Lifted from rec.bicycles.rides.
From: bobb@zeus-e.eurpd.csg.mot.com (Robert W. Brand)
Subject: MTB: Chequamegon, the Adventure
Date: Mon, 19 Sep 1994 19:20:13 GMT
Message-ID: <1994Sep19.192013.5231@lmpsbbs.comm.mot.com>
Summary: Experience at the Chequamegon 40 MTB race
For those unfamiliar with Chequamegon, it is a 40 mile point to point off road bike race in northern Wisconsin held for its twelth year this past Saturday, September 17. Forgive the local references, as I wrote it for friends, and don't feel like editing it.
Eric bailed. He had some excuse about having to be in Seattle and not being able to come to Chequamegon (say SHE-`WAH-MA-GONE) with me. This sucked, as it meant that I had to make the 450 mile trek to the midwest's largest off-road event by myself and with no clue of where to go or what to do when I got there. So, I loaded up the car with clothes, bike, a cooler full of Gatorade, and a box of Nilla wafers and was off.
The trip was your typical uneventful drive. The radio stations became fewer up north you get your choice between three frequencies that broadcast country and western, and three that broadcast Wisconsin Public Radio. Needless to say, I became very up to date with policy discussions regarding the Haiti situation. At least my CD player provided some diversion to it all.
I wasn't sure what to expect when I got to the Telemark Lodge in Cable, but my experience with biking events that involve 2500 people is usually a small tent city around the meeting place. I was surprised that there was no camping allowed on the grounds -- so where do you go?
I went in and picked up my stuff, and asked where I might find some camping? They were somewhat helpful providing me with a tourist map of the area and telling me about a resort which still had some vacancy, so I thought I'd check it out. I drove to the resort which was about 10 miles away. The drive was more of a challenge than I anticipated, as the roads are all cut through forest with no real landmarks, and no signs. I got there and asked about the room - not thinking that it would be affordable. I found out it was a three bedroom condo that typically sleeps eight. The guy normally rented it for $65 a night, but would be willing to work a deal with me if I took it for both nights. I had to ask myself one question. Why was I camping when I could be splitting a $65 room with seven people? It was out of budget for myself alone though, so I went off to find the campground.
I got to the U.S. Forest campground and pitched a tent. I went to get something to eat and get some change for the campground's fee drop box. By the time I got back it was about ten, and I figured they wouldn't harrass me at the campground before I was planning to leave about 6am, so...I didn't pay. All I need to do is look at my W-2 form to justify not giving more money to the federal government, despite the fact that the parks are a good cause. So kill me, I was over budget because I was alone. Socializing isn't that much fun when you are completely alone, so I figured I would just take off after the race if I was at all feeling good enough.
I drove 20 miles to Hayward where the race started. I got to the starting line about 35 minutes before the start, and laid my bike down several hundred yards in back of the line as everyone else had done to claim a spot. I walked to the front and met Rob, the guy who is trying to buy a restaurant who has been riding on Wednesday nights. He was almost in the front row, behind the "preferred starters," and said that he had arrived two hours before the start to get the spot! He confirmed that the 40 mile course was not technical, but had some challenging, hilly terrain. He warned me about something called "fire tower hill" about half way through the course. The course itself needed to be shortened by about three miles because of trail conditions this year.
The guy behind me as we neared the start whining to his laughing friends about how bad he had to piss. I laughed and told him the story about the guy who whipped it out and pissed right at the starting line of the Valpo race, all over himself and his bike. He thought it was such a funny story that he whipped it out and started pissing right there. Everyone spread out to give him plenty of splash clearance. Why does this always happen to me I thought?
The race started with a gun, and like running races of thousands of people, it was a full 30 seconds before we even moved. It was a minute and a half to get to the starting line. The first three miles of the race are on-road, and there is a pace car that you are not allowed to pass - of course it is going 30mph. The first three miles were like a cat 5 crit, surrounded by hundreds of riders who can't corner going into turns at speeds around 30mph. Frank from Bike's Plus called my name, and I slowed up for a minute to talk with him. I was in no real hurry, because I didn't know what to expect for the next 40 miles or so, so I wasn't going to kill myself yet.
After the road course, the peloton dives to the right, off the road and over a short grass hill to head for the trails. The backside of the grass hill was littered with big holes hidden by the tall grass, and riders were going down all over like soldiers charging a mine field. I hit one and crashed, but no endo. This guy in front of me did the coolest crash. He hit one of the holes at about 20 mph, and with a perfect conservation of momentum, pivoted 90 deg. to the left and went sideways taking out three bikes. The move looked extraterrestrial.
The trail is all fire roads/jeep trails . Every trail throughout the course is at least wide enough to get a jeep through, and some are wide enough for two-way truck traffic. There had been something like 11 inches of rain the week before, and so there was a lot of mud and water on the trail, but because the soil was so sandy, none of it was mucky or more than a few inches deep.
The atmosphere of this race was not like a race really. The full anerobic, heart ripping out of your chest intensity wasn't there. Instead, it was more like a a very fast recreational ride through Kettle Morraine with 2500 of your closest friends. People were not fighting against each other, but working with one another to get through. I must have heard fifty apologies for falling on someone or crashing in someone's line, and people I didn't know were asking me how I felt throughout.
