As Xmas and the end of year beckoned, the Wicked Wombat, an 8 hr mtb enduro run on New Year's Eve caught my eye. Good chance to finish off the year doing something a little different, escape Sydney, and use it as a stepping stone to do some stuff on the south coast and in the Snowies over the dead-time awaiting the year proper to get under way. Given the name, how could i refuse? Anita seemed not to be opposed to the idea so it was go.
Getting a little ahead if myself though. The four days preceding Xmas were spent up in the Sunshine Coast attending a wedding and catching up with Anita's folks. Mercifully the weather wasn't too hot. Got over 100 species of birds in the bag too (always easier to get big numbers in the tropics), and some soothing dips in the ocean. After the formalities of Xmas back in Sydney with family, and catching up with various peoples (thanks Kev/Dee, Ham/Lisa, Ben/Cheryl, Iain/Kate), the Mudge and I drove down to Jindabyne and "Bungarra", just south of the lake and town.
The Bungarra property contains over 20 km of really nice flowy trails, and for the second year was hosting the Wombat on NYE. Come race morning it was clear that a scorcher was on the cards. And in more ways than one - extra burny at 1000 meters. Although the course was only a 10 km loop, with almost no place to feed, that first bottle went down fast, and set the tone for the race - more or less a bottle a lap would be consumed. Although I've never done an 8 hr before I guessed that staving off dehydration would be key. Although my early laps were roughly 35 minute splits, these would blow out to 40 minutes for the remainder.
The course wasn't overly technical by any measure, but this didn't prevent the rider in front of me (ironically a fit dude on a 29er) from collecting a rock and going A over T midway through the first lap. This immediately made me worry about Anita, who had talked herself into racing, although I got the distinct impression just before the start that she really didn't really want to partake. Add the fact that the sections of track we had nervously ridden together prior to the start were comparatively easy compared with some of what was on offer. When I rolled into transition after my second lap there was no sign of her, nor an alteration to items on my pit table. Starting to fear the worst! However, come my third visit to the pits a new bottle was waiting on my table, a sign that all was OK. When we next caught up she seemed to even be enjoying it.
And so the race progressed. Each lap I would enter the pit, dump a bottle, pick up a new one and a gel/banana/whatever. At almost exactly the four hour mark I rolled into the pits having completed my 7th lap, meaning that if I dropped one during the remaining 4 hours a tally on 13 was going to be the likely result - incidentally the same number tallied by the solo winner the previous year on a similar coarse. Dropping a lap was inevitable as i was starting to fatigue and my guts were starting to complain a little (too many grapes consumed in transition). Anita's news was less rosy. On the way to completing her 5th lap she was undone in a rock garden and cracked at least one rib (the clicking was clearly audible when she inhaled/exhaled). We discussed a trip to the local hospital, but she was adamant there wasn't much to be done in any case. Whilst the thought of abandoning was tempting, given that i seemed to be running 4th in the solo category Anita reckoned I should soldier on.
So after my only lengthy pit of the race (15-20 min, which I was quite thankful of) I got back on course for the second half. For the last three hours cramp was always just below the surface. With 2 hours to go I got the news that I had slipped to 6th. I tried to upp the pace for the remainder but didn't realize any improvement in splits. In the wash up 6th is where I stayed, and the time I had off the bike would not have made much difference. The competition was simply too classy, with another rider finishing ahead of me with 13 laps, three on 14, and the winner on 15 laps (Mr McDonald, and the one most consider likely to knock Mr English off his 24hr perch). Unwittingly Anita had entered a category that many fear to tread (solo female), and as such her 4 completed laps were good enough for third in category and a trip to the podium, cracked ribs and all. Not bad for your first ever mtb race! (and as some have suggested, maybe an opportune time to quit while you're ahead as podiums are increasingly more difficult to come by as numbers at such events swell every year as word gets out).
