- Bad Idea Racing - HAS LEFT THE BUILDING

I’m sure most of us are pretty anxious for next Tuesday to come and go.  Folks on each side of the fight thinking the others must be totally loony to support the obviously wrong candidate for the office of the POTUS.  Whichever the case may be I find myself confused at times by just what the candidates have to say for themselves.  Their messages, be they lies or heart felt promises, have gotten lost in a muddle of boring rhetoric and teleprompted soliloquies.  I feel adrift in a sea of words and phrases searching for the dry land that is truth.

Obama has been saying “CHANGE” for so long I’ve forgotten what it is exactly he wants us to change.  Seeking the answer I stumbled across these:

Now, since discovering these Obama socks I now understand what “CHANGE” is all about. Obama wants us to “CHANGE” our socks.  Still I’m unsure if he wants us to “CHANGE” our socks in order to cut down on the odor problem which could be one of the possible causes of global warming or if he just wants us to “CHANGE” our socks because our old ones stink.  Perhaps he just wants us to “CHANGE” our socks in general.  Buying new socks would stimulate the economy, and replacing you old Hanes tube socks from Walmart with some nice socks from Swiftwick would have a huge effect that supports many of Obama’s policies.  Swiftwick’s are made in the minor nation of US and A, they use enviromentally happy methods of sock production, and they have a laboratory proven effect in discouraging war (it’s hard to be angry enough to wage a war when your feet are so happy).  Maybe he just wants all of us to be 5% faster than all the other countries on the globe.  I think he mentioned something about that in the third debate, but then again my memory might be a little fuzzy on that one.

Even though the election will be over soon there’s no reason for you to not support “CHANGE”.  Although if Obama wins the election small businesses like Swiftwick will end up paying 85% of their income in federal taxes (if I’m getting what McCain is saying right), so you might wanna order yours before Walmart becomes the one and only retailer in ‘merica.

Need a little “CHANGE”?

Obamatastic footwear can be bought here.

This message was not endorsed by Barrack Obama, John McCain, or Walmart.  It should also not be confused as another “Sponsor Appreciation” post.  I’m just doing my best to help clear the muddy waters of democracy so we can all go for a pleasant swim (clothing optional of course).  Oh, and by the way… vote, don’t vote, or run for office yourself… whichever you wanna do is OK with me.

Mostly because I currently lack blog fodder, but partially due to the fact that they deserve it, I am going to do a series of “Sponsor Appreciation” posts.  I would love to call them “Sponsor Appreciation Thursdays”, but that sounds like a commitment, and if there’s one thing marriage has taught me it’s to beware of commitments.  It’s not that there’s anything wrong with them.  It’s just that with commitment comes expectations, and with expectations there’s always a chance that I will fail to meet expectations.  Besides, what if something incredible happens to me on a Wednesday, and I can’t wait to till Friday to tell you about it?  It hardly seems fair that if I come across a bag of money, find my lost camping towel, or discover my “special purpose” that I can’t tell you for 48 hours due to the fact that I have “committed” to “Sponsor Appreciation Thursday”, and I don’t want to disappoint the next sponsor on my list by preempting their appreciation just because I found my lost towel (which would be big news for me actually).

These posts should not be considered a blatant attempt to encourage you to buy the products my sponsors make.  Think of it as more of a way of giving you, the blog reader, a chance to know more about the products I use and that you too could use (after paying full retail at your local bike shop) in order to be more like me.  A Cult of Dickanality if you will.  Perhaps you should consider this my “thank you” to the folks that have not necessarily helped me pursue my dreams but have validated my efforts with the gift of material goods and occasional moral support via emails and love letters.

I will be going down my list of sponsors in a very first grade line up for the bathroom order.  Since I couldn’t get them all to line up tallest to smallest (granting priority to the physically blessed just like college scholarship programs) I have chosen the less discriminatory route; alphabetical order.

Disclaimer:  Some of the following information will be contrived, fictional, and entirely fantasy based in order to make it more interesting.  The actual details are so boring that I would probably fall asleep just thinking about them, so I have decided that slight (or not so slight) embellishment of some of the facts will make things more entertaining for everyone concerned.  Don’t read too much into what I have to say here, but be sure to stare at any of the images I have posted for at least ten seconds as I have embedded the words “BUY THIS NOW” subliminally using my “photoshop for dummies” skillz.

