Snowshoe NORBA NCS

Snowshoe NORBA NCS
Date: June 10-13, 2004
Place: Snowshoe Mountain, WV
Distance: 16.5 miles
Speed: 6.3 mph
Time: 2 hours, 38 minutes

Ah Snowshoe, my first and probably only NORBA National of the year. I'm saving some of the travel budget and vacation for Cyclocross races up and down the East Coast in the fall. As West Virginia is only an 11 hour drive from Atlanta, I hopped a ride with some friends from Chattanooga. The first thing we discovered is that you really can fit 3 people, 6 bags and suitcases, one large professional bike mechanic's box and stand, two medium sized coolers, downhill gear, 2 downhill bikes, a tiny little 13" hardtail, and 3 boxes of Snackwell cookies into a Honda Accord So far this season, I've been doing fairly well in my first in Master Sport Women 30+. Maybe it's because I'm only 29 although I turn the big 3-0 in the fall. I was interested to see how the Masters competition is in other regions. I have always thought it to be tough from what I've seen in past race results. 

Our trip started out great until 20 miles outside of Chattanooga when we got a flat tire on the rear passenger side of the car. A belt in the tire popped, and the car started to wobble. We surmised that all of the gear in the car caused it as the tire looked fine. Chris, my friend Becki's husband, took the tire off and put the donut on. With no automatic air pump anywhere to be found at the service station, he pumped it up with the bike tire pump we had in the car. We drove back to Cleveland, TN to Walmart, got a new tire, and were on our way in an hour. I fell asleep for about 2 hours until I felt the car wobbling again. The driver side rear tire had a busted belt, too. It was almost 8:00, and we only had an hour to find the nearest Walmart. Luckily, Becki is resourceful and was able to find a Walmart Automotive Department that did not have a wait. Chris once again changed the tire and put on the donut. Walmart had us on our way within half an hour. After a stop to eat good, greasy Mexican food, I do not remember the rest of the drive up there as I was asleep in the back seat. From what they told me, we did not have a third flat tire. We stumbled into the hotel in Lewisburg, WV about 1:15 am and promptly fell asleep until the alarm blared at 7:00 am. After a quick stop at Burger King for some grease and eggs, we were on our way to Snowshoe. 

After bringing in everything from the car and unpacking, it was time to preride the course. According to the information I found on-line, the course was the same distance as last year. Except for small variations in the first half mile, the course was exactly the same. A small portion of the opening section had been paved as the ski resort made road improvements in the area. They approach to the first nasty downhill on the singletrack was right handed instead of straight on. The Short Course was approximately 8.5 miles. It began by the registration and spectator area with a short climb up a paved walking path before going into a slightly downhill doubletrack section. The course then narrows and dips into the first short singletrack section-a steep downhill covered with babyhead sized rocks and roots. Two lines were the most common-a roll straight down the middle over the rocks and a smoother line to the left that had a tree sticking out into. The course then veered sharply right and up a gravel covered hill. It dipped back into the typical West Virginia singletrack-tight, twisty, rooty, and rocky. The singletrack and rocks were covered in layers of thick mud that clung to the bikes. Several short, steep downhills were interspersed among the flat singletrack. The course turned right as it headed around "Shaver's Lake" on singletrack covered with gravel. The course then opened up onto an earthen dam by a lake and then onto a gravel road that began the first climb back up the mountain. The first half mile was not hard as it was gradual climbing on the gravel road. The trail then turned up-straight up the ski slope before going into a mile of unridable muddy singletrack. With about 3.5 miles to go, the course came back out onto a service road that climbed gradually before taking a left hand turn up a doubletrack climb. The final half mile climbed straight back up the ski slope towards the finish area. 

I heard that it rained the previous several days. I saw no evidence of that on my preride. Normally, only about 60% of the course is ridable. I rode about 95% of it. I dabbed in a few places, but for the most part everything could be ridden. Only a few sections of mud dotted the singletrack. It was very different to see the course under such dry conditions. I can see where riding in West Virginia would be fun and technical instead of a slog through a mudbog. For the most part, I toodled along although I pushed a few of the hills for 2 minutes at a time to open up my legs. I felt good and prepared for the race on Saturday. 

My riding on Friday consisted of climbing the mile to the top of Snowshoe Mountain a few times on the road from the condo. I did a few sprints. My legs were heavier than they were on Thursday. There is no way to predict how you will feel on race day. All I can do is to follow the program that has worked for me in the past. I spent Friday afternoon either the couch in the condo watching television and in my bed sleeping. After dinner out with the people I was staying with it began to rain. It rained about ? to ? of an inch that night. 

