Bubba 7 at St. Vincent

(Thanks to Mike for snapping some photos)

After some solid B race finishes this season, 4-6-3-4, I decided to sack up this weekend and do the big show. Uncertain about my relative riding level, I lined up on the back row of the 25 rider field. *An aside; I am most appreciative that we have USACycling reps willing to brave the elements weekend after weekend to officiate these races, but man they can be real turds sometimes* Off the line, the pack stayed bunched up for the majority of the opening straight. I unfortunately got sandwiched between a fella on a mountain bike (???!!!??) and some other chap slapping on my back tire. Jumping out of the sandwich, I was surprised how slow the midpack A race start was, but unfortunately was unable to make any passes. Hence, after a conservative opening lap, with the field stringing out through the technical sections and climbs, I was eventually able to pick up a couple of places.

By the end of the lap, I found SoIll ScottP and DBlack(I owe you massive amounts of beer holmes) who were hauling through the technical sections. I sat on with Drew for a couple of laps and from what I'm told, we closed a huge gap on the next group of riders. Noticing a few more Mesa dudes 30 seconds ahead, I came around DB hoping to tow him up with me. The next time I looked over my shoulder, the DB's had switched, and I now had a Pro-Ass Breslin flying to catch up. Having flatted, the dude was mega-motivated, closing Gaps like a recession. I sat on with Dave for a lap, taking cues from the master, before he pulled off at the Seagal refreshment station on the big ass climb. Well deserved hydration after running the entire course! The pulls with Drew and Dave put me in range of three more riders, although one turned out to be mountain bike bro. In the final two laps, I inched out Martin and Matt going through the two big climbs, ultimately rolling across the line for 11th.

Moment of Zen regarding the race:

-Wicked excited for a solid result in my first big league showdown

-Glad to perform well with my parents in the audience

-Course was phenomenal and well suited to me (probably a large factor of my result) Word to the set-up crew

-Hindsight feeling kind of dick about putting my teammates to the screws and not working with them more or offering more motivation

-Legs & Lungs feel kick-ass

Back to the Future Weekend

Narrative Hook-

Stellar action packed weekend: Halloween, Daylight Savings, & two nights of euro field racing to kick off the new month.

Ch1.

Donning a green Parisian silk garment, I started the race on the front line alongside a man sized hare and Number 6. Immediately the soggy grass gave way to precariously slick mud sections. My mountain skills out-shined the time trialing road fellows as I slowly gapped the field. Maintaining a steady pace for 45 minutes allowed for a flawless race, sans mishaps in what could have been a wipeout fest. Overall the race was fun, but uneventful as I easily held 3rd for the meat of it. $10 and 4 points the richer, I hit the sack.

Ch2.

Tired as anticipated, I hit Carl's Big Bend Pay 'N Spray for a Sunday morning bike bath. With the Stevens looking 95% pro, the mates and I hit Creve Coeur for the third time this week. I was hoping for call-ups like the previous night afair, but in their absence I still found my way to a second row start in a narrow, strung out B field. At the end of the asphalt straight, I hit the wooded section around 6th wheel. I jockeyed with a few noticeably slower riders for two laps before connecting with my usual Dent Wizard counterpart. The two of us, surprising equally matched, traded pulls for a couple laps, putting a huge gap on 5th and bridging up to 2nd. With the number 2 man visibly fatigued, I swung around and proceeded to tow the group for 3 or so laps.

Coming through the ties section with 2 to go, my rear brake jammed as I remounted requiring me to hop off, remedy, and hammer. Fervently hitting the slog, I managed to regain contact with the group and sandwich in. Out of gas, the chaps put some hurt on in the closing moments culminating in a three way group sprint to the line. Aftermath: a wheel length away from the big money, 3 points in the bucket, and generally content with the weekend of racing. College season kicks off next weekend which may evoke other noteworthy happenings. We'll see how the logs are feelin' and what the Rock is cookin'.

Afterword -

Bono to elimiNATEr for rockin' his first cross weekend aboard the ferSirrus express and mucho gusto to Bunnbo Baggins for a truckload of hot shots.

Night of the Living Bubba/Dawn of the Bubba

#1

With my legs and fitness feeling decent, despite a two week aversion to the bike due to ailments and exams, I put myself on the front line of battle for the B race, intent on finishing well. After an unjustifiably delayed starting whistle, my foot immediately found the pedal and I shot off the front leading the pack into the sweeping first descent. Having last led a race at the State Mountain Championships a number of months ago, I found it to be a surprisingly odd sensation. Remarkably, I managed to hold my position for most of the first lap before realizing that I was rolling at a non-sustainable pace given the soggy, energy-sucking conditions.

