USRA Round 4: Firebirds Hare Scrambles

I learned a valuable valuable lesson this race. A couple actually. Never go between races without a ride, (At Right: The first two experts...in a league of their own) and never do major upgrades or mechanical work right before a race either...specifically suspension upgrades.

A bit of a debacle occurred after Rhino Rally - I sent the Blue Tank to a shop in St. George Utah to get the suspension done, which included the installation of a new rear shock spring. We picked up the bike a few weeks later on a family trip to Mesquite and discovered the rear shock spring had not been installed. Sage Riders was coming up soon and so we had the spring sent to us (and when I say "we" or "us" I'm referring to my brother Paul and myself), but it came with about a week before the race. It's interesting to me how I was able to be smart about this once, but then stupid about it later.

I opted not to install it before Sage Riders - I didn't want to have a new setup and no time to tune it before a race. So I waited until after Sage Riders. I started taking the bike apart shortly after that race and working on the new spring. If you don't know me very well, let me let you in on a bit of my personality. I am not mechanically minded, nor very apt for that kind of thing either. However as part of this racing gig I decided to become such, and it's been a treat to be sure...a pretty sour one, but a treat nonetheless.

There was three weeks between Sage Riders and Firebirds so I figured I had plenty of time to do the job. The riding between races had become a bit of a trial for my family as well, so it worked out well in that I wouldn't be riding between these races due to the upgrade. The plan was for me to replace the shock spring, and then Paul who had recently had some education on tuning suspension would take it out one weekend and "dial it in" so it was a better ride.

However the plan didn't quite work out - it took me a lot longer to swap out the springs than intended, and Paul was never able to take it out and tune it.

Come race day, Paul went out a day early to camp and was going to tune it then. While doing so he discovered that I had done something incorrect and so took the bike apart again. (At Left: Paul not far off the start) Upon closer inspection he also discovered that I hadn't tightened the bolts up that keep the suspension in place either. There were other problems including a leak in the oil on the shock mechanism. While I was driving down the to the race I got a call from him on his way to the nearby town of Delta, Utah where there was a pro shop that could look at the suspension and hopefully fix what he had found wrong with it.

The shop there ended up rebuilding it as it was in bad shape. Back at the pits I had arrived and saw the Blue Tank there torn apart waiting for Paul to get back. All I could do was wait.

Paul got back and we put it back together in a hurry and then "tuned" the suspension. Though Paul knew what he was doing we didn't have the proper time to actually test it, and make sure we were doing it right. This was exactly what I had wanted to avoid at Sage Riders.

While waiting for Paul to return with the suspension I had ample opportunity to walk the start line and area a great deal. (At Right: The Blue Tank under the knife for the rear suspension operation) I found a great line and was able to walk the entirety of it. This turned out to serve Paul pretty well but not me so much.

We were still a little late getting out to the start line (not that this would matter either) as we finished last minute stuff on the bikes, so the lineup I had picked was taken, but we were able to get a spot near there. I fully intended on another perfect start since I felt I had discovered the "trick" to it at Sage Riders, and I was excited to be racing my brother off the start since we hadn't started next to each other yet.

The year before at this race there had been some pretty major crashes that ended in some serious injuires. I think it was something like two broken femurs, among other things. They were running the exact same course as the prior year so they were taking precautions and having an extra ambulance come to the race. That second ambulance was late. Very very late. We sat on the start line for what seemed forever. So long that all the pre-race jitters usually associated with lining up had long faded.

After 30 minutes or an hour or so it finally arrived and the race could begin. (At Left: I couldn't start the bike, but I looked cool when I finally got going! Right?) When the experts took off I did a practice kick and the Blue Tank fired right up. It was all but guaranteed that I would get a perfect start again.

Our line came up and the banner was hoisted. The minute wait time seemed more like 10 minutes as my focus was solely on the banner and everything else in my vision disappeared. The banner dropped and I kicked and let out the clutch and gassed it all at the same time...just like at Sage Riders the race before. Only this time everyone around me took off and I wasn't moving. The shock of the bike not starting took a second to realize. I started kicking frantically to start it - and oh what a familiar feeling. It was just like at Rhino Rally when I stalled it and couldn't start it again. There were a couple other guys around me who hadn't started first kick either. Now it was more of a race to see who could start their bike first!

