| 2001 Race Reports |
July 1, 2001
St. Joe State Park
Park Hills, Missouri
5th of 16 in Open B
Three years ago, the annual March of Dimes hare scramble was my first racing
experience in Missouri. Actually, up to that point I had never ridden anyplace where a
rock bigger than a baseball was anything but a novelty. Imagine my surprise. After
that day, I nearly packed up my belongings and moved back to Kankakee, Illinois.
Since then I've improved my rock-riding skills to the point where I can somewhat
tolerate the constant beating and the never-ending wonder of how soon my tires will
go flat from pinched tubes. But that doesn't mean I enjoy it.
Besides a rough course, the other sure things at the March of Dimes race are heat
(has never been below 90 degrees), blinding dust kicked up by the powdery-white
sand, and park rangers enforcing rules to the letter of the law. Ride too fast in the
staging area, pay a fine. Drive your truck too fast coming in and out of the park, pay a
fine. Take a leak in the bushes, pay an even bigger fine. But hey, I'm not
complaining. St. Joe State Park is a great place and we should all feel fortunate to
have it, so if that means following their rules then it's an inconsequential price to pay.
This year the motorcycle club was on probation because of last year's 100-mile grand
prix, which started late and finished even later (some guys rode for 6 hours!!). The
in-town start was nixed, as were the 16-mile laps and a 100-mile total course. Just a
standard 2-hour hare scramble, which was fine with me.
The course was set up so riders could take a full practice lap or do a shorter 3-mile
loop. I did the shorter loop that covered the most open, sandy, dusty part of the
course. As it would turn out, this short loop was not very representative of the entire
11-mile loop. Most of the course was 2nd and 3rd gear woods in nearly perfect
condition, thanks to a rain earlier in the week.
Matt and I lined up next to each other at the start, and at the first turn I was running
mid-pack with Pizza Man a couple spots ahead of me. I settled in on a decent pace
and soon had one of the fast guys on my tail, trying desperately to get around me.
After he ran over my foot with his front wheel, I decided maybe it would be good to let
him pass. A couple miles down the trail, I followed a bunch of riders under some
yellow tape and off the course and had to turn around. Somehow I discovered our
error sooner than the rest of the group and gained a few places getting back on the
trail. Pizza Man must have been part of that group, because he was right behind me
at the scoring trailer. In the fast sand, the big Pizza Thumper blew by me, even though
I could hardly see him in the dust (or figure out how the hell he could see anything
going that fast). I finally caught up to him just before the second check in the woods
and got around as he spun out going up a hill. After that, I cruised for two more laps,
fell over once, got lapped by the top two "AA" riders, and finished my race.
Even though the race was hot, I didn't lose much stamina and rode solid the whole
way. A fully vented jersey is something I should have tried years ago - major cooling,
to the point that I never really felt hot (tired and sore, however...jersey technology still
needs some improvement in that area). Pizza Man finished one position behind me,
while Matt took 8th place. Nothing better than beating your friends and rivals, and
coming home with a healthy bike and body.
July 15, 2001
Tebbetts, Missouri
3rd of 15 in Open B
In the past two years, Tebbetts has not been kind to me. The race is always held in
July, the month that most of Missouri attempts to recreate life on the surface of the
sun. Actually, that's pretty much the whole summer. But Tebbetts can be brutal not
only for the heat, but also for the fast, pounding course that combines open,
GNCC-type trails with lots of opportunities to get big air. Many of the jumps are
naturally occurring in the woods, which means a slight miscalculation can give you an
upfront and personal encounter with a tree.
I vowed to make my third attempt at this race more successful than my previous two
tries, both 8th place finishes in the bottom third of my class (1999 race; 2000 race).
This year the weather decided to lend its cooperation with sunny skies and slightly
cooler temperatures. Rain showers had passed through the area a few days before
and the course was in beautiful shape. Matt and I talked to the property owner before
the race, and he mentioned that an adjoining landowner was allowing the club to use
150 acres of woods on a trial basis this year. On the practice lap I was pleasantly
surprised to see narrow, virgin trails cut through the new acreage. And the best part
was that this 2-3 mile section replaced the ridiculously narrow motocross track in the
woods. Picture it: a 10-foot-wide track with doubles and a tabletop thrown in.
At the start, PizzaMan lined up next to me with his big KTM 4-stroke and jumped out
ahead. Funny how that electric starter works...the two-strokes actually fire up more
quickly, but once the thumper gets going, it just digs in and powers its way to the front.
Matt also got a good jump on me, and heading into the woods I assumed my familiar
position in the middle of the pack. Shortly into the first lap, PizzaMan crashed ahead of
me and I passed him, but then he caught up and passed me in an open grass
section. He goes amazingly fast in the wide-open stuff with the big Pizza Thumper.
