Want to be a Race Teller? Give us your version... Any Virginia Off Road Series participant is eligible to send us your story of your recent event. Deadlines are typically 48 hours after the most recent event. Details for deadlines will be posted on our Facebook Fanpage for the Virginia Off Road Series. Your story could be chosen to be posted on MTBRaceNews.com. If so you could become eligible for additional prizes!
Submit story to : VORS@CYCLEVA.COM

F.O.R.D. race report – Eric Moore

This was my first duathlon, and I almost didn’t go because I had raced the previous 5 weekends in a row and was feeling a little burnt out. But I rested up during the week and the legs started feeling good. On Tuesday’s trail run the legs felt better than they had in weeks so I decided to give it a go.

Saturday was beautiful: sunny and cool. As I lined up for the start of the advanced race I noticed that no one else wanted to be in front, so I stepped up. We were off and I found myself in the lead for the first quarter mile to the transition area. Then a couple people came by but I stuck with them, eventually taking the lead into the single-track. A wrong turn set me back a couple of spots but a guy behind me very nicely yelled at me that I had turned right following the bike route rather than left on the run route. I was still feeling good so I quickly passed back into 2nd then 1st place again, and slowly pulled away from the lead woman. As we ran I could hear the beeping of her watch gradually fade behind me.

I got to t1 and jumped on the bike. A couple others came in just as I left and I put it in the big ring and took off. The gravel road was fast and I soon got to the single-track, which was identical to the run course for the first little bit. There were some technical sections and steep climbs but I cleared them all. I was in a position I’ve never been in before: still leading a race after more than 2 minutes in. When I had briefly been at the front in previous races I was quickly passed and dropped by the “real” competitors, and I didn’t want that to happen this time. The adrenaline was pumping!

The trail was in great shape and I concentrated on hammering the short ups and flowing through the turns. The tunnel underneath 95 was an experience – I’m very glad that the RD had briefed us on it beforehand. Even so the water was deeper and the tunnel longer than I had expected. But I followed his advice: I just pedaled as fast as I could.

Then the ‘XXX Danger’ signs started. The first one was at a large log across the trail. I barely slowed, thinking that even if my chainring caught I’d make it over. What I hadn’t counted on was the steep drop afterwards. As I dove to the ground superman-style and my bike flew over my head I remember thinking, “This IS a dangerous log.” But I landed well and was up on the bike again in a heartbeat. I took extra care to get elevation on the next log and kept on. Still no sight or sound of pursuit!

And that’s the way the bike went – it was eerily quiet, like I was riding by myself, and I often wondered if I had taken a wrong turn, but no, there was the next sign. The course was extremely well marked and I just kept going. The last part next to the river was very twisty and seemed to be purposely planned with a sharp turn and log every 10 yards. I cleared most of them but had to walk one or two, and then bit the dust again on a tricky 2-log turn. This time my bars got twisted and I had to get off again, grip the front wheel with my legs, and yank them back. Still no sight of anyone in pursuit though. Maybe the twisty log section was causing them problems as well.

When I got back to the gravel road it was smooth sailing in the big ring. I didn’t see anyone until shortly after I had cleared t2 and I was starting to believe I could actually pull off the win. Running after the bike always feels bad at first, but knowing I had a chance to win kept me pushing and the legs came around very quickly. In the woods again I felt really strong on the single-track, and though I kept looking back no one ever appeared. The race went perfectly – I felt great the whole way and even if I never win another race I am very grateful to have had this special experience.

Afterwards we had excellent grub: pizza, beer, sodas, cookies, and fruit. Everyone seemed to have a great time and the vibe was relaxed and friendly. Really a wonderfully well-organized race. Many thanks to the RD and all the volunteers who set it up!

National Off Road Duathlon – Bill Rider

You first notice that you don't know what you are doing when you set up your bike in the transition area. Everyone else has their shoes, etc. set upon a folded towel. Your stuff is sitting on the bag you used to bring them in. Some of them even have the shoes already in the pedals, ready to go.
You mingle with the crowd at the starting line, where nervous chatter and well worn tri clothing indicates again that there is a difference between a newbie and a vet.

As the race stars, the runners disappear fast. For those of us who have been doing our distance running with our 11 year old training partner son, the pace and the distance both exceed what we are used to traveling. But concentrating on the trail surface to avoid tripping or turning an ankle helps pass the time and we are soon to the Nickel Bridge. Running north up the bridge, the course marshal is asleep at the wheel and the two runners ahead of me head up past the left turn, seemingly on track to pay the toll and visit Maymont. In my tired fog, I realize I need to help them and I yell up and tell them they missed the turn to Northbank. They are too tired to be mad.

Running into the transition area (T1 as those who know what they are doing call it), I realize that double knotting my running laces was only smart for keeping them from becoming untied. Tired fingers peck away until the shoes are released and the bike shoes and camelback can be thrown on. And off we go. Except that the first mile or two is road, then fire road. And on a single speed, there isn't any big gear to run. So I eat some gels and drink as much water as I can before the stair climb to Buttermilk. Then the fun begins. The trails are both great and in great shape, and the legs feel surprisingly good. For now.

Later, a quick assessment of the finishers indicates that many of us did not go unscathed in the ride, but even the big endos seemed to not inflict any major damage. Earlier in the week, I had tried riding down the stairway and found that I could do it. It helped because there were two stairway descents and time and energy were saved by staying in the saddle.