I lost that contest too. The next line was getting ready to go and the race workers were looking at me wondering if it had already ended for me. I took a break from trying and just sat there, feeling pretty angry. After a minute or so I kicked with a vengeance and it fired up and I let loose and took off.

This had a positive side - going through the start area with all those bikes was a giant wall of dust (see pictures posted throughout this post). Since it had taken me so long to start there wasn't much dust left over and I could see fine...until I caught up to everyone, which only took me a mile or so.

When I did I couldn't see anything. I've never seen dust that thick. Seeing through it was bad enough, breathing it was something else altogether. I was angry, in a hurry and fury, and I could hardly see...this was a bad combination. I made a lot of passes and worked to get ahead of the giant wall of dust as best I could. I went down a couple times when the dust would clear ahead of me for a brief moment and a tree stump or large rock would be waiting for me.

But my perseverance paid off and I finally passed what felt like the bulk of slower riders. (At Right: 3 words, WALL OF DUST) The course started turning up some hills and gaining elevation, and was looking familiar too - this was some of the same stuff I rode three weeks before at Sage Riders. I was doing really well until I caught up to another amateur rider who was much larger/wider than I was. I wish I would have remembered his number but I wasn't in a normal mental state at the time. He was much slower than me and less skilled, but one area he beat me in was taking up all the trail so I couldn't pass. Me and another rider much younger (and better) than me were both stuck behind him and this guy used all his mass to his advantage to keep us there.

The younger rider finally couldn't take it anymore and took off into the trees. I was amazed as I saw him go way out and very fast to pass this large amateur. I wasn't quite that daring, but stayed back waiting for my chance to take him.

I was looking ahead of him and saw a corner coming in the course, I also saw some tracks of riders who had taken the corner tight, probably in an effort to pass. This was my chance. The sign used to mark the corner for some reason made me think it was an immediate and hard 90 degree left, so I cut it even sharper than the other tracks had in order to not give this guy a chance to keep me back.

The corner went up a hill, but when I got up there I couldn't see the course anymore. For whatever reason I just assumed it went even harder left, to almost 180 degrees. As I cut cross country through the trees to find it again I got in a tight spot and actually got my handlebars stuck between two trees. I couldn't go forward, and now I had to use precious energy to try and turn around. To make matters even better the bike stalled again.

After much effort I finally got it loose and turned around back the way I came, got back and the course and went on my not-so-merry way. (At Left: Paul is not far off the leaders on the bomb run...thanks to my pep talk on the line moments earlier) I had lost all that ground I had made, and noticed I was now in the middle in the Novice pack. It was Rhino Rally all over again, though thankfully without the T-Bone crash...yet.

I didn't get T-Boned again thankfully, but instead I had much more terrifying experience. The trail continued up and up and up, and was on the ridge of a hill. I had gotten into a niche, was going fast, there was no one else around. I rounded a small corner and all of the sudden noticed my front tire was up in the air right in front of me. Somehow I had pulled up a huge wheelie and I was clearly out of control. This startling discovery gave my hand a reaction similar to when I had landed wrong on the jump at Mesquite - I simply gave it more gas, making the wheelie bigger and making me go faster, and losing more control.

I went through the first tree pretty easy - the small cedar scrubs aren't the thickest of trees. The second one jostled me pretty good and brought the bike to a much slower speed and the front tire back on the ground. The third one wasn't about to back down to me now, and I had the sensation of being impaled only luckily it wasn't for real - I was just hung up in the tree with a bunch of wood and leaves and the like in my mouth. The bike had flipped up and had caught my left wrist and pinned it to the trunk, and the position my body was in didn't really give me any ability or leverage to move it.

I can't imagine what I looked like to the first guy that came passed me. Had that been me I don't know if I would have been able to repress the desire to laugh as I'm sure it was a very comical looking scenario. However I guess he was a Novice racer who had a chance of doing good, because he didn't stop. The next guy did though - I think he was an Amateur but I'm not sure as I wasn't seeing too clearly at the time either.

