- Bad Idea Racing - HAS LEFT THE BUILDING

I was checking out a copy of the December issue of Mountain Biking at a bookstore Friday night. They had an article on two brothers who did the Trans Rockies together. I flipped through the article, and I recognized the guys from the race (alright, I really just remembered their bikes). Anyhoo, I was looking at the pictures to see if Josh or I mighta snuck in on one of their photo ops and “Bam!” there we were. Well kinda. You can see us right behind them wearing our Race Face gear, but my pink rear I9 is there in all its SS glory. The newest issue of Bicycling also had a photo essay on Trans Rockies. There were a bunch of scenic shots, a picture of a guy eating (a real keeper), and a photo of a semi-decimated Keith Bontrager. Man, he doesn’t even finish and he gets his picture in the magazine. Where’s my external validation? Well it’s probably less of that and more that I know my mom likes to see my picture in a magazine or on the internet.

Today is a double whammy at work. There is a huge “motivational event” at the Bobcats arena with key speakers that include Zig Ziglar, George Foreman, Suze Orman, General Colin Powell, and Rudolph Giuliani. We also have Monday Night Football in town and the game is against Tampa Bay which means the away team fans are just a road trip away. So the city is going to be jammed up all day with out-of-towners making illegal turns, staring at the big buildings, and talking on their cell phones. I might have some anger control issues today, or as The Pie says “I will have lots of people teaching me the virtues of patience”. Whatever. I have the patience of my boy Jules sometimes.

“You are aware that there’s this invention called the turn signal, and with this invention you indicate you future direction, right?”

The Chicken Blood party was a lot of fun. We enjoyed a short night ride at a non-race pace at Francis Beatty, and then retired back to the Cacti’s house for an evening of celebration and bike talk. Funny thing about the night ride was that the 24 Hour SS Solo Champ was the only one with an old school halogen headlamp. With all the HID’s running around in the woods all I could see in front of me was my own shadow, so I spent a good part of the night running into things that I would have rather avoided.

The Big Stampede swap meet went pretty well for me. The only thing I really want to find at the swap meet is a cheap tandem, but they have been quite rare (actually non-existent). I did walk away with a few bargains. I found a Pac-Lite Goretex coat for $30, a pair of Rudy Project Ekynox SX glasses with three lenses (including brilliant yellow) for $45, and some cheap bartape. I also picked up a set of Hayes HFX Mags for $100 that are in almost new shape. It was a little frustrating as I had already bought some El Caminos for $100 for my Badger, but I love the Mags too much to pass them up, so if any yinz want a set of pre-bled El Caminos for $100 let me know. They are normally over $200 a wheel, but I just wanna break even (six inch rotors would be included).

Late Update:  The streets of Uptown Charlotte are jammed.  I guess it’s going to be as bad as the all-knowing ubiquitous “they” said it would be today.  I don’t know if I have ever seen the streets so packed at 8:00am on a weekday.  Wow.

How about that?  Just yesterday I was blabbing about how I set up my results page just in case I ever needed to have them all in one place instead of digging them all up for the umpteenth time, and later that day I got an email requesting my resume.  Destiny.  I won’t get into details unless things pan out, but I thought it was pretty freaky that I was talking about how useless my resume was, and suddenly I found its special purpose.

It’s a good day when you find out what your “special purpose” is for.

JAC commented on my blog yesterday (he just got back from La Ruta), and he got some intel from Andreas Hestler about the Seven race while he was down there.  Sounds like it will have a lot of singletrack. Hooray!!  It also sounds like it will be around $1500 ($3000 a team).  Ouch.  I’m looking to do another big thing next year, but I don’t know if I want to commit $2000 to it.  I would also have to find someone with $2000 of their own to blow.  So if you’re sitting on $4000 and you don’t know what to do with it, contact me and I’ll give you my Paypal account info.  I assure you I will bring back a good story, and maybe a T-shirt.

A short conversation with Rob the Builder started like this last night:

Me: Whatcha up to?

RTB: I just got back from a really long ride on the cyclocross bike.  What are you doing?

Me: Eating cookie dough and drinking beer.

This weekend should be busy.  The Boy has his final short track race Saturday morning.  He’s tied for first overall against the only other kid who has done two races.   Participation was a little low at this first year series, but I hope they don’t give up on it for next year.  My short track days are over, but the more racing that’s going on the better. 

After the short track is over I have to rush over to an adoption meet-and-greet to join my wife (I’ll be late).  We’re still looking for the “right child” that will fit in our lives.  It definitely ain’t easy. 

Go home, take a breath, and load up my bike for the 17th Annual Chicken Blood Run/Taryn’s B-day party and ride. I’m hoping I can make it, but the kitchen pass is still pending on this one. 

