3rd. Annual Comite Classic MTB Race

The Fall 2008 Velo! Velo! series - Velo Dendro Deux

The third and final ride of the Fall 2008 Velo! Velo! series - Velo Dendro Deux - rolls out Sunday, November 16.

Starting at Hilltop Arboretum riders will be accompanied by a noted dendrologist and others knowledgeable in the ways of the woods as we wind our way to Bluebonnet Swamp, Mt. Hope Plantation, and – if we're lucky – the BREC-LSU-BRAS Highland Road Park Observatory Bottomland Hardwood Forest Walking Trail. For most of these locations we will have exclusive access to the facilities while our touring dendrologists and horticulturalists tell us of the world we'll see.

We'll finish up at Hilltop Arboretum with food, music, and beverages. It looks like it will be a cool day so wear your woolies!

The online registration form may be accessed by clicking on this link.

Click here for the Fall 2008 Velo! Velo! rides mail-in form. Clicking on the link will open a PDF. Once you've opened it, print it out, fill it in, put the form with your check, money order, or cash in an envelope, and mail it to the address given. We'll take care of the rest.

Remember: the postal service is not always as speedy as we might like so, if you use this method to register, please allow plenty of time.

PedalPlay Bicycles has sales on full suspension bikes from Kona Bicycle Company:

Kikapu regular $1,000, SALE price $800.00,

Kikapu DeLuxe regular $1,399.99, SALE $1,100.00

Piney Hills Classic MTB Race as my final exam

The race season is finally over. I am physically and mentally ready for some rest. Before I shut down, I thought I would first share my thoughts on the end of the season and its two final INCREDIBLE races. Because of my tendency to ramble and digress, I will send it to you in two parts. First, the Piney Hills Classic, and then, the 24 Hours of Clear Springs.

The first race was the Piney Hills Classic in Ruston, La. This is usually a huge race and one that every serious mountain bike racer in Baton Rouge wants to do well at. It is part of the Texas Fall Series, the last race of USA Cycling's National cross country calendar, and the last race of the American Mountain Bike Challenge (AMBC) calendar. That's a lot of weight for one race. . . and a lot of pressure for one racer.

I look back on this season and see all of my races as a series of tests, with Bump and Grind at Oak Mountain being my mid-term, and the Piney Hills Classic as my final exam. This was the test I felt I had to pass to truly feel ready to graduate from the Sport (Cat 2) class to the Expert (Cat 1) class.

The PHC is a stage race consisting of three races, a time trial, a short track race, and a cross country race. Sport racers have to only do the time trial and the cross country.

The time trial was basically 12 minutes of trying my absolute hardest to see if I could make my heart explode. It felt as though I surely had a shot. The race went very well with the exception of my one crash. I entered a wide, easy turn with a little too much speed for the loose over hard-pack trail conditions, completely lost traction, and hit the ground. I bet I have never gotten up faster from a wreck. My chain dropped into granny gear and my derailleur was a little sluggish to resolve that problem afterwards, but I lost very little time. Unfortunately, very little time is all it takes to drop spots quickly in a 3 mile race. I got the word later that night from a friend that I finished that race in 3rd place. Unbelievable! I realized that I might actually have a chance with the cross country race the next day. Nice thoughts to fall asleep to.

On the morning of the cross country race, I wondered if I would even know anyone on the starting line. I knew that most of the guys I've made friends with in the South Central Regional Series were going to absent, and I have never raced in Texas before, so I didn't think I would. Hello, Eric Spina. Apparently, he wants to beat me real bad. He did tell me "the end of the season." I assumed he meant the SCRCS season, but there he was, ready to race. So. . . Let's race.

The Texas series lines up the racers with the top ten guys on the front row, everyone else falling in behind them. This makes it hard to get a fair shot at good starting position. I lined up behind someone I hoped would be as fast as they looked, hoping to help my chances of getting get a somewhat decent start. We were off, and in very short distance, I was in third place. Perfect. After the short sprint from the line, I stayed as close as possible to the second place guy's wheel until we reached the singletrack, and hoped a group of riders wouldn't blow by us beforehand. We made it to the tighter trail in the same position. There was another guy behind me who stayed close for a while, but dropped off early. And then, there were three.