He asked if I was okay, came over and moved the bike and then I sent him on. I just sat there, in pain, and bewildered. I couldn't figure out how it had happened. I couldn't remember what made the tire come up in the first place. I was also pretty shaken up - even though this wasn't as hard hitting as getting T-Boned was, I didn't have anyone else or anything else to blame in this wreck. I had completely gone out of control and had plowed through the trees and ate tree in the end.

My face was throbbing, my wrist was throbbing, I touched my face and looked at my fingers and saw a good deal of blood. My teeth were really sore. (At Right: This isn't so much a wall of dust as it is a total fog of war) I was shaking.

A few more people stopped and asked if I was okay and true to form I just waved them on and said I was fine. I didn't know what I was going to do or what to do. I thought about just sitting there and waiting for the sweepers, but I figured that would be a long time since the Experts would be doing the loop three times before the sweepers came on the course. I also didn't want Paul to come by on his second loop through and see me there and stop to see if I was okay, which would cause him to lose time.

I had an interesting thought while sitting there. Paul called it my conscious, and you can think what you will, but I shouldn't say it wasn't so much an interesting thought as it was an answer. I was asking myself why had this happened, how had this happened etc. The thought came into my mind as a voice that I had never heard before, and it was clear and concise, "You crashed so that you would have an opportunity to stop this race and walk away with minor injuries, instead of major ones."

If you know me well you'll know that I'm an active Mormon. Each race I pray for safety and so far I've walked away from every race, more or less safe (as in not in an ambulance or in a wheelchair). I felt that this crash was an answer to that race's prayer.

The underlying cause was soon discovered a few weeks later when Paul had a race in Arizona and had two really bad wrecks that seemed inexplicable. Turns out his suspension was all whacked up and as a result he couldn't control the bike in certain situations - just like I couldn't that day. A closer look at the Blue Tank's suspension after this race proved that indeed we hadn't adjusted it correctly at all, we had adjusted it to make it worse (funny too - when Paul had his two wrecks at that later race he said he listened to his "inner Nathan voice" that told him to call that race quits as well so he didn't get hurt worse).

After a good 20 minutes or so I finally decided to try and move myself out of there. I got up and tried starting the bike, which of course wouldn't. It took me a long time to make that happen, but it finally did (this would be the beginning of a problem that I only just recently fixed). Luckily for me the first checkpoint was just down the hill from where I crashed - the 10 mile mark. Getting to the check was excruciating - every bump my wrist felt was like a knife stabbing into it. I got to it after some effort and pulled off to the side. I guess I looked okay because the guys there marked my fender and then went back to the trail to mark off other riders.

It wasn't until I had been there a minute and was having obvious trouble standing there holding my bike that someone asked if I was okay. I asked for directions to go straight back to the pits and one of the guys offered to lead me there. It wasn't as bad getting back thanks to most of it being on graded roads but I struggled nonetheless. I was feeling light headed and weak.

I rolled into the pits and went straight to the ambulance to have everything looked over. (At Left: My DNF Trophy proudly on display as I watch others finish) As I entered the ambulance I happened to notice Paul coming in to Pit Row but he was doing really good so didn't notice my bike sitting there.

The medical staff on site there was really nice and helped out a great deal. Through a great deal of wincing they managed to clean up my face - I had a good long cut the top of my throat up to my chin. My gums were bleeding or something, and they checked out my wrist really closely and put a splint on it - my DNF trophy.

And that's really it - I walked back to the pits and sat down watching the rest of the racers come through. My first (and only if I can help it) DNF, Did Not Finish. I even got a trophy for it - a wrist splint.

When Paul finally finished he came in and saw me and just shook his head. He had a good race but met some stiff competition in a few places. He did manage to beat the leader of our class though which was a good thing for his points. Carlo wasn't far behind him which gave him a first place finish in his class. Getting loaded up and leaving the race was difficult with only one good hand, but we managed okay. (At Right: I'd be as happy as Carlo is here too if I had won my class that day like he did)

It was pretty disappointing in the end, but at the same time I'm glad I got the opportunity to see the consequences of my decisions so I can learn from them. And of course I'm thankful I didn't have a worse crash with more serious injuries.