Little Brown Jug Enduro

Sunday, September 5, 2010

I am new to the enduro discipline of motorcycle racing, but I was invited to attend the Little Brown Jug enduro in Clinton, SC. This would be the first race I have gone to without my beautiful pit crew, Michelle. To get the trip started I met the other three riders in our party in Tampa at 7:30 on Saturday morning. We loaded four bikes in the trailer, stuffed our gear in the back of the truck, and then started the drive north. I have raced on and off since 2004 and have had my wife with me for all of them. We have a routine on where we like to eat, where we like to stop, and everything else that goes on with our race weekends. This experience was going to be completely new to me. What happens when I have to pee and they hand me a bottle because we have to make time. Luckily, they were all real cool and the trip up to Clinton was smooth and hassle free.

We arrived at the track (State Forest) around 5pm on Saturday with just enough time to get our riders packet and then bench race a little. The weather was perfect and the other racers were nice and accommodating with questions raised about the track. After hanging out at the track for a little bit the crew decided that we should get checked in to the motel and grab some dinner. We dropped the trailer, headed to one of two motels in the area, checked in to our fine rooms, then headed to one of two sit down restaurants in the area. Dinner was a feast at Fatzs. The food was good and the racing conversations were as diverse as the four guys at the table. Once dinner was over we headed back to our home for the night to grab a little sleep before the big day.

Race day; for any racer it has its range of emotions. I like to eat good before I race. No nibbling for me. I walked down to the lobby at 6:15 and it was packed with other racers. Nothing looked appetizing so off I headed to Hardee’s. Two country ham biscuits, one cinnamon raisin biscuit, and a diet coke later I was ready to head to the track. The rest of the crew finished up and we were off. We got to the track and the mad dash for prep began. Numbers were put on, camelbacks were filled, hydration tricks were utilized, and tools were put in the backs just in case. With about an hour to go until race time my rituals began. I want go into details but for some reason if this doesn’t occur at least three times I feel like I might not have a good race. It sure is hard to go through these rituals dressed in knee braces, riding pants, and racing boots but it all was okay and it was about that time.

It’s 9:18 and my line has just gone off. Only 60+ miles to go. The dust was a little tough, but man what a trail. I’m a Florida boy so this hard terrain with elevation is just thrilling. I started to get more comfortable and was having a blast. I don’t think I was going real fast but I was chasing other riders and that is always fun. During the race I had a couple of weird moments but nothing that would ruin my race. First one was that my left hand flew off the handlebars while accelerating in third gear. That got my attention. The second was completely doing a 180 while crossing a gravel fire road (those things are tricky). The third was losing my electrolyte chews somewhere on the trail in a zipped up camelback. Lastly, I somehow hit a tree head on, and self diagnosed that I did not suffer a concussion because I knew my name and could tell how many fingers I was holding up. Other than that the race was just awesome and I was actually sad when my four plus hours of seat time was over.

After the race was over it was time to clean up and make the trip back to Florida. A quick rinse with a bucket and homemade shower, fresh clothes, and a repacked trailer and we were off. After a hard day of racing the only dinner that would suffice was a steak buffet style restaurant. The trip home was as uneventful as the trip up and we hit Tampa around 1 o’clock Monday morning. The rest of the crew had Labor Day off but I headed to the house to grab a few hours of sleep before a full day at FSC. On the way home from Tampa, with my bike in the back of the truck, I thought about how lucky I was to get to do the things I do. Okay, so I was up at 4 o’clock in the morning to leave for a race, I went without my wife, and it was now 3 o’clock in the morning and I had to be back at the office at 10. That wasn’t important. I was racing. I was doing and not spectating. All I ever want to do it compete and I was getting to do it. I hit the driveway at 3:15 am, grabbed a quick 4 hours of sleep and was in a meeting at FSC at 10am. My next race isn’t for a while as I now take my competitive spirit and put it towards my tennis team. Also, the next race will be my first harescramble of the new FTR season.