fortyf15teen

AZ adventure

2011-10-19T09:54:00.000-05:00

I spent the weekend hanging with my Flagstaff people, including Nathan, doing a little bike racing and a little hiking. After hearing about Pines to the Mines for the last 6 years, I figured it was time to experience the spectacle and put what little remaining endurance fitness I have to use.

almost done.

The race is 80 miles from Flagstaff to Jerome, and takes racers from the ponderosa pine forests of Flag to the sun-baked, exposed mining roads of Jerome. Mostly dirt roads, there is one section of singletrack that was a mix of perfect and un-ride-able. Nathan and I soft-pedaled the ride after realizing neither one of us was going to be in the mix, and it made for a pleasant day in the saddle. The 12 mile climb to the finish was a little rough, with the sun sucking the energy out of you, but it went down.

hiking out to the Wet Beaver Crack

Sunday, a big group headed up to the "Crack" at Wet Beaver Creek (no joke) in Sedona. A 4 mile hike in the sun takes you to a semi-shaded, spring-fed canyon with 15 foot deep water and cliff jumping. Nate set up a slackline across the water for the talented to play with, and the rest of us floated beers in the icy water to cool a refreshing beverage. And there was a little cliff jumping to top it off.

In the "crack"

A great way to spend a weekend, save for 25 hours in the car to make it happen.

Photos here: https://picasaweb.google.com/113941750025706913381/20111015PinesToTheMinesAndWetBeaverCreek?authuser=0&authkey=Gv1sRgCPem0KfuoaqmjgE&feat=directlink

Trans-Wales Video Redux

2011-08-31T23:31:00.000-05:00

2011 Trans-Wales Mountain Bike Challenge from robert on Vimeo.

Trans-Wales Mountain Bike Challenge...

2011-08-30T14:12:00.000-05:00

A week has passed since I've returned from the U.K. and, though I'm still getting back into the swing of real life, I have a few loose ends to tie up... Fixing a busted mountain bike, sorting through photos and helmet cam video, updating this here blog. The thing is, real life is hard work... a constant battle to plan and prioritize and find time to accomplish everything.

Lining up for day 1.

Stage racing, on the other hand, is easy. Here it is summed up quickly:

wake up, find clean chamois
eat
tell legs to shut up about the dull ache and ride
eat
clean bike, lube chain
drink recovery beer(s), eat
hang out in team bus and talk shop about the race
glass of wine to put you sleep
repeat

Sure there are days when crawling out of bed is a little tougher. There are days where the stage just goes on and on. Days when you're convinced your body can't handle it. Days when the weather and trail conditions conspire to make it as hard as possible to keep the motivation to turn the pedals. But really, it's simple. Sleep, eat, ride, beer, repeat.

The norm: heather, sheep, and incredible views.

Anyway, here's a quick shakedown of my thoughts on each stage. Keep in mind, each day was a 70-85 km "linking stage" taking you from point A to B. Untimed, but you have to finish within the time limit. Somewhere within that "linking stage" is a timed "special stage". Think a 10 - 20 minute time trial at red-line in the middle of a 5-6 hour endurance ride.

Good weather, by Welsh standards.

Stage 0: This was supposed to just be a 40 km "prologue warm-up." Mickey and I got lost and ended up riding the entire first stage, before ending up at the Knighton Football Club a day early. All's well that ends well, I suppose, because I ate 2 dinners that night after doing 80+ km on a ClifBar and a bottle of energy drink.

View from the remains of Clun Castle.

Stage 1: It sucked doing the entire previous day's ride all over again, but it was easier the 2nd time around. The trail had dried out considerably from the day before, and it was easier going with the group energy of 200+ riders together. Although I still got lost when the group convinced me to turn left when the day prior I had gone right at the same spot. We were all ashamed when we had to re-climb 700 vertical feet after they ignored my warning and I followed like a dim-witted lemming.

Make time every day for beer and puppies.

Stage 2: We actually hit some decent trail in this stage. I don't remember much about it other than the weather was decent and I got some video chasing sheep through a field. The timed stage was on a downhill course with some tabletops and doubles, and I rode it like shit, but it was fun as hell. Somehow, at this point, I find myself in 9th overall and realize that I should change my goal from "finishing in one piece" to "finishing in the top ten."

Hiking.

Stage 3: Definitely the low point of the race for me. It was my 4th day of riding, and I knew I had 4 to go. The weather was crap - cold, blustery wind and rain that was more like 105% humidity than rain, but it felt like needles when the wind gusted. The ground was a soggy, spongy, rutted mess covered in sheep shit that soon covered me. I found a good wheel and stared at it all day hoping to not use my brain once. The only bright point: good company for the day - I found the group I'd ride with the rest of the week.

Unlucky sheep.

Stage 4: "And if it takes shit to make bliss, then I feel pretty blissfully." Stage 4 is when it started to get good. Really good. Not sure if it was the low point the day before, or the miles of beautiful forest fire roads or the flowy, fast singletrack, or the incredible views, or the intense special stage - a 6 km romp down a rocky, wet downhill course, but it was awesome. Also had that "over the hump, know I'm going to make it" feeling. My bike starts to make a funny screeching / croaking sound, and the mechanic and I can't find the culprit.

Stunning, lush, green.

Stage 5: Another day of beautiful trails and fire roads through a very rural, lake-spotted country side. Sunshine and rocky, technical goodness kept the motivation high. The special stage was a 5 km descent on flowy, bermed man-made singletrack followed by a 4 km climb known as "the legburner." Super fun. The stage ended with a surreal ride through a wind farm, with the turbines turning smoothly and humming quietly as we descended into our midge-filled campsite. The sounds coming from my bike sound like a "raped badger" and upon finishing the stage, we pull the seals off my freehub to find that the bearings have collapsed. Of course, no one has a spare 29er rear wheel with a 12x142 thru-axle, so I'm on a borrowed bike for the last 2 days.

Fix a muddy flat. Nick had some creepy green slime for sealant.

Stage 6: They claimed this day would be a gem, but I found it to be a slog. In one section, we crossed the same river 14 times, sometimes it was waist deep. Novel? yes... fun? meh. Especially on the borrowed Lynskey, which was the wobbliest, least-stable bike I've ever ridden (no Ti for me, thanks). The final descent through a long, wildflower covered valley was supposed to be the icing on the cake, and the views were spectacular, but every time the trail started to get good, it was interrupted by something horrible: deep, soggy, unrideable grass; hub-deep, mud-filled ruts; washes where the trail had been swept down the hillside; sheep-stopping fence gates. It felt good to get it over with. But the special stage was a treat - a night stage that had us climb 3 km up a fire road, and then descent through another man-made berm-and-table-top-filled trail center. I caught my 30 second man on the climb, held the gap through the descent (coming off the bike once, but recovering quickly) and finished 9th quickest on the day.

Wind.

Stage 7: Short but sweet. The final day was wet and rainy and muddy, but the trail we rode held up well in those conditions. There was some combination of great riding and the knowledge that you were less than 50 km from the end that made this day a pleasure. I was shattered when I crossed the line, and still had to finish the 3 km special stage for my final time - I had a minute above and below me on the rankings - near impossible to make up or lose in a 7 minute time trial, so I rode hard, but conservatively and finished 10th overall.

Riding and drinking crew.

So that's the shake down. I was given an on-the-spot prize for being the idiot who spent his summer vacation in a cold, wet, muddy shire: a bottle of Spitfire Ale and a crappy "summer holiday" picture frame. But it was worth it. I met some incredibly cool people, had a chance to see every aspect of Wales, tested my desire to continue to ride a bicycle, and consumed more Stella in a week than I have in the rest of my life. My only advice to anyone trekking over there to do something similar is: BYOB. Oh, and bring waterproof over-shorts.

Dinner.

The rest of my photos are up here:

2011.08.13 Trans-Wales Challenge

Trans-Wales Friday Update

2011-08-23T06:28:00.000-05:00

Note: this post is a few days old, written on Friday Aug. 19. I ended up 9th quickest in the night stage, which was a 2 km hill climb followed by a 3.5 km bermed, rolling, fast downhill in the drizzle in which I came off once.

It’s Friday afternoon, and I’m camped out near the light charging station in a big barn in the middle of nowhere, Wales. Cilycwm, to be exact. I just finished my recovery drinks – a bottle of Stella and a cup of instant coffee. We ended up here after leaving Cymystwyth (the Welsh love their vowels) and enduring a 74 km slog over some fire roads, 14 river crossings (some almost waist deep), some loose, questionably rideable shaley double-track climbs, and the most tiring mud bog of a “descent” through a stunningly beautiful valley.

Today’s ride was a linking stage, getting us from Point A to Point B, and tonight there will be a timed special stage. A long grinding fire road climb up 675 vertical feet and then riding some unbelievable swoopy, bermed manicured trail back down. We did a little scouting loop today to see what we’ll have to ride in the dark. Amazing.

I’m currently in 10^th place overall, but seem to be slowing down each day on the special stages. Perhaps it’s the 3 – 4 pints each night, and the wine with dinner. But what are you supposed to do when you’re swarmed by midges and charmed with good company?

Today was a rough day, mentally more than anything. Yesterday I finally pinpointed the noise coming from my bike for the last 100 km: a bearing in my freehub body had collapsed. Of course, it’s not a standard size and easily replaced, so my bike is no longer rideable. Luckily, my new mate Jon lent me his XTR kitted Lynsky Ti 29er and I rode that today (sorry for all the river crossings!). As great as it was to have a nice bike to ride, it was not my bike, and though I’ll end up finishing this race on that bike, I’m not as quick or confident. And the saddle is a serious ass hatchet...

But more than anything, I’m learning the highs and lows of stage racing. Some days you’re on, and the trail is just stunning. Some days are a grind and you just keep your head down and try not to get too deep in your own head. Either way, you have to get up each day, throw a leg over the frame, and convince your body it’ll be alright once you start moving. The promise of great views, or great trail, or just an “on” day are what keep you going, and the camaraderie is amazing (thus all the beer).

So, after tonight’s special stage, I’ll pass out in the Merida team bus for one last night, and look forward to putting this race in the bank. When it’s all said and done, including my accidental repeat of stage 1, I’ll have put in 589 km of riding with over 16,800 m (55,000 feet!) of climbing. Top 10 would be icing on the cake, but I’ll be happy with this showing either way.

Trans-Wales mid-week update

2011-08-17T10:28:00.001-05:00

So here's the mid-week shakedown. Four linking stages of the
Trans-Wales Mountain Bike Race are in the bank, including 3 "special
stages" (think a 'cross race in the middle of a 4 – 6 hour slog
through grass, dirt, tarmac). For me this means I'm up to 5 long days
in the saddle, totaling about 375 km. I'm sitting somewhere around the
top 10, but that could get better or worse after tonight's results
come in.

If you had asked me yesterday after the stage if I'd ever come back to
race this thing, I probably would have said no. We woke up to rain,
wind, and soggy ground that had been saturated all night. To top it
off, the stage took us through proper Welsh moors: boggy, soggy,
energy sapping grass covered in sheep shit that had been turned into a
pasty consistency that just sticks to everything. There wasn't even a
special (timed) stage to keep it honest, so it was really all about
survival, and for some, making the time cutoff (for every minute you
come in late, they add a second to your overall time). Many of the
grassy climbs were walked with the wind lashing away.

On top of the draining soggy grass, many of the trails on the course
were sheep paths, really just narrow, peanut butter filled ruts that
catch your wheel and toss you sideways. It was a miserable day.

But, a couple of the limey bastards here joined me at the local pub
and we had a few pints of Carlington (shite beer) and told tasteless
jokes. Plus, I learned that I'm not the only one to finish an
endurance race naked.

And today I awoke to a new day. Good weather, very little grass, lots
of tarmac and fire road to pass the day quickly, and then some amazing
singletrack to end the day. The special stage was a terrifically
technical rocky descent. Not sure I had it pegged, but I felt smooth,
if not a little conservative.

The only real crap bit of the day is that the technological marvel
known as my Specialized Epic Expert 29er has developed a horrible
crunching, groaning creak when I pedal. We've pulled the cranks,
checked the bottom bracket. Maybe it's the rear hub, maybe it's one of
the bearings in the suspension linkages, either way it's not easily
resolved and it sounds like broken carbon every time I pedal.

I'm going back to singlespeeding.

Trans-Wales Day 1 (for real this time).

2011-08-14T11:55:00.001-05:00

So the one word you need to know if you ever decide to come to Wales
to ride a bicycle is "sheep." Bring your velcro gloves and your kilt,
as I'm told that's why Scots wear kilts: sheep can hear a zipper.

But seriously, to make Welsh mud, mix 43% soil with 52% sheep shit and
5% water. Then take it and throw it all over your legs, back, and
bike, and you have a good idea of a "dry" day in Wales.

Today was one of those – a dry day – and also the first day of
"racing." The Trans-Wales stage race is interesting in that it's
illegal here to RACE on public carriage ways, so 90% of the 75 – 85 km
stages are untimed. Somewhere in the middle of a stage, there will be
a timed Special Stage. Today's was a 1 km hill climb.

So basically imagine doing a 3 minute cross race in the middle of a 5
hour easy ride, and you have a general idea of the format. Given that
I rode the entirety of today's stage yesterday, accidentally, I took
today to enjoy the company of the other riders and take some photos.

And I've been pursuing my favorite new pastime, chasing sheep on the
bike. Those little bastards can run, and they like to dart in front of
you randomly. Great fun.

Since I'm still on the mobile, I'm having trouble with pictures, but
I'll see what I can do. Time to finish my 2nd bottle of Stella (crap
beer here) and head to dinner.

Trans-Wales Stage Race Day 1... Errr... 0.

2011-08-13T14:52:00.000-05:00

So wireless is hard to come by camping in Wales so I'm updating this
from my mobile. Bear with me as I'm going to keep it short.