Sitting up just a bit, a few riders came around me on one of the long slow uphills. I managed to hold the third place wheel and stick with 2nd & 3rd for the majority of the race. As I started to fade, a couple second gap began to form in the group as the pair up front dropped me going through the barrier/run-up section. Shortly thereafter on the same lap, a Manchester rider exploded past me coming out of the off camber mud section. Within two subsequent straights and turns, I reeled the fellow back in and put some distance on him that would stick for the rest of the race.

With the pass garnering a bit of adrenaline and nearing the bell lap, I put in one last effort to reach the 2nd/3rd party. Hitting the hairpin turns just before the finish straightaway, I managed to catch the two, but was one turn behind. This small gap allowed the two to open up into a sprint a few seconds ahead of me and disappear down the hill to the finish. With no one contesting for fourth, I sat up and rolled across the line in ease. Awesome race for me, earning some series points, but sadly no podium or payday.

#2

Talk about a tale of two races. With the exception of the few XC/Short Track combos during the collegiate season this year, I have rarely done back to back races. After destroying an Imo's medium and half a box of bran, I passed out Saturday for 11 hours. Kicking my alarm off Sunday morning a half dozen times, I was resolute in not racing again. However an early morning wake up call from the parents indicating they were coming out to watch the race motivated me to throw on the spandies for another hour of field racing pain. With some accrued expert advice from birthday boy MJames and Boss Hoss Russ, I once again found myself on the front line hungry for a destruction sandwich.

Off the line, I eased my way up the pavement start, entering the grass fourth wheel. Picture perfect opener. Hitting the quagmire adjacent the officials table and the ensuing upward pitch, my momentum dwindled and a string of riders floated by. Suffering up the climb and hitting the second road section, I caught my breath and caught a wheel on the freight train. Going through the barriers on lap 1, a shouting spectator indicated that I was sitting in 7th. Somewhere in the mix-up, a couple other dudes sneaked past, knocking me back to 11th. Trading places with the same Manchester rider from the night before, we rolled into the mud pit near the end of lap 1; me with functioning chain, him without.

Over the following laps, I bridged up to a Dent Wizard rider and proceeded to swap spots for the remainder of the race. Details remain dim with less than ample lighting adorning the pain cave. For five laps, I could see a small group of riders a few seconds ahead and a couple of stragglers trailing us. Despite multiple solo attempts to gap up, and failed persuasion to get the Dent Wizard to take pulls with me, we continued our mini-battle for 6th. Honestly, after both racing last night, I am not sure either one of us had gas in the tank to close the gap.

Either way, on the bell lap, DW hit the afterburners on the first pavement section, putting a few lengths on me. Catching my breath, and maintaining a steady cadence, I put in a hard effort once we hit the grass again. Two lapped riders found their way between us, spelling disaster for my efforts. Hitting the climb on the backside, I swung around one and caught the wheel of the other. Three of us - DW, lapped chucko, and myself - snaked around the low stuff, wheel to wheel. Climbing towards the barriers, I found some power from deep within and blasted around the two fellas on the inside. We remained in formation for the last half lap of the race.

Going into the mud pit and the following hair-pins, I stomped hard ensuring that I was first in, first out. Hitting the last road section, I shifted into the big ring for the only big ring action of the weekend and made my ninth place stick. Despite the less glamorous overall spot, the head to head racing on Day 2 was undeniably more enjoyable. Still in the base/build phase of my fall training, I am really looking to come on strong as the season winds on. Hopefully by December I can win one of these things (maybe even cat up).

Burnin' Sechs

Full body chafe, neck feels like it's been karate chopped, & enough lactic acid in my legs to make a quart of cottage cheese; aftermath of my weekend with the dragon lady known as the Burnin' at the Bluff.This weekend marked my third crack at the indisputably best mountain bike race in the midwest.

BURN

Two years ago, I was a mere Burnin' virgin, getting my sh1t tossed in the 1x1 class. At that unenlightened point in my life, having just discovered SPDs, but not yet embracing the tight pants, I managed three 1:30 laps. Pretty sick D for my first ever mountain bike race. Last year, I returned to the Bluff with a seasons worth of sport racing experience accrued, now fully embracing the tight pants, and once again chomping at the dingle speed competition. After puking out a balls out 1:15 lap, I triple flatted on lap 2, and inserted beer into face for the remainder of the day.

Exposition exposited, this weekend was big for me. Having become smitten with mountain biking after a ride at CBluff in the beginning, having left something out in the woods the previous year, and having this be the last fat tire race of my best season yet, I approached the weekend chuck full of piss and vinegar. Despite wanting to yet again try my hand at the no-gears class, my Mesa mates felt otherwise and divorced me from that notion. Ruffie-colada, Prince of Darkness, and myself enlisted in the incredibly stacked Wicked Fast category. MJames carried us early in the day with Con-Air and myself switching out for the afternoon and night laps.