I give you Sell Out: Part #1

Cane Creek

Oddly enough while they are first in alphabetical order they would come in last if I went in the chronological order of when they signed on as a sponsor (not sure where they fit in re: tallest to smallest).  They joined forces with Bad Idea Racing after my pathetic “cry for help” sponsorship proposal back in August that netted more gay marriage proposals than sponsors.  Although I already had my hands on a sweet 110 Headset I accepted their offer extended to me by the handsome, puffy armed man known as Eric Smith.

Sorry ladies, that puffy arm is married along with the rest of his manly Hoffenchard clad body.

Anyways…

So Cane Creek sent me this sweet tool shortly after our agreement was formally arranged:

Ironically these are the headset adapters that make installing a Cane Creek headset as eashy smeashy as possible… the same kind of headset I had ALREADY INSTALLED on my Niner a month prior to owning the tool.  I love when my sponsors have not only a divine sense of humor but also a keen sense of ironic timing. 

Then came the super sexy 3-D Violet 110 headset:

*Mike Piazza action figure sold separately

There’s no doubt that I received this as compensation for being the idea man behind the matching upper cup concept for the 3-D Violet lower cup they showed at Interbike:

This new headset serves two purposes.  Not only does it keep a fork from banging around inside a headtube it’s also very purple.  While it is currently only serving the latter purpose it will serve the former as soon as I get a special frame to stick it in.

Most recently I was able to convince Eric that I was deserving enough to get a Thudbuster ST.

I got my first ride on it since the Double Dare (and since I wrote my highly enjoyable review of said post) this past Tuesday.  As if there were some preconceived notion when it was engineered that I would someday being riding this post in the future I believe it was designed specifically to compound my mechanical struggles with technology.  I first tried the post with the very fashionable gray bumper intended to be used by riders in the 100-140 pound range, but I found it to be a tad too soft with the added weight of a fully loaded hydration pack, coldish weather gear, and a few extra winter pounds.  I had to move up to the blue bumper for the Double Dare, and I was glad I did.

The post performed as promised and many a thud was busted on that ten minute too long day.  Recently the preplanned conundrum that the Cane Creek engineers had conspired to plunk in my lap reared it’s ugly head.  My last ride was of the local fare, and I was carrying a minimalistic load.  To complicate things even further I’ve recently lost some weight, and I’ve had trouble relocating it.  Now I find myself back within the range of the gray bumper’s load variance, so I need to loosen up two 3mm allen bolts, pop out the blue bumper, pop in the gray bumper, and tighten the two 3mm allen bolts back up.  I’m thinking I should clear my weekend up to make sure I have the time to do it right.  It’s so hard to be me sometimes.  So many people going so far out of their way to just to play a little joke on me.

So anyways, despite all their shortcomings I want to take this opportunity to say thank you Cane Creek.  May your posts be long and bouncy and your headsets never fall into enemy hands.

This concludes this “Sponsor Appreciation” post.  Please tune in tomorrow for more of the same shit you’re normally used to in a Friday post.

Hey Bill, what’s up?

Nothing.  Sitting in Starbuck’s talking about the Armageddon.

That movie with Ben Affleck?  What a piece of crap.

  No, the one that some bike messenger on NPR predicted.  Scary stuff.

  Damn, we should go for a ride tonight while we still have the chance…

  Word.

I guess after I was interviewed by local NPR affiliate Julie Rose she mentioned me (Joe the Messenger) on a national broadcast with Carl Kassell.  Unfortunately she never quoted me saying the word “fjear” nor did she ask me my opinion on Vikings or submarine movies.  She did ask me if I would be interested in writing some commentary for WFAE, and I thought “Wow, another non-paying writing gig.  Just what I need!”.

Well I tried to write some stuff, but everything came out as a “I’m a bike messenger, and I am much holier than thou when it comes to all things in general”.  Not quite NPR material.  I don’t think people really want to spend their valuable time reading the words of a bike messenger who obviously wants them to feel bad about the way they live their lives.  Anybody who reads my blog knows that I need to be either self deprecating or at least deprecating all over those who are close to me to be half interesting. 

Hetfield sang it best, sad but true.

Is this mother f*#king thing mother f*#king on?  I can’t mother f*#king hear it!!  Hellz yeah!!

So Big Worm and I decided to go for a ride after work.  This means either messing around with loading/unloading two bikes (one for trails and one for work) on my rack, or just futzing about town on my single speed mountain bike geared at a silly 32X18 all day.  I chose futzing over messing.

Contrary to popular belief flames do not make you go faster.  Sure, women were fawning after me all day, but my relative speed was not increased by the presence of a vinyl representation of fire.