About halfway into that same lap, I saw Matt standing next to the trail with his bike on
the ground, a victim of a tree confrontation (I believe the tree won that battle). I
continued on, slowly moving up in the pack and passing PizzaMan in the new woods
section after he dumped the bike, shearing some teeth off his front sprocket.
The course was basically run in reverse from the last two years, and I liked that layout
much better. Even so, the creek section in reverse was just as long and rocky as
ever. Definitely a place to either make up some time, or lose a lot of time. The
previous week's rains caused a short section of the creek to rise wheel-high, but that
didn't stop guys from plowing through it in third gear.
I never did see Matt or PizzaMan during the rest of the race, but based on past
experience I figured one (or both) of them was close behind. Somewhere in the third
lap, I was following a guy on a KTM who appeared to be slower than me. I readied
myself for a pass, taking a shorter route around a corner that involved hopping over a
small log that was almost parallel to the direction I was heading. We both exited the
corner at the same place and banged bars, so I let him go ahead. He took off and I
never saw him again.
At the scoring gate, I heard what sounded like Matt cheering me on as I began my
fourth and final lap. I could only assume that his day had ended early. About halfway
into the lap, my bike started sounding strange, and then it suddenly became insanely
loud. Imagine ten chain saws surrounding your head, all wound up and ready to cut
some serious wood. A couple miles later I stopped to check out what was going on
and saw that the silencer tube had broken off. Guess that silencer really does help
quiet things down, because with the exhaust blowing straight out the pipe, I surely
was heard many miles away. I think it was advantage in a couple of ways. The guys
ahead of me got the crap scared out of them from the noise and quickly moved out of
my way, while the guys wanting to pass had to keep their distance for fear of partial
hearing loss. Steve Leivan, the overall winner, was the only brave soul who dared to
pass me during that time (Steve's quote after the race: "Huh?"). When I came through
the final stretch before the finish, all eyes were on the loudest bike in the land.
Matt told me I finished 5th or 6th, showed me his shattered rear fender and red marks
all over his body (from crash #3 on lap #1), so we packed up and drove home. That's
the last time I trust him in tracking my results - it was actually a 3rd place finish, and I
could have picked up a trophy. But the feeling of finally conquering this place was all
the reward I needed. And my ears are still ringing.
St. Joe State Park
Park Hills, Missouri
5th of 16 in Open B
Three years ago, the annual March of Dimes hare scramble was my first racing
experience in Missouri. Actually, up to that point I had never ridden anyplace where a
rock bigger than a baseball was anything but a novelty. Imagine my surprise. After
that day, I nearly packed up my belongings and moved back to Kankakee, Illinois.
Since then I've improved my rock-riding skills to the point where I can somewhat
tolerate the constant beating and the never-ending wonder of how soon my tires will
go flat from pinched tubes. But that doesn't mean I enjoy it.
Besides a rough course, the other sure things at the March of Dimes race are heat
(has never been below 90 degrees), blinding dust kicked up by the powdery-white
sand, and park rangers enforcing rules to the letter of the law. Ride too fast in the
staging area, pay a fine. Drive your truck too fast coming in and out of the park, pay a
fine. Take a leak in the bushes, pay an even bigger fine. But hey, I'm not
complaining. St. Joe State Park is a great place and we should all feel fortunate to
have it, so if that means following their rules then it's an inconsequential price to pay.
This year the motorcycle club was on probation because of last year's 100-mile grand
prix, which started late and finished even later (some guys rode for 6 hours!!). The
in-town start was nixed, as were the 16-mile laps and a 100-mile total course. Just a
standard 2-hour hare scramble, which was fine with me.
The course was set up so riders could take a full practice lap or do a shorter 3-mile
loop. I did the shorter loop that covered the most open, sandy, dusty part of the
course. As it would turn out, this short loop was not very representative of the entire
11-mile loop. Most of the course was 2nd and 3rd gear woods in nearly perfect
condition, thanks to a rain earlier in the week.
Matt and I lined up next to each other at the start, and at the first turn I was running
mid-pack with Pizza Man a couple spots ahead of me. I settled in on a decent pace
and soon had one of the fast guys on my tail, trying desperately to get around me.
After he ran over my foot with his front wheel, I decided maybe it would be good to let
him pass. A couple miles down the trail, I followed a bunch of riders under some
yellow tape and off the course and had to turn around. Somehow I discovered our
error sooner than the rest of the group and gained a few places getting back on the
trail. Pizza Man must have been part of that group, because he was right behind me
at the scoring trailer. In the fast sand, the big Pizza Thumper blew by me, even though
I could hardly see him in the dust (or figure out how the hell he could see anything
going that fast). I finally caught up to him just before the second check in the woods
and got around as he spun out going up a hill. After that, I cruised for two more laps,
fell over once, got lapped by the top two "AA" riders, and finished my race.