The pace we were going was a very hard pace, but it felt like any other race, and I figured that we would all settle down soon enough. I noticed the two guys in front of me look back at me and figured they were probably wondering who I was. I answered their quizzical faces with a reply of "Y'all are doing great. Keep it up." The three of us stayed together until a section of trail called Tomac separated the first place guy (Clint Fontenot) from his bike. Tomac can be described as sort of a mini ski jump. You can get all the air you would ever need on a cross country race bike at the bottom of the steep, straight hill with the LAUNCH at the bottom. The problem is that you have to land in time to make about a ninety degree turn back into the tight woods. The loose over hard-pack worked in my favor this time and Clint slid out trying to turn. He was back on his feet before we even passed him completely, but I hoped we could at least put a small gap on him before he recovered from his spill. And then, there were two.

It was not long at all after Clint fell, that I realized his replacement was not doing the same job as Clint was doing. He was slowing way down. He told me that he was trying to keep up the pace, but I was worried that Clint would catch back on quickly and wanted to be gone before that happened. I went around with an "on your left, thank you," quickly adding, " I might regret it later." With that, I was off in a hurry wondering how I managed to pull this off so soon. And then, there was one.

Off the front and alone is as hard on you as being behind in a race. You have to try to maintain a speed that will allow you to stay in the lead, without going so hard that you blow up and get passed by everyone. I had help maintaining a pace by the quick glimpses of Clint I kept getting behind me when I could look back, or on switchbacks. He was close, and we both knew it. What he didn't know was that my legs were starting to hurt. The race wasn't even halfway through, and I felt that crampy feeling creeping into my legs again. Please, no. I've been to this point so many times this year that I know that I can ride for a long time feeling like I felt. The problem is I also know that I can only do so by riding a very fine line with my power. If I start pushing too hard, I'll be standing next to my bike trying to get my legs to bend again.

I stayed ahead of Clint for probably what would amount to a full lap, or ten miles, even with my aching legs. I always tell myself that it is likely that the other racers are hurting just as bad as I am. It helps until they blow by you leaving you in the dust. When Clint passed, I yelled to him, "Great Racing." He yelled back, "Dude, you're a beast." I wasn't sure if he was talking about my riding or my scary looking chicken legs, but I replied assuming he meant the former with "You're passing me!" I tried to keep him close, but just couldn't do it. I told myself that I couldn't ride his pace for the rest of the race without facing the very real threat of significant cramping. That was at least my way of rationalizing my being DROPPED. And then, there were . . . okay I'm now bored with this, and besides I don't even know how to say it. Maybe, and then there were two, separated by a gap filled with settling dust? I don't know.

I ended up riding the rest of the race hoping that I could keep the rest of the field behind me and praying that I might see Clint again. My hopes came true but you don't always get what you pray for, right?

In the end, I did manage to hold off the pack and passed my final exam with a very hard 2nd place finish. I guess that means that I am ready to move into the Expert ranks, right? Only time will tell the answer to that, but I can say with certainty that this season was a GREAT learning experience. I can also say with certainty that my Sport "teachers" are ready for me to get the hell out of their class. Some things never change.

Jason Betz

The 24 Hours of Clear Springs

The 24 Hours of Clear Springs. Wow, what an unbelievable race. That was, by far, the best time I have ever had racing my bicycle. I am serious. If you've never experienced it, you are greatly missing out. Brian Coleman, for all that you have done with this race, both this year and in years leading up to it, I sincerely thank you.

Relax, I am going to try a Cliff's Notes version of my typical race report. I mean, 24 hours of racing? You don't want that.

This was my first time to ever race a 24 hour race. I am not nearly enough of a sadomasochist to ever attempt doing one of these solo, and was lucky enough to be asked early by Joseph Dabbs to join his team for this year's race. I committed to doing it and probably should have been committed for doing it. With the joy of this race comes the absolute pain, physical and mental hurt. Luckily, I had no idea what I was getting myself into.

