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Polo, Missouri
3rd of 13 in Vet
Matt Sellers and I have been making the long drive to Polo for the last 3 years, and each time
one of us has come back with a messed up body. I started the trend two years ago with a
shoulder injury from a nasty crash in a pasture gully wash. Last year Matt took a
season-ending high-speed fall in an open area and broke his collarbone and a couple of
ribs. This year it was me again, coming home with a badly sprained ankle.
From my house to Adam Ashcroft's race site is almost exactly 250 miles, but the drive is
always worth it. The Polo race is one of the few bike-only venues on the MHSC schedule,
which makes the trails a blast to ride. The absence of fat-tired vehicles kept the course
narrow and a whole lot smoother, as some of the rocks actually stayed put without undue
influence from trail-widening stampedes known as ATV hare scrambles. This year's course
was extremely dry, with huge cracks showing in the parched soil. The practice lap was
predictably dusty, but for much of the day cloud cover kept the sun from broiling us to
medium rare.
At the start, I lined up next to #106 Wade Hall, back on his Yamaha after a wrist injury at
Westphalia. With his wrist was still healing, Wade planned to do just one lap to ease back
into racing form, but toughed it out for two. For a change, I actually got a decent start and
was in 3rd place at the first turn. Soon after, #383 Neal Soenksen took an undeveloped
inside line and passed me. I followed him closely through the first few miles of the 9.3-mile
course until we came upon a slower rider in a class that started ahead of us. In the first dry
creek section, I took a risky line through some tall grass and passed both Neal and the
slower rider on the left. Ahead of me was #226 Jerry McCasland on his Honda and #81 Matt
Weis, in the lead and setting a fast pace. I followed Jerry for much of the first lap and tried to
find a good place to make a pass. Near the end of the lap was a series of dry creek beds full
of sharp-edged rocks, and I decided to attempt a third-gear pass. A couple of slower riders
were ahead of us, and since the pass on Neal had worked so well while he was following a
slower rider, I decided to try the same thing on Jerry. But this time my front wheel hit an
odd-shaped rock and abruptly sent me in the wrong direction. I almost saved it, but in an
instant I was on the ground with a sore left ankle. I took some time to pick up the bike and
saw a group of riders including #442 Steve Crews go by. I figured Neal was in the group
somewhere and I was back in the middle of the pack. I didn't lose too much time getting back
on the bike and the ankle pain subsided within a minute or two. But the crash had cost me
some valuable momentum.
I finished the first lap in 6th place, just ahead of Neal. As hard as I tried, I just couldn't be as
aggressive with pain in my gear-shifter foot. Several times I found myself taking the easy way
up rocky hills to avoid having to stick out my left foot for balance. Every so often I would
brush my sore foot against a rock or tree, which normally I wouldn't have even noticed, but
each time it happened at Polo the pain was sharp and intense. On a tricky, rock-infested
uphill my left foot made contact with a boulder and I let out a string of expletives...in front of
the Hammerdown Video crew.
Over the next two laps I slowly worked my way up the pack. By the end of the 3rd lap, #76
Gary Mittleberg and #237 Elston Moore were way out in front of the Vet class. Near the
middle of that 3rd lap I heard the unmistakable sound of a small-bore engine screaming
behind me and closing fast. #128 Zach Bryant, well on his way to the A class, passed by and
I tried to follow. His throttle must have been locked at halfway, because I never heard the
RPM's slow down to anywhere close to idle. It takes tons of aggressiveness and incredibly
smooth clutch work to keep the rear wheel tracking effectively under such power, and the
200B class fast guy made it look easy. On the lazy man's bike of choice, my 300EXC grunted
while Zach's screamed. Descending the steep downhill that was last year's toughest
ledge-filled climb, Zach took a spill and I tried my best not to run over his bike while he
attempted to drag it off the trail. In no time, he was screaming around me again.
The highlight of my fourth and final lap came near the end, just after the same creek section
that had created my pain and suffering. With Open B winner Mark Kendall closing the
2-minute gap between our classes, I caught a glimpse of a brown snake lying across the trail.
Like Indiana Jones, I hate snakes. I lifted up both feet like a kid riding his bike through a mud
puddle and ran over the snake. Mark did the same, probably without the wuss-style leg lift.
After it was over, I could hardly walk. At some point during the race I had smacked my right
foot against something (possibly the foot peg) and it hurt almost as bad as my sprained left
ankle. I was pretty much worthless for anything except driving, so once again Matt did most of
the heavy lifting as we prepared for the long ride home. Matt had another good race and
finished 3rd in Open B. All things considered, I was happy with my 3rd place finish in the Vet
class. Now, let the healing begin....