Lap 1 for me, aboard the Karate Monkey, felt phenomenal. Despite a few bobbles on some of the slippery sections, I blasted around the lake posting a 1:12 lap. Besting my fast lap from last year and setting the fast lap for the team, I was incredibly pleased. For lap 2, wanting to save my body, I borrowed a S-Works Epic from the Specialized demo trailer. With $9,000 resting in my crotch, I managed to post yet another 1:12 lap. Hindsight, I am kind of bummed that I didn't jockey the Epic for my first lap while the legs were fresher, as my laps times were fast, but still not in contention with the fast cats. As has been my story for most of this season, still looking for minutes out there in the woods.

Sick Rips Bra!

Went out for a third, pitch black, night lap; this time on a Stumpjumper FSR. Loads of suspension travel allowed me to smash into every rock, twig, and obstacle on trail at full speed, and I did. Having some problems with my lights and with my legs, I rolled in for a 1:30ish lap, 15 minutes shy of the time cut-off. Tired, wet, cold; and with my mates already enjoying the Blue Ribbon tent, I grabbed a bowl of pasta and shrugged off the back-to-back night lap. Probably should have gone out for one more to avoid looking like a wiener, but as I write this today, my body assuredly appreciates the 13 mile deficit.

Round Up! Rad weekend as always; in fact, better than previous Burnin's. Really enjoyed camping with my Wash U crew (congrats to them for a 4th place co-ed finish) and racing with my Mesa pals (congrats to us, despite finishing 6th in Wicked Fast we still managed 10th overall). I totally owe Specialized and the Justin duo a Coke for supplying me with the most chi-chi bikes I have ever piloted. Above all, thanks to everyone at Mesa for a great event and a great year of mountain bike racing!

The Business End.

MWCCC Regionals

Wash U Cycling Team Fall '09

Traveled to Mizzou Saturday for collegiate regionals; synonymous with last cross country race of my season. Last minute rain and rain-phobia migrated the race venue from Rockbridge to Cosmopolitan Park. Kind of upsetting as I pre-rode Rockbridge a few weeks ago in anticipation of a strong race in Columbia. I also have never ridden well at Rhett's Run. Regardless, I entered the race somewhat listless and flat due to a heavy week of carb loading for my 23rd birthday.

Off the line, the expert field funneled from 20 wide to 1 wide, ejecting most of the periphery into a giant ass pine tree. The subsequent opening section of trail continued to be a crash up derby with kids flying off into the woods in every direction. Making it through the first techy descent and gaining a few places on the following climb, I encountered a fast Michigan rider looking for some CO2. As I rode past, I threw him my can, and settled into a group. At the top of the climb my rear end got loose then started the cobra hiss of death. Flat tire. No CO2. Middle of the Woods. Weekend over. Pay it forward my ass.

Anyways, not the way I wanted to end my racing season. Things have been up and down this year. I had a good opener with my Wors Sport win, followed by lots of time off the bike nursing tendinitis. Came back strong mid summer to win Mo States and place just out of the top 10 at Nationals. Catted up, and finished the season out with some lackluster performances. Looking forward to the upcoming Burnin' and putting in some miles before the cross season kicks off. Here's to the end of the fat tire season and the dawn of euro field racing.

Cross the Streams!

Yo cats. After last minute realization that the Purdue cross country race was in Eastern Time, I opted to shrug off the 5 hour drive to North Indy for some St. Louis racing action. Hermann Cross Under the lights kicked off my '09 cyclocross season with an 80's synth riff.

Debating what class to race during the drive out to Hermann, I was set straight in the registration line by some Mesa mates, Brace and DB, suggesting I remove my head from my ass. I am glad that I ended up in the 3's race. Despite starting on the back and dropping my chain a few times, I managed to work my way up to a 12th place finish. Crossing the line with my teammates, Zach & Matt, was the highlight of my weekend (although the deal would have been sweetened had we been 123 rather than 10, 11, 12).

Although my cross course repertoire is yet small, I thought the Hermann layout was stellar. The stairs provided a grueling obstacle/beer tunnel and the flat stuff turned out to be screamin' fast. The jury is still out on the sandpit-hurdle section. Devious piece of track. Course aside, my BAMF chi-chi hybrid cruiser bike thing surprisingly rocked and rolled thanks to the Durace groupo and tires that cost more than the wheels they are mounted to!

Said and done, great race, great times! Really love hanging out with the Mesa crew. They alone make me insanely eager for cross season to get rolling. In the meantime however, MWFTCS @ Greensfelder, Burnin', and Collegiate Regionals are planned to round out my fat tire racing this season.