The race progressed through terrain that varied from short steep out of the saddle climbs, to long smooth roads where you could go to big ring and take the speed up to 30+mph. There were four or five water stops along the way with long lines of volunteers passing cups of water and cytomax. There always seemed to be an old guy at the end yelling "Budweiser" too. Chugging water from cups at speed is an art I picked up from many years of running races. At one line I was able to take the first cup at 15mph, and drink two more without slowing much by the time I had reached the end of the line. I was in the minority though. I hate my Camelback, as every time I close my mouth around the little hose thing, I go anerobic and need thirty seconds to recover, so the cup water was useful.
The field had spread out by about 15 miles, and the group of people I now rode with became as familiar as old friends by the end of the race. After the half way point, I kept going up these hills wondering if they were the infamous "fire tower hill." Then, there was a sharp right onto trail and a steep hill. People all around me started jumping off of there bikes and pushing them up the hill. It didn't look like anything harder than the hardest that Kettle has to offer, and I can do those most days, so up I went. No problem I thought, as I crested the hill. Then, I looked up and deja vu. There it was again. The same hill. I started to crank up that one too, and when I crested the top somebody yelled that it was the titanium which allowed me up. I was going to hurl on him in retribution, but I was too tired. And then, I looked up, and like a bad episode of Star Trek, there it was again, the same hill. So, I climbed it again. By this time, I was one of the only people still on the bike. And so I crested the top, and you guessed it, there was another one. I was beginning to see how this thing had such a bad reputation. I got off this time and started to push, but it didn't seem that much easier. At the top there was another pitch, and I jumped back on to take it in the saddle. Finally, the five tier exercise in sado-masochism was over, as I rode past a group of spectators and the tower itself. There was a rewarding downhill section that allowed 30mph easily. My tire almost washed out in the mud around one of the corners, but other than that it was fun.
At nine miles to go (as the course was marked in "miles to go" markers throughout), there was a series of short, steep, back breaking hills over grass. They sucked because the grass robbed any momentum that you may have been able to use to get you over the next one. They went on for about two miles, and my back hurt so much it was getting numb. I was never close to being out of breath though, and my legs actually felt good still.
The rest of the race was more normal twisting kind of stuff, with one more steep climb up the back side of the ski hill at the Telemark lodge before the finish. Everyone around me seemed very excited about the possibility of finishing in under three hours -- apparently the double secret squid cut off time. I didn't have the heart to remind them that they had cut three miles out of the course, so it didn't count. Still, the unusual race comradery was there again, people cheering each other on to finish.
I crossed the finish line at 2:51 - a full 50 minutes behind the winner. Me and my bike were covered with mud, and three of my favorite geers no longer worked, but other than that I felt pretty good. After these long rides, I always have a craving for salt and fat, and a handful of powerbars that just won't cut it. This time I came prepared with some of those gas station beef sticks in my jersey pocket. They really hit the spot. I'm working off of theory that your body loses sodium nitrate, monosodium glutamate, and artifical colors when you engage in prolonged exercise.
The post race party looked good, and there was a definite disproportionate number of very hot looking girls -- not typical for the MTB races I've been to. The normal protocol was to drink beer, eat brats, and then take a bus 20 miles back to get your car in Hayward, and then drive your car back to the finish in Cable to pick up your bike. Then I would have to drive back through Hayward again as I was planning on leaving. Anyway, 60 miles of driving around seemed like a hassle compared with a single 20 mile bike ride back to Hayward. It seemed so sensible that I expected to see more than a few of the thousands of riders doing it, possibly taking advantage of a paceline. Nope. I was the only one I think. In fact, I was probably the only person to do that in the twelve years they've had that race. A truck load of guys from Michigan pulled up to confirm that I was nuts, and offered a ride, but at that point I was only a couple of miles away. The smell of pine was so thick in the air it reminded me of Christmas, and under normal circumstances, and with a chain that wasn't dryer and dustier than the Sierra, it would have been a very pleasant ride. All in all, it wasn't too bad, and I did the twenty miles in an hour and three minutes - which shows I still had some energy left in me.
They compare the race to a marathon, and while the finishing times are comparable- typically a 2:15 or so wins it, I don't think it was that bad at all. I did a marathon last year, and despite weeks of marathon specific training, afterwards I was a basket case. It took me fifteen minutes to start my car. Riding 20miles and jumping in a car to drive 450 back home would have been out of the question.
For next year, I'd like to do it again but differently. You see, Chequamegon is not so much an off-road race, as much as it is one of those Wisconsin beer and brat weekends with some biking thrown in. It would be nice to get a group of people together to stay someplace with a hot shower and a cold fridge. I'm going to definitely train harder for it too-I've got the perfect plan all figured out. Get a 75lb stack of bricks and place it in front of you. With your knees locked, lift the bricks to your waist and put them back down. Repeat this 10 times, and then drink a glass of mud. Repeat for three hours. What a blast!!