Today's Lesson: pay attention to course markers, or don't, actually.

So today was a "warm-up" prologue with no actual bearing on the
overall race starting tomorrow. The course was essentially the first
half of tomorrow's 1st stage, then head back to camp. I was sitting in
about 15th with a kiwi singlespeeder, and at the bottom of the descent
we saw a course marker to out left and followed it. Problem was, it
was tomorrow's marker and not today's, which we would have seen if we
looked right.

Long story short, we arrived at tomorrow's stage finish and realized
the error, and called for a ride home. So it turned out we had about
80 km of riding and 6500 feet of climbing - all on 40 km worth of food
and water (1 bottle of perpetuum, 1 clif bar). So tomorrow we'll run
this stage again, but with all the beta!

Oh, there are lots of sheep. Lots. More on that later.

FZK Team Bike

2011-08-09T16:33:00.001-05:00

A few years back, some friends and I created our mountain bike fraternity - Frank Zappa Kappa. While that story has since become legend, there has been nothing more than a t-shirt to commerate the existence of this sacred institution.

Until now...

I present to you the FZK Special Issue Team Road Bike:

Proof that bike lust can be satiated with only a few bucks spend on spray paint, vinyl decals, and some bar tape.

Some more pictures of this engineering masterpiece here:

2011.08.09 FZK Team Bike

Throwback to snow...

2011-07-28T23:23:00.000-05:00

So a friend hooked me up with a ContourHD helmet cam, and this here is the first footage I took with it. Finally edited and uploaded!

April 2011 Powder at A-Basin from robert on Vimeo.

Summer...

2011-07-18T23:32:00.000-05:00

Long time with nothing to say. Summer is here and I'm busier than ever. Work is crazy, and I've hired my friend Matt to coach me into shape for this: www.mtbtransuk.co.uk/. Probably the most daunting bike adventure I've faced to date. So training makes sense, and Matt has given me a solid training plan so far.

In the mean time, I've still managed some fun in the mountains. A trip to Yosemite, which quickly became, and remains one of the most stiking and awe-inspiring places I've visited.

Pictures here: https://picasaweb.google.com/113941750025706913381/20110610SanFranciscoYosemite

And over the 4th of July, visited Jackson, Wyoming for the first time. My friends John and Arthi joined me for a hike to Solitude Lake, over 20 miles and a lot of snow, and solitude was the only way to describe the destination.

Pictures here: https://picasaweb.google.com/113941750025706913381/20110703HikeToSolitudeLakeInTetonNationalPark

little update

2011-06-15T02:11:00.000-05:00

So I raced SS USA. Something like 3500 feet of climbing in 19 miles (ask Mandlebar). And that didn't include the 6 mile uphill approach to the race start, or the 20 mile drunken (buzzed, ok) descent back into town. More on that later. And I have some great helmet cam footage, which no one will see because Windows Movie Maker is a soulless, crashing program.

And I just returned from Yosemite - my first visit to the valley. Holy crap. What an exercise in contradictions. The most inspiring place I've been pysically, geographically. The most disgusting display of American excess and vulgar laziness. John Muir is probably doing laps in his grave, but it's probably worth it if the park is protected so the idiots can drive from vista to vista. Hike 5 minutes from pavement and the roar of the falls drowns the rest out.

And now it seems I may have the opportunity to race this: Trans Wales 2011. After a 20 mile self-flagellation at Heil Valley (nothing but pedal snaring rocks hidden in the grass and loose gravelly baby heads), I've got some work to do.

I'll try to post some nice photos soon.

It's on.

2011-04-05T14:08:00.000-05:00

4 June, 2011. I made them a custom jacket. With the Fonz.

red sand in every orifice...

2011-03-21T22:41:00.000-05:00

This past weekend I met up in the desert with some friends from Flagstaff, including Mr. Handlebarsandwich. Having never been to Moab, and being able to turn it into a little bit of a work trip, I headed out there late last week.

Sunrise!

Got up very early on Friday and hiked out to the Delicate Arch in the dark. It was cloudy and windy, and I had the night to myself. I was able to watch color wash over the desert from a sandstone outcropping and the Delicate Arch as my back drop. Coyotes and birds and wind made the only noise.

Hiking back on slickrock.

Hiked back to my car in sunlight and raced back to town only to get blown off by my work appointment... a blessing and a curse!

Nathan, Cait fixiing a flat, and "fuckin' Roadie" Matt chilling in his Speedplay road pedals.

Met up with Matt, Nathan, Claire, and Ada that afternoon, and after a burger with Utah's Best Green Chili, we chamoised up for a hot lap on the Slickrock Trail. Wondering if we had enough sunlight, Matt, Nathan and I threw down and completed the look in a little over 90 minutes. Totally unique experience on the rolling sandstone. incredible views, exposed riding, and more friction than you ever truly trust.

Porcupine Rim trail dropping into the canyon.

Saturday we shuttled and rode the Porcupine Rim, a 10 mile descent into a canyon to the Colorado River. Sunday we rode Sovereign Singletrack - a flowy combination of slickrock, sand, and desert singletrack. 3 trails in 3 days and three completely different styles of riding.

No comment.

Moab is rad. Totally unique, diverse in riding, exposed, scary, fun, testing, and very physical. My whole body and mind was worked after 3 days of riding.

Nathan about to attempt the sketchy line dead center.

I can't wait to go back. More video and photos to follow.

Driving home... desert transitions back to snowy mountains.

Check it out...

2011-03-18T13:48:00.001-05:00

It occurs to me that you may not be aware of this:

forty15.tumblr.com

Check it out. It is one of the reasons I am so bad at updating this blog.

Also, added a widget on the side to keep tabs on Forty15 // Tumblr

Winter in CO...

2011-02-06T13:06:00.000-05:00

I know I promised I'd be a little more loyal to the blog, but I have failed.

Alas, winter is here in Boulder, and that means snow. So I've been up to this:

But more importantly, suffering through the I-70 parking lot brings you here:

Video shot by my friend Andy. That's me getting cross checked at 0:09.

And since work brings me to Salt Lake City, a little bit of this:

That's a bit of hiking at Snowbird rewarded with this:

Cross at 9,000+ feet...

2010-11-25T08:42:00.001-05:00

This is what cyclocross looks like at over 9,000 feet of altitude: Aspen Lodge CX! The course was super technical and fun, but rolled my rear tire off the rim twice. I popped it back on both times and nursed it through the turns and still enjoyed myself. The air was indeed rare, and the lack of oxygen sends one's heart rate through the ceiling.

Below, in the distance, that's the North East face of Long's Peak, a.k.a. The Diamond.

Wycolo Ralleye

2010-11-08T11:54:00.006-05:00

I realize I haven't been the best blog-keeper of late, but I will try to update you on this summer's happenings in reverse chronological order. I've been meaning to share this stuff for a while and I just haven't had the motivation to sit down and do it.

I'll start with this past weekend's Ralleye ride! A group of bike enthusiasts in Fort Collins hosts a series of "Ralleye Rides" through the winter. These rides are long, all-day events, usually covering a fair distance on a combination of paved road, dirt road, and even a little trail (and snow later in the winter!). To me, it seems to be a nice way to shake the winter blues and make good use of limited day light.

The first stop of the day: bagels, beer, bourbon, all consumed.

Yesterday I mounted my Salsa Casseroll, outfitted with a fixed gear 42x16 setup and Michelin Mud2s pumped to 75 psi, and joined this group of riders. We rode from the Bean Cycle in downtown FoCo up to Red Mountain Open Space, up some singletrack connecting to Soapstone Prairie Natural Area, and back to town.

By the way, 42x16 is pretty damn close to 40x15.

I forgot my wallet at home, and spent the day mooching off of everyone for food and drink, and hope the small flask of bourbon I brought was payment enough for their generosity.

Heading to Red Mountain.

The ride north was a lovely jaunt through Northern Colorado farmland, with the sun shining and a late Indian Summer warming the crew.

Captain Practicality won the coveted "Most Practical Bike for a Dirt / Singletrack / Road Ride" award. He turned around at the singletrack and we still beat him home. As Bikefag put it, "I think he learned quite a bit today."

At the singletrack trailhead, a few people on less-than-ideal bikes (like Captain Practicality) decided to turn back. The rest of us continued to the summit (my 42x16 gearing was less than ideal here) where we enjoyed some food, drink, and a lovely view of a fast-approaching low pressure system.

Heading up the singletrack.

40 - 50 mph winds kicked up, and we thought it best to descend to the Soapstone parking area. It was my first time descending singletrack on a fixed gear road bike with CX tires. It was super fun, aside from the wind that was, at times, strong enough to literally blow you off the trail.

Cold front! The shittiness of the weather corresponds exponentially to one's proximity to the Wyoming border.

At the parking lot, Bikefag and Josh and I were tired of standing in the cold, so we decided to leave the crowd and head for home. After the 2 most unpleasant miles I've ever experienced on a bike (straight into a 35 mph headwind, uphill, on an overgeared fixie on dirt), we turned south and formed a nice echelon and team time trial-esque rotation. We surfed the cross wind back to town at a good clip.

At this point, I parted ways with my "team" and met up with the rest of the crew at the Bar Double S for a mooched beer, and soaked in the last of the day's rays.

No better way to spend the first day of Daylight Losings Time.

chasing Don...

2010-07-05T22:33:00.003-05:00

This is Don:

This is Don's shop:

This is an awesome Campagnolo poster with Eddy Merckx and Clay Regazzoni's moustache:

Don builds bikes; this is one of his framesets:

This weekend, I went to Salida to ride with Don. Don has been doing this ride on July 4th since 1987. This is Don dropping me:

This is Don refueling with melon:

This is Don: http://www.dirtragmag.com/print/article.php?ID=633.

A whole lot of riders left Salida proper at 4:30 am, and were 3,000 feet above the town by sunrise. We climbed for about 4 hours on old rail beds, dirt roads and a little singletrack.

We hit Monarch pass, 4000+ feet above where we started at 8:15, and then continued on to the epic Monarch Crest.

Singletrack across the sky, the crest takes you over 12,000 feet in altitude. My Delaware background had me gasping at points.

This year's ride had only one snow crossing. Brad there was a nice guy who helped show me the route.

We descended the loose and rocky Silver Creek trail, which ended in a river, requiring riders to ride down the riverbed, with the snow-melt, for about 200 meters.

Eventually, we ended up on the Rainbow trail, a moto trail with a lot of ups and downs that really hurt after 50+ miles in the saddle.

The ride culminated in a 3 mile, 2,500 foot hike-a-bike over Methodist Mountain on the Rainbow Trail. Colin was nice enough to keep me company. The aspen and wildflowers were in their full splendor.

Now, this is Colorado. I heard we had 88 miles and around 11,000 feet of climbing for the day. Took me about 12 hours. The combination of lacking fitness, altitude, and tough terrain definitely made this one of my hardest days on the bike. But it was 100 percent worth it. There's a reason Don's been doing this for over 20 years.

These ants were camped next to me:

Oh yeah, America, Fuck Yeah!

the air is rare...

2010-06-08T22:24:00.004-05:00

Skinny tires + 15 % + dirt = fun climbing = treacherous descents.

Snuck out for a ride this morning before work.

Decided to explore one of the canyons out of Boulder - Sunshine Canyon Drive.

Discovered that the pavement turned to dirt with 1,000 feet of climbing to go.

Weather was a little damp, but the views were amazing.

And once my sphinctor relaxed after descending the steeper dirt sections, the paved descent made up for everything.

Made it in one piece...

2010-06-07T00:30:00.002-05:00

So, I'm now a resident of the People's Republic of Boulder.

Silas met me in Maryland, and on day 1 we drove through Virginia, West Virginia, Virginia again, and ended the day in Tennessee. My aunt and uncle have a lake house, and we spent day 2 on the lake playing and drinking cheap Mexican beer.

Day 3 brought us up through Kentucky, Indiana, Illinois, and finally to Warrensburg, Missouri where we stayed with Lyndsey, Brian and Kai for the evening, relaxing and catching up on the Bachelorette.

Our last driving day was spent crossing Kansas, eating Wendy's, washing down the spicy chicken sandwich with Dairy Queen, and finally arriving in Denver.

High points of the trip included seeing a smoking car in a parking lot with 4 clueless teenagers looking on with no solution to the cloud forming around their SUV, a guy grilling on a trailer BBQ attached to his car on the shoulder of I-70 just west of St. Louis. It was also pretty amazing to see the landscape change as the miles ticked by. The US has a lot of beautiful scenery, although a lot of it in places I wouldn't want to live.

So far Colorado has not let me down. I've had a chance to meet up with some old friends, make some new friends, ride my road and mountain bikes, climb in Eldorado Canyon, and swim in a lake. Though I've been working as I've unpacked, the job really begins in earnest tomorrow... so time to keep my nose to the grindstone.

moving...

2010-05-25T15:38:00.008-05:00

In case you haven't heard, I'm moving to Colorado. Boulder to be exact, and the uHaul rubber hits the road on Friday. My best friend will be making the trip with me, if only to help move boxes.

I had a little good-bye shindig here on Friday, a bit self-congratulatory I suppose, but it was really a way for me to say thanks to my friends for putting up with me for the last 5 years. Without them, I would not have lasted more than 6 months in the Mid-Atlantic. My attitude went from one of complete abhorrence to a love of an area with a great riding community and some awesome people.

I still don't love the geography here, but the people I now know and the proximity to some cool East Coast shit made my life here more than livable - I'm sad to leave it.

That being said, I'm excited for new opportunities, and comforted in the knowledge that nothing is permanent, and I can always return to any of the many places I've called home in my short life.

So thanks to everyone here in the Mid-Atlantic. Please don't hesitate to look me up if you head West. I love you all, and I'll really miss you.