Here I am delivering something to the loading dock of Battlestar Galactica.  You wouldn’t believe the security procedures you have to go through to deliver a frackin’ package sometimes.

After narrowly escaping a Cylon attack I was back out on the streets busy not being busy at all.  Life was good.

Have you seen my helmet?

Now you have.

I warned you that I might resort to fuzzy fodder from an SD card.  Got some serious topic you want me to discuss?  Something on your mind that you want me to belittle?  Want to know more about my hygiene habits and/or my belief that the world is just a big Monopoly game (I’m holding onto Baltic Avenue).  Go ahead and ask.  Perhaps I’ll answer, more than likely I make fun of you, but there’s even a greater chance you’ll just be ignored.  Your call.

When I got back from the Tahoe Sierra 100 on September 8th or so I was pretty beat down from the Month of Mayhem.  I put “training” on the back burner for the most part.  The most I would do was an extra 15-30 minutes on the way to work, and that was about it.  Weekend rides were local and more fun oriented than fitness, and I was just looking to hold onto enough form so as to not die at the Double Dare.  Mission accomplished (sorta).

Now the “season” is behind me.  Swank 65 has been crossed off the list in favor of our local swap meet.  I did get an email about a 6hr race up in Chapel Hill, NC (2008 Heel of a Race) which I’ve tried to convince myself is a good idea.  I’m not sure I have the gas left in my tank for another race.  I long for a lackadaisical jaunt in the Pisgah National Forest with a few friends and a moderate route choice with some extended descending.  In short, fun for fun’s sake.

I’ve been thinking about what to do to keep myself preoccupied for the next four or five months.  There’s always the option of holding another Run Club.  That seemed to keep me from being too bored over the winter months last year.  I’ve considered signing up for the Uwharrie Mountain Run (the 20 miler not the 40), but paying $45 to do the most free, natural thing that you can do with your body (with your pants on)?   Maybe I could train for The Most Horrible Thing Ever?   Wait a second… that would mean getting up early and heading out into the cold darkness every morning during the time of year when I normally like to sleep in order to get ready for a race that I’m pretty sure I’d regret entering about one hour and five minutes into it???  Hmmmmm….

The sponsor thing should be hashed out over the coming months.  Two megalo industry giants are fighting over just who gets to associate their brand with Bad Idea Racing.  It’s gonna come down to who can score the most blow and assemble the best entourage to accompany me to next year’s events.  That’s how Tom Boonen stacks his priorities, right?  I was feeling a bit impatient at first, but this has been dragging on since August, so I’ve already had my panties in a wad, pulled them out, and wadded them back up again.  Now that I’m in the off season time stands still.  “Training” will be necessary commute time only, and riding will just be riding.  The blog will get more random and struggle to find something to fill your time.  Can there be enough in my head for a Smacktalkapalooza 2009?  Will I resort to interviews with local celebrities?  Could I sub my blog out to a ghost writer?  Should I get more photo biased and fill my pages with fuzzy fodder from my SD card?  Perhaps shut the blog down to a four day work week? 

This will be my third “off season” of blogging.  I must do my best to hold my resolve and blog, blog, blog away.  If I let my guard down I may not be considered for the Breck Epic blogger’s grant which is a huge portion of my plan to stretch my racing budget for 2009.  My application is up on the website as a fine example of what a perfect application should look like, so maybe most folks are intimidated by the level of writing on display.  Don’t forget people, there are FOUR SPOTS UP FOR GRABS, so after I get one there are still three spots left for the common bloggers to share.  Sure, if you win you are committing to thousands of words written exclusively for the Breck Epic’s site and perhaps some media exposure (Cat Fancy has dibs on my coverage), but look at the other advantages.  Each night while the other racers are sitting around relaxing after a hard day of stage racing you’ll get to stare at a blank screen trying to sum up your day’s experiences in an intelligible manner using 500 words (of which 25 have to begin with the letter Q).  They’ll be having their beers and taking showers while you’re working on your carpal tunnel syndrome.  They’ll be prepping their gear for tomorrow while you’re looking at a thesaurus trying to find another word for “tired”.  After the last stage they’ll be on the dance floor double fisting their Coor’s Light while your in the corner pecking at a lap top with your stiff fingers commanded by your sleep deprived brain.  Definitely a win/win/win scenario.  Stop being so boring and create a shiny image of yourself in the form of a complete application today.

Gratuitous boobs for everybody who fills one out.