As the ride continued, the calves started cramping on the bigger climbs. The Stairway to Heaven is usually a fun challenge. This time, I gripped the rail waiting for the latest cramp to subside. The fun really came in T2, as I sat down to undo my cycling shoes. My hip flexor cramped up in a huge ball, making it hard to bend the knees close enough to loosen the shoes. Once off, the act of trying to tie the running shoes became an sequence of bent knee, cramp, straighten, repeat. It wasn't gonna happen unless I just sucked it up with the cramp long enough to tie the shoes and the reward for this: A two mile run.

The cramps didn't strike again as I hobble/ran along. Luckily, there was no one close enough in front of me to try to chase down. The body may have just given up. I eventually came to a point where my tired brain determined that I should descend down a ladder and continue along a metal pipe. Somehow, that didn't seem right. I waited for the next runner, who told me that it was simply the u-turn. Knowing that it was almost over was enough to get me back to the chute. My first duathlon was complete and I knew that I had done well because I had finished. I would spend the next few days with a post-race soreness I hadn't known in decades and a smile. And a reminder that it is good to try new things.

12 Hours of Lodi - Ann 'Spike' Toler

As soon as I arrived at the 12 hours of Lodi, I remembered why it had been over 15 years since I last attempted any race over 6 hours ....... the night laps!!! It also turned out to be an unexpectedly hot and humid day, so there was that.
No pre-race jitters, since I was only there to see what I could do in 12 hours, and see where my base was at that point in the season. All told I went through 11 bottles of electrolytes, ate 3 whole peanut butter, honey and jelly sandwiches, 2 bars, and a couple of honey stingers. I was able to finish almost 5 laps before the light faded, and then 2 in full-on darkness. The course is awesome, and has great technical sections, some climbing, many roots, and a fun creek crossing to cool you down. Problem is, when the lights go out, and you're relying on whatever level of bike lights you have, it's hard to navigate the over 100 switchbacks with a lot of confidence and speed. I completed 2 laps in the dark, and had time and legs for a 3rd, but not the nerves.
I ended up with a 3rd place in the solo women category, and was pleasantly surprised by that. I had a fantastic time, and highly recommend it. The course is great (with something for everyone), the location for setting up tents and your pit area are optimal, and the camaraderie was the thing that made all of the blood (yes, I had some of that), sweat and tears well worth it. The course was perfectly marked and the atmosphere before during and after really kept you motivated. Now if I could only figure out how to get around that darkness thing?

IRON MOUNTAIN 100.... 55 miles, 8k feet of climbing.... 5-1/2 hours away from Richmond... This is supposed to be fun, right?

- Start to mile 20 - Legs felt good, I felt good, I was happy.

- Mile 20 - On a nice downhill I catch a guy who offers to let me go around. He graciously pulls to the left (the drop-off embankment is to the right) and just as I get beside him, he loses his balance and falls right into me. I look over the embankment helplessly as I fall, literally face-first into a sapling that snaps off against my face as the weight of both of us smash thru it. He falls on me and we both tumble down about 15-20 feet, snapping and cracking thru limbs and other poor trees. I come to rest, upside down, butt over my head, legs folded and thru my legs I see daylight and my bike hung in a tree. Was fished out by another rider and other than feeling like I'd been punched in the face, was ok. Bike was ok, so off I go. Not so happy now but glad I wasn't seriously hurt.

Mile 25 - Run out of water, then pedal uphill for about 4 miles and beg water off other riders.... legs started cramping bad.... really not happy, but sucking it up.

Mile 36 - Totally miss a turn, go 3 miles off course, pop out to a paved road and knew immediately, I'd messed up royally. I had no idea where I missed my turn. Sat down on the side of the road and fought off the overwhelming desire to cry. Then after no cars came by for a bit, I started to panic (the sound of dueling banjos) Finally I flagged down my angel with her a brood of children. She moved all the kids into the back seat, so she could lay down the farthest row to fit me and my bike in her van. She then drives me back up gravel road till I see where I missed my turn. I jump back on the trail, legs were stiff and cold, having no idea how much time I lost. I am beyond frustrated now and fighting the urge to quit.

- Mile 43 - My front wheel comes lose on a wicked downhill. The skewer actually opened up! With both brakes locked up, feet dragging, I finally come to a stop. Whew.... I secure the skewer. I am beginning to question my own sanity now.

- Mile 46 - Front wheel comes lose again. I re-secure the skewer. I am now talking to my bike like it really hears me and talking to myself because I am going nuts.

- Mile 52 - I pass the man who tackled me down the embankment at mile 20. He is sitting at the top of a steep climb, talking on his cell phone. I honestly thought I was hallucinating.

- Mile 58 - I finish. And think to myself, I don't even want to see my mountainbike for a while. I don't want to sit on it, pedal it or even look at it. Just to walk by it this am, made me queasy.

So I look like I got in a fist fight today. Nice swollen cheek under my eye, a little blue bruising and scrapes to go with it. Feel like I was in a car accident and fell asleep on the couch at lunch. I did not race it, I just survived it.

CALENDAR | STANDINGS | FORUM | TEAMS | RULES | CONTACT US | ABOUT | HOME