I'll also try to make more of an effort to keep this bad boy up to date... Sorry to anyone I missed in the photos.

This blog has moved

2010-03-21T12:31:00.001-05:00

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vans in my head...

2010-03-09T18:34:00.002-05:00

To get the most out of this post, hit play before you start reading.

For some, it's all about Chuck Taylor. In fact, a good part of my childhood was spent with the ubiquitous star on the inside of my ankles. But for the last ten years or so, I've been a Vans man. Slip-ons to be exact.

Anyway, here's every pair I've ever owned. Chronologically. Starting at 12 o'clock and moving clockwise.

My oldest pair has been through a lot, including spray paint and a Sharpie redesign. But they also show the wear that most Vans slip-on aficionados will be able to identify. The footbed is worn through to the rubber, the collar lining is shredded. Most obviously, the fabric across the foot is torn, propagated from that same spot - you know, where the vamp meets the foxing. When one walks in these shoes, the rubber foxing wants to pull away from the cloth across the foot and the point where your foot bends is where this eventually occurs. All in the game, though.

My favorite ones tend to be the loudest, because, well, you know me. Worn with a sense of irony, but not really.

And these are my "work" Vans. Much more professional than the others, of course.

If you feel like getting me a pair, I'm a men's 10.5. Have some fun with them here.

cure, part 2.

2010-03-05T14:34:00.001-05:00

A little more to cure what ails you.

Ah, the wonders of warm air and sunshine.

My favorite view on my favorite local road:

Four days ago this road was impassable.

palak daal...

2010-03-02T14:16:00.002-05:00

Followed this recipe more or less. A fine meal, though I could use a better recipe for naan than this one, unless my problem was using olive oil instead of veggie oil... Any insight would be appreciated!

RISE MY YEASTLY PEONS!

I think you know where this is headed.

cure...

2010-02-27T12:20:00.003-05:00

As I'm getting tired of this:

I slapped some fenders on the bike, my Performance booties on my feet, and braved the early morning flurries to meet up with fatmarc, denS, Sanford and Chappy for a ride.

Totally cured the cabin fever that's been building up this last month. Record snow still has the trails buried, and snow drifts and ice are hazardous, but things have cleaned up nicely.

And it turned out to be a blue sky kinda day.

Awesome Strap.

2010-02-15T18:20:00.003-05:00

So Michigan Matt, aka No-Buddy, is swimming in a sea of Awesome Straps, and decided I was worthy of trying one - the "Back 40." I just got it mounted on the Niner, and here are my initial thoughts:

Wow factor. At first I was thinking "Jeez, this thing is just a velcro strap. Couldn't I just get that at a fabrics store? Well, it's more than that - it's well thought out, and will hold your stuff in place while putting it on or taking it off the bike. Watch the video on their site.
Was definitely big enough for my 29er tube, a 40 oz CO2 cartridge, and a multi-tool with tire levers.
I found set up with ALL of the above to be kind of clunky. While everything did fit in the allotted space, it made the whole package too wide - thighs would have bumped while pedaling. Ultimately, I decided to pull out the multi-tool, and everything was much more neat.
Ease of access: I think it's a great way to keep a flat repair kit locked, loaded, and ready to go, and is easy enough to load and unload. However, I think the decision to remove the multi-tool is the way to go for two reasons: a neater package, but more importantly, my multi-tool will remain in the jersey pocket for easy access. I feel like one will need the tool more often than tube/tire levers/CO2, so it seems silly to pack it all up in the strap where you have to unpack the whole thing to get to the tool.

So, thanks to Matt and Backcountry Research. I'll give it a try and if I like it, I'll probably buy a 2nd for the singlespeed! It's DEFINITELY a step up from the seat post mount for the GI 40 oz CO2 Cartridge.

snow...

2010-01-27T16:03:00.005-05:00

tough cookie said it best, quoting Edward Abbey: ""one final paragraph of advice - do not burn yourselves out. be as i am - a reluctant enthusiast, a part time crusader, a half hearted fanatic. save the other half of yourselves and your lives for pleasure and adventure."

This week's adventure brings us to Snowbird, Utah, to play in the snow. Here are some videos, as I lost my camera in a gnarly crash.

ripping some groomers.

finding the last remaining powder on the mountain.

more carving on corduroy.

and crashing.

silencia...

2010-01-07T20:39:00.004-05:00

It's hard to be sorry for the lack of updates. My blog silence has not been in vain. I've been enjoying myself outside of the internets and have been less than motivated to write about it.

Got out for a little ride tonight led my Michigan Matt and joined by others - Fatmarc, Dennisbike, L-web, J-bag, TedLogic, C3hris. Felt good to use my legs to propel a bike for the first time in a month. But the kibosh on riding beyond Middle Run at night and the leaking rear tire I kept refilling eventually sapped my motivation and I cut out of the ride a bit early.

Instead of riding, I've spend the last month enjoying the non-bike life. Two weeks were spent in the motherland, New England. A visit to Maine to see family, friends, the ocean, the mountains. All the things I truly love. A trip to Boston with Tough Cookie and friends for the New Year celebration. In true Brazilian tradition, I ate 12 raisins as the clock struck 12, one for good luck in each of the next 12 months. Then a hop up to Jackson, NH for more time in the snow and hills.

I caved and bought a new pair of telemark sticks. They were on sale, and despite the unplanned expense, the fact that the twin-tip design makes me look like some park-rat poser, and the ugly top sheet design, I am digging the way they allow me to keep my bad habits and ski like I sorta know what I'm doing.

So anyway, here are a few pictures to let you in on the action. Enjoy.

Sand.

Sun.

Cold brothers.

J-nice and Tough Cookie.

Spread: pomegranate seeds, toasted almonds, deviled eggs, stuffed figs, scallion pancakes.

More spread: cheese, fried plaintain, corn and cilantro dip.

TC, the Law, and B-RAD.

Blue and white and white and white.

Ugly new sticks on the left.

Sleep.

And your moment of zen:

Homebrew!

2009-12-11T21:27:00.001-05:00

Poor man's 3rd hand.

2009-11-27T17:32:00.000-05:00

Best way I've found to set up cantilever brakes.

this is my 300th post, or, send Jeb to Belgium

2009-11-13T09:09:00.005-05:00

But the number of my post is not important. What is important is helping a brother out. My friend and teammate Jeff "Jebbagger" Bahnson is trying to get to Europe to race some cyclocross at the highest level of the sport. Why is that name familiar you might ask?

Courtesy of cyclingnews.com

That's Jeb winning his 2nd National Cyclocross Champion title. That's right, his second title. So yeah, he's pretty talented, and is trying to see how he stacks up on the international scene. But, as you know getting to Europe is pricey, so he's looking for help to get there.

You should go here:
http://dccofd.org/jeffbahnson.htm#goreraffle.

There are some sweet helmet cam videos from some of Jeff's recent races. And there's an option to donate to his race fund to get him to Europe to race with the big guns wearing the Stars and Bars. Just to sweeten the deal, Gore RideOn Cables has donated 5 sets of their Professional System Derailleur Cables that will go to some lucky winners who have given generously to Jeff's Euro-campaign! These are the cables the Cannondale-Cyclocrossworld.com riders are using to dominate races...

monsters of folk...

2009-11-10T10:38:00.002-05:00

Saw the Monsters of Folk last night at the Academy of Music. They were a treat to see live. For four guys from three different bands, they had one cohesive sound, and they could have fooled anyone into thinking they had been playing together for years.

They played original MoF tunes, my personal favorite played last night was "Man Named Truth" (sampled below), as well as songs from the catalogues of M Ward, Bright Eyes, and My Morning Jacket.

It was spectacular to watch them switch from perfectly synced rocking out to solo and duet acoustic performances (crappy cell phone video below).

If you get a chance, go see them!

austin...

2009-11-01T21:26:00.006-05:00

Last weekend, I traveled with Tough Cookie to Austin TX to participate in the liveSTRONG ride for which we both raised money. It was a nice chance to see a part of Texas I've never seen, and is always fun to ride my bike somewhere new.

The weekend began with a walk around Austin, the Texas state capital city.

Some of the best facial hair I've ever seen. I wish I had the cojones to take a picture of this guy in his line of sight.

We visited the capital. There was a monument to the soldiers lost in the "War of Northern Aggression."

I told GW how I feel.

We also visited Mellow Johnny's bike shop. The place was PACKED busy. The most exciting part for me was seeing the "Shack's" HQ - all those bikes are rocking my bike cables.

US Service Course.

The next day, we got up bright and early to participate in the ride. These charity rides, while taking riders through some beautiful, scenic areas are terrifying. For at least 3 days after the ride I was having nightmares about several things:

Horribly ugly charity ride-specific jerseys... though I kind of liked this one for several reasons.

Guys on aero bars trying to weave through tight charity ride traffic at mach 0.9.

I was trying to capture this guy's heinous pit hair, but there are so many horrifying things in this picture, I'm not going to bother going into detail.

Cattle guards. They didn't bother me particularly, but a lot of people were going down on them. I just wanted to cross them alone, with no one around to crash me.

There were some beautiful moments as well:

The rivers were swollen.

Tough Cookie scopes out some alpacas.

Cock shot.

Fat Tire Ale and a shot of espresso at mile 50.

65 miles is now the longest single ride I've completed on a fixed gear.

A welcome surprise in Austin!

2009-10-25T17:45:00.000-05:00

IMG00001-20091022-2027.jpg

2009-10-22T19:47:00.000-05:00

My friend didn't know...

2009-10-14T18:57:00.000-05:00

this was in his fridge, and he's "not a big pale ale guy." And now I am going to drink it.

railing on my saddle...

2009-10-13T08:40:00.006-05:00

This past weekend I traveled north to visit by brother in lovely Saratoga Springs, NY. This is my brother, Eric:

My brother is not a hipster.

He may be looking guilty because I may have been chastising him about his fixed gear bicycle. It is an undersized Miyata with the original hot orange bar tape. I was not chastising him, as you might assume, for attempting to be hip with his fixed gear; really, I was disappointed he did not get orange DeepV rims to match the bar tape.

Here is his not-a-hipster bike.

My brother is cool: he went out and bought some good beer for my visit. And then we went for a nice bike ride out to the Saratoga Battleground. There were some beautiful views of the Hudson Valley and the fall colors in the leaves.

On the way home from 'Toga, I decided to race day 2 of Hudson Valley CX in Newburgh, NY. The NYCross Series, while growing, is definitely not quite at the level of competition seen in the MAC series, so it's always fun to jump in their races. While not a big fish in a little pond, I'm at least not the opposite, and in the past have done fairly well in the B races.

Anyway, I arrived at the venue, which was held in a park on the side of a hill. There was a lovely view of the Hudson Valley, and the course was pretty fun. After a preride, I noted several things: short lap, 4 dismounts per lap, and the last third of the course was all uphill. We would do a lot of laps, and that climb was going to hurt.

The ladies about to start with the Hudson in the background.

I got to the start line early, anticipating a scrum start, and I was rewarded with a front row starting position. The race started with 25 meters of asphalt into a 90 degree right turn onto grass. I was on the very inside of the front row, and the dude to my left arrogantly gave me a lecture: "Hey, just so you know, if I get a good start - and I will get a good start - I'm going straight for that corner. And I'd hate for you to be right inside of me, because I will have to chop you." I smiled politely and remarked that I didn't want to crash him as much as he didn't want to crash me, and that everything was going to be alright.

The race promoter comes to the front and dangles a pair of Maxxis Raze tires in front of us. "First one across the line after the first lap wins these!" And then, the official gave us the "GO!" I let d-bag take the hole-shot and jumped right on his wheel. We got a decent gap, and I just stayed glued to him. Through the second set of barriers, I got a little gap, so I thought: "Screw it, I probably won't win, may as well try to get some tires I can eBay." Plus it didn't hurt that I wanted to make d-bag suffer for his start line commentary.

The scene of the crime.

Held on to take the Lap 1, and at the end of the second lap I still had 10 seconds. I see "6 to go" so I sit up and wait for d-bag, figuring we can work together. He agrees, and off we go. Going through the same set of barriers I had attacked earlier, I feel something go horribly wrong on my remount, and eventually discover a few things:

There's a reason Bad Andy wants me to be smoother on my remount,
If you're going to put your saddle all the way back on the rails, you should probably just spring for a set back seatpost, and
I should probably lose some weight.

The damage to my otherwise awesome new rig.

You see, my saddle rails had folded under my bloated carcass, and that, my friends was the end of my race. It's awfully hard to put any power down with a saddle poking your prostate. I did finish the race, going backwards the whole time, because I didn't want to lose the tires to a DNF. After the race, a more friendly d-bag was perplexed by my disappearance. I pointed to the saddle, and we had a laugh, and he's not so bad after all I guess.

So to recap:

$60 USAC license
$30 race entry fee
Broken saddle, and need for a new seatpost
But I won some clincher tires!

It was a pretty good weekend.

assault on the southwest, 2009 edition...

2009-10-03T16:49:00.022-05:00

A little while while back, I sent in a little entry form to the D9 crew. Well, I was accepted to contend a second time for the title of Single Speed World Champion. Despite the fact that I had ridden my singlespeed all of 3 times this summer, a plan was formed: ship bike, head to Flagstaff, AZ. Rendezvous with the HBar Sandwich Crew. Shred the Southwest. Drink some beer. Then head to interbike for work.

Checkpoint 1: Flagstaff

Met up with Nathan and unpacked my whip. We headed out his front door for a little ride up the local mountain. Trails of note: Schulz Creek and Little Bear. Turns out climbing to 9000 feet on a singlespeed you haven't touched all year can be a little painful, but the descent was well worth it - rocks, flow, drops, sand, amazing views and switchbacks. Nathan dropped me like the low-land dwelling out of towner I am, but it was a great ride. Later, a reunion with some good college friends brought us out for some Thai food and some 80s themed dancing at a local drinking establishment. Flag is a cool little town, with some serious riders and some even more serious transvestites.

