Wilson's Adventure Racing, Multisport & Triathlon Sanctuary

Dirtier as time goes by, but also happier!

Please excuse the messy clump of pictures above! Here's the article proper....

BMC 100km Classic MTB Race Report
By Wilson Low

Event: BMC 100km Classic MTB Race

Date: 20 April 2008

Location: Woodend, Victoria, Australia

Course distances: 100km, 50km, 18km (Junior)

Weather: 11º-24º, morning low-level fog clearing to blue, sunny skies.


0km: Woke up at 4 am earlier, drove like a zombie, and even had a snooze in the car halfway because I was just not used to the early hour. Still, a nice sunrise provides a minor reward as riders prepare to push off from the start. The turnout for this inaugural event is awesome: 770 riders spread throughout the three course distances.
It’s slightly foggy, and definitely chilly! I’m dressed and packed light, wearing only a nylon windbreaker and a Buff, in addition to my jersey, shorts and full-finger gloves, to fend off the cold. However, there’s the matter of my one-kg video camera that I have to haul through the upcoming 100km. I meet Mark ‘Sooty’ Barends on the finish line just seconds before the horn blows. What a rush… guess we’ll have to catch up – and play catch-up – on the trails instead!

22km: We’ve done a fair bit of singletrack already, and I don’t mind the waiting and the easy pace within a long conga line of riders, as long as we don’t stop. Following too eagerly on someone’s wheel, I nearly come to grief on a tree in the middle of the trail. Anyway, I make the best use of it and stop for a snack and a photo session. Picking an alternate line away from other riders on a 4WD track, I have an argument with an extra-deep rut and get showered with mud. Grey spatters and flecks coat my bike, my legs and my glasses, then hardens; even my bottles are given a mud coating - when I lift my bottle to my lips for a swig of Gatorade, I taste the acid, mineral soil as well. Ashley Crowther passes me by, and I’m so surprised that I drop my bottle! A while later, I’m chatting with him on the wider, non-tricky 4WD tracks.

43km: Ash has pulled ahead, but I’m still leap-frogging with Sooty. A sweet plank bridge crossing is too good to not capture on camera. Log rollovers and minor log drops that seem to attract their fair share of ‘foot dabs’ whenever a chainring gets too friendly with the woodwork. Such obstacles are in abundance throughout the singletrack in the Wombat State Forest section of the event. Some riders get off and push on the narrower bridges, but generally everything can be rolled over without a hitch. My strategy is to enjoy the fun stuff and get over the boring bits as fast as possible. Getting into a flow is effortless in the narrow stuff as there are no major climbs or scary descents. Only out on the fire trails and 4WD tracks do I push the pace a bit.

52km: On a narrow off-camber descent into another gully, there’s a backed-up line of riders. Someone’s standing by the trailside, holding his arm gingerly. He’s dislocated his shoulder following a bad crash, and the next aid station is 10 km away. He’s waiting for someone to pop his shoulder back, but none of the riders currently present know how to, including myself. Someone with the requisite experience will eventually roll up, but I’m doubtful he’ll complete the ride even once his shoulder is restored. I myself do a small endo, and wonder whether I’ve sprained my right middle finger. Feels OK though, despite the adrenaline flowing through me… I can still squeeze the brake lever.

70km: I’m barreling down a singletrack in a pine forest, getting a fairly rigorous core workout, and suffering from a serious case of full-suspension envy. I’m stewing in my own private, pine-scented pot of pain (a good pain, but a pain nonetheless!), for the other 769 riders are nowhere in sight. Numerous dirt rollovers and bumps (hidden rocks and roots) makes it impossible to establish any pedaling rhythm. Still, I feel alert and reasonably energized from the Coke and the energy gels, and relish the opportunities to stand and stretch on the open sections. Every uphill seems a grind now, particularly the gradual fire road climbs that appear to take forever to crest. The granny gear gets some decent usage, but every flat or downhill bit is welcomed with a shift into the big chainring!

96km: The last aid station is two km behind me when my hydration pack runs dry – but that’s OK. Scoffing the last of the Coke, plus two caffeine gels in the last hour has given rise to some interesting caffeine side effects! I feel anxious and jittery, and even the boring fire road climbs see me going wide-eyed and heart rate a-fluttering. Although I’m well-fueled and hydrated to make the whole distance (I haven’t stopped once at any of the aid stations), it takes several minutes before I can come down from that caffeine and sugar rush… just in time for the final bit of flowy singletrack.

100km: I look across a lake and catch my first glimpse of the race finish, and silently utter a prayer of thanks. Just nice. Perfect. Beer ladies are handing out bottles of Hahn’s to finishers, and the atmosphere at the staging area is festive, if relaxed. Timings and placings are far from my mind. Catching up with friends at the finish, oogling and playing with the BMC demo bikes, and taking a couple more happy snaps to help me remember this enjoyable day are what I’m more concerned about! Then it’s a long drive home, the (dreaded) bike clean-up, and back to ordinary life.