By the time I woke up Saturday morning it was pretty obvious that I was actually sick.  I had that really sweet pounding feeling that somehow originates approximately .75″ behind my eyeballs.  I wondered if I should do what normal humans do when they are sick, or try to ignore it and continue living life as planned.  I had considered riding up to Davidson, NC to watch the National MTB Oktoberfest, but I decided to save my effort and drive up with the Fajita instead.

Bad pictures to follow:

Tinker was one of the promoters.  Tinker riding around on a trail I helped (a few times) build.  Tinker’s mom walking around in a field.  Weird sights.  I used to drive hours to see him race in Traverse City or Snowshoe, but now he’s here, and I’ve had to race against him since the days of big time NORBA racing.  Weird indeed.

Jeremiah won.  Jeremiah rode right behind Harlan the whole time I was there from 4:00 till 7:00pm.  They were having a not-too-labored conversation every time I saw them.  Less like a race, more like a walk in the park from where I stood.

Ernesto came down from the North.  Fourth place behind Tinker’s third.  His season is longer than his chops.

Harlan had a nice time talking to Jeremiah all day.  See Jeremiah back there stopping at his pit to grab a sudoku so he and Harlan will have something to do on the next lap?  When Harlan crossed the line he ended up twelve seconds down on his partner in conversation.  Harlan yelled at me as he went by “I heard you on the radio this morning.  You’re losing jobs”.  Oddly enough he had heard an interview on NPR that morning where I blathered about the economy and such. 

Fajita picked out her own spectator garb.  She has good taste and a fondness for sticks.

photo cred: Arleigh

Arleigh was wrenching at the race and showed up on her Xtracycle.  Since there were no helmet police around (that I could see) I took the Fajita out for a ride.  I must say it was very nice, and with the addition of gears riding with a load (even a live, wiggly one) was not a bother at all.   I’m digging the Xtracycle.

Sunday I decided to do the human thing again.  No riding for me, just work around the house, fix the work bike, un-fix the yet to be named Zion, and reinforce my travel case for next year’s travels.  Once all my duties were attended to the family unit headed over to a local greenway for a walk (ride for the Fajita).

The Fajita has put her Barbie biking days behind her and has stepped up to the big, but not so big, wheels.  The Raxter accommodates quite nicely.

This morning I feel surprisingly better.  This  whole “take it easy while you’re sick” thing may have some merit.  Normally I can dig myself a nice big hole and take more than a week or two to recover from simple ailments.  Further research must be done.

The National MTB Oktoberfest starts tonight in Davidson, NC with a night short track race, but the big race will be tomorrow.  Saturday at noon a slew of riders including Harlan Price, Tinker Juarez, Jeremiah Bishop, Nat Ross, and Pua Sawicki will hit the trails for eight hours in what might be a bit of a muddy mess.  I planned on not racing because I thought I was going to be worn out from TWO DAYS of racing at the Double Dare (you might have heard of this race, no?).  Earlier in the week I considered heading up to Davidson looking for some redemption, but over the last few days my allergies have settled in with a vengeance. My head feels like it’s ten times larger than normal, although some of that could be attributed to excess hair growth.  I’m assuming it’s allergies so that I don’t have to admit that I may actually be sick.  Maybe riding around in the cold rain today will be just what the doctor ordered, eh?

Maybe I’ll make the short trip up north to ring my cowbell at some bigs.  I should take my autograph book too. 

Hold on….

Aww man, I can’t find my pen.  There’s no way I’m letting anybody sign my autograph book with something other than my autograph book signing specific pen.  Maybe I can just get Harlan to sign my boob with a regular Sharpie and call it a day.

BTW:  If you know Hodge, but haven’t heard about what happened to Hodge recently read here and donate here.

Georgia’s most dangerous man putting the “gerous” in “dangerous”...

Check back next week for some exciting news.  I’m not expecting any, but one never knows does one?

Do I thank Thad for his support or thank Peter for just being Peter? 
The answer is neither.

Could I possibly write a fourth post about the Double Dare thus astounding even the most expert blog pundits?  Not only could I write one, I must write one.  I have no choice but to wallow in the misery associated with being DQ’ed from the coolest free race West of Charlotte, South of Asheville, and West of Sylva.

Ever seen Ace Ventura Pet Detective?  I am the reincarnation of Ray Finkle. 

Instead of scrawling “LACES OUT” all over my bedroom I’ve been taking the Sharpie to my bike room writing “TEN MINUTES” all over the place.  I’m sure I’ll spend some time in the near future in a mental institution and possibly come up with a plot to kidnap Brad Kee’s Dos Niner after I get sex change.  I see problems in my future if I don’t let this go very soon.