The view from Little Bear.

Checkpoint 2: Durango Colorado

I peeled myself out of bed and jumped in Nathan's car with Rocco and Chris. The goal was to drive across "The Res," surviving the Res Wind and chasing Res Dogs and make it to Durango with time to ride before the darkness and drunkenness set in. A few false starts, for instance one to turn off an iron that was already off, prevented us from arriving in time to ride. But drunkenness did ensue.

Sipping on a Res Soda on the way across Northeastern AZ.

New Belgium Brewing hosted a killer party with a band, dirt jumps, a bunny hop competition, and plenty of beer to go around. The perfect warm up for a World Championship Race. We slept like true Pros, wedged in the only open floor space in a condo with 18 other racers.

Also hung out with Chris and Kate of Albany fame, see also www.blk13.com.

Dirt Jumps.

Checkpoint 3: The Race

The race was scheduled to go off at 11 am, giving us plenty of time to get some coffee and sign in for the race. One of the organizers brought his childhood baseball card collection as give-aways, and I hoped that channeling a young Randy Johnson and Roger Clemens as spoke cards would only help my chances.

Here's my race report: 1000 racers. Lap 1: 6 miles of road / fire road climbing. 45 minutes of hiking, pushing your bike uphill in a long line of racers. Ridiculously rocky technical fun ridge riding that was partly unrideable because of the traffic. Fast descent. Lap 2: Much more flow. Just as much climbing / hiking. More sun. Bacon, whiskey, beer - none of which I was in any condition to consume. Super fun descent - I saw a girl puncture her thigh in a nasty crash. Then, 3 hours, 18 miles, and 3500 feet of climbing later, it was over.

2009 Hike-a-Bike World Championships.

Durango as seen from Raider Ridge.

The riding on Raider Ridge.

MJ pumping away. Soon he'll be a doctor.

Post party ensued, the centerpoint of which was the basketball game between "Italy" and "New Zealand" for rights to host next year's race. I use quotation marks because there was only one local - a Kiwi - between both teams. The really is nothing funnier than watching a bunch of skinny cyclists with little coordination playing ball for 45 minutes. The other highlight was the art show inside of Ska Brewing - featuring all of the entry forms sent in. 10 of the entry forms were selected to be photographed and framed and auctioned off. I was delighted to learn that I was one of the featured artists.

Beards represent.

White men can't jump.

Tattoo trophy time.

Gollum looking for "his precious" in the river.

Later I learned that Greg "Hball" Herbold was gifted my artwork after the show was over. Ironically, I learned this only hours after talking to HBall on the phone for a work-related project, so I called him back to let him know he knew the guy behind his priceless new art. Small world.

The artist celebrated with his masterpiece.

Checkpoint 4: Phil's World

On the way back to Flagstaff we stopped for a little shred in Cortez Colorado, on a trail system known as Phil's World. It is the home of the 12 hours of Mesa Verde, and we got in a nice 2 hours on some of the flowiest, rollercoasteriest, fun desert singletrack I've seen. Thought we were going to get bowled over by a vicious thunderstorm, but the rain passed just in time to rip through "the Ribcage" - the greatest collection of over-sized pump track I've ever ridden.

Riding along cliffs is fun.

Riding through an old burn.

Checkpoint 5: Grand Canyon National Park

Seeing as I had to travel west from Flagstaff, I figured I'd detour slightly and see the world's biggest hole in the ground. I parked at the visitor's center, and pulled my bike out of the trunk. Riding along the shuttle bus roads, I was able to see the canyon from 5 or 6 vantage points in an hour and half. Descriptors coming to mind include: huge and beautiful, and remote yet accessible. Threw my bike on the shuttle bus rack and headed back to the car to head to Vegas. A surprising highlight of that trip was crossing the Hoover Dam. Pretty remarkable that it was built 80 years ago, and even more remarkable is the bridge they're building across the canyon right now.

Big ass hole in the ground, click for full resolution.

I should have been a civil engineer.

Checkpoint 6: Interbike, Las Vegas, Nevada

Finally, Interbike. What a show. I won't go into it, as the normal rags will have far better coverage than the working man can provide. But I did get Eddy Merckx and Johan Museeuw to sign my Paris Roubaix book. And I got to see my bike cables on Contador's and A. Shleck's bikes. That was good enough for me to celebrate with a little karaoke and a nice sushi dinner.

The Tour de France winning bike, with winning bike cables.

The Cannibal did not want to be there, but he signed my book anyway.

My favorite display at interbike, click through and read the sign at the bottom.

Final Checkpoint: Back to Flagstaff

I headed back to Flag to catch a flight home. With a day to kill we fed Nathan and Rocco's pet spider, and then J-Money took me for a hike in Sedona. We headed 5 miles into the exposed, dry, skin-melting desert to find a glorious oasis: a cool, spring fed swimming hole in the middle of the canyon. The water was so nice on a hot day, and on the return trip we got some malted shakes at an alien themed diner. Sedona is one strange town, but goddamn, they can make a milkshake and fry some pickles.

Feeding the spider.

Hiking by prickly pears.

Oasis, with a dog sniffing my crotch.

cup holder...

2009-09-03T08:32:00.005-05:00

I've rigged up a "trunk" for my motorcycle redneck-style. It's great for commuting, groceries, etc.

This morning I experimented with a bungee-cord cup holder. Worked great, sadly my travel mug isn't water-tight, and I've got a nice coffee stain on my ass...

help liz and win some cool shit!

2009-08-28T14:08:00.002-05:00

Please keep on reading! A little bird tells me the prize list will keep on growing....

Hello and thanks for taking a moment (or two) to read about the raffle I've put together to raise funds for the Lance Armstrong Foundation. First, a bit about me so you know why this cause means so much to me personally:

I was diagnosed with lung cancer on October 24, 2006. I was 26 years old and was an avid runner and skier. I loved spending any and all of my time outside, and as you can imagine, this diagnosis came as quite a shock. Since then I have undergone chemotherapy, had 2/3 of my right lung removed, and went through radiation and chemo once again. Eight months after my initial treatments and surgeries ended, I was re-diagnosed once again and I've been on chemo for the year and a half since. Despite the treatments, I still find time to run, ski, rock climb, hike, and ride my bike. I've found a lot of strength through the community offered by the Lance Armstrong Foundation; it teaches us that we are survivors from the moment we are diagnosed, and we form a powerful army against cancer. The Livestrong Challenges take place all over the country and offer different ways to be involved - from volunteering to riding 100 miles - in order to spread the word about the LAF. My first year, just six months after surgery, I rode 40 miles. Last year, while on chemo, I rode 100 miles. This year I hope to do the same, only this year, I am traveling to the home of the LAF, Austin, Texas, to do it.

I like to think everyone has given me some strength when I have needed it and this year is no exception. So, read on to see how you can have a chance to win some great prizes and take part in a good cause all at the same time.

The event: The LizLivestrong Raffle
The dates: now until Friday, October 2 (Livestrong Day)

The goods: [the good part!]
- a daypack from The North Face
- a Nuptse Vest from The North Face (www.thenorthface.com)
- a gift card good for one pair of Dansko clogs (www.dansko.com)
- a gift card good for $50 at Trail Creek Outfitters (www.trailcreekoutfitters.com)
- a sweet pair of cycling sunglasses courtesy of Henry's Bikes (www.henrysbikes.com)
- a new cable set up for your road bike courtesy of Gore RideOn (www.rideoncables.com)
- awesome goody bags with tidbits from The North Face, Cannondale, Livestrong, and more

What to do:
- go to www.tinyurl.com/lizlivestrong. It will reroute you to my fundraising website
- make a donation. Here's the breakdown:
1 ticket = $10
3 tickets = $25
7 tickets = $50
10 tickets = $75
15 tickets = $100
25 tickets = $150
35 tickets = $200
- once you've made your donation, please send an email to "lizlivestrong@gmail.com". You don't have to put anything in the email - I just need a way to get in touch with you when you win!

- I will draw the winners and notify them over the weekend of October 2, which is Livestrong Day.

- think about making even a $10 additional one for a chance to win. At this time I am trying to raise $2,100 to hit my goal of $5,000 (which I have raised each year so far)

Please let me know if you have any questions! And please join me in a heartfelt thank you to the companies that have made donations thus far. If there is anything you'd like to donate (but not your old clunker, that is a different deal) please send word!

All the best. Be well and Livestrong,

Liz

lizlivestrong@gmail.com
www.blizzardd.blogspot.com

the SHT...

2009-08-25T16:02:00.002-05:00

This is why I trust Henry's Bikes with all of my bike-related problems:

Cottonball is a whiz kid.

wilderness 101...

2009-08-02T19:42:00.002-05:00

Not much to say here. This was the hardest 100 (and one) miler I've done to date. Some combination of a 2 day old hangover, unpreparedness, and the robust trails in State College sent me to a new depth in the pain cave. Still managed about 10 hours (10:09 or so).

The rigorous beating I received from the rocks, the cramps I fought from mile 27 on, and the loss of my favorite (expensive) Smith shades had me frowning and cursing for the entire 2nd half of the race.

Still, crossing that finish line is about as good as it gets.

un peu d'histoire pour vous...

2009-07-24T07:52:00.008-05:00

While I've never had a full picture of my family tree, I'm always intrigued by the story of my ancestry. I know my mother's father and mother met in France while my grandfather was fighting in World War II. My mother's mother's mother was a spy in the French Resistance; it was a moving moment seeing her photo and story in a museum exhibit at the US Air Force Museum:

Adrienne Poirrier was born in 1902 in Mauprevoir, France. Her husband Raymond was killed during the German invasion of France in 1940, leaving her with a young daughter. Working as a bookkeeper in a suburb of Paris, she joined the French Resistance. Her job at a city hall enabled her to steal ration coupons and blank ID cards, which were distributed through the underground network to Jews in hiding. Questioned three times by the Gestapo, she escaped arrest the third time only because her daughter Paulette removed the ration stamps hidden in their home and rode the Paris metro all night with the contraband. Paulette later married an American soldier, Robert Hinders, who brought her and her mother to Dayton in 1947. Adrienne died in 1984 but her daughter contributed her story for this exhibit. (from: daytonholocaust.org/book.htm)

My mother's father's history is a little more fuzzy for me, and I regret never hearing more of it before he died. I do know his family is French-German, and his American roots trace back to Texas. I have a handmade 0.50 caliber revolving six-shooter dated 1858 that belonged to his ancestry that defended the family ranch in Texas.

This past Christmas I had a chance to learn a little more about my father's side of the family. My grandmother pulled me aside at the annual family Christmas party and gave me something that had been given to her. This set in motion a semi-drunken conversation where I scribbled notes and tried to keep track of my lineage.

What I did learn was that my great-great grandfather, Thomas Cochran, was from Halifax, Nova Scotia. He fathered Robert John Cochran, who in turn fathered my grandmother Jean-Anne. She married my grandfather Harold Thomas, and together they named my father John Robert. When I came along, history made Robert John a logical name, as it was shared by my father's ancestry and my mother's dad.

This was Thomas Cochran's watch:

The inscription reads: "NWARC - 1901 - Regatta - 4 Oared - 1st." NWARC refers of course to the Northwest Arm Rowing Club in Halifax. A little internet search reveals that the 1901 regatta was indeed the club's first (books.google.com/books?id=hwpE.....) and that my great-great-grandfather belonged to the right crowd:

On the vacated property next to the NWARC a new club sprang up in 1904 - the Halifax Amateur Boating Club (HABC). It... differed from its neighbour in not permitting alcoholic beverages on the premises. The HABC was quickly nicknamed the Halifax Anti-Booze Club while its members referred to the NWARC as "the rummy crowd" because of their practice of accepting sponsorship for regatts and out-of-town trips from liquor distibuting companies.

So, I have a watch that not only holds some family history, but is a part of the history of rowing on the Northwest Arm in Halifax - a first place prize for the 4-oared race in the club's first regatta.

At the end of the day, very little of this history has any bearing on my day-to-day life. I guess it's nice to know the history behind my name, it's nice to know that my obsession with an endurance sport is not without family habit, and it's nice to know that they liked to party after they raced.

on deck...

2009-07-20T19:43:00.000-05:00

the rules...

2009-07-02T09:30:00.003-05:00

I suppose this is something I've wanted to write for about a year now; I've been sitting on the idea, letting it ruminate and congeal into something solid. The real spark was reading this, from Belgium Knee Warmers' sister site: Red Kite Prayer. I can tell you the moment the seed was planted for this post: I was riding the local Tuesday Night Hammerfest - the People's World Championship - a flat 30 mile course that is completed at redline in a nice double paceline. Sometimes, there are 3 or 4 riders who sit on the back and let the rotation occur in front of them, so if you should feel like you are about to pop, you can drift to the back and recover before rejoining the rotation.

During this particular ride, I was sitting on DenS' wheel, about 4th in the line. Stealthily, Dennis upped his pace and I blindly followed, clinging to his wheel at an already blazing pace. As Dennis pulled along-side the rider in front of him, he lightly flicked his elbow, letting me know that the wheel he was previously chasing was now mine to follow. He then drifted slowly to the back to recover. I was amazed by his savvy, smooth transition out of the rotation - he never left me a gap to close, he never slowed the group, he never gave me a chance to keep him in the rotation; suddenly he had just vanished. Had it been during a break in a race, this move executed at the right time could have given him just enough recovery to win a sprint or attack on a rise to go for the win.

Dennis' move is not something I ever would have learned if someone had explained it to me in words. Yet, in 10 quick seconds he taught me an invaluable lesson, subtle and beautiful. And for that I'm grateful. This got me thinking more about my history with cycling, which when boiled down is nothing more than a string of lessons learned from more experienced riders. The knowledge that I am now - and likely always will be - a small fish in a sea of talented cyclists is both humbling and motivating.