Even though the race was hot, I didn't lose much stamina and rode solid the whole
way. A fully vented jersey is something I should have tried years ago - major cooling,
to the point that I never really felt hot (tired and sore, however...jersey technology still
needs some improvement in that area). Pizza Man finished one position behind me,
while Matt took 8th place. Nothing better than beating your friends and rivals, and
coming home with a healthy bike and body.
July 15, 2001
Tebbetts, Missouri
3rd of 15 in Open B
In the past two years, Tebbetts has not been kind to me. The race is always held in
July, the month that most of Missouri attempts to recreate life on the surface of the
sun. Actually, that's pretty much the whole summer. But Tebbetts can be brutal not
only for the heat, but also for the fast, pounding course that combines open,
GNCC-type trails with lots of opportunities to get big air. Many of the jumps are
naturally occurring in the woods, which means a slight miscalculation can give you an
upfront and personal encounter with a tree.
I vowed to make my third attempt at this race more successful than my previous two
tries, both 8th place finishes in the bottom third of my class (1999 race; 2000 race).
This year the weather decided to lend its cooperation with sunny skies and slightly
cooler temperatures. Rain showers had passed through the area a few days before
and the course was in beautiful shape. Matt and I talked to the property owner before
the race, and he mentioned that an adjoining landowner was allowing the club to use
150 acres of woods on a trial basis this year. On the practice lap I was pleasantly
surprised to see narrow, virgin trails cut through the new acreage. And the best part
was that this 2-3 mile section replaced the ridiculously narrow motocross track in the
woods. Picture it: a 10-foot-wide track with doubles and a tabletop thrown in.
At the start, PizzaMan lined up next to me with his big KTM 4-stroke and jumped out
ahead. Funny how that electric starter works...the two-strokes actually fire up more
quickly, but once the thumper gets going, it just digs in and powers its way to the front.
Matt also got a good jump on me, and heading into the woods I assumed my familiar
position in the middle of the pack. Shortly into the first lap, PizzaMan crashed ahead of
me and I passed him, but then he caught up and passed me in an open grass
section. He goes amazingly fast in the wide-open stuff with the big Pizza Thumper.
About halfway into that same lap, I saw Matt standing next to the trail with his bike on
the ground, a victim of a tree confrontation (I believe the tree won that battle). I
continued on, slowly moving up in the pack and passing PizzaMan in the new woods
section after he dumped the bike, shearing some teeth off his front sprocket.
The course was basically run in reverse from the last two years, and I liked that layout
much better. Even so, the creek section in reverse was just as long and rocky as
ever. Definitely a place to either make up some time, or lose a lot of time. The
previous week's rains caused a short section of the creek to rise wheel-high, but that
didn't stop guys from plowing through it in third gear.
I never did see Matt or PizzaMan during the rest of the race, but based on past
experience I figured one (or both) of them was close behind. Somewhere in the third
lap, I was following a guy on a KTM who appeared to be slower than me. I readied
myself for a pass, taking a shorter route around a corner that involved hopping over a
small log that was almost parallel to the direction I was heading. We both exited the
corner at the same place and banged bars, so I let him go ahead. He took off and I
never saw him again.
At the scoring gate, I heard what sounded like Matt cheering me on as I began my
fourth and final lap. I could only assume that his day had ended early. About halfway
into the lap, my bike started sounding strange, and then it suddenly became insanely
loud. Imagine ten chain saws surrounding your head, all wound up and ready to cut
some serious wood. A couple miles later I stopped to check out what was going on
and saw that the silencer tube had broken off. Guess that silencer really does help
quiet things down, because with the exhaust blowing straight out the pipe, I surely
was heard many miles away. I think it was advantage in a couple of ways. The guys
ahead of me got the crap scared out of them from the noise and quickly moved out of
my way, while the guys wanting to pass had to keep their distance for fear of partial
hearing loss. Steve Leivan, the overall winner, was the only brave soul who dared to
pass me during that time (Steve's quote after the race: "Huh?"). When I came through
the final stretch before the finish, all eyes were on the loudest bike in the land.
Matt told me I finished 5th or 6th, showed me his shattered rear fender and red marks
all over his body (from crash #3 on lap #1), so we packed up and drove home. That's
the last time I trust him in tracking my results - it was actually a 3rd place finish, and I
could have picked up a trophy. But the feeling of finally conquering this place was all
the reward I needed. And my ears are still ringing.
Park Hills, Missouri
Tebbetts, Missouri
Tebbetts, Missouri
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