Anita and I were a sorry pair that eve. Anita with her ribs and me cramping at almost every available opportunity. Hence a fitful sleep was entered by both come around 10 pm, and yet again we managed to round out a NYE without fanfare, maddening crowds or a hangover. It was now time for both holiday mode and 2013 to kick in.
Getting a little ahead if myself though. The four days preceding Xmas were spent up in the Sunshine Coast attending a wedding and catching up with Anita's folks. Mercifully the weather wasn't too hot. Got over 100 species of birds in the bag too (always easier to get big numbers in the tropics), and some soothing dips in the ocean. After the formalities of Xmas back in Sydney with family, and catching up with various peoples (thanks Kev/Dee, Ham/Lisa, Ben/Cheryl, Iain/Kate), the Mudge and I drove down to Jindabyne and "Bungarra", just south of the lake and town.
The Bungarra property contains over 20 km of really nice flowy trails, and for the second year was hosting the Wombat on NYE. Come race morning it was clear that a scorcher was on the cards. And in more ways than one - extra burny at 1000 meters. Although the course was only a 10 km loop, with almost no place to feed, that first bottle went down fast, and set the tone for the race - more or less a bottle a lap would be consumed. Although I've never done an 8 hr before I guessed that staving off dehydration would be key. Although my early laps were roughly 35 minute splits, these would blow out to 40 minutes for the remainder.
The course wasn't overly technical by any measure, but this didn't prevent the rider in front of me (ironically a fit dude on a 29er) from collecting a rock and going A over T midway through the first lap. This immediately made me worry about Anita, who had talked herself into racing, although I got the distinct impression just before the start that she really didn't really want to partake. Add the fact that the sections of track we had nervously ridden together prior to the start were comparatively easy compared with some of what was on offer. When I rolled into transition after my second lap there was no sign of her, nor an alteration to items on my pit table. Starting to fear the worst! However, come my third visit to the pits a new bottle was waiting on my table, a sign that all was OK. When we next caught up she seemed to even be enjoying it.
And so the race progressed. Each lap I would enter the pit, dump a bottle, pick up a new one and a gel/banana/whatever. At almost exactly the four hour mark I rolled into the pits having completed my 7th lap, meaning that if I dropped one during the remaining 4 hours a tally on 13 was going to be the likely result - incidentally the same number tallied by the solo winner the previous year on a similar coarse. Dropping a lap was inevitable as i was starting to fatigue and my guts were starting to complain a little (too many grapes consumed in transition). Anita's news was less rosy. On the way to completing her 5th lap she was undone in a rock garden and cracked at least one rib (the clicking was clearly audible when she inhaled/exhaled). We discussed a trip to the local hospital, but she was adamant there wasn't much to be done in any case. Whilst the thought of abandoning was tempting, given that i seemed to be running 4th in the solo category Anita reckoned I should soldier on.
So after my only lengthy pit of the race (15-20 min, which I was quite thankful of) I got back on course for the second half. For the last three hours cramp was always just below the surface. With 2 hours to go I got the news that I had slipped to 6th. I tried to upp the pace for the remainder but didn't realize any improvement in splits. In the wash up 6th is where I stayed, and the time I had off the bike would not have made much difference. The competition was simply too classy, with another rider finishing ahead of me with 13 laps, three on 14, and the winner on 15 laps (Mr McDonald, and the one most consider likely to knock Mr English off his 24hr perch). Unwittingly Anita had entered a category that many fear to tread (solo female), and as such her 4 completed laps were good enough for third in category and a trip to the podium, cracked ribs and all. Not bad for your first ever mtb race! (and as some have suggested, maybe an opportune time to quit while you're ahead as podiums are increasingly more difficult to come by as numbers at such events swell every year as word gets out).
Anita and I were a sorry pair that eve. Anita with her ribs and me cramping at almost every available opportunity. Hence a fitful sleep was entered by both come around 10 pm, and yet again we managed to round out a NYE without fanfare, maddening crowds or a hangover. It was now time for both holiday mode and 2013 to kick in.
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