Reflecting back, I remember my first summer of road riding - I can only now imagine how Fred-like my behavior. I remember my first "paceline" with my friend Silas. I would get to the front and I would pedal five hard strokes, five easy strokes, repeat. It was driving him crazy. He got on the front and pedaled even, smooth circles and mentioned that I might try the same. I remember missing a clip into my pedals and falling over in traffic - stopping it for 30 seconds while I collected myself.

I remember riding Susquehana State Park with Peaches and Faticus, watching them descend over 12" water bars at speed with out the slightest hiccup. After smashing a pedal into my shin, I was able to follow their smooth motion to clear the bike over the logs without any more than a kiss of the front wheel to the wood. Now I relish logs and clear them without hesitation.

I remember cross practice at Recreational Park Y, watching E-town dismount and remount on the right side of the bike, thinking "I can never be that smooth on the right side when I already look like a fish on the deck of a boat trying to remount on the left side." Sure enough, at Fair Hill CX last year, I got bumped off my line into the barriers and was forced to dis-/re-mount from the right side. It went smooth as butter.

I remember learning how to prep and glue tubulars from the Angry German. The act seemed steeped in tradition, as much of the procedure (ritual) could have been old-wife remedy as it could have been true science. But either way, I now roll confidently on self-glued rubber.

I can hear Papa Smurf's voice in my head, mocking my mis-matched selection of clothing. Bibs from one kit, a jersey from another. Mountain bike gloves on the road bike with smart wool socks halfway up my calves. Functional, yes... proper? probably not.

All of these teachings have been unplanned, unspoken even. But the sum is greater than the parts. Knowing how and when to pull through, to pull off into the wind, to accelerate over the top of the climb, to lean the bike harder than I ever thought possible... All of these now instinctual actions I owe to someone, and I hope to pass on to someone else.

Part of the joy of riding is knowing you were once the biggest Fred of the group, and knowing that there is no other way to overcome that hurdle than to just ride and soak in as much as possible. Knowing that there is always more you can learn. Knowing that if you keep it up, you will contribute back 10 times that which you have absorbed - just by riding and showing others what you have learned.

my day at the races...

2009-06-10T22:12:00.002-05:00

2009 Philly Int'l Championship Bike Race from robert on Vimeo.

Got the road to myself...

2009-06-07T08:41:00.000-05:00

I'll be chasing the race in about an hour.

mohican one hundred...

2009-06-01T13:00:00.002-05:00

Despite the fact that Ohio is the state in which I was born, and despite the fact that until I was 17, we traveled there every year to visit my mother's family, I somehow failed to realize that Ohio isn't a completely flat, unsightly plain of strip malls and highways. I traveled to Loudonville, about halfway between Cleveland and Columbus, this weekend with Rich and John W. to race the Mohican 100 Miler.

Only in Ohio can you get an oil change and a 6-pack at the same time in a drive through.

The 8 hour drive out was uneventful, and after getting settled into our "Cozy Cabin," we kitted up and checked out the ridiculous hills at the beginning of the race. 300 feet, straight up in the first mile of the course. I think we hit 50 mph coming back down that thing. Next we hit up the local pizza joint for an all-you-can-eat pizza buffet. Hell yes. Fully stuffed, drop bags packed, and slightly nervous, I hit the sack in what was indeed a Cozy bunk - I could literally put my feet on the bottom of the bed and have my head hit the wall on the other side at the same time.

Color TV just made it to Loudonville.

5 AM wakeup came a little too soon, but a couple waffles and a cup of coffee later, and we were ready to roll. Rode to the race start in the middle of town in a cold, 50 degree fog. Within minutes, however, the sun burned it off and it looked like it was going to be a beautiful day.

Enough said.

7 AM, the gun goes off and 400 riders headed for the $200 preem at the top of the hill. A little bit of road later and then the inevitable bottleneck into the single track. It was at this point that I realized how hard this race was going to be.

New sticker on my fork!

They say Ohio is flat. Relatively speaking, this is true - the maximum elevation change in the race was 350 feet. What they fail to mention is that the race is at all times going straight up or straight down those 350 foot hills. 11,000 feet of climbing in this race was harder than the 12,500 feet in the Shenandoah 100. No rhythm, no settling in, just constant kicks to the stomach for what ended up being 10 hours.

A lot of push pins, but apparently no one from outside of Ohio had visited the campgroud before.

That suffering aside, the race did offer up some tasty single track. The first 30 miles was nothing but twisty, flowy trail with some roots and rocks thrown in for good measure. Imagine a Middle Run soufflet with a dash of Fair Hill and a pinch of Downingtown. Topped, of course, with climbs gaining 350 feet at a time.

Rich and JW preride.

My race went a little like this: Mile 0 - 20, feeling good, somewhere ahead of Rich, but not far. Break a spoke at mile 5, and lose a minute wrapping it around other spokes. Quick stop at Aid #1 at mile 20 and Rich snuck by. I caught up with him 5 miles later and tried to show him my lines through the single track. When we hit the road section at mile 30, Rich started putting on the gas, riding really strong, and I worried that I would not be able to sustain the pace. Fearing I was going out too hard, I hung back on the climbs, but always managed to bridge on the descents, and we worked well together on the flats. Around mile 40 we hit some more singletrack - much rockier and more technical.

Stellar weather.

Hit Aid #3 and Rich is gone. I take some time to remove my now-broken waterbottle cage (rattling like a toddler toy) and Rich rolls in. He looks shattered. I wait up to leave Aid 3 but quickly lose him on the tough singletrack climb out. Bummed that he was gone, I went on alone.

Rode miles 55 - 70 mostly alone, trading position with a singlespeeder who was faster on the climbs. Worked out some mean cramps in the legs at mile 60, then hit 8 or 9 miles of flat rail-trail to end up at Aid #4. About to leave, I see Rich rolling up with a big group. He looks fresher now, and closed some of the gap by working with a strong group on the flats. I agree to wait a quick minute and we roll out together.

The next 25 miles passed uneventfully, Rich and I working together to get over the hills on this mostly dirt road section of the race. Mile 90, and I break my chain on a bad shift. Rich waits and I get the chain fixed in under 90 seconds - probably a record somewhere. We lose about 6 positions, but then enter the last 5 miles of the race - single track! Sweet! Despite hating the thought of steep rocky climbs, I find myself loving the swoopy, flowy trail, and Rich hangs on my wheel as we catch all the racers who passed us during the chain fix.

We pop out onto the road at the entrance to the campground. Thinking we are done, we shake hands and agree to roll in together. The odometer reads 99 miles, but we think nothing.

Until we turn the corner - the race organizers decided to take us up and over the race's early hike-a-bike once more before the finish. I look at the clock 9:53. We're going to have to run up this thing to hit the goal time of 10 hours even. Suffering the whole way, half laughing at the cruelty of the course designer, we finally see the banner. We roll across together and head straight for the cooler.

Green Flash.

The race was very hard, but very fun. Never felt great, but never felt like I wasn't going to finish. Finally, we run into John Williams, who excited tells us he not only finished in 8:40 (!!) but won the masters race!

John is awarded his peace pipe trophy!

A shitty "mongolian bbq" passed for dinner, plus one more beer and the podium ceremony, and we hit the hay before the sun was all the way down.

Breakfast after Mohican...

2009-05-31T06:41:00.000-05:00

this monkey's gone to heaven...

2009-05-26T21:11:00.005-05:00

This weekend, while riding some of the sweetest singletrack the Shenandoah Mountains have to offer, there were several times where I thought to myself: "If I ever do anything in this life to get into heaven, I want to be sent back right here." Great times were had with Todd, Buddy, Peaches, Rich, Kurt, as well as the Bike Line crew down at the Virginia IMBA Mountain Bike Festival. This video says it all, sadly without any footage of the descents. They were just too fun to stop and take video...

The Very Best of the 2009 Shenandoah IMBA Mountain Bike Festival from robert on Vimeo.

sunday...

2009-05-10T14:38:00.002-05:00

After spending the better part of the last week indoors, I hit the streets today on the road bike. Buddy was leading a nice loop around Chester County, so I decided to ride the 20 miles from home to meet him - with full intention of getting 100 miles on the road today. Joining us were two Guy's guys, John and Jay.

It was awesome to have some sun, 70 degrees, blue sky. But the wind was f*%&ing brutal. Steady 20 - 25 mph out of the northwest. Given the loop I ended up riding, it was never a full tailwind. So that, combined with the hills Buddy linked up shortened the ride to 80 miles. Either way, a great day.

Highlights included watching Buddy take out a squirrel - the little bastard paid the price for darting under the front wheel of the fastest fat guy around - and the descent down Penn Green. Granted my bike was making all kinds of noise, but look how sweet these roads are:

Thanks to Jan for helping me diagnose the weird noise coming from the bike as a loose freehub body. All is now well.

to do list...

2009-05-09T16:04:00.003-05:00

I saw this sitting on the counter at home. I'm not saying whose it was, but I'll just say it's not mine. Seemed like a reasonable amount to try and accomplish some rainy afternoon.

this is getting old...

2009-05-06T14:52:00.001-05:00

"new" bike...

2009-05-04T20:34:00.002-05:00

As I laid out all of the crap I've accumulated over the years (seen here), I realized that I had enough stuff to put gears on Ghetto Prom. The former fixed gear is now dressed for use as an all-weather commuter.

I forgot how nice Ultegra 10 feels when it's fresh. So different from SRAM, but I like them both.

I have a serious problem...

2009-04-28T08:53:00.000-05:00

But I am ready for the bike apocalypse.

Little Elk Creek Road...

2009-04-21T17:54:00.000-05:00

Is my favorite road aroudnd here on which to ride my bike. Two miles of beautiful, sinuous, roller-coaster bliss. Especially when the sky unexpectedly looks like this.

Today, this road came right after I ran over a live squirrel only to see it run off afterward, and right before I saw a guy using a fly-fishing pole in the middle of a field.

baker's dozen...

2009-04-19T14:45:00.003-05:00

Despite my ability to talk shit and sandbag with the best of you all, I have never won a race.

That changed yesterday at Baker's Dozen. 24 laps, 13 hours, 3 teammates, and we won with a lap to spare. Fuck yeah. I don't pretend to think that I won this race. I just got lucky by convincing Lauri and Slick Rick - two individuals with too many individual and team victories to list - to ride with me. Talk about standing on the shoulders of giants. Either way it feels good to finally have won a race after 5 or 6 years of taking this sport kind of seriously.

I've had a few podiums along the way - each one a great experience in its own way. But it feels good to win. I know a lot of the cyclists reading this blog are either naturally talented, super hard workers, have been at it for a while, or are tremendous sandbaggers. And as such have, as such, tallied up a few wins in their cycling careers. I just hope it still feels as good after the first time.

Many thanks to the DCCofD / FZK members, and many congratulations to the other who marched victorious. I think our entourage took top honors in 3 categories, with some other stellar podiums on top of the wins. And thanks to Tom, Jimbo, and Amy - who did a great job supporting and deserve equal credit for all results.

BLT Night

2009-04-15T20:37:00.000-05:00

Homemade bread, thick cut bacon, sandwiches the size of your head.

Shopping for Baker's Dozen

2009-04-15T16:37:00.000-05:00

A lot of people have a lot of ideas when it come to race nutrition. For me, junk food works best. And bananas.

sprang has sprung...

2009-03-22T16:16:00.004-05:00

As I sit here sipping my first bottle of my first batch of homebrew prematurely (definitely needs more than a week to carbonate), I'm left to reflect on what was a pretty good weekend. Started off with a hard edition of the Chester County ride. The Happy Canadian and the Angry German left me a shattered, broken man. After bringing Tough Cookie to the airport, washing the bikes, and brewing a second batch of beer, I finally had a chance to relax with some beer, enchiladas, and good company.

Today, I rolled over in bed, thinking I should just sleep in and scrap the planned mountain bike ride. Instead I met up with Buddy, Faticus, the Angry German, and Kurtee at Fair Hill. Despite the Fat One's efforts to set a steady pace (in which he succeeded) I was shattered and decided to pull off with Kurtee to cut my losses.

After nursing my wounds, I met up with some of the previously mentioned characters plus Monkey to watch the collegiate boys and girls race a crit on the UofD campus. The racing was pretty fun to watch. Turns out UVM still sandbags every race but the A race. In the B race, they had 6 people in the 10 man chase group, so it was super nice to see the UPenn win off the front. He owes his teammate a beer for the job he did disrupting the chase.

The fuzz said Marc's man-pris were illegal.

The Angry German wanted to try on some ironic hipster attire for size.

The worst part of the whole day was watching the lower category men and women trying to negotiate the corner at the bottom of the course. There was a crosswalk right at the entrance of the turn which acted as a launch ramp, and the landing pad was a hard left hander with a manhole cover in it. Not only did two racers go down - one girl from Williams planted her helmet into the curbing while a Yale guy flew 5 feet through the air and broke his fall with his face - but the race official on the moto went down and left in an ambulance. As I said to one of the UD guys, "Great course design guys."

The launching pad with a UVM racer entering the danger zone.

Faceplant Yale racer after eating the curb.

Ninja Don and the Rutgers boys boycotted the race because of it's genius design.

The only thing that eclipsed the racing was the heckling - this is where the DCCofD really shines. Jan was cheering for the Saturn pace car, which could barely keep ahead of the peloton. I was cheering for anyone but UVM, and Marc was rooting for the local boys he recognized. My favorite UVM heckles included "You guys can give up, your teammate cracked!" and at the end of the B race, to 6 UVMers: "Now you should be nicely warmed up for the A race!" To which one guy shook his head and said: "I'm a Cat 4!" I say he's a sandbagger.

The Saturn pace car chasing hard to catch the field.

