cyclocross: as seen through my lens

Studybreak

Rode Greensfelder this afternoon and decided to take things in a different direction. Things being, rode Declue clockwise and more longterm, decided single speed is how I want to roll next season. This may prove to be a bad decision as my Reba has really been soaking up a lot of my lackluster riding. We'll see. Looking forward to some cross nonsense in the meantime!

Otherwise, got to see a bunch of old friends which was equally as refreshing as the romp through the woods. Aside from all of the consumery holiday fecal matter, this really is a great time of year.

Month Break

School greater than bike
Wished I could have ridden states
Hoping to catch nats

Roundup

Finished out the racing season Sunday with a bit of face action in the mud. Sitting mid-pack in the B-race I heard the old man a comin', grabbed the lever, and went down. Last lap lost-it, but deliriously ran the bike across the line tipping my helmet at warming up A-riders (I may have taken a knocken to my noggin).

Took 10th at Creve Coeur and Suson in the B as well. Next year hopefully I can sit in with the frontrunners. Figs to cross though, dirt bike racing starts in March and I am thinking 1 is all you need. We'll see, just need to keep the lb's off and be able to squat thrust a toyota.

Fat -> Skinny

Short on time the last few weeks...er...months and thus have failed to produce any mindless two wheeled banter for the church of the
electronic masses. I am often fickle pushing things aside only to desire them minutes later. For example, sometime ago I decided cycling blogs are foolish and that I am nowhere near pro enough to have one. Plus the square frames at WIRED informed me that weblogs are tired and that twitter is inspired or some jive like that. Figs to that. I am giving it another go. Hence forth here stands a digital monument to my land traversing achievement, may it be aesthetically pleasing yet steadily sardonic.

That being said, here's what we missed. School commenced, consuming time like Pac-Man and those yellow blocks. Cycling and blogs go down the tubes Mario style, book worming engage. Kickapoo was the last real cross country race for the season until The Burnin'. In the meantime, some friends and I competed in the Red Bull Soap Box Derby with our Deathmobile. Sadly, I missed the action, opting to do study and spend time with my beautiful girl (wise decisions all around).

Bunn, McGoofy, Yo

Burnin' happened. Nick, last years mate, flew in from Denver for the weekend. We singlespeeded it up, reuniting Team Single And Desperate (much less clever now that we all have girlfriends). A total of 8 flat tires in 12 hours left the team shooting the proverbial bird at the Rockbiter. In the end, we traded the belt buckles for beers.

The following weekend I found myself in northern Arkansas with a group of Wash U students on the school's dime. Although most were scaling rock, I found time to escape on trail and fly over some. I spent a late afternoon on The Erbie which reminded me of portions of The Berryman (the bad portions). Fortunately, a fellow cycling bro and I disappeared for a full day ride on the Syllamo system outside of Moutain View. Syllamo is amazingly gnarly single track that must be experienced. Definitely one of the best trail rides of my year and good training for the upcomming physical annihilation.

Last weekend I raced and/or survived the Berryman Epic, 60 miles Ozark Trail and Berryman hell. Going into the event out of shape just hoping to finish, I somehow found myself in 15th overall. However, I cramped and bonked in the same mile only 9 miles from the finish knocking my place and ego back to 33rd.

Lastly, I crossed to cross Sunday and plan to leave the fat tires on the shelf for the rest of the year. Being my first venture into the skinny wheeled spectacle, I raced the C heat placing 3rd overall. Had Club Buca not given out free beer the night before I probably could have managed that coveted first 1st. Maybe this weekend, although my conscience tells me to cat up. Meow.

This post has not been as elequent as I would have liked, but there was a lot to be said and I am procrastinating from doing more pressing junk. Will try to put out more in the future.

Kickapoo Redux

Sometimes I go places and think I will never be here again. Somehow I returned to one of those.