It seems if Peter is trying to use subliminal suggestions to convince Eric to have a new special test in next year’s Double Dare:

I’m not sure how things work in Canadianaca, but down here we frown on cross species relations.  Please keep your filthy, snow drift sieged thoughts a little cleaner in the future.  Children have the internets too.

Speaking of violating orifices…

A laurel branch tried to land me like a fish sometime on Saturday night.  The resulting wound looks like the corner of my mouth has grown a little mouth of its own.  It’s hard to describe, but it looks something like this:

I swear it said “Feed me Seymour” the other morning while I was brushing my teeth. Either it is a living entity with hunger issues, or it is trying to tell me if I don’t cut my hair soon I’m gonna look a lot like Rick Moranis.

A date has been set for the SSWC09 in Durango.  Now that it is on the calender I can think about what to do the rest of the year.  The only other race that is a no brainer is the Breck Epic.  Take notice that I was able to link the words “Breck Epic” to something instead of nothing.  The website is not currently up, but the Breck Epic blog is available for your perusal.  All kinds of info about the venue, proposed course, and what-not I haven’t even had a chance to look at. 

Sweet, but hopefully not too sweet.

More Double Dare crap?

Sure, why not?

That’s a shitty picture for sure, but that’s how much water (72oz) I had in my Camelbak when I went to drain it last night.  That means my total liquid consumption over 12hr 10 min was:

28oz of water
22oz of Gatorade (I lost a full bottle of Gatorade somewhere in the darkness)
18oz of PBR

I thought I was doing a better job than that.  I was trying to empty out my bladder to get the weight off my back, but obviously I failed.  I don’t wear my heavily modified Blowfish pack very often, but when I do it hurts.  Once again I’m kinda wishing I woulda stuck out the Ergon sponsorship deal a little longer.  You may not remember, but I was holding out for the GX-1.  They were not available for awhile, so I ended up with the less rigid fork friendly GE-1.  I shoulda held out till till the ones I wanted were available, and then maybe, just maybe I coulda got the oh-so sweet BD-1 hydration pack.  My lack of patience killed the deal, or maybe my inability to just ask for what I want… who knows.  Since I’m now riding less than 10-15 times a year with a full pack I can’t justify buying a new one unless I see something at a swap meet.

Now about that Thudbuster…

You may notice that I had to go with the less paint scheme matching blue bumper over the more pleasing to my queer eye gray bumper.  If I were going to ride naked the gray woulda been just fine, but the added weight of my cycling garb and a 20 pound pack was pushing the limits of the more aesthetically pleasing squishy part.  With the gray bumper installed things were just too bouncy, and I was blowing through the 1.3″ of travel with ease.  The blue bumper was perfect in that it took the edge off all the bumps and jolts for twelve hours (and ten freakin’ minutes) without wincing.

A bunch of folks at the Double Dare were unfamiliar with the updated short travel version (I say updated, but it’s been around for years).  Most people seem to remember the old version (now called the Thudbuster LT) that has 3″ of travel and is similar to the one that was introduced in the late 90’s (I think).  Since my bike sat around quite a bit on Sunday a few folks took it for a spin and were surprised at the subtle action of the post as it soaked up the little bumps around the campsite.  It really is “just enough” travel to take up some of the shock that would normally be absorbed by your lower back without really noticing that something’s funny is going on under your butt.

Keep this in mind.  When Eric Smith from Cane Creek offered up their support to Bad Idea Racing he asked me if I needed anything.  I already had a 110 Headset, but it was good to know they would be there for me in the future.  Eric asked me if I would be interested in a Thudbuster, and I pretty much laughed that off from the start.  C’mon, a Thudbuster for a badass such as myself?  Never. I want nothing to do with comfort, control, or happiness.  Gimme pain, scary moments, and a sad, lingering death.

Then came the decision to do the Double Dare on fixed gears, which then sent me back in my cerebral cortex files to my conversation with Hodge in August.  Cane Creek was offering me sack salvation from saddle sore inducing fixed gear saddle-to-ass pounding.  I woulda been stupid to not try it.  The post performed better than I would have imagined, and I experienced no lower back pain like I have in the past when I’ve done other endurance events on a fixed gear.  This thing is staying on my bike for awhile, but it will still get my…

Seal of Semi-Approval

But why?  Well, when racing season starts I’ll probably take it off.  The weight weenie in me combined with the “gotta look hard to scare people” image  is hard to pull off with a creature comfort like a Thudbuster.  I’m still gonna keep this thing on for quite some time in the coming months, as I must admit it’s very nice to not hurt sooooo much all the freakin’ time.  If you don’t have the presence of being a badass established I highly recommend picking one up if you’re looking to take a little edge off your hardtail ride.  You won’t regret it.  Being such a badass I’ll probably take a fair amount of ribbing at the local trailheads this winter, but I have a feeling folks will change their minds after a short spin on my new comfort machine.