Now I'm trying to relax on the couch, but the kid next door is still doing laps around his house on his 4-wheeler. The little fucker has literally been riding the thing for the last 2 days NONSTOP. There is a dirt path worn in around their house:

justice...

2009-03-05T14:22:00.002-05:00

I've been thinking about the mountain bike races I'd like to contend this year. Here's the list as it stands today:

Sat 4/18 - Baker's Dozen - Leesburg, VA - 3-person team with Lauri and Rick.
Sun 5/3 - Granogue - at least volunteering.
Sat 5/9 - French Creek - PA - Hey, it's close.
5/30 - Mohican 100 - Loudonville, OH - 2 100 milers this year?
Sun 6/14 - Stoopid 50.
Fri 6/26-29 - Marysville Stage Race / 12 Hour Relay (Saturday) - Maybe get my brother to do his first mountain bike race here.
Sun 7/12 - Fair Hill - Maybe racing, maybe bbq-ing in the woods?
Sat 8/1 - Wilderness 101.
9/16-20 - SSWC - Durango, CO - Hell yes.
10/24-25 - Livestrong Challenge - Austin, TX - Supporting Tough Cookie and see what the Austin buzz is all about.

Justice is my current favorite band to which I like to listen while I ride. Enjoy these three:

snow...

2009-03-03T20:32:00.002-05:00

After my snowy commute yesterday, I headed out with the Angry German for a romp in the fresh pow. If one is only going to get a single snowy day all winter, one should use the mountain bike to track up every bit of virgin ground. It was a hard, hard ride, with lots of hiking the climbs for lack of traction. But the unexpected waist-deep snow drifts, the terrifyingly unpredictable descents, and the semi-controlled slides around the corners left me feeling like a 10 year old with a sled on a snow-day. I don't think I've ever seen the Angry German so giddy (credit due: some of the photos are his).

morning commute...

2009-03-02T10:27:00.000-05:00

One lady up front rolls her eyes and says to me: "oh yeah, real safe."

saturday ride report...

2009-02-28T14:18:00.003-05:00

I rolled out of bed feeling good today. The sun was shining (momentarily) and the weather report looked [relatively] warm. Headed out on the road with one angry German, one C3 locust, and one mentally handicapped CZ. It was a fantastic ride despite my suck knob hitting a record 11.7. Here is a graphic that I can only hope will suffice as a ride report:

eloquence...

2009-02-26T08:19:00.003-05:00

This morning, as I drove into work, my path of travel had the distinct pleasure of being interrupted by one of Pennsyltucky's finest. At first, I was dismayed when the green Suburban pulled out of a side street and forced me to modulate my car's brakes faster than I prefer. But, in fairness, I was probably traveling above the speed limit, and I was further comforted when I realized I was actually being presented with an opportunity to expand my cultural acumen.

You see, the green Suburban had several insightful bumper stickers designed to convey a particular sentiment to which I do not usually subscribe. I was thankful for this occasion to step into the bucket seat of another man’s commute, and I hope to recreate the experience below.

First, the driver wanted to inform me of his choice in exhaust systems for his "whip," as if the deafening rumble that followed every acceleration was not enough:

Fair enough. He also displayed an inexhaustible love for his county:
This filled me with pride, especially when I realized my patriotic brother was ready to embrace our country's heritage as a melting pot - built upon not one ideal, but a constructed of the best ideas from many cultures:

Furthermore, he exhibited a respect and love in the better half of this county, the half that has provided us all with life first, but has nurtured us through to maturity:

Next he provided some sound advice, and aside from the poor choice of font (Comic Sans forces me to question the intelligence of anyone using it), I appreciated the sentiment; after all, isn't fish brain food?

He seemed very focused on providing every citizen with the oppotunity to be speak and be heard and understood. After all, isn't the founding tenet of the US Constitution the freedom to speak one's mind? If that is taken away, you may as well leave.

Up to this point, I was really digging my cultural immersion. I felt like I could attack the day with an expanded mind, ready to address issues old and new with a fresh outlook. Then I was left with a curve ball that will distract me for the next few moments:

While I think I understand the sentiment, I really can't be sure. You see, the underlining of "HER" combined with the unwieldy use of punctuation really seems to change the desired statement. If the expression read: "GET -R- DRUNK, THEN GET HER DONE." I think the message would be much more clear, if indeed that was the message the driver was trying to convey. Or perhaps he meant to say: "GET -R- DRUNK, THEN GET HER DONE."

At this point it is really speculation. Regardless, I was happy to have experienced a new point of view, and will seize the day in a new context.

Best Valentine's gift ever...

2009-02-23T17:59:00.000-05:00

Seriously, I have the greatest friends in the world.

First Brew!

2009-02-21T16:04:00.000-05:00

Smells great.

oh no...

2009-02-15T19:26:00.002-05:00

Legs are feeling shredded after a day of telemarking in the Poc-Oh-No!s yesterday and 3 hours battling the wind today on the bike. Tough Cookie and I headed up to Shawnee Mountain yesterday for a little Pennsylvania shred.

Look at all the snow.

Unnecessary signage.

Insane: 700' of vertical gnar. 50" of snow a year.

Pocono wildlife, crack kills.

Telemark turns: invented in a small town in Norway. Sliding down on your ass: invented in Stroudsburg, PA.

The pizza-wedge swarm.

Tough Cookie demonstrates proper Poc-Oh-No! ski style.

The skiing was fun, if not terrifying. The prefered method of descent seemed to be straight down, modulating speed with a little pizza-wedge action. Stopping was achieved most often by ejection from skis and a superman down the slope.

Surviving alone would have made for a good day, a couple good left turns on my tele-skis made for a great day.

the week in review...

2009-02-08T19:12:00.002-05:00

It's been a whirlwind week, dear Reader. A trade show and presentation for work brought me down to the dirty souf. Three days and two nights in New Orleans was plenty for me; Bourbon St. being a ridiculous (sausage) party even on a Wednesday night. The only good thing about a walk down the street of sin was (a) the fact that Hustler has, at a minimum, three money making establishments (none of which I explored), and (b) these guys:

A quick acid test to see if a band on Bourbon St. is worth watching: (1) walk into bar, (2) stand around and watch band, (3) if bar employee hasn't forced you to buy a drink within 20 seconds, the band probably sucks. Here, I had a Warsteiner!

Returned to the Center of the Universe just in time for the weekend. The weather was fantastic, allowing for a 3-hour road ride with Faticus, Jan, Monkey, Rich, and Zach's boys - with Papa Smurf chasing us in his race car. Spent the last half of that ride taking turns with L-Web pushing the littlest guy up the hills - probably the best workout I've had on the bike this year. Between that and the trip to the climbing gym I built up a nice appetite for a few beer and this:

a proper bacon cheeseburger comes with 1/4 of an avocado.

Today, took the young'uns out for another long road ride. Another well-spent 3 hours, capped off with a meat and potatoes pizza at the Training Camp headquarters. While eating, I entertained myself by telling horrifying stories to the young up and comers about 5.25" floppy disks that could only hold 1/20th of an mp3. They honestly didn't believe they existed.

My productive afternoon was capped off with the most important part of this post:

$42 well spent.

I heard that Nugget Nectar had been released for this year, so I headed over to the Beer Church to grab a case. Only one tonight, these have to last.

so good.

explosion...

2009-02-03T08:27:00.002-05:00

I just returned, dear Reader, from a fantastic trip west with Tough Cookie. I won't bore you with the details, as it was pretty much ski, eat, watch powder dump overnight, lather, rinse, repeat. Check out some pictures here: picasaweb.google.com/forty15/20090125SnowbirdUtah.

For Superbowl Sunday, the Keg Breaker and his better half threw a party. I was less interested in football than the food and beer aspect, so I decided to come heavy to this shindig. What better way to show my love than the BACON EXPLOSION. Extremely delicious and highly recommended.

Step 1: Bacon weave.

Step 2: Andouille sausage on top.

Step 3: fry more bacon extra crispy.

Step 4: chop up the fried bacon and sprinkle on top of the sausage with some spicy BBQ rub.
Coat with BBQ sauce.

Step 5: roll sausage and fried bacon into a tight log.

Step 6: wrap bacon weave around meat log and sprinkle more BBQ rub on top.
Slow cook at 225 F for about 3 hours.

Step 7: slice.

Step 8: devour.

Step 9: wash down.

Breakfast

2009-01-29T12:02:00.000-05:00

It was delicious.

Need something tasty...

2009-01-27T22:04:00.000-05:00

to wash the nasty taste out of my mouth after watching Shia LaDouche in "Eagle Eye".

Snow!!

2009-01-25T14:36:00.000-05:00

It is dumping and we're still in the shuttle. Ahhhh!

here's to the new guy...

2009-01-20T21:51:00.002-05:00

A Christmas gift from Tough Cookie's brother:

Avery's Ale to the Chief! To be consumed in honor of the transfer of power from a huge idiot to an unknown full of possibilty.

It is a full-bodied ~~Imperial~~ (Democratic) Pale Ale with a deep copper color and a creamy head for a beer with 8.75% ABV. The high level of alcohol isn't too overwhelming as in some Imperials, and the hop flavor is really nice. There is a robust malty sweetness to the beer that is a little more than I usually prefer, but in general, it is a tasty beer.

Here's to 4 years that can't be nearly as bad as the last 8!

oil change...

2009-01-19T10:03:00.003-05:00

I woke up early today to make a 7:30 appointment to get my oil changed and have my tires rotated. I got to the service station a little early, and passed the time sipping my coffee and listening to coverage of MLK Day and the upcoming inauguration. I wouldn't say I have my hopes tied to the incoming adminsitration as much as some people do, but I am optimistic. And the fact that a black man is entering the oval office as we celebrate Dr. King's life certainly forces one to reflect on the past half-century.

Anyway, the station manager pulled into the parking spot next to mine, and I followed him into the shop. He let me know he'd need 10 minutes to get started, and went about his business. As he was counting out the cash in his register, he flipped on his TV to CNN which, of course, was airing news similar to my morning radio.

He calls me up to the counter, I remind him what I need done with my car, and he agreeably passes the orders off to his service tech. I'm ready to re-enter my early-morning oblivion when he stirs me from the haze.

"What do you think of this?" he asks. The blank expression on my face tells him that we are not on the same page. He elaborates: "You know, all of them celebrating... The black caucus... that kind of thing?"

Not knowing who this guy was, and seeing the MD plates on his pickup truck (could be a Rising Sun boy), I tried to give the most neutral answer: "Um, I don't know... I think the black community has a few reasons to celebrate this week."

His eyes narrow a little, and he responds. "Yeah, maybe... but you don't see any other minority group in this country celebrating like them."

Still not sure where this conversation is headed, I point to left field and decide to try and knock one out of the park. "Well... in fairness, no other minority group in the US was systematically enslaved for 200-plus years."

His eyes widened a little, he was quiet for a moment, and he responded genuinely, "I suppose you're right."

We continued talking topically about the craziness of the Inauguration: the train ride, the traffic, the spectacle. It turns out, dear Reader, that this guy is actually rooting for Obama. After referring to the 43rd president as "the worst in history" he said he's bought into the message of hope and change, and thinks the new guy will get a full eight years in the Oval Office.

At the end of the day, I'm not sure the guy thought of Obama as the same kind of African American as the rest of "them", but he seemed open to changing more than just oil. That's a start I suppose.

quick review...

2009-01-17T17:20:00.003-05:00

I intended this to be a quick comparison of my mountain bikes, but typing "review" derailed me. So, I'll throw in my 2 cent on "My Bloody Valentine 3D". I went to see it last night with some friends and it held its own as far as cheesy slasher flicks go. The 3D was a super cheap thrill, and well executed for the most part. The plot and acting were laughable; but hey, I don't know about you - I love that in a slasher flick. And of course the blood and guts were too much, but I'm not going to complain about gratuitous boobies in 3D. Honestly, I hope you get the nerdy high school kids next to you making cracks at perfect moments. They had me clutching my ribs in pain I was laughing so hard.

Anyway, on to the bikes. I don't want this to be a boring spec list of my two mountain bikes. Really, dear Reader, I am just amazed at the very different personalities of my bikes, and I wanted to write it down for me as much as anyone else.

I'm not a super bike-tech nerd; generally, I prefer reliability and uber-low maintenance in components above weight or bling. That being said, I'm fairly happy with the parts on both bikes. They are both a pleasure to ride.

The Singlespeed: Kona Kula Deluxe 2-9

The easiest way to differentiate between the bikes, gearing aside, is that riding the Kona is like sitting in the passenger seat of a Cadillac while riding the Niner is like driving a super-tuned rally car.

The Gears: Niner Air9

The Kona frame size is a Large, and I think the longer wheelbase and more relaxed head angle really stabilize the bike at speed. Behind the handlebars, I really feel like the thing is on auto-pilot, and even with the rigid fork, it descends better than the Niner. I rode the SM100 on the Kona and it was like riding on a cloud. The comfort and stability come at a price, however, and that is turning radius and handling responsiveness.

This is where the Niner is king. Aside from the fact that 5 years on a singlespeed have completely ruined my ability to use gears, I feel like I'm a fairly smooth rider. The Niner really forces me to think to keep the flow. But, when my brain and body are on the same page, this bike lets me cut tighter turns harder and faster and smoother than any other 29er I've ridden. It feels twitchy when I come off of the Kona, but once I settle in, it is like riding a magnified BMX bike. In short, it is snappy and it reminds me why I love to ride in the woods.

So there you go - I really like these bikes. Rode the SS in the cold today with a nice group, and will pull out the gears for tomorrow's hang-over ride. Sorry for the weak post, here's a picture of Faticus blasting a snot rocket to boost my ratings:

SSWC 2009

2009-01-14T09:45:00.002-05:00

I doubt I'll get in as I'm way late getting my entry form in... but here it is. Click it to see it in it's full glory.

holidaze...