The week leading up to the race was HECTIC. Juggling work/family obligations while trying to prepare for the race had me wondering if I should also try to join the Cirque Du Soleil. I figured I might have a decent shot. Thank goodness I was racing with a group of veterans, and they had a LIST. A nice set of rails for my mind. Friday night, I checked off the last few items, and got to sleep at a nice early midnight.

Up at six, and out by seven, I was on my way to mountain bike Heaven. (I know, CORNY, but it just came right on out. I use a Weegie Board to write these, you know.) We'll fast forward through registration and the camp set-up. That's how it felt to me anyway. It felt like I was watching time lapse video watching Jeremy, Joseph, and Tanner set up camp. Those guys are impressive. Not only did they know what to bring, but where to put way too much stuff.

Just before the race, I think I was in shock or something. I was getting information overload, and all I heard was "words, words, words, words." My team was trying to alleviate my pre-race jitters, but they didn't know it was not going to happen. The only way to calm my nerves before a race, is to start racing. I chose to defer my pain relief while Dabbs rode our first lap. Once I had gone a lap and familiarized myself with the transition and what to do during my down time, I calmed dramatically. I just settled down for a very long race.

I won't go into great detail about each and every lap, but I will discuss a few things that I experienced during my time on the bike.

I broke a chain for the second time ever on my second lap. The last time I broke a chain was in Oxford's race last year. I just learned how to repair a chain (Thank you, Scott Mackey.), and after fumbling with my multi-tool a few minutes before realizing that all I needed was a quick link, I proceeded to quickly reconnect my chain. Of course, I didn't run it through my derailleur correctly, and got a little more practice the second time I fixed it. This time, chain repair happened much more quickly. I looked at my chain, thought I only needed a quick link, dug it out of my jersey and fumbled it securely into place. Thank both of you who stopped and offered help, especially you Fred. You know, somehow, just seeing Fred on the trail at that time helped me mentally. I can't explain it, but I just thought it was awesome to see him out riding during the race. If I hadn't broken that chain, my second lap would have easily been my fastest lap. While realizing that, I also realize that my chain could have been damaged beyond repair and made that lap not just my slowest, but also my team's slowest. That chain lasted me the remaining six laps.

I rode at night for the first time ever with only a bar light. If you are considering purchasing a light, and you are only going to get one, GET A HELMET LIGHT! For this race, I had a MiNewt on my bars and an older HID Niterider on my helmet. At the beginning of my first night lap, I had both lights on, but decided that my HID was plenty of light and opted to save my MiNewt's battery in case I needed it later. Well, just after leaving the transition area at the beginning of my third night lap I noticed my helmet light starting to fade fast. I clicked on my trusty MiNewt backup just in time to see my HID die. Well, at least it died fast. Oh crap, I'm riding faster than the speed of light! That night lap is unquestionably the very hardest riding I have ever done on my bike. Not being able to see where you are going next, is just about like riding in the complete dark. I've never had to use my brakes more during that lap. Brief stretches of straight trail and the uphill sections were the only places I could relax. Imagine looking forward to all the hills. That lap, I must stress, was demoralizing. I knew my light was my limiter on that lap. Fortunately, I got to ride another lap right after this one. I went back to our camp, borrowed Tanner's battery, which we had no idea how long would last, and headed back out. I had only one goal. Ride faster than the Hell lap. I think I did that.

80 miles of racing and not a significant wreck to speak of. Yes, I fell off the side of a bridge once, well, more like jumped. I got to the bottom of a downhill section at the beginning of Mills where there is a bridge perpendicular to the trail. It is a nice, tight turn onto this bridge and you hit it with speed unless you've scrubbed some off with your brakes first. Well, it was night and I didn't. I straightened out the curve a little while on the bridge, and just kind of jumped off while falling. Even managed to land on my feet. I was impressed. Picked up my bike and started the climb up.

