for. I really didn’t want him to pass, but at this point I am in survival mode just trying to finish and not bonk or get hurt. Five miles later he stopped and I regained my position.
The Last Five:
I am counting the miles down, similar to counting miles on those 100 mile fatbike races from back in the day. Everything is sore. Everything. After 55 miles, we finally have a mile or two on blacktop. I sped up to 50mph in these wet and sandy conditions just to try to cool down as I started to feel sick. I could not wait to finish, and that I did.
Out of 500 riders, I finished 282/500. 10/30 in my class.
I am glad I waited a few years to do this, it is dangerous but it is fun, I would not suggest buying a moto and going right to the races. Everyone was super courteous and rode with the mental space that we had work on Monday and a household to tend to. I was the average age, there were may people there that were 50+.
My cycling definitely helped, experience racing bikes even more. It feels like I rode the Cathedral Pines race soreness wise.
My quads, arms, thumbs were sore for days - and I usually ride 100+ moto miles every weekend.
I have three more races this weekend to May 😳
My moto gear came today, including a chest protector and hip hydration pack.