August 24, 2003
Sedalia, Missouri
8th of 9 in Vet
Ever feel like you're pushing your luck? Two weeks after a severe ankle sprain at Polo, that's
how I felt at Round 12 of the Missouri Hare Scrambles Championship. The day after Polo, it
took just about all the pain tolerance I could muster to walk from my downtown parking
garage to the office. But with each passing day I saw small improvements. I measured my
progress on how well I could keep up with a rather, shall we say, 350 pound lady who each
day makes a heavily labored trip to and from the same parking garage. On Monday, the day
after the injury, she smoked me. On Friday, two days before the Sedalia race, I finally
outpaced her. That was progress enough to prepare the KTM for racing. The final test came
Saturday afternoon, when I shoved my fat foot into the AXO's and strapped up the boot. I
passed.
I was going to Sedalia.
Matt drove his big rig to the race site southeast of town on another warm, dry morning. For
the first time this year, we brought his pop-up awning and my amazingly comfortable folding
chairs (footrests make all the difference, believe me). Both were much appreciated in the hot
sun. The area had received some rain during the week, which kept down dust levels in the
woods. Still, with many weeks since the last significant amount of precipitation, the course
looked dry.
I had some concern with how the ankle would respond to gear shifting, but after a fistful of
Advil and a couple initial shifts on the practice lap it felt fine. As usual, I treated practice as a
full-on sprint, unable to make myself slow down and take a close look at the course. As
expected, the trails were dry but the dust was manageable. By the end of the lap, with #221
Mike Hamilton screaming behind me, I was beat. Two weeks of R&R had ruined my stamina.
What was especially disappointing is that those two weeks were the best this summer for
after-work heat training on the bicycle. Until mid-August, we'd only had a few days of
upper-90's temperatures in the St. Louis area. There's nothing more effective than torturing
yourself in the heat to prepare for hot Sundays, but I'd missed out on the heat wave between
Polo and Sedalia, instead lounging around the house with my left "kankle," watching Queer
Eye reruns and the Nick Lachey/Jessica Simpson reality show on MTV.
To explain how tired I was after the practice lap, picture me napping in my comfy chair
beneath Matt's awning. I could have slept well into the afternoon, but I woke up in time to ride
to the starting line. I took an inside position next to the woods, which also happened to be the
most shaded spot on the line. The start was a sprint through an open field that paralleled
part of the course that was just inside the woods on the right. After 100 yards or so we cut
into the woods and joined up with the course. I entered the woods in my typical mid-pack
position, trying to keep up with #442 Steve Crews. He jumped out in front and left me
searching for clean air on the ATV section of the course. Eventually we exited the wide trails
and began several miles of new singletrack. Steve and #237 Elston Moore both fell just as
the trails narrowed, and #76 Gary Mittelberg and I passed them. I tried to keep up with Gary,
but he gradually pulled away with his smooth style on the Yamaha 4-stroke. Elston caught up
quickly and passed me after I bobbled coming out of a gully. Elston is fun to follow because
his lines are almost always what I'd choose. Passing opportunities were scarce, and although
I had a chance in a heavily whooped creek section, I held back and continued following
Elston. I didn't want risk further injury so early in the race. Little did I know that more pain was
in my immediate future.
My ankle held out surprisingly well, other than the times I planted my left foot for balance
around sharp turns. I continued to follow Elston through the singletrack and into the final
section of ATV trails. About a mile before the scoring trailer, my right hand guard clipped a
tree and I lost my grip on the bars. The KTM veered to the left, but I couldn't get my right
hand back on the bars in time to correct the bike. It seemed very clear to me that I was
heading straight into a tree, so I did something I have never done before in all of my years of
riding and racing dirt bikes.
I bailed.
Normally, I'll ride out a sure crash until something -- a tree, a rock, the ground -- stops me
and the bike. I once stuck with my KTM as it nose-dived down a 3-foot creek bank and broke
a couple of ribs when the bike flipped on top of me. That's how committed (or stupid) I am to
going down with my bike. But on this day, I decided to sacrifice the bike instead of my body
and I jumped off. There was one minor problem: I bailed directly into a tree at about 20 mph.
It was a full frontal body slam, the kind where breathing is difficult afterwards and the world
becomes eerily quiet. My ribs hurt. My legs hurt. Heck, even the twins were suffering. I gave
Steve Crews the thumbs up as he passed by, then searched for my bike. It had chosen a
clear path through the woods and lay on its side about 50 feet from me. I sat for awhile,
watched Matt ride by, and then tested my most important body parts. Everything seemed
functional, so I got back on the bike and finished the first lap.
I considered quitting right away, but after a few minutes on the bike I felt O.K. and wanted to
ride some more. So I did another lap and it was fun. But I just didn't have it in me to do 2+
hours, so I called it a day after the 2nd lap, a little over an hour into the race. I rested my
sore body in my comfy chair while Matt completed 5 laps. Gary Mittelberg continued his
winning ways in the Vet class and took the win, while the nearly unbeatable Steve Leivan
captured yet another overall victory.