Sunday is the annual Big Stampede swap meet.  I’ll get the opportunity to rifle through peoples’ unwanted shit looking for things I don’t need at prices I can’t afford to look away from.  

I started getting a bunch of hits on my results page recently, and I couldn’t figure out why.  I did a little poking around, and found that Endurosnob linked it up in his annual Endurosnob Awards.  I feel kinda honored to have my name mentioned and all, but it feels funny.  Not funny queer, funny ha-ha. 

I started my results page so I could keep track of what I’ve been doing.  Whenever I was getting stuff together for a lame attempt at a sponsorship proposal I was forced to scour the internet looking for all my results, because I never bothered to keep them all in one place.  Once I figured out this “blog thing” I realized I could just stick them out there and say “look here and then give me large sums of cash and piles of bike parts”.  Well that’s never happened (due to lack of effort), so I was a little suprised to see some traffic going on.  Having a list of results to look at certainly doesn’t make ME feel any better.  I look at it and say “Now what?”   I’m not exactly a “rest on my laurels ” kinda guy.  I can’t wait to send in my first registration for 2007 so I have something to obsess over, I mean train towards.

As a wiseman named Dee Snyder once said,
“Stay Hungry”

Well now, it really is the off season. What to do, what to do, what to do??? I’ve been checking out everybody elses’ blogs and they seem to have a fair grasp on next year. I seem to have no clue. I have my limits set for next year and that’s about it.

I will do no races shorter than 100 miles/12 hours if I have to drive more than 4 hours to get there.

I will only buy one plane ticket this year.

I will only do La Ruta if I haven’t paid to fly somewhere earlier in the year.

I will only go back to Trans Rockies on someone elses dime.

Seven is only an option if the price is right, the days are HARD, and I can find a partner with strong legs and deep pockets.

Shenandoah 100 is not an option, it is required.

I won’t defend my World Championship, unless it’s on someone else’s dime.

I’m not going to commit myself too early to something like Ironbike (see last year). Refunds and such are a pain in the butt.

PMBAR till death.

So I have very little clue as to what I am doing next year. My 2006 “season” is going to be a hard act to follow. I think in the next few days I’ll rehash this season to give me something to do.

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This weekend could have went a lot worse, and it would have been all my fault. Let’s start with last Friday. I did a half-ass packing job for the race. I had a bunch of crap to do on Saturday so I thought I should get it done early. I was doing a lot of other things while I was packing that were totally unrelated. I was taking a “lazy fair” (french for apathetic festival) attitude to the whole thing. I couldn’t find my Woolie Boolies so I just grabbed a few random pairs of socks. I threw some Burn in the fridge with a Nalgene full of water with a plan to grab them when I headed out Sunday.

I did a once over, or really just a half a once over Saturday night before I went to bed. Sunday morning I ran around looking for my Woolie Boolies in the dark bedroom (the Pie would’ve killed me if I turned on the lights. I got in the car and headed out without my water or my can of Burn.

When I got to the race I realized I forgot my electrolytes (there was some in my shwag bag, but my brain didn’t make the connection). I also realized I had not really thought out the aid stations. I could have easily filled four bottles with Heed and sent them ahead. Once the race started I realized pretty quickly I was going to be screwed. I figured there were some electrolytes in my GU, but silly me I grabbed six or seven Espresso packs. The more Gu I put down the more caffiene I get. The more caffiene I get the quicker I dehydrate. Oops. I ended up peeing twice in five hours which is ridiculous and cost me time.

I didn’t even think about my usual pre-race dose of ibuprofen until the first rocky descent. My hands were killing me. I haven’t been the smartest boy since August and my hands really need a break (or an anti-inflammatory). So then I was worried that my hands wouldn’t make it, or I would lose my grip going down a fast descent. I couldn’t even hold onto the bars tightly when I needed leverage for climbing. I was also worried about the fact that without water I’d cramp, I couldn’t eat too much GU or I’d pee too much. I also worried that if I pushed it on the climbs I’d cramp from not having enough electrolytes in my system. My feet were cold as hell for most of the race, and it got a lot worse when I chose to wade through the stream crossings. I was wearing Mechanix gloves I just bought the night before, and they weren’t “broke in” so they were killing my thumbs. I was in a state of controlled panic pretty much the whole time. So after going through all that I was pretty stoked to find out I was in fifth as I was just hoping to hold on to a top twenty. I wished I coulda hung out and enjoyed the post race beverages, but this was a day trip for me. I gotta do something about that if I come back next year.

Eric (PMBAR honcho) Wever gave me a CD to listen to on the way home. The name of the band is Lamb of God. It is the angriest shit I have heard in a long time. I was so juiced on the drive home I coulda kept going till I hit Europe. I am not sure if they wrote the intro to one of the songs, but it had a good Viking feel to it (just an excerpt).

