Hangover Resolution

The clock strikes 12:00, celebrating neighbors let off unused
fireworks from the last 4th. Other neighbors’ dogs complain. I get
ready for bed and for the day ahead.

The clock strikes 7:00 and my alarm screams at me to get up. Three
seconds later the worn out snooze button is blindly depressed. This
step is repeated several times before my bare feet touch the shag of
my carpet. Despite my distaste for early rising I’m on time and
reasonable ready the start of the 2008 Hangover Scrambles held at
Washougal MX park. Prearations actually started for me at
Thanksgiving. That is when I started stepping up my intake. Consuming
hundreds and even thousands of calories more than I could burn in a
day. My already impressive love handles merged into a full blown
muffin top thanks to all the hommade treats, edible vendor gifts and
general office junk food. To preserve this new form of body shape I
made sure to be as inactive as possible. I haddn’t been on a serious
ride since the last week in October. I attempted to get the feel back
the Saturday before the race when I went to Hindsite’s indoor
facility. I got a late start and put in four 8 minute (yellow flag
filled) motos before a poor dude imitated a lawn dart, fracturing his
femur in the process.

10:30ish. Nearly 300 riders line up in rows for the 40+, 250Am and
OpenAm. I sit comfortably nestled in the middle. Warmed by the
exhaust of pistons pushed by a mix of pump, premix and race gas.
While listening to the instructions provided by the race organizer I
studied the competition. I half admired the bling of knobs adorned
with studs and wondering where they would have the edge.

40+ started the first wave. One participant gloated that this was one
of the perks of being old among a few other not so wise comments.
Once they left and the smell of Old Spice and beef jerkey cleared is
was our turn. A dead engine start with both hands held up in the air.
I got a great jump and was 5th into the first turn. A minute later I
picked off two more.

After clearing the first grass section we ran into a 40+ mess in the
wooded area. Bottlenecks that look and flowed like the DMV at lunch
time. I did my best to keep momentum and pick the most open lane, but
made a time consuming mistake trying to sweep around the outside of a
rider who fell into me. Fortunately I held the clutch in and helped
his bike off mine with my left foot.

With the first lap complete I had a good dose of arm pump with a touch
of frozen fingertips. The second lap went well. I was still wearing
my goggles and was enjoying every second. The course was muddy, but
it wasn’t hard to find traction. Bottlenecks still plagued the woods
and a few ruts started to develope. The MX section seemed to be the
most difficult. The wet loam made it feel like I was riding an XR100
in sand.

Third lap and still having a good time. That was until I chose the
wrong rut in the woods and encountered a stalled rider. He was on a
KTM four stroke and wearing blue gear. His pegs were stuck inside the
wall of the rut and he told me I better back out after his rear tire
spun mud over my goggs. I felt like riding his bike out for him, and
and probably should have for it would have saved me time and energy.
I literally placed my heavy, mud caked bike in neutral and pushed it
backwards up a small slope while several dozen riders passed us. I
was frustrated that I lost so many positions and my goggs but not
completely discouraged.

I did my best to make up positions on the fourth lap. Still enjoying
myself and concentrating on getting better through all of the flat
turns. The woods were a mess. Brown shallow
hills were sprinkled with red, yellow, orange, green and blue machines
and their flailing piolots. I witnessed riders headed the opposite
direction on the MX portion. Finding a flat spot to build momentum up
over what would normally be a fourth gear table top. Rear tires left
marks on the dirt surface like snaking fingertips through chocolate
icing. My front tire caught traction in an area I didn’t want it to
and I fell in front of the most spectators who have ever watched me
ride. There must have been 14. I’m sure they heard all the colorful
things I call myself when I do stupid things.

The final lap was more mud wrestling than dirt bike riding. Alternate
routes for bottlenecks opened up everywhere. Even though the course
was at it’s roughest I couldn’t believe how much traction their was to
be found. The final bottleneck was at the finishing point where I
observed strange things. Pooped racers covered in roost funneling
through the gate at a pace less than a slow walk. All smiles and
jokes until a spot opened up and a surge of competitive mud monsters
vying for the best possible position.

In all the race was great experience. It was my first Hangover event,
on the first day of the new year and the first day since Thanksgiving
where I burned more calories than I consumed. This year’s resolution is to stay in the same size gear as last year.

1/08/08

Ben Baucum

Endure

Endurocross is something that I had only see on poor quality Youtube
clips. Legendary riders from mixed disciplines battle over courses
littered with obstacles as inviting as Omaha Beach during D-Day. As
far as I knew that kind of action would never get closer to the NW
than Las Vegas. One random Tuesday I received an e-mail forward from
a friend containing a flyer for an Endurocross to be held in Salem the
day before Easter. It was two weeks away and I had no idea what to expect.

Todd and I headed down to Salem early Saturday morning carrying no
more anxiety than an average ride with friends. I had slept well the
night before. My bike was running and all of my limbs functioned
properly. In fact my only worry was that my pre registration money
had arrived before I would. Concern crept into my mind as I entered
the arena. A starting gate with slots for eight. My gaping eyes
caught sight of rocks, a kiddy pool, boulders, sand, tractor tires and
logs ranging in shapes from firewood, telephone poles to Spotted Owl
homes. I walked away with a strategy. Don’t wreck and don’t let the
bike die.

Practice was harsh. Carnage everywhere. Riders over the bars in the
boulder patch. Flailing legs countering for balance through the 4
foot forest of arbavida. Stalled pilots everywhere kicking confused
machines wanting to shift out of first. I don’t have any memory of
being more exhausted in such a short period of time. Spectators could
be heard cheering and cringing over the impressive spectacle. Two
laps complete and I killed my bike twice and wrecked once. So much for sticking
to my strategy.

The three lap qualifier left me with arm pump so severe I couldn’t
crush a taco shell. Thankfully I had plenty of time to recover.
Watching the pros run through the same course was impressive. Geoff
Aaron was strategically smooth picking the terrain apart with his two
wheel drive machine. In complete contrast Chris Johnson blasted and
blipped his RM with insane speed.

The main was tough. I raced the first lap after a dissapointing start, then did my best to survive
the rest. The pro main was awesome. They battled each other rather
than the heinous elements of the torture track. I truly appreciated
the skill displayed in front of me from the comfort of the arena
seats. My forearms still swollen the size of Oprah’s thighs barely able to grip my beverage.

Thanks to Gary Buyer for coordinating such an incredible event.

3/30/08

Ben Baucum