This concludes our commercial broadcast.
  

continuing on from yesterday’s post…

So happy to be at the first checkpoint….

When I pulled into the finish and saw all the people all hanging out around the fire it was just salt in the wound.  I made my way over to Jason who was just sitting there looking empty.  Eric “PMBAR Honcho” Wever was scanning over the results seeing if he could somehow wedge us in around the rules to allow us to start day two.  Turns out we were one of two teams that made 10.5 checkpoints, but the other team squeaked in three minutes before the cutoff and thirteen minutes ahead of us.  Only thirteen minutes, but the last ten were ten too many.  We would not see any more racing on Sunday.

I made my way back to my Element shivering the whole way.  In a moment of brilliant irony my helmet light gave out halfway back to the car to remind me that my race was over, and sometimes a little more is not quite enough.  I went through the “it will get worse before it gets better” moment of removing all my wet clothes, being naked exposed to the thirty something degree air, and getting dry clothes on.  The shaking and shivering wouldn’t go away.  I grabbed my cold mac and cheese and a beer and headed back towards the campfire.

And I thought it was cold on top of Mt Pisgah…

On my way back towards the happy place Gabe from Smoke Bikes told me to get into the heated Smoke RV and sit down.  Captain Morgan was already on board and still staring into space.  My mac and cheese got some heat, and after a half hour or so I stopped shaking violently, or at least I was shaking violently a lot less often.  Gabe even said I was looking a lot less blue than when I finished.  Once I downed my food I decided to skip the campfire and head straight to my sleeping bag.  Jason made a great choice and got in his car to go back to the nearby warmth of his home.

The next morning I was sure to get up to watch the start.  I had traveled from Charlotte with Blair Young who was partnered up with his buddy Mert.  I figured I needed to get him up to speed on my situation since he was in bed and happy (ish) long before I finished the night before.  After the start I spent the rest of the time hanging out with other non-Sunday starters and Eric.  With nothing else to do I helped Eric with tear down and figuring out time splits and bonus times.  Every time Eric would say “What was team 88’s time from blah,blah, blah to blee blee blee” it hurt just a little bit when I said “That was us dumbass.  Who’s next?”.  When I had time to look over the Saturday’s results I hardly felt any better.

This isn’t even a checkpoint.  We were just sooooooooo happy to be there.

The team we were right behind (if we hadn’t been DQ’ed) had none other than Brad Kee and Matt Fusco on it.  Brad is infamous for his knowledge of Pisgah, has won the Double Dare and PMBAR countless times, and won last year’s Most Horrible Thing Ever.  I also found out that he is a surveyor by trade so even if he had to pull out a map it wouldn’t look like a a map to him.  Where I see squiggly lines he sees valleys, mountains, gaps, rivers… sort of a mental 3_D google earth packed in some smart lobe of his brain.  He’s the man when it comes to this type of racing in the Pisgah, hands down.  To be only minutes down on somebody like that is as encouraging as being disqualified was discouraging.  Granted it’s bike racing, and Brad and his teammate might have had ten flats, saved a baby from a burning building, and helped some Amish folk raise a barn in those twelve hours.  Either way I’m pretty happy about getting closer to the level Brad races at when it comes to thing Pisgahular.

The other thing I noticed was that if we woulda skipped Mt Pisgah (the hike/run special test) or our last checkpoint we woulda still been in second and possible by close to an hour.  We also coulda done our original route direction and been on much less challenging terrain after dark.  Perhaps if those aliens  I swore I saw landing on the side of the mountain when I was on Squirrel Gap woulda flew Jason and I around the course we woulda won and had our anuses probed….  oh well.

photo cred: Mike R

Maybe you’re still in, maybe you’re still in… no, you’re not still in.

I’m trying to put a positive mental spin on this.  I’ve had plenty of DNF’s in my time, but this is my first missed cut-off forced DSQ.  It sucks, and it doesn’t help that Double Dare is my last race to refelct on to who knows when.  More coulda shoulda wouldas than you can shake a coulda woulda shoulda shaking stick at.

Congrats to all those that finished.

Maybe I’ll still have something interesting to say tomorrow.