2009-01-10T13:25:00.009-05:00

The winter holidays are for me, as for many others I'm sure, a mixed blessing. While I love the annual trip to the motherland, and I love seeing my family and brothers, and I love the food and beer; these can be a frantic, scattered, emotionally charged few weeks. This year was no different, but the good definitely outweighed the bad.

Rather than bore you, dear Reader, with a play-by-play recount of my last 3 weeks, allow me to take you on an audio-visual journal (also known as lazy-man's blogging). Enjoy.

Sledding in Saratoga Springs, NY.

Lots of snow in Maine.

Shredding some gnarly lines at Shawnee Peak.

Brothers and cousins.

Craps.

I wish I looked this good on telemark skis.

Best beer of '09 so far.

and a good old fashioned game of bag-snatch.

Flaming balls.

Now it's back to the normal shenanigans:

Aunt and Uncle know what the boys want.

2008-12-25T11:01:00.000-05:00

First legal beer with both brothers!

2008-12-23T22:59:00.000-05:00

sledding!

2008-12-21T16:45:00.000-05:00

the original...

2008-12-15T08:30:00.002-05:00

Here are a few pictures of the original singlespeed - the Iron Horse MT400 conversion.

Painted scheme was "Carbon tubing in aluminum lugs." Don't be deceived... this thing was a tank.

Built up with many of the original components. The rear wheel was my first attempt at wheel building.

Some stenciling provided an affirmation of the drivetrain's status. I'm pretty sure I ripped that idea off of drunkcyclist.

finding center...

2008-12-14T18:10:00.001-05:00

After reading Faticus' comment on my previous post, dear Reader, you might think I have a problem. I have spent the last few months populating my stable and upgrading the steeds I already ride. I fail to see this as a problem, and though I may be in the throes of denial, I like to think that the depth of my quiver is a means of centering myself.

This is not to say that the act of owning or purchasing a bicycle somehow singularly fulfills me; I think I would find a similar outlet if I had a different passion. The outlet cycling provides stretches beyond riding.

You see, about the same time bicycle rides started to occupy a significant amount of my free time, singlespeed mountain bikes were becoming very in vogue. While I owned two geared mountain bikes at the time – an old rigid Iron Horse and a Haro, neither truly satisfied me.

I decided that the Iron Horse - which held substantial emotional capital as the first decent mountain bike I owned - would make a great singlespeed. This conversion would not only require some research, but would also require many of the single-purpose tools notorious in the world of bicycles. So as a poor college student, I did the unthinkable and went straight to a super-discount online retailer to purchase the super-discount (and of questionable quality) basic bicycle tool kit.

A month later, after stripping, sanding, masking, painting; lacing, tensioning, dishing, truing; matching, swapping, bolting, and screwing, I had a singlespeed mountain bike. But it was more – it was a machine that bled my blood and somehow shared my DNA. My sweat had forged the frame.

Not long after my project was complete I started working at a bike shop. This served two important purposes – bikes and parts at cost, and free training on bicycle tuning, repair, and maintenance. The $8 an hour under-the-table pay was peanuts compared to the knowledge I considered my true compensation. That, and it was a proud moment when I was deemed the best handlebar-taper in the shop’s employ.

To this day I love working on my bikes. The process is cathartic, and the satisfaction of a clean, well-tuned drivetrain runs deep. I continue to grow my skill set – this year it was gluing tubulars. I love the single-purpose tools, and I still find my center while listening to some music in the garage and wrapping fresh tape around my handlebars.

I’m not sure if the act of working on and riding bicycles forged my love affair with both activities, or if some inherent character trait led me those activites. But I’m not sure it matters.

By the way, cheap-ass N***bar tool kit may have been the best investment I have ever made. Less than 40 bucks and it’s still a trusted friend.

Day trip...

2008-12-13T10:18:00.000-05:00

Niner...

2008-12-10T18:49:00.000-05:00

Couple of shift cables and some housing away from a new whip...

First geared mountain bike in 7 years.

Just a test

2008-12-10T14:50:00.000-05:00

No beer at work.

happy holidays...

2008-12-09T11:33:00.003-05:00

I may come across as a bit of a Grinch sometimes around the holidays, but only because I think the commercialization of what should be a celebration of togetherness adds too much stress to everyone's life. That being said, it is really nice to see someone open a gift you know they will like.

However, at work, I'm constantly annoyed by one thing.... Allow me to indulge myself.

We have administrative assistants at my office under the guise of "Support Associates." I generally avoid asking them for help, as I have no problem doing these small tasks for myself. I don't even really like my support person, and I've received rolling eyes and an over-acted sigh each time I've asked for help accomplishing something "below my pay grade" (yes - it's never said, but it's implied around here).

I'm already irritated by the fact that we buy them flowers and gifts on "Administrative Assistant Day"- a day that recognizes these employees as something by which we are all told NOT to refer to them (plus, are they not just DOING THEIR JOB??? I don't get chocolates for showing up every day).

Now we are taking up collections to buy them Christmas presents!!! We already do a Yankee Gift Swap, which is inclusive and great and is "in the spirit." How many gifts should one get for doing their job every day? On top of that, I don't even use their "services" and I don't even like the person to whom I am now giving a gift.

Maybe, Dear Reader, you'll say that I'm just a Scrooge. But I hate the hypocrisy and the double standards and the unspoken game of domination and superiority.

Rant over.

thanksgiving...

2008-12-01T17:48:00.002-05:00

First and foremost, I'm thankful I'm not from the Turnpike State - New Jersey, home of the Ugg-wearing daddy's girl and a Nathan's Hot Dogs every 500 meters:

But all kidding (?) aside I'm really thankful for pecan pancakes:

Fall mountain bike rides with a mid-ride rehydration stop:

People who inspire me to work on my log-riding skills and a more boisterous laugh:

Good friends:

New England:

Drinking wine in the year it is meant to be consumed (here's a piece of advice - don't drink 12 year aged Beaujolais Nouveau)

The after effects of drinking copious amounts of wine:

Five Guys:

talk of the weather will do...

2008-11-13T16:47:00.004-05:00

Yesterday evening, as I was heading to bed, I thought to myself: "I think I'll ride my bike to work tomorrow." It was a whim that vanished as quickly as it had appeared, but I laid my head on my pillow content with my decision.

Fast forward, dear Reader to 6:30 this morning. I wake up, pour a bowl of cereal, and have a look at the weather forecast:

That giant green and yellow blog was headed straight for my commuting route. So I quickly reneged on my plan and went about brewing my coffee, rather than waiting to do so at work - my normal routine on a day I bike commute.

I finished packing a lunch, read some news on the interwebs, put on a rain-proof jacket, and headed out to the car, coffee in hand. I sit in the driver's seat and realize I've left my keys in the ignition all night, with the radio on. Sure enough, the battery is dead. Just like that, I was riding my bike to work again.

It's a good thing that Ghetto Prom recently underwent yet another transmogrification. About a year ago, iPaul(c) gave me a beautiful old Atala frameset, and that became Ghetto Prom v3.0. You can read about that transformation here. While the Atala was nice, it never quite fit me right, and I tired of commuting to work with a backpack. It wasn't very comfortable, and it left me with a sweaty back.

Allow me to digress a moment: a month ago, I stumbled across a great deal on a Salsa Casseroll, and the dynamic project known as Ghetto Prom took yet another step into the future. While I love the new build, and used parts that have been on and off various versions of Ghetto Prom through her history, I'm left wondering if she's really the same bike with which I began. She's really become my Ship of Theseus. The original Ghetto Prom had cottered cranks, a 1" threaded headset, and shitty 30 year old aluminum bars. Now she's not only blessed with a new frame, but carbon cranks and bars, and panniers. Is she truly still Ghetto Prom?

So with pannier bags loaded, I donned my name-brand waterproof, breathable (my ass) garments, and headed to work in true commuter-dork fashion. Yes, those are baggy waterproof, breathable (again, arguably breathable judging by the amount of sweat inside) pants and matching shoe covers.

I think the only thing that kept me slightly near the center square of a game of hipster bingo was the fact that my fixed gear drive train is powered by a pink chain and a killer (and still growing) beard.

dog fever...

2008-11-11T09:34:00.003-05:00

Not a lot to report on, Dear Reader. I think one of the reasons I have been blogging less lately is my lack of ownership of a good digital camera. Something that is small enough to fit in the back pocket of a jersey or a good pair of Daisy Dukes. I plan on remedying that this week.

I have been taking some pictures with my Grandfather's old Nikon FG. I have no idea what I'm doing with the thing, but the first 5 rolls of film (dating back to Christmas 2007) are being developed as you read this. That being said, I do plan on learning to use the thing. You know, taking it out with a notebook, recording settings, taking pictures, refering back to notebook as I throw out 90% of the shitty photos after they are developed. All of this assumes that the damn thing even works. So that's one project I've started that I'll probably abandon in the next few months.

Another such project is my desire to brew my own beer. Yet another bandwagon to jump on. Like the Nikon, I found an old home-brew kit in my basement at home. It has never been used, so I took it into the local home brew store and asked, what else do I need to get started? $100 later, I had everything I needed, aside from my original found brew kit. Funny how that works. Anyway, it seems the list of New Year's Resolution projects is already growing.

Other than that, I've all but abandoned cyclocross for this year. I "raced" the courses I wanted to race - Charm City, Wissahickon, Fair Hill. Mountain biking is just a lot more fun. While I miss the cameraderie that comes with cross, and the cheering and heckling, I really like riding my mountain bike in the cooler weather. Plus, these fall rides are always so laid back. Beers in the jersey pockets, no agenda, no need to ride hard to get in shape, just fun, flowy, challenging singletrack.

Such riding brought me up to Downingtown this past weekend. I've never ridden up there, but it was a blast. I think it's the best "local" area to ride if you want to learn how to ride off-camber slippery roots. Afterwards, beer and food and dirt jumps at Wheelie Ted's house. Some good pictures available courtesy of this guy.

Photo from Dan's iPhone. I left right before this happened!!!

halloween...

2008-11-03T10:28:00.005-05:00

Fair Hill Cross... I've never felt so bad or looked so good. But we'll back it up a little.

The night before was Halloween, so Gav and I decided to head to the Nexus of the Universe - Main St. Newark, DE - for some beers on gears. In costume and on bike, we rolled to Homegrown. We saw some of the DCCofD, and I'm pretty sure Fatmarc made a pass at me before I turned around and he saw my beard.

After a PBR at Homegrown, we tried a number of other establishments, sampling the canned PBR at each place. Turns out it pretty much tastes the same everywhere, so we ended up back at Homegrown. There was a killer band playing - American Buffalo; a great crowd as well. Honestly it was better than some shows I've paid to see. However, they played right up until last call. Granted, dear Reader, that is really early in Delaware, but still a late night before a cross race.

The next morning, it came time to pay the Piper. I rolled up to the second DCCofD event of the year, ready to be Ass to the Race Director. Put in some hard labor rerouting and taping the course, and then donned my costume to race.

Despite my front row start (my Halloween costume was "Jeff Bahnson dressing as Slutty Rob") I have never performed so poorly in a race. The hangover left me wondering if this race would be my first DNF: I have never considered not finishing a race because I felt bad. I think the only reason I stayed in the race was to not let down my fan club and also because I was enjoying the cat calls from fellow racers.

One highlight from the race is almost captured in the picture below. Coming into the barriers in the "Heckle Hut", I got pinned up against the tape on the left side of the course. This forced me to dismount on the right side of my bike, clear the barriers while carrying the bike reverse, and then remounting from the opposite side. I nailed the remount - no hesitation, no stutter step, no testicle squashing, just clean saddle contact and pedaling away. I've never even hit a clean opposite side remount when practicing it for the hell of it.

Thanks to dennisbike for the flattery.

Anyway, I don't think I'll be drinking heavily before a race ever again. Sunday, I ran a 5k with Tough Cookie and met some of her cool PSU friends. I still don't get the big D1 football thing, but it seems some OK people made it out of that school. All in all, a memorable weekend, and another successful race run by the DCCofD.

vote?

2008-10-31T14:20:00.003-05:00

As I sit here wearing my Obama t-shirt, dear Reader, I'm considering not going to the polls on Tuesday. Before you get all bent out of shape, let me explain why.

Delaware is all but decided. Biden has his senate race locked up tighter than Maid Marian's chastity belt. Should the Obama/Biden ticket win the Presidential election, Gov. Minner gets to appoint our Senator until a special election to be held in 2010. #1 candidate for that spot? Beau Biden, Joe's son. Our other Senator - Carper, isn't up for re-election until 2012. Castle, the Republican in the House, who I don't actually have anything against, has his race locked up tight as well.

As far as Presidential Politics goes, Delaware is one of the safest Democrat bastions in the Union, going to Democrats by no less than 8 points in the last 4 years. Sure my vote counts when I'm sitting in the booth, but statistically: irrelevant.

For State politics, things are embattled. The battle for Insurance Commissioner is wide open, and I need to vote against this guy, if only because his web URL is super lame and I hate his face on a pumpkin. Karen Weldin Stewart, you have my vote.

"I believe you have my stapler."

At the end of the day, I'll probably step up to the booth. But only so I can say I voted AGAINST McCain and especially Palin. To John: I am not your friend and to Sarah: stick to porn.

just hang in there...

2008-10-29T14:38:00.003-05:00

A beautiful moment from Granogue, at least this lap it was a smile and not a middle finger.

MegA hanging in there. Photo courtesy of Tough Cookie.

The next day at Wissahickon I think JD got me back for the above harassment of his finer half. He was on my like stink on a chamois - chopping me like a day old onion in every turn and generally working me over like a fine Asian masseuse. Good times.

A mediocre performance on a mediocre bike. Photo courtesy of dennisbike.

are you ready for your check?

