St. Joe State Park
Park Hills, Missouri
5th of 17 in B Class
Now that I've ridden the Leadbelt Enduro three times, the best way I can describe it is like this:  hook up a
jackhammer to your ass, turn it on for 4-5 hours, and there you have it.  Despite the 80-mile bum-grind, I did
have fun.  The Blackjack Enduro series changed the classes around this year so that there's no Open B
class like the previous two years.  I competed with all the other B riders on the long course, which meant no
B-class cutoff before the end of the second loop.

At the signup, I was pleased to see that the club had accommodated my request to be on row 10 or higher,
with a 13th row start.  Just enough riders ahead of me to clear out some of the trail, but not too many to make
it choppy on the first loop.  As in years past, the first 5 miles were basically a trail ride, with a 15 mph average.
 No reason to lose any points on a 15 mph average, right?  Sure, if you're a normal person, but this is me
we're talking about.  Somehow I underestimated my speed, didn't look closely enough at my roll chart, and
ended up dropping a point at the first check.  How do you say Stooopid??  Just after the check, the trail came
out at the far corner of the sand flats, where I promptly followed several riders who went straight past the
arrows pointing us into the center of the flats.  After riding a quarter-mile with no sign of an arrow, we all
realized our mistake and backtracked.  Fortunately, the next couple of miles were open, fast sand trails and
the speed average was only 18 mph.  By the time we entered the woods again, I was back on time.  Just
before the gas stop at 16.3 miles, the speed average went up to 24 mph and I dropped two points at the
check coming out to the gas area.  We kept our 24 mph average for awhile before dropping back to 18 mph,
then back up to 24 mph for the last 8 miles of the loop.  The trails wandered through the public area of St. Joe
for about half of the loop and then went off to the normally off-limits area that only gets ridden a couple of
times a year for races.  Some of the singletrack was 4th and 5th gear stuff.  Totally cool going that fast in the
woods.  Picture it...moist trail, just enough traction but not much mud, blazing along in 3rd gear, trees of all
shapes and sizes whizzing by, constant directional changes, the occasional softball-sized rock adding a little
excitement, the feeling of wanting to kiss the steering damper for all the times during the last mile that it
saved my ass, the smack of barkbuster against a tree that got a little too close, a wheelie over a shallow
gully, a perfect 6-inch berm around a tight 90-degree corner, dump the clutch and give'er hell to the next
corner.  Nothing does justice to the experience except getting out and riding as fast as you dare.  And the
Leadbelt Enduro has a little of everything except rocks, which are in nearly infinite supply.

Near the end of the loop, I noticed a photographer near the trail and assumed he might be the same guy who
took pictures at last year's enduro and the Columbia hare scramble.  Later in the year, a set of proofs had
arrived in the mail with two pictures: one of me standing up and looking aggressive in a fast, open section of
the 2000 LeadBelt enduro, and the other of me with my butt firmly planted on the seat during the Columbia
hare scramble, looking like I was coasting back to my truck to refresh myself with a cool beverage.  Guess
which picture I chose to purchase?  Since I didn't want to see another shot of me sitting on my ass, I was
motivated to stand up and look aggressive just before the flash went off (
check it out).

For the first loop I dropped 15 points and had about 15 minutes to regroup and start the second loop.  
Somehow those 15 minutes passed way too quickly, even though all I did was put in some gas, clean my
goggles, eat a granola bar, and add ice cubes to my CamelBak.  As I rode out to the sand flats to start the
loop, I noticed that I had not reset my odometer back to zero, as instructed by the route sheet.  Should take
just a few seconds, right?  Wrong.  I had to turn that darned knob backwards for what seemed like an eternity.
 In an enduro, two minutes can be just that long, and with a cramped left hand I began the final 40 miles.  
Fortunately the first loop check at just short of 5 miles was not there on loop #2, so I was able to make up
some time in the sand flats.  One of my row-mates, fast guy Mike (or is it Jeremy?) Havens, was parked
along the flats letting some time pass, probably wondering what took me so long.  I followed him for the next
few miles, but he left me out of sight when the speed average increased to 24 mph.  After the gas stop at
16.3 miles, it was a race to the finish with a 24 mph average the rest of the way.  No major events over the
next 23 miles, just lots of trail in perfect condition.  I began to feel a bit tired about the time I entered the last
check, but my race was over.  The bike held up perfectly during the longest race I had ever completed.  The
only time I rode more miles in one day might have been in Michigan in 1994.

I felt good about my score of 40, but another guy who also scored 40 beat me on tiebreakers.  Had I not lost a
point at the first check, I would have finished in 4th place but had to settle for 5th.  It was a fun day.

June 3, 2001
Florence, Missouri
Race Cancelled
I had a choice.  I could have driven one hour to White City, Illinois and raced in what surely must have been a
mud bath rivaling last year's June hare scramble.  Instead I chose Florence, 180 miles from my home but
located amongst the rock quarry I like to call Missouri.  Man, I'm turning into a mud wimp.  The Yahoo!
weather forecast showed a chance of rain, but that didn't stop me from failing to pack any rain gear or even a
jacket.  Morning temperatures don't often dip into the 50's during June in St. Louis, so my long sleeve shirt
should have been enough.

At 6:30 a.m. I left my garage and headed for Wentzville to pick up Matt, who had his shiny new Dodge full-size
truck parked in the drive.  He is now a 3-automobile family, so they are sufficiently prepared for 8 years from
now, when Michael can drive himself to the motocross track.  We loaded up my truck and began the long
drive.  At Boonville the rains began, moderate but steady.  We arrived at the race site, 45 miles later, and the
rain had still not let up.  After a half-hour of shivering under the concession stand awning, we signed up to
race and searched for Pizza Man's trailer. By now it was 10:30, the ATV's had finished their race, and the rain
showed no sign of ending in the near future.  Pizza Man let us hang with him under their pop-up awning while
the rain continued.  He offered us sandwiches from
Shakespeare's Pizza that were conveniently wrapped in
cellophane, courtesy of the sorority girls on his payroll, who had been reluctant to accept his offer for "a raise"
until learning that all they had to do was make a few sandwiches for the race.  Come on, girls...he's a family
man for Christ's sake.  Me, on the other hand....

At 11:30, the rain was still steady and had not let up for about 3 hours.  We had already decided that a
practice lap was out of the question but it was time to get dressed to ride.  At 12:00 I warmed up the bike with
a few short sprints around the starting area, which was just enough time to get completely muddy and
soaked.  Every low spot was covered with water, the ground completely saturated.  At 12:30 a guy came
around and announced that the race was called off and we were to go back to the signup area and get our
money back.  Matt and I lined up in the rain and waited for about 15 minutes, got back our $20 and decided
that as long as we were dressed to ride, we might as well do a loop around the course.  The word around
the staging area was that one of the creeks had risen to waist-level and the current was swift, so it was a
safety issue that caused a premature end to our day.  We figured we would go as far as we could, but that
ended up being not much more than a mile.  Where the trail came to the edge of the staging area, a guy
pointed us back to the parking lot.  End of the ride.

By this time we were cold, wet, and muddy, after riding a total of about 10 minutes.  After a change into
semi-dry clothes, we packed up and drove home.  The rain ended at about 1:00, just as we pulled out of the
parking lot.  Should have ridden White City, dammit.


2001 Race Reports
Park Hills, Missouri
Florence, Missouri