For a wounded man shall say unto his assailant
If I live, I will kill you
If I die, you are forgiven
Such is the rule of honor

BTW: Here’s a cool pic of Harlan Price from La Ruta day three (notice he is keeping pace with Andreas Hestler)

from Canadiancyclist.com

The Swank 65 is a rugged backcountry race limited to 100 riders held in the Pisgah National Forest. The length of the race is generally close to 65 kilometers, and Todd Branham (race honcho) does his best to make it a challenge. I got to the venue early Sunday morning and watched the competition arrive. There are no classes (except male/female) so everybody there was to be considered a threat. I recognized parts of the Koerber Klan, Garth “Sideshow Bob” Prosser, Wes “The King of Pisgah” Dickson, Ross “crushed me last winter in the short track” Doswell, Crazy Dennis Helton, Matt “Bio Wheels Owner” Johnson….the list goes on. I got tenth in last year’s race, but it was looking like that may be a difficult goal to duplicate. I got my race map at registration and scanned it over. It was going to be a doozy with multiple major climbs and a descent down the deadly (and leaf covered) Farlow Gap.

It was thirty seven degress when we had our Lemans start that took us through the woods. I realized as I watched the knees and elbows running through the woods that I was already smiling. I love running starts on trails instead of open fields. People look funny running on trails in helmets and riding shoes. I got to my bike somewhere in the top twenty or so riders and took off. The first few miles were not SS friendly, and I lost a few more spots on the gently rolling terrain.

Once we hit the first serious pitch I was able to go into “attack mode” and I began to push my pace higher. I started getting back some places as we approached Gloucester Gap. They were just setting up aid station one, and I only had a half a water bottle. I blew it off and continued on course. We finally hit our first section of trail and I went in having no real idea where we were going. My mind was runing through the laundry list of mistakes I’d already made. I didn’t have any Endurolytes (left them at home), no Ibuprofen (keeping the Endurolytes company), and I am now starting a loop of unknown distance with half a water bottle…hmmm. I’m off to a good start. My legs were really there for me, but my brain was fuzzy. I came to a downed tree, and I tried to ride through some of the branches “George Bush style”; full bore with no exit strategy.  I ended up just like G.W., on my ass and looking stupid. I realized I’d better not be needing my brain the rest of the day, because it must be at home hanging out with the Ibuprofen and Endurolytes.

When the trail headed up I would gain a few spots, but when the trail went down I would lose all the places right back. Deep leaves, rocks, speed, and a rigid fork were combined to achieve what is known in physics as “chaos”. I would randomly get chucked to the side or popped from my pedal without warning, so I had to use the brakes more than I woulda liked to. I was then reminded about something I wanted to forget. My hands weren’t even close to being recovered from Conyers, so I couldn’t hold onto the bars without a large amount of pain. This was going to be a long day. Oh yeah, I’m out of water at this point. Ooops.

I’m not sure how long I was without water, but it was probably over a half an hour. I finally popped back out at the aid station hoping to get some Gatorade to replace electrolytes, and to hydrate. No luck, just water. I chased outta the aid and got back a few places only to be passed on the road descent to the next trail. When I got on the trail I just started hammering. All the climbs were gradual, the trails familiar, and I was geared right for the conditions. I got back Matt, Crazy Dennis, Wes, Sam K., and some dude in a purple jersey. I figured based on the company I was in I must be doing okay. I kept them behind me and popped out at the aid station totally out of water again. Damn, I was cutting it close.

I know the climb to the top of Farlow well. It is long, steep, and long. I decided not to go “all in” as there was still one more major climb of the day, but even climbing at a reserved pace my heart rate was through the roof a couple of times. I could only see a few tracks in the dirt which added to my crazed euphoria. I had to be doing well. When I got to the top of Farlow I knew I just had to get down as fast (and safe) as possible. The horrendous rock gardens were so covered in leaves that they looked flat. Damn, off and walking down a hill is not very manly. At the creek crossings I chose to walk right through the deep cold water, instead of pussy footing around trying to stay on top of the rocks to keep my feet dry. I didn’t want anybody to catch me. I made it down Farlow to Daniel’s Ridge where I just blasted the high speed sections with some vague remembrance of what was under all the leaves. Occasionally a rock would grab me and try to throw me down. I had some very “thrilling” moments, but I kept it upright.