Just so we’re all on the same page before I get into the narrative let me explain the Double Dare to the rest of the class.  The race is from noon to midnight on Saturday and then 6:00AM to 6:00PM on Sunday.  Each day you and your partner are started in a time trial fashion to go to another point in the woods to get a passport with further instructions.  The passport has ten locations in the Pisgah Forest one of which is mandatory and also an additional one that is a special test.  Your job is to get to as many as possible (and take a digital photo to prove it), and finish before the twelve hour time limit each day.

Since Captain Morgan and I were doing it on fixed gears in an attempt to be the first place fixed gear team and win a couple Smoke frames we decided we would shoot for a ten hour day so as to give ourselves a fat two hour buffer for incidents and accidents.  We figured that would put us in a respectable spot overall, so we’d still have some pride in our accomplishment.  Yeah, best laid plans and all…

We started at 12:13 on my watch and headed up to the passport handout location a hell of a long ways away, and about an hour later we got where we needed to be.  As we struggled to find the ten+1 spots on the map there were riders were coming and going from all directions.  We made a decisive route choice, reversed our entire course in minutes, and headed out.

Our first check point was eashy smeashy.  Nearby and on a flat trail, it was a gimme.  From there the real race would begin.  Before we headed out any further we needed to address a couple issues.  When I installed my Thudbuster last Wednesday I missed the mark on getting the saddle angle correct, and when I was riding downhill unclipped I was losing feeling in all my lower extremities.  That was an easy fix.  Our other problem was that Jason had borrowed a Moots ti post from the infamous Will Black just days before the race.  It’s a great post, but you have to know just what order the bolts needed to be tightened in and just how to do it.  The tilt on his saddle kept slipping, so we did a half-assed job fixing it, and then we set out to the highest points on the course.

It was basically going to be a hike-a-bike to the next checkpoint and then a hike-a-bike to the Blue Ridge Parkway.  We were able to ride sporadically on the hike, and Jason noticed his saddle was still slipping.  We decided it was time to fully think about the issue, completely disassemble it, and start from scratch.  Jason was frustrated, but I kept telling him “Don’t worry, we have all day.”  After some fiddling and pondering we had what we felt was a secure seat, and we nabbed the next checkpoint, hiked up the wrong trail, realized we weren’t actually at the right spot for the checkpoint, rode back down, and then headed over to the real checkpoint.  From there we hiked up to the Blue Ridge Parkway to hit the “special test” extra checkpoint.

When we got to the Parkway we needed to find the trailhead to the top of Mt Pisgah, lock up our bikes, and hike 1.3 miles to the observation deck on top of the mountain.  Our problem was that we didn’t know where the trailhead was.  We went south on the Parkway, then we went north on the Parkway.  We scratched out heads, and I suggested we bail on the extra checkpoint thinking we could still fry some other fish elsewhere.  The adventure racer in Jason pointed to the mountain on the horizon and said “It’s right there, so we just need to get it now”.

His adventure racer brain eventually found the trailhead, and by the time we got there plenty of other teams were pouring out having already been to the top and back.  We locked up our bikes, and headed up the trail into the clouds.  To my surprise Jason started running up the trail like a two legged gazelle.  I thought he was doing it to intimidate the other teams that could see us at the time, but when we got out of their line of sight he kept running.  Apparently “we” were really going to “run” up and down this mountain, not hike it as I thought we would.  Mmmmmm… okay?

As we were running up I was rethinking our planned agenda, and I realized we should change up our batting order.  Instead of heading to a trail descent next we should descend the Parkway to a different checkpoint than we had originally planned.  There would be less total elevation loss (that we would need to regain later), and we could coast unclipped for MILES down the Parkway.  Once we finished the run we bundled up for a cold descent in our new direction.

A million tunnels and a bunch of leaf lookers in cars later we were at the checkpoint and  I was shivering uncontrollably.  We snapped our photo and turned around to climb a few miles back up the Parkway to look for our way back into the woods.  We dropped in and finally, oh yes, finally we were riding our bikes down a hill in the woods the way things were meant to be (except fixed).  We picked up our next two checkpoints with relative (Pisgah relative) ease, mounted up our lights, and headed out for the long climb up 1206 to the next checkpoint at Yellow Gap.  Since Jason’s light only had a four hours (or so) run time he climbed ahead just beyond the fringe of my illumination all the way to the top.

I should mention at this time that Jason was killing it on the climbs all day long. I had warned him that while he had been gearing up for cyclocross season I’ve been shaping up for Thanksgiving.  Where under normal circumstances we might have been more evenly matched he was just killing it (and me) all day on the climbs.  His “Captain” moniker was well deserved on that day.

