24 (or 13?) Hours of Rocky Hills Ranch MTB race 2019 edition
I competed in my third 24 Hours of Rocky Hills Ranch MTB race last weekend, in the solo 40+ bracket. Like it says on the tin, it’s a 24 hour race, and the ranch on which it takes place is rocky and hilly.
Me and this race have history – I came in first in 2017, and second in 2018. As this was my last chance at the event before leaving the US, I really wanted to regain my first place crown.
Foreshadowing warning… Weather was forecast to be hot and dry: 34C during the day, 22C at night.
For the third year in a row I failed to find a friend dumb enough to stay up all night and be my pit crew, so Plan B back into effect – a bottle of whisky and some American brashness to ask another team to help me out. Thankfully the same team (Team Over The Bars) of six from 2017 and 2018 were attending, and graciously accepted my whisky. Ungraciously, they never did share any of it with me!
Quick aside – this Jeep belongs to one of the guys from TeamOTB. I will admit it – as a Texan boy I do love proper American trucks!
Unloading of gear, etc took way too much energy, but eventually it was done, my pit was set up, and instructions given. Pit location was perfect – just before the start/finish line.
At the start line I chatted with Glen Harrod, who was one place behind me in previous years (second in 2017, third in 2018). We continued chatting as we fast-walked the Le Mans-style running start. You can’t win a 24 solo in the first few hundred yards, but you can definitely lose it!
It was hot – I had planned to keep my HR in zones 2 and 3 throughout the race, but for the first two three laps I was squarely in zones 4 and 5. Even coasting down the hills, my HR would jump up! This was beginning to be not fun.
On lap 2 I realised I had way too much air in my tires, so at the pit stop I dropped the pressure. Lap 3 I had to pit again quickly as my shift lever had come loose.
All of this was under pressure from Glen – he was just a couple minutes behind me throughout the first three laps.
Now – anyone who has done an endurance race knows there’s a point, actually usually several points, in the race where your morale is down and you just think “fuck it, I should bail on this race. I’m not enjoying it”. The real mettle in endurance racing is knowing that, and knowing you’ll get through it. Usually for me that moment hits around 2AM.
But by the end of lap 3 I was ready to bail – I was hating life, couldn’t get into a comfortable pace, it was hot, oh – and I had smacked into a tree on lap 2 and my shoulder was hurting like a mofo! But I was in first place – you can’t really bail on a race when you’re in first, can you?
Finally, I had settled into a pace – laps 3 to 6 were each spot on 90 minutes. I switched the lights on at the end of lap 5, and started feeling a bit better as I know Glen doesn’t do as well during the night laps as I do. All those years outrunning the mental tigers and bogeymen during night rides in Singapore pay off!
The night started bringing out all the interesting animals. I lost count of how many frogs I ran over, but I do know how many snakes I ran over – exactly one big fat rat snake, which had probably been gorging on all the frogs, and scared the bejeezus out of me.
In the tail end of lap 7 it started to sprinkle a bit. “That’s weird, there was absolutely no rain forecast. Oh well, this’ll cool things down nicely” I thought.
Starting lap 8 it was a proper storm – lightning, trails became rivers and I wondered how many fish I was running over now!
The course is super tight and twists back on itself a lot. At night you can usually see the lights of other riders through the trees, but I wasn’t seeing any so I guessed the organisers had stopped anyone else going out shortly after I went through the start/finish. Trails were definitely getting dodgy – wet roots, clay soil that when wet is more slippery than a pocketful of pudding.
I made it to the pits at about 1AM, making it a two hour (!) lap, and the guys there said the race was on hold and the organisers were taking racer votes on whether to call the race. No one had predicted this storm, and the organisers didn’t have a contingency plan/route (unlike last year, when rain was pretty much guaranteed at some point).
I went on through to the start/finish to close out my lap, and speak to the organisers. I cast my vote to continue – I came here to race, and speaking as a native Texan I know the rest of these wusses don’t have the vast experience of rainy/wet/cold/miserable Scottish mountain biking experience I have.
Seriously – I believe that racing in properly shit weather is one of my competitive advantages in the US!
Eventually around 2AM the organisers made the decision to stop the race clock and call the race. The good news was I was in first (in my bracket), and I didn’t have to suffer anymore. My nutsack and taint were very happy about this. The bad news – I had expected to ride all night, so had no camping gear. I did manage to play the sympathy card and get use of a lounging camp chair under a shelter to rest in, until the awards ceremony at 8AM. And one of the other teams offered me full access to their cooler full of beers. The fools!
After 13 hours of racing, I came in first in the 40+ solo male bracket, and in fact would have been first in the 0-39 age bracket too – a win for us old farts! In the “open male” category (supposedly Cat 2 / Cat 1 / Pro racers) I would have come second, but this just shows how uncompetitive the endurance racing scene is in Texas. I fully believe – having done the Relentless 24 and other Scottish 12/24 hour races – that my performances would put me middle of the field in the UK.
After every one of these 24 hour races, I always say “never again – that’s the last one.” They aren’t fun, and I really don’t know why I do them. Inevitably though, the memory of the pain goes away, and somehow just the fun (what fun?) memories remain, and I sign up for another one.
Unfortunately, this year I don’t even have the ability to say “never again”. I’m signed up to do the Strathpuffer 24 – a race I am on record as saying I would never, ever under any circumstances ever do – as a pair.
So – I’m a fucking idiot.