Jamming at the Tennessee Pass
I had one goal when I lined up for the start of the 19th Tennessee Pass Night Jam. It wasn't to win or even place top three. It was simply to survive the start corner upright and pedaling. High expectations going into a race, I know! But after 2017 when I was taken out on that first corner and separated my AC joint as well as cracking my shoulder blade, that's all I could focus on. I rode up and down that hill I don't know how many times before the race, rehearsing the corner, trying to stay out of my head. But still, every time I looked down the snow I could remember the feeling of crashing, the adrenaline of getting back on my bike and pedaling like crazy before realizing just how bad my shoulder was. It's hard to put something like that behind you.
Five minutes to go and I was lined up right behind Nick to the left of the line. Just stay upright. I was in the gear I needed to be in for pedaling out of the corner - not the downhill sprint and my dropper post was down so I'd have more control. The starting line was filling in and the crush of 134 races was making me even more nervous. One goal - stay upright! Then Sterling hollered go and we were off. As expected, the herd sprinted from the line, but it seemed mellower this year. I focused on my line, taking the corner smoothly and coming out pedaling. Where I was in the race didn't matter - just coming off that right hand corner and still be on my bike. Success! Onto the track, upright and pedaling. There was still one more tight corner to come, but I'd survived the worst of it. Now I could switch mindset to racing. It looked like I was in third, but when everyone's bundled up in hats and coats, it's really hard to tell.
All around me, other riders were still fishtailing and falling into the snow. It was really soft this year and while I had a bit too much air pressure in my tires, the chunky 5" monsters were doing a great job of keeping traction. As long as I kept my pedaling even and smooth, I was rolling. That was the key - even power and smooth circles. I'd made the decision after the last ride on the 12th to have Nick put the flats on my fatty. I know I'm used to riding with clips and the security of being attached to the bike. But that only works when you can actually clip in! On the 12th, I did more of the ride balanced on the tiny pedals then actually clipped in. If I'm not going be able to clip in, I might as well ride flats - better to have the spiky, wide base of support the flats provide then nothing at all. It's completely against our rules to change something so drastic as pedals the week before a race, but... I did get out for a short putter on dirt prior to the race, but no real riding. Once I hit the snow, my feet cozy in my snow boots and flats biting into the soles, I was happy. I felt so much more comfortable on the bike. I only had my foot pop of the pedal when I didn't want it too once, which is pretty good for the first real ride on flats!
On the long climb up to the cookhouse, I had a woman pass me. She was motoring up the climb and I didn't have the power to respond. On the first descent, I was a little hesitant with the snow. Without getting much time on the fatty over the last two years (this was the third time I'd ridden the bike....) I didn't have my confidence yet. But between the monster truck tires and my dropper, that confidence came back pretty quickly. I was drifting through the corners, trying not to giggle as the rear tire fishtailed underneath me. Pretty quickly I'd caught and passed the other woman. I knew it wouldn't last. While I was able to float down the hills, my legs were staging a mini-rebellion on the climbs. Something about skiing two days in a row before the race and not really riding my bike, maybe? She passed me back pretty quickly on the next climb, but didn't gain that much. On that first section between the cookhouse and Fish Flats, every time the trail tipped down I pulled ahead only to fall back when we started ascending. I did try racing a little once we hit Fish Flats, getting around and doing my best to make the gap hold. Yeah, no... When howling to the spectators is more fun the racing, it's time to chill out and enjoy the night. That didn't mean completely switch it off, but when she passed me back just before the climb out of Fish Flats, I knew I wouldn't be trying to hold her wheel.
Besides, there was something about just being out there - seemingly all alone in the darkness. The mist of my breath freezing in my lights. The glitter of the snow against the blackness of the trees. After we climbed out of Fish Flats, I admittedly started day dreaming as I was pedaling. My Garmin had died in protest to the cold and it was just me, my thoughts and the occasional twinkle of another riders lights in the trees. It was only when those riders started catching me that I remembered I was supposed to be racing! One more long climb up to the cookhouse. I was looking forward to the single track descent to the finish with every pedal stroke, knowing when I hit the single track it was going to be the most fun part of the race. Or so I thought.
I made the push to enter the singletrack and promptly did a nose wheelie into the snow. Huh? The usually smooth and packed track was loose and choppy. There wasn't even a line for a bike tire between foot prints and chewed up snow. Of course, I am stubborn. I dug myself out of the snow and attempted getting back on the bike. I was able to pedal for about 5' and then the same result. The next attempt made it about 10 feet and then I was resigned to walking for a while. The process would repeat regularly - I would look at the trail and think I can ride that, attempt to ride, make it maybe 20-40' if I was lucky and proceed to make a snow angel. Or some other elegant dismount off the bike - which worked well if I got my foot onto the slightly packed mashed potato trail. If not, I was down past my knees in snow. Good thing I wasn't taking myself too seriously at that point! I was also lucky the guys around me were easily entertained and willing to put up with my shenanigans. Helped that I let them around if they asked or I felt like I was holding them up. Finally, we were back on the cross country trail for the final push to the finish. Over the jump with a little wheelie and some air. Nothing fancy but happy to have finished in one piece. It was a mental boost even if my racing wasn't stellar!