I knew the next section was not single speed friendly at all. It was a gentle double track along the river, and if anybody caught me there it would give them a huge mental boost. I went as fast as I could, but soon into the trail I looked back and saw Crazy Dennis catching me. We spoke for a few seconds, and after that I saw him disappear into the distance. Damn. I caught up to him at the last aid station, but he got out before I did. I made chase, but Dennis was fighting back, and I could see it in his pedal stroke. Halfway up the climb he was looking cashed in, so I gunned it hoping to put some time on him before the last descent. I knew it would be almost impossible to gain a big enough advantage on Dennis to hold him off to the finish. I can go down Cove Creek pretty fast, but he’s a local and they don’t call him Crazy Dennis for nothing. I was close to the bottom when he caught me, and he put me outta my misery quickly. We came through the finish line 26 seconds apart. As I laid down in the grass I asked what place I was in.

“Fifth”

“Fifth? Are you shitting me? Wow.”

There you have it. I couldn’t have wanted more than that. I ended up about 17 minutes down on the winner Garth Prosser, a fair dinkum better than I’d anticipated. Hunting season is over.

I'm a wanted man.  

The only man who should be pulling a “trigger” in my world.

Since I just pulled the trigger on the Swank on Wednesday night I figured I had three days to train and prepare. I ran out and got a twelve pack (of light beer) and started eating Halloween candy. My theory is if you can’t properly prepare then you should prepare a proper excuse. I had to give the Meatplow a once over. I haven’t given it much love since Conyers. The little 1.9″ rear tire was worn out from all the exposed rock and needed replaced. No problem, errrr… I mean slight problem. I don’t really have an A1 condition tire laying around right now, so I put on a patched UST Scorpion that has never been used since I patched it. My rear brake was another issue. The lever had way too much throw after the race, and the only lazy attempt I made to address the problem resulted in some horrible brake rub. That’s okay for local riding, but not acceptable for an endurance race in the mountains. Push back the pads, insert business cards, squeeze lever, check results, curse up a storm, and repeat until desired result is achieved. That normally works, but it didn’t this time. Since I didn’t have time to really monkey with it I tossed in a new set of pads and that worked, so I quit there. I also took the time to swap back to my 26″ wide bars. I put on 24″ bars with more rise for the Worlds to reduce back fatigue and to make it easier to keep it outta the trees. This race will be about wide-open speed. Long mountain climbs where I will need lots of leverage, and screaming descents where tree contact is only a probelm if you fly off the trail and down the mountain.

As always I have to figure out how to carry my stuff. Todd’s races always have short distances between checkpoints and the overall distance isn’t what I consider “long”. I’m going “old skool” and using a neoprene CD player pack to carry all my gear in the small of my back. The bike looks better without a tube or CO2 hanging off of it, and if it looks good it will feel better about itself (yes Dave, your bike has a low self image).

What do I really like about the Swank? Other than the course I like the cut and dry classes. You got your men’s class and your women’s class. That’s it. The race is capped at 100 riders, and all you have to do is know your gender. Sure if a race has an SS class I’m in it, but I don’t have a problem mixing it up with the “gear enhanced” riders. No beginner, no sport, and no expert. Just give a looksee down in your chamois and pick a category.

Oh, by the way. There’s a new stage race in town. Read all about it here. I’m looking at it with a certain amount of interest.

Oh yeah, La Ruta starts TODAY!!!!!!!!! (like I am not sad to be missing it again)

(best edition ever)

“Can I get a refill on this pretend beer?”

Who’s going to the Swank 65 this weekend?

You? Maybe.

Me? Hell yeah.

I caved. I said I wouldn’t do it, but I did. I registered. I didn’t want to wake up Sunday morning and regret not going. What can I say? I love to race. I love the belly full of nerves at the start. I love the drool that flows down my chin as I close in on a climbing rider in the distance. I love descending at breakneck speeds in the name of competition. Sweet, sweet racing.

I was going to do this race ONLY if my Badger showed up. I talked to Rob the Builder last night, and he said if I wanted it specifically for this race he would have hurried it up. I told him I was letting fate decide. Well, screw fate, I’m going anyways. It probably wouldn’t have been the best idea to be building up a foriegn bike with untested brakes down Farlow Gap. Yummmmmm, Farlow.

“Farlow, Farlow, Farlow, Farlow, Farlow, Huh-farge” (gotta be an Amigos fan to get it)

Farlow is one of the nastiest descents in Pisgah. There were many doubters who, when they heard the race would be routed down Farlow said “Race down Farlow! Are you insane?”. Yes, we are. Thank you. I say it is sheer genius to raise the bar to this phenomenal height. Thanks Todd. Farlow took my resolve not to race into the ring and put it on the canvas in three rounds.

Me on Farlow earlier this year (“training for the Worlds“, musta worked)

Josh the Wonderboy styling down “The Big F Trail” way earlier this year:

I’m just waiting on a frame.

The last piece of the puzzle showed up yesterday.

 
FOREVER