When I awoke Saturday morning to foggy and cool conditions, I knew the race course would be much different than on Thursday. If past years conditions held true, most of the singletrack would be unridable but the doubletrack would be fine. I would find out in the first section in the woods. A combined Beginner and Sport Women's field was on the starting line. Sport was to do 2 laps, which surprised me. At every NORBA National I have been to over the last 4 years, officials have cut the women's laps down because of time considerations and bad course conditions. I got a spot on the front row as I hate getting caught up in traffic at the start. With a combined field, you never know what can happen. The countdown began at two minutes and finally 5-4-3-2-1. We were off. I sprinted to the front as we went up the paved trail. Once on the dirt, another rider came by. She was gone and never seen again. I turned left into the woods and rode the first part until the right hand turn to the first downhill. I dismounted and slid my way to the bottom of the rocky, rooty mess. I glanced back and saw most of the field doing the same. I ran a couple of feet before making sure I was in granny. I remounted and spun as quickly as I could up a small, steep hill. The gravel is small and deep. The best line was immediately to the left of the gravel road in the grass. I chose to ride the firmest ground possible. Any energy saved now would be needed later in the race. I came into the next singletrack section and saw the photographer. He urged everyone to "ride it." I stayed on long enough for him to snap my photo. I hopped off, shouldered the bike, and started running. It is never too early in the year to start practicing for cyclocross. The downhills proved a challenge because the mud was slick. It was hard to get good traction either carrying or pushing the bike. As soon as the singletrack ended, I got on my bike and made the sharp right hand turn downhill. After a ride that was too short, I came into the next singletrack section. Someone passed me on the double section, and she tried to ride the singletrack. I got caught behind her as I was off of the bike and she slid everywhere. I probably lost 30 seconds in this section as it was impossible to pass her back because it was so narrow. Finally, we got into the section near Shaver's Lake that was ridable. After riders complained that this section was unridable the first year, Snowshoe put down small gravel, which makes most of it passable. I stayed on my bike most of the time except for one small section that has a large root at the top of a small hill. The root was slick, and I slid, causing me to unclip and run a few feet before remounting. I popped out onto the dam feeling pretty good. There was no one in sight near me other than the one woman that passed me a few minutes earlier. That was either good or bad. The first place Sport Woman was long gone. I sat in third place overall and first in Masters 30-39. I found out later that the woman that passed me was in the 40+ division. Although I was not thirsty, I drank some Gatorade. The last few races I've had cramps late in the race, and I tried to prevent it with strong Gatorade. My legs felt good as I came off of the dam and onto a gravel road. I took a left and began the half mile climb up the mountain. The first part was on the gravel road and was gradual. When I got to the bottom of the ski slope, I saw people at the top of the climb off of their bikes walking. I dropped into granny and began to spin. During the preride, I had a VCD (breathing) attack on the hill. I concentrated on going at a slow but steady pace. I did not want tire myself out and force myself into an attack. I got to one of the steepest sections and made it over. About 200 feet from the top, I got off, knowing that the last bit was the steepest part. If I had an attack, I might not be able to recover. It is better to walk and keep going than to stop if I cannot breathe. I walked to the top and through a short section of singletrack. Once it opened back up, I remounted for a very short time before hitting the next singletrack section. Last year, it was unridable. Proving that nothing changes, it was unridable again. The mud was thick, and at times it sucked at your shoes trying to pull them off of your feet. I did not shoulder the bike because it gained 10 pounds from earlier in the race with the mud that collected on the frame, on the tires, and in every crevice. The mud was thin in some places, which made the bike easier to push. I tried to remount twice but found myself quickly walking again. It cost too much time to ride for 15-20 feet for only a few sections. I trudged forward and passed a couple of men who were having mud issues. I saw the light of the gravel road. It was at that spot last year that my frame broke and cost me the race. Not wanting to repeat, I grabbed my crankset and spun it around a few times to assure that the rear derailleur was not going to get caught in my wheel and sheer off the hanger. It was perfect. I hopped on cyclocross style and popped up into my middle ring. My legs took a second to adjust from walking to riding muscles, but they felt good. I grabbed a cup of water as I went through a volunteer manned feedzone, and then I drank some more Gatorade. I continued up the slight climb on the gravel road. I finally took a left into a short singletrack section that was wet but ridable. I passed the 11 year old that was the youngest rider doing the entire course. The final climb is nearly 2 miles long, most of it up a somewhat gentle grade. It was all middle ring for me. The left side of the trail was very rutty through the mud. The right side was rocky but not rutted and easier to ride through. I made the decision to bounce around more and take the right line as opposed to getting tired from taking the left line and having to power my way through mud. I felt good the entire way up the climb. I ate a second gel about half way up as I started to get hungry. I saw the one mile to go sign and picked up the pace a little bit. A short downhill provided relief before the final climb through the feedzone. I saw a friend of mine in the feedzone, and it was good to hear someone cheering my name. It really helps to push me on. I came through the start/finish area feeling pretty good although I was hungry. I don't know why. 