2008-10-28T18:41:00.005-05:00

So here we are, 3+ weeks since my last post. Time seems to fly when you're looking at life one day at a time. That, and there's not a lot to report. Fall is here, the cooler weather has brought cross to our doorstep. Not that I've been partaking a whole lot. Raced Charm City, Wissahickon - both fun courses. I've also ridden a few anti-cross mountain bike rides - Brandywine, Fair Hill, etc.

Just trying to have fun.

In that vein, I headed to a local eatery this evening with Jan. We had a few bottles of Delirium Tremens and an entree each. The waitress brought some dessert menus, but we both decided we had drank our calories for the evening. "Are you ready for your check, then?" she asks. Of course.

She drops the black patent leather receipt portfolio. Jan opens it up and immediately starts laughing: "Is it me, or did she draw a cock and balls on the check??!" By now, dear Reader, you must surely understand that I'd be the first to find a phallic resemblance on anything. But I didn't see it.

I flip the portfolio around. Laughter erupts. "Now I see what she was going for!!" A couple strokes of the pen and the portrait is complete. For the record, she didn't seem to notice our artistic interpretations.

That's why I like dinner with Jan.

that's not my bag baby...

2008-10-06T19:26:00.005-05:00

Today, dear Reader, marks the end of an era. My well-loved, well-used, oft-abused navy blue and black Saint-Gobain Abrasives duffel bag has been retired from service. This has been my go to cycling bag for the last 4+ years. Though I will be sad to pull my helmet and shoes from another bag, my soul is quieted by the memory of the last few years we've spent together.

This duffel has been with me for most of my competitive cycling career. I started riding seriously in 2002, during one of my financially poorest years of college. In 2004, I took an 8 month co-op internship with Saint-Gobain Abrasives, helping engineer the processes that made Norton Sandpaper. With the money I was making at this job, I bought my first road bike - a Raleigh Grand Prix. It was beautiful: Columbus steel tubing; red, white, and blue paint job; Campagnolo 10-speed. I started riding seriously, but on Tuesdays, when our team would drive to ride in the Tuesday Night World Championships, I would be at a loss for the transportation of my riding apparel.

The answer came out of a hangover haze that August, 2004. It was the last Thursday at my internship, and the other intern and I had been out drinking the night before until 4 in the morning - well past last call. We had been celebrating a successful completion of our gig with Norton. We both arrived late that Thursday, still in the previous day's clothes, stinking like stale beer. We spent the first 2 hours of that work day with our heads down on our desk, only to be interrupted by Judy, a coworker: "Who kicked the shit outta you last night?! Come on kids, we got a nice lunch for ya."

Our coworkers had arranged for a nice catered lunch to say thanks and good luck with your futures. To this day, I don't think I've had a meatball that good. But the finest moment of that day came when two unmarked boxes came out from under the conference room table. One for my colleague, one for me. As I opened the box, a golden light shined from under the lid, and somewhere from behind a sandpaper-maker, a Heraldic choir sang. There, in front of mine own eyes, was the solution to an armful of loose shoes, gloves, and a helmet - the navy blue duffel.

Since that day, I've never thought of going back into the "Gritty Business". But I am reminded of the basic goodness of man. And I've had a place to leave my sweaty, stinking cycling clothes to fester for a few too many days. But the zippers have started to bust. And though I've never said it to my bag's face, I've never been satisfied with her volume.

So when (Desperately Seeking Nickname) Matt Mc. offered up an opportunity to purchase some discounted goods, I jumped. Introducing my new, fully zippered, more-voluminous, but far less charismatic Pearl Izumi gear bag.

Navy blue and black Saint-Gobain Abrasives duffel bag: rest in peace. You are gone, but never forgotten.

vegas still sucks...

2008-09-29T15:38:00.004-05:00

As you may know, Dear Reader, my job allows me to dip my toes into the grungy edges of the bicycle industry without actually getting wet. This is advantageous in some ways - I get to go to interbike; but sucks in others - I have to work (almost) the whole time at interbike. Either way, it's fun to be around bikes.

Last Sunday I headed out to the City of Sin to pay penance for my shitty performance at Charm City Cross. I hate Las Vegas. Yes, you can have fun, but for the most part I see Vegas as a gigantic scam designed to make idiots feel like they are getting something for their money. That being said, it is fun to act like a big man-child in the streets with little fear of reprimand from the man after one gets out of work. This was my intention.

So in the spirit of Venn Diagrams, here are the goods and the bads from my interbike 2008 experience:

bad: 5 days of trade show work (14 hours of being "ON" and smiling and standing and schlepping and wanting to punch every asshat looking to score free shit from your booth)
good: getting a chance to sneak out and try to score free shit

bad: the dust at outdoor demo
good: getting a chance to ride for 2 hours at outdoor demo and borrowing a Spot Brand 29er singlespeed belt drive bike

bad: breaking the belt on a Spot Brand 29er singlespeed belt drive bike while climbing a steep hill and tearing your jersey as you crash due to belt breakage and feeling like an asshole for ever trusting Spot Brand again (no they did NOT have a good explanation for failure)
good: getting a free Dale's Pale Ale after crashing and hiding it in a coozie to drink while you work

bad: working hungover
good: drinking miller high life and offering dollar bill preems at cross vegas with Nathan

good: having my own big comfy bed at the end of the day
bad: having a drunk sleepwalker nicknamed "Mancandy" climbing into my bed at 4 am

good: getting George Hincapie's scrawl on my new copy of Paris-Roubaix: A Journey Through Hell and hearing first hand the story behind the picture
bad: George Hincapie not answering Mark Cavendish's phone call so he could keep chatting with me, seriously, what a dick.

good: Running into Brent from TwinSix who generally rocks and gave me his Miller High Life wrist band.
~~bad:~~ Seriously, Brent is cool shit and TwinSix makes some really nice stuff.

I can't say for sure if I'm looking forward to interbike next year. Hopefully, my product survives another year and I have the choice. Realistically, I'm sure I'll be somewhere in the middle on whether or not another trip is a good thing.

Picture from PezCyclingNews.com

sentenced to death by cyclocross...

2008-09-19T09:29:00.003-05:00

This has been an interesting year on the cycling stage for me, dear Reader. A spring packed with travel for fun and for work left me unmotivated to pursue any mountain bike races. I started to get back on the bike with some more volume in mid June and the legs started to feel a little more loved.

Long rides became the status quo, with 4-6 hour Saturday and Sunday rides helping make up for the loss of spring riding. With the slow-twitch muscles coming around, I decided to make good on my goal of completing the SM100 - a race / ride that was the most fun I've had all summer.

Now, however, as 'Cross is looming ever-closer on the horizon, I am not feeling the vibe as I have in the past 2 years. I'm signed up for the B race at Charm City, a course I really enjoy, but I feel a little like I'm overlooking the Gallows from my cell at sundown the day before my time is up. Dr. Destructo and Faticus have been flying, and they are on the B-list. I'm a dead man.

Right now I have a taste for super-long rides. We'll see how Sunday plays out. But come Monday, I may just slap some slicks and paniers on the cross bike and head out for some self-supported, multi-day rides.

A picture of things to come.

coffee...

2008-09-17T08:04:00.003-05:00

My favorite local coffee shop [chain], dear Reader, is Brew HaHa. I like their coffee, I like the vibe in most of their stores, soccer moms aside. My morning commute some days is a long haul. I like to get up as late as possible on these days, and thus I purchase my coffee en-route rather than brew it myself. Sadly, my commute's route does not pass by a Brew HaHA. It does, however, pass a Starbucks.

Merry Christmas! Psyche!!

I know there are a lot of Starbucks haters out there. And many of them have their reasons. As a former High School Punk Rock wannabe, I can relate to the intrinsic hatred of all things corporate. But, in a flash of not-so-unexpected irony, like many high-performing High School Punk Rock wannabe students, I ended up going to college and ending up as a cog in the working middle class. On a basic level I want to hate the corporations and "the man", but let's face it: to a lot of people, I am "the man".

All that aside, I've accepted that from time-to-time I will buy Starbucks coffee. I don't feel that bad about it either. As far as minimum-wage service jobs go, they take pretty good care of their employees. They have a good product - strong coffee. I still want to hate them, but here I am, twice a week, buying a coffee.

Starbucks is a pretty ridiculous place. There's a thousand of them. They are always pushing some offer on you. And the people there are so obviously commanded to make you feel like a Gen-Y-er - Everyone's a winner! Just believe you can do it, and it will happen!

But the thing that gets me the most is their cup-sizing convention. All I want is 16 goddamn ounces of their strongest, darkest, high-test coffee. 16 ounces happens to be the size of their middle-sized cup. But no, they have to call it "Grande" (which should really refer to the largest if you ask me, but no, that is Venti - I think - and what the hell does that mean?).

I know I'm not the first to complain about it. Why is the smallest called the Tall?

On top of silly cup-size names, every morning, they have 3 drip coffees on tap: a regular roast, a decaf, and a dark roast. Really, their dark roast is the same thing every morning, but they call it something different and moderately racist every day of the week - Komodo, Ivory Coast, West Philly Blend, etc.

As a regular customer, I expect I should be able to just get my coffee and get the hell out of there with no headache. But I refuse to go along with their naming convention. I order a medium dark roast every morning. And I feel a little guilty, as the employee is required to use the stupid naming convention. So the exchange is like this:

Me: "Medium dark roast, please [satisfied, subtle grin]."
[she winces]
Her: "Ok! [huge toothy smile] One Grande Burundi Kayanza coming up!"

I am then barraged by offers for 1/2 off iced drinks after 4 p.m. This would normally annoy me, but typically I'm satisfied by my ordering victory - every day I successfully get my coffee without uttering a word of their pseudo-language.

"Save your receipt and get $2 off an iced drink after 4 pm!"

Today was a little different. I ordered using the English language - one medium dark roast - only to see the Barista (???) pouring me a cup of the regular blend. I corrected her to say I'd like the dark roast, and she worked really hard to not drop the smile as she said "Anniversary blend? Ok." and grabbed a new cup. As she rang me up at the register, she stated, "Our default is the regular blend - Pike Place. If you want something else, you need to specify." I smiled and said, "Oh, ok!"

I was taking solace in the fact that at least Starbucks ruffles a few feathers by remaining staunchly anti-Christian.

Hilarious!!

shenandoah mountain 100...

2008-09-02T19:32:00.002-05:00

This past Sunday marked the 10th Annual Shenandoah Mountain 100. The SHT / DCCofD had a small entourage making the trek down to Stokesville, Virginia to partake in the fun. I was no exception, dear reader, but I made the trip with a little apprehension. You see, this race would be my longest mountain bike ride to date - the next longest being my solo attempt at the 2007 12 hours of Lodi Farm. And we all know how that ended...

Never-the-less, I hopped into Peaches' truck with the Keg Breaker and Tough Cookie, and we left a trail of plaid as we followed Papa Smurf, L-Web, and Jeb in Spaceball One. On the ride down, we were treated to the Howard Stern and the Losers version of Court of the Crimson King, and my worries began to melt away. "This will be fun" I told myself, and I didn't know how right I would be.

Registration. I mean Camp.

We set up camp, which as usual, was mistaken several times as registration. I guess that's what happens when you have a VW Crafter pulling an Airstream with matching awnings opening to a giant EZ-Up tent with 2 generators powering enough light to put the Luxor to shame. Did a little warm-up ride with Peaches, Jeb, and Buddy. Had an awesome dinner of spaghetti, meatballs, and PBR - now my 2nd favorite hipster beer after Miller High Life.

Sunset over the mountains.

Nick and Katie, and their friend John showed up as well, making out camp 10 deep. We all went to bed as a storm was approaching. The rain came down hard for an hour and a half only to relent to a tent full of yapping teenage girls and a barking dog. There would not be much sleep in camp that night.

At the start, racers jumped the gun and surrounded the lead moto that was supposed to pace the peloton to the first dirt road.

The next morning we awoke to a soggy camp, made some coffee and drained the bowels in the Airstream's luxurious facilities. We lined up, and the bearer of the bullhorn inadvertantly let us off the line. 500 racers jockeying for the holeshot in a 100 mile race - hilarious and unnecessary.

L-Web beat all of the SHT dudes after fearing she wouldn't be up to the race at all.

After a mile or two, I found myself next to No-Nickname-Nick. We talked it out and decided to ride together as long as possible. Turns out this was huge for me as I bent my chain at mile 18 and NNN helped me jury-rig it to make it to the checkpoint at mile 30 for a chain replacement. We both lost a little time to L-Web, Buddy, and Peaches who were riding together as it took about 20 minutes to get the whole thing sorted out.

Peaches finished well despite some flats.

But along we went. I was smiling a good portion of the time. Save for the bench-cut climb at mile 50 to the descent to Breyley's pond. That was a nice hike a bike and possibly the warmest it got that day. A nice descent brought us to Papa Smurf and Katie at CP#4. A Coke and a PopTart later, and we were rolling, ready to tackle the 20 mile climb to CP#5.

Crossing the line with No-Nickname-Nick.

iPaul(c) took care of me at CP#5 and we were ready to tackle the last 25 miles of the day. Rolled into camp 11 hours and 32 minutes after leaving that morning. Nick and I shook hands as we crossed. I know I was smiling as Tough Cookie had an ice cold beer waiting for me.

Post race beer.

This race was amazing. In many ways easier than I expected, though still demanding. I'd love to do it again and shoot for a better time. 11:32 included the broken chain and a little bit of waiting. 10.5 hour seems do-able. Sub 10 with a little more fitness. On top of that, major props to Chris Scott and his crew who put on the best event I have ever attended. It clicked like clockwork; all you had to do was ride your bike and eat their food.

The DCCofD / SHT had a great showing. Blair finished 11th overall, Jeb finished sub 10 hours. L-Web beat all of the men. We all finished and it was beautiful.