I am fairly confident that my wheels will eventually hook up during a drift in a curve. Sometimes, that hook up occurs on the outside of the curve however, and I get a little help stopping, or redirecting my trajectory, by a nice Pine tree. Yep, that happened at least twice. Other than that, and bridge jumping, a safe and wreck free ride.

80 miles of racing. I still have a hard time even believing that. Before the race, the longest I had ever even ridden my bike was at last year's Ouachita Challenge and it was less than sixty. I'm not talking about just my mountain bike, either. I've never even ridden my road bike that far. The first thing that helped me reach that milestone was the fact that I had NO CLUE that would happen. We all figured that, at most, we would have to ride six laps. Things happen. When I rode my seventh lap, I thought it was my last lap of the race. I found out that there might be a chance that I would need to ride an eighth very soon after completing that "last lap." Why not? What got me through the eighth lap? Claire Sanders. She was riding her tenth lap at the time. I told her she was my hero, and she asked why. 22 hours into the race, and she was still riding. SOLO. Awesome job.

Team Buckwheat. The best competition I could have imagined. Part of what made this race so great for me was how close the race was at times. At one point, in the middle of the night, I was on the starting line with Rusty Bernard. Our team members came into the transition area together, so we sprinted off the line like we were starting a short track race, not like we had already been racing over 12 hours. Tied even in the middle of the night. I'd say that was perfect. 24 hours of racing and a three minute win had to feel great. I know Malt and Buckwheat have been battling the last few years. While I would have certainly enjoyed a narrow win, a narrow loss to these guys left me overjoyed. I was truly happy for them.

This race was my first time to ever really be a part of a team. I do not come from a sports background like many of the other racers, so didn't experience it in my past. Just being able to race with Joseph, Jeremy, and Tanner was a great experience for me. While I am very proud of my role on the team, Jason Betz did not do anything. The La-a Blazzers raced to a very hard fought second place.

Tanner, I didn't really know at all, but his value as a team member became quickly apparent. Two 24 hour races under his belt and a wealth of learned information to go with it, Tanner was early on walking me through what was to come. It didn't hurt that he had some bike mechanic knowledge as well. His worth became most apparent when Dabbs and I heard Tanner splashing his dinner all over his shoes in the middle of the night. A team of three is not as strong as a team of four. We already discussed this when early in the race a team or two were riding short a member. We were going to miss him for sure.

I knew going into this race that Dabbs was going to be a SOLID team member. I have watched him race all year and gotten to know him a little as a person and a racer. He definitely did not let me down. After slight nudging just before daybreak, Joseph drug his weary body out of his sleeping bag to go ride another hard lap. He didn't want to at all, but that lap was our team's turning point. It was the daybreak lap, and with the sun, we all agreed, came new hope.

To me, Jeremy Wesson was our strongest team member. I mean that wholeheartedly. His positive mental attitude, and hilarious sense of humor helped me over and over again. I know it also helped Dabbs. Our team's true darkest hour was just before dawn. After my back to back laps, Jeremy suited up and rode his lap just like he said he would. If he wouldn't have, we would have been done. He rode the last lap of darkness for us, and we were able to regain some momentum in the new day's light. He also served as my alarm clock for the only 20 minutes of sleep I got. We both were ready to ride our team's 23rd lap, and staying warm by the fire, when I shut down. He woke me up and we both went to the transition area. If Joseph made it back by 9:00, I was to go, if not, Jeremy would do so. I hoped it would be him. It wasn't. When I returned in time, for one last lap, Dabbs took off. So did Jeremy . . . just because he wanted to. He wanted to ride more.

Three minutes. A fitting end to a hard fought battle. In my opinion, this was the absolute perfect race. Yes, there were issues, but they were dealt with. I would not change one thing about our race. I am more satisfied at the moment as a mountain bike racer than I have ever been before.

Thank each and every one of you who helped in the slightest to make this race happen. Thank you for the happiness and thank you for the memories. I look forward to doing this again next year.

Jason Betz,

La-a Blazzas (That is, La Dash Ah, Fool. Still not sure about "Blazzas," however.)