Anyways, when we got to the top we snapped our photo, put on our extra layers again, and headed down the long five mile or so grassy road bed to the next check point.  When we got there (this was the one mandatory checkpoint) we had to choose between taking five shots a paper Eric “PMBAR HONCHO” Wever target with a BB gun or shotgunning three PBR’s for a half checkpoint credit.  The choice was obvious, and Jason’s unfamiliarity with the concept of shotgunning is worth a post of it’s own, but suffice to say we got our extra checkpoint and headed out for what would be our last two checkpoints of the night.

On paper our plan looked pretty solid.  With three hours we thought we could easily make the midnight cut-off with 10.5 checkpoints under our belts.  We would have to take Squirrel Gap which happens to be one of the hardest trails in Pisgah even in the daytime when you’re on a bike that can coast.  We had to hike here and there, but we made our way to the checkpoint at the top of Cantrell Creek without incident.

We looked at the map again.  We could cut out the last checkpoint we had planned, or press on into unfamiliar territory down a trail neither of us had ever seen and over to a trail that was flat on the map, but as I remembered it, somewhat difficult and overgrown. The joint decision was made to press on and go for our tenth checkpoint.  Cantrell Creek was a surprise.  It was overgrown and as rocky as an actual creek bed.  Our helmet lights couldn’t see through the vegetation, and I found myself over the bars twice when I ran into a log I never even knew was there.  It was demoralizing to say the least.  At the bottom of the trail I was beat up, my brake lever was twisted up a half inch from where it should have been, and things weren’t looking so good. We snapped our photo and hopped onto the South Mills River Trail.

The South Mills River Trail is sorta well known, but rarely traveled between Cantrell Creek and the bridge to Squirrel Gap (the section we were about to traverse).  There are multiple deep river crossings that discourage hikers and cyclist alike, so the lack of traffic meant the next five or so miles was going to be…unnnhhh… challenging.   We were riding on the trail along the river, but half the time we couldn’t see the trail through all the underbrush.  Rocks, logs, and roots all reached up and grabbed at out pedals and halted our forward progress more times than I can even remember.  Just when we might have thought we had found some flow it was time to dismount, wade through a creek, and try to pick up the trail on the other side.  It was a crushing blow after crushing blow to the psyche, and morale was at an all time low.

While crossing one of the creeks I heard my watch go “BEEP” and I knew it was 11:00PM.  We had 1:13 to go, and I had no idea how much longer this God forsaken trail was going to last.  I kept the time thing to myself for seventeen minutes before I told Jason “Man, I think we have guaranteed our DSQ.  We’ve got fifty four minutes to get up and over Buckhorn Gap and descend six miles to the finish, and I have no idea how much longer this shit’s gonna last”.  I promised him that I was still in it to win it, and when we got to the bridge at Squirrel Gap I would go all in on the climb to the backside of Buckhorn Gap.  Five minutes later I regretted that statement.

We arrived at the bridge with forty nine minutes remaining before our fixed gear carriages turned into pumpkins.  We both put our heads down and hammered.  I knew it was at least a thirty minute sprint to the top which would only leave us nineteen minutes to descend six miles in the dark on fixed gears back to the finish.  It was a grave situation, but if Jason wasn’t gonna quit neither was I.  When I caught up to him at the top of Buckhorn I just screamed “GO! GO!”.   There was no time for putting on vests or small talk.  Jason was off the front in no time, and after about a mile of eye watering descending I heard my watch beep.  That beep meant midnight, and it meant we were F’ed big time.

I tried to do the math in my head as I descended half blind and shivering into the dark while looking down the road to see how far Jason was ahead of me.  Was it possible to descend five miles in thirteen minutes?  I couldn’t figure it out, but it certainly seemed possible to my shattered thought processes. Jason slowed down a little on one of the rollers to ask me if I had given up.  I said “No”, and that I wanted to see just how close we could come.  He dropped me and headed down with a speed I couldn’t fathom.  My lack of clear vision and suspension made for some hairy moments at high speed, so I did what I could to get to the bottom in one piece.

When I rolled into the finish Jason had been there for at least a minute.  My finish was our official time, and I came in ten minutes late.  Our two day Double Dare was over.  We were disqualified, and outta the race for good.

I have to go to work now.  I’ll try to edit the above drivel into a more readable form throughout the day.  Tomorrow I’ll post more about what happened next, and all the weird craziness that followed.