Two weeks after attempting to compete, shredding some bolts, and bike-chucking the Salsa, some sick twist of fate landed me in Kickapoo again. Round two against the Illinois trail and round two of the collegiate series equates to a fourth place finish. I should be throwing up with excitement, as the sport field was huge, but somehow I'm not. I want to win....expert. No racing for a few weeks. Lots of training and rest to ensue, hopefully more of the latter.

Gruel Fest

Ahoy, been a few since the last entry as the holiday proved to be action packed as expected. Midwest collegiate racing kicked off this weekend with a cross country at Mizzou. After conning a fellow classmate into chauffeuring me there, I took home second in a huge sport field. Not to smoke my own ham, but I am wicked excited as this is a huge victory for me. The trail was soup and I spent most of my time passing on the rocky uphills. Hopefully this momentum will carry into the race next weekend at U of I.

Good chance the legs will be pistachio jello however after a two day gruel fest on the Ozark Trail. After getting to spend some time with the most amazing girly ever, Bunnjangles and I packed up the Power Ranger and headed to Steelville. Hiked the OT from dusk to dawn, slept a few hours in the heat, and set out on the Berryman single and rigid. BT is fucked. Those 4.5 hours of my life need never happen again. Rocks, Roots, Rest, Repeat. The last 9 miles of trail, I felt as though I were a passenger in my own body watching from behind my eyes, wondering how long my body would hold up. I remember very little of what happened. I do however recall downing an entire pizza post pedal. Good times.

Lastly. Reading a local pro rider's blog this evening, found out that he broke his C6 vertebrae. A year ago this time I donned the stormtrooper outfit myself. Forecasting a lot of reflection.

Going Deep

Love -> Cardiac -> floW enoL -> River Scene -> reteptorG -> s'nitsuJ -> Lone Wolf -> Justin's -> Grotpeter -> reteptorG -> Ranger Station cutoff

Done.

Kickapoo XC 2008

Growing up, my father had an arsenal of colloquialisms ready to fire to let me down gently after attempting and sucking at different sports. Having attempted little league, roller hockey, soccer, swimming, and bowling, I have heard a few from the battery. A personal favorite of mine echoed through my head for a good hour Sunday, "Welp, you win some, you loose some. That's racin." This particular day in history, I lost some; four chainring bolts to be exact.

Backstory: After traveling 3.5 hours to Kickapoo State Park, just east of Chambana, registering, and snagging some swag, I hit the 12 mile trail for an hour pre-ride. Immediately, the Bandito began protest screaming with every revolution. Massive chain suckage followed after attacking one of the larger 30% grades on the course. While trying to rip the chain free from the rings, I noticed that four of my five chainring bolts had gone the way of the dodo. Stupidly or heroically (you be the judge) I ran the bike back to the car, set it up as a 1x9 in granny gear, gave the finger to the man and attempted the sport race.

Sitting in the back after nearly missing the start call I dropped half of the field in the first few hundred feet Granny St. Louis-Start style. Passing on the grass, I moved up to the front breakaway group of five dudes. Unfortunately, I made one pass too few and found myself sitting pretty behind a real hyphy on a superfly. With every pass attempt he would jump all over me like a monkey with jellybeans then return to novice mode like a Californain on Salvia. Jerk. Sucked wheel for a couple of miles while my chain danced all over the cassette mix tape style until calling it and throwing my bike in the woods. After a long nature hike back to the car with some choice language, I took on the role of camera man and support for my Mesa teammates in the expert race. Heat exhaustion and Subway sandwiches rounded out the afternoon.

Again quoting my pops, "at least i've got my looks." Vindication in two weeks.

One Small Step for Matt

Gutentag electronic world. Although few will read this blog and even less will care, I am told that chronicling my actions as a cyclist online is part of a ten step pubescence on the road to pro-dom. Blogging occurs between steps 5 and 7; appendage hair loss and chin clef development respectively. Check back with some frequency for race results, upset utterances, and an occasional photograph or two. Here's to the future.

"Roads, where we are going we don't need roads."