Five minutes to go and I was lined up right behind Nick to the left of the line. Just stay upright. I was in the gear I needed to be in for pedaling out of the corner - not the downhill sprint and my dropper post was down so I'd have more control. The starting line was filling in and the crush of 134 races was making me even more nervous. One goal - stay upright! Then Sterling hollered go and we were off. As expected, the herd sprinted from the line, but it seemed mellower this year. I focused on my line, taking the corner smoothly and coming out pedaling. Where I was in the race didn't matter - just coming off that right hand corner and still be on my bike. Success! Onto the track, upright and pedaling. There was still one more tight corner to come, but I'd survived the worst of it. Now I could switch mindset to racing. It looked like I was in third, but when everyone's bundled up in hats and coats, it's really hard to tell.
All around me, other riders were still fishtailing and falling into the snow. It was really soft this year and while I had a bit too much air pressure in my tires, the chunky 5" monsters were doing a great job of keeping traction. As long as I kept my pedaling even and smooth, I was rolling. That was the key - even power and smooth circles. I'd made the decision after the last ride on the 12th to have Nick put the flats on my fatty. I know I'm used to riding with clips and the security of being attached to the bike. But that only works when you can actually clip in! On the 12th, I did more of the ride balanced on the tiny pedals then actually clipped in. If I'm not going be able to clip in, I might as well ride flats - better to have the spiky, wide base of support the flats provide then nothing at all. It's completely against our rules to change something so drastic as pedals the week before a race, but... I did get out for a short putter on dirt prior to the race, but no real riding. Once I hit the snow, my feet cozy in my snow boots and flats biting into the soles, I was happy. I felt so much more comfortable on the bike. I only had my foot pop of the pedal when I didn't want it too once, which is pretty good for the first real ride on flats!
On the long climb up to the cookhouse, I had a woman pass me. She was motoring up the climb and I didn't have the power to respond. On the first descent, I was a little hesitant with the snow. Without getting much time on the fatty over the last two years (this was the third time I'd ridden the bike....) I didn't have my confidence yet. But between the monster truck tires and my dropper, that confidence came back pretty quickly. I was drifting through the corners, trying not to giggle as the rear tire fishtailed underneath me. Pretty quickly I'd caught and passed the other woman. I knew it wouldn't last. While I was able to float down the hills, my legs were staging a mini-rebellion on the climbs. Something about skiing two days in a row before the race and not really riding my bike, maybe? She passed me back pretty quickly on the next climb, but didn't gain that much. On that first section between the cookhouse and Fish Flats, every time the trail tipped down I pulled ahead only to fall back when we started ascending. I did try racing a little once we hit Fish Flats, getting around and doing my best to make the gap hold. Yeah, no... When howling to the spectators is more fun the racing, it's time to chill out and enjoy the night. That didn't mean completely switch it off, but when she passed me back just before the climb out of Fish Flats, I knew I wouldn't be trying to hold her wheel.
Besides, there was something about just being out there - seemingly all alone in the darkness. The mist of my breath freezing in my lights. The glitter of the snow against the blackness of the trees. After we climbed out of Fish Flats, I admittedly started day dreaming as I was pedaling. My Garmin had died in protest to the cold and it was just me, my thoughts and the occasional twinkle of another riders lights in the trees. It was only when those riders started catching me that I remembered I was supposed to be racing! One more long climb up to the cookhouse. I was looking forward to the single track descent to the finish with every pedal stroke, knowing when I hit the single track it was going to be the most fun part of the race. Or so I thought.
I made the push to enter the singletrack and promptly did a nose wheelie into the snow. Huh? The usually smooth and packed track was loose and choppy. There wasn't even a line for a bike tire between foot prints and chewed up snow. Of course, I am stubborn. I dug myself out of the snow and attempted getting back on the bike. I was able to pedal for about 5' and then the same result. The next attempt made it about 10 feet and then I was resigned to walking for a while. The process would repeat regularly - I would look at the trail and think I can ride that, attempt to ride, make it maybe 20-40' if I was lucky and proceed to make a snow angel. Or some other elegant dismount off the bike - which worked well if I got my foot onto the slightly packed mashed potato trail. If not, I was down past my knees in snow. Good thing I wasn't taking myself too seriously at that point! I was also lucky the guys around me were easily entertained and willing to put up with my shenanigans. Helped that I let them around if they asked or I felt like I was holding them up. Finally, we were back on the cross country trail for the final push to the finish. Over the jump with a little wheelie and some air. Nothing fancy but happy to have finished in one piece. It was a mental boost even if my racing wasn't stellar!
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