I went faster as I climbed the paved road. There was one Senior Sport woman who passed me as we went onto the doubletrack. I rode the top of the hill on the left hand turn to the first downhill. Unlike when the pros are riding, there is virtually no one watching on this hill. It is a good place to watch carnage as riders come into it full tilt from the start. I thought I would have heard crickets chirping, but instead I heard Mr. Thomas yelling "Go Trish! Where's Jessica?" His daughter, Jessica, had a mechanical problem on the first lap and was behind me. I replied with her mechanical problem as I ran past him. I remounted at the bottom of the hill and clawed my way to the top. My legs gave the first twinge of fatigue. I rode into the singletrack long enough for the photographer to get my picture again and then got off and walked. The mud gelled into a peanut butter like substance. The bike was harder to push than on the first lap. I opted to roll it down the hill instead of picking it up because of the added weight of the mud that was caked to the frame. Traction was a problem as my shoes were also full of mud. I remounted to ride a short gravel road section before dismounting to run a small downhill. The next section of trail was somewhat ridable although I dabbed. My legs felt better after riding for a short ways. Finally, I came to the flat portion near the lake. It provided much needed relief from walking. Because of the crushed gravel on the trail, a majority of the section I did on the bike. I rode across the dam and ate a third Gu. My stomach grumbled with protest; it wanted solid food. As I climbed the gravel road leading up to the ski slope, I began to get weak. I made it up about as far as I did on the first lap, but I could tell that I was starting to get tired. My legs did not move as fast as they had been earlier. On the ski slope, I was with several men and one woman that was just ahead of me. I must have nearly caught the one that passed me at the beginning of the lap. I looked back and did not see anyone behind me. I was still in first place in Master Sport. All I had to do in order to finally, after 4 years, win a NORBA National was to hold my spot. At the top of the hill, I would have at least two minutes on anyone behind me. I looked back again the top, and I was all alone. I walked the next short section of singletrack and got back on for about 15 seconds until I hit the woods again. The mud on the longest section of singletrack had turned to peanut butter in the 45 minutes it had been since I was there last. Going was much slower. I was more careful about picking my lines around rocks as I had no traction. At times, my arms got tired from pushing the bogged down bike. Finally, I saw the light at the end of the woods, which signaled the start of the final climb. Once again, I check my rear derailleur, and it was fine. I hopped on and started to pedal, sort of. My legs decided that they were done for the day. Although I was not cramping thanks to my early efforts to drink plenty of Gatorade, they were tired. My stomach wanted lunch or any solid food as it was over 2 hours into the race. At about that time into a ride, my stomach is used to getting a granola bar to make it feel better. I grabbed water at the feed zone and ate my last Gu. Had I realized that it would be a nearly 2.5 hour race, I would have brought some solid food with me as I don't have a problem eating it during a long race. I spun easily until the left hand turn into the singletrack. My legs were so dead that I had to get off and go around one rock that was actually quite easy to ride. I remounted and continued my trudge up the mountain. I again chose to ride the right line and avoid the thick mud. Others on their second lap must have had the same idea as some of the lines were rutted. I picked a steady pace and continued up at that. The one mile to go sign was the greatest thing I saw during the race. I picked up the pace a little bit now that blowing myself up was not a concern. No one was behind me; I thought my lead was safe. Down the final little hill and up the final hill I went. The few remaining people in the feedzone looked at me with zoned out eyes; I was not the rider they were looking for. At the top of the feedzone, I got out of the saddle and sprinted towards the start/finish line half way up the paved trail. EEEEKKKK! I braked hard and nearly ran over one of the commisaires as they pulled Sport riders off of the course before the finish banner. The Experts were up there staging, and our finish line had been moved back about 100 meters. I wouldn't get to throw my hands up in the air in victory. Instead, I smiled weakly at the commisaire and rode a few minutes to cool down. I finished the race tired and feeling beaten by the mud.

It is not a NORBA National NCS race if it has not rained 5 inches the night before a race and if the course is not at least 50% unridable. The only dry NORBA NCS I've ever been to was Deer Valley, UT in 2001, where I found out that I do not race well at altitude. It is ironic that at the NORBA National where I felt the worst I would finally win-and by over 10 minutes. It felt really good to be able to climb onto the podium on the top platform and to reflect back that I have been trying to win Snowshoe since the first NCS stop there in 2004. It was a great feeling!

Trish Albert (Boneshakers-Master Sport Women 30-30) and Jessica Thomas (Bike Town-Sport Junior Women) from Georgia celebrate their wins.

Trish Albert (Boneshakers-middle) on the podium of the Master Sport Women 30-39. I won my first NORBA NCS race!

Chris Gibson puts his bike mechanic skills to work pumping up the donut tire on the first flat of the trip.

The venue of Snowshoe, WV-start/finish area.

Hayes Tech Support works on Trish's bike.

Ryan Trebon (Kona) from NC on his way to a podium placing in the Pro Men.

Kelli Emmet (Specialized) was very happy she won 4th in the Pro Women. Alison Dunlap (Luna) was first.

Alison Dunlap (Luna) looks a little warm after the race.

Geoff Kabush from Canada (Maxxis) won the Pro Men's XC with an unusual victory salute.

Erin Winter (Orbea) from Athens, GA finishes the Pro Women's XC race.