Sick D.

Round #3

The third round of the Midwest Collegiate Cycling mountain season transported me to incest riddled middle of nowheresville Kantuckee. The event, hosted by Lindsey Wilson College (dr. who?), went down at Green River Lake State Park about 1.5 hours south of Louisville. Still not sure what in the hell a river lake is, but it sure makes a dang fine swimmin' hole for those local folks. Unlike that B.A. gangsta flick, the 8 mile trail meandered through the foliage with little topography to speak of with the exception of three gnar downhills coupled immediately with 3 completely unridable uphills. Less than desirable race setting, but who can complain about single track perched on the shores of a river lake on a beautiful fall day.

Time zones make sense, daylight savings time questionable, Indiana and Kentucky's ignorance of them is downright dumb. Nate and I rolled out of our hotel presumably at 7am only to watch our cell phones change time zones twice on the 15 minute drive to the river lake. Arrival at the race scene found the lot to be completely deserted. Apparently, despite being in eastern time, the race organizers (just a few miles away mind you) were in central time (and running late). Minds blown and sleep deprivation high, I searched my jeep for the flux capacitor that brought us to that F-ed up time warp.

Experts rolled off first for a change at 9 (8 or was it 10?) . With thirty two riders, it was the biggest expert field so far this season, as we duked out position rolling through the corn field start. Despite being warned seconds earlier of a downed tree entering the single track, a good portion of us nailed it. Go college scholars.

With some early jockying of position I found myself in my usual mid-pack B squad. A group of epo addicted freaks pulled away with my Red5 squadron forming as a chase group. The insanely flat nature of the course allowed us to more or less stay grouped up throughout the lap, with some slight accordion action on the techy descents and climbs. By the second lap, we had dropped a few riders from the pack, whittling down to one rep each from Michigan, Purdue, WashU, & Michigan Tech. Dropping the MichTech jerk on the second climb, the remaining three of us pacelined the remainder of lap 2, each taking pulls.

As the freight train came through the feed zone for the final lap, I slowed to pick up a bottle to find that someone had moved/taken all of my feed junk. Slammed the brakes, 180ed the bike, erupted a series of roid-raged out nonsensical expletives, watched my train depart, and finally grabbed a bottle from a thunderstruck rando bystander, I rocketeered my stumpjumper back into the woods hoping to gap back up. I caught the Purdue rider on the first uphill and danced with him until the tech roots DH, watching him OTB endo down into the gully. Never saw him again, but also never found the Michigan chap. Shortly after ascending the last climb, I spotted a rider about 30 seconds ahead on the next section. With less than 1/4 mile to go, I knocked into the 11 on the cassette and furiously turned the cranks. Catching the Lindenwood rider off guard 50 feet from the finish, the sprint was on. As I started to come around on the right, he countered and I hammered hard, jumped left, snuck in a few extra cranks, and thrust my bike in front of me, taking him by less than a wheel (and nearly mowing down a few of the women expert riders in the process).

Yea, so hindsight it might be foolish to sprint out for 13th place. Regardless, it marked my best finish in an expert race thus far, and really made an otherwise mundane race a little more memorable. Closer to that coveted top 10 this weekend, but still a few minutes off pace. Hoping that a structured schedule of training through the next two races, will afford me my goal for conference regionals at Mizzou.

Quenching an Adrenaline Addiction

Skis are for bitches.

Rip'en Ripon

Quick race update from Wautoma Wisconsin. Up here near Mt. Morris (middle of motherlicking nowhere) for the second round of the collegiate mountain bike series. I write to you from the corner of my suite at the Super 8, catching the World's replay, post pizza and hot tub ransacking.

Nordic Mountain Ski Area at Mt. Morris hosted the event which is also home to the Subaru Cup on the WORs circuit. Each 5.1 mile lap consisted of a king's ransom of open track climbing with tech heavy single track descents. The entire trail was littered with cabbage sized rocks and knobs. Perfect conditions for some skull busting (especially on a full rigid).

Rolling up late, I brought up the rear of the herd through the opening cardiac arrest climb. Picking up a few spots on the climb, I entered the single track just inside the top 20. Over the next two laps, I slowly picked off riders moving just outside the top 10. Halfway through lap three, the tank ran dry and my energy belly flopped. I botched my feed, loosing a spot, then a series of pedal strikes and sloppy bike handling lost another. Pulling myself back together I trudged through the last lap and finished 15th overall. I am kicking myself however, as I could see the next three places just a few seconds ahead, yet I failed to attempt to gap up.

Once again ambivalent about my results. It was a fairly stacked field with a few u23s and Pros on the front, but I had trouble just hanging with the D-listers as both my high end and stamina both gave out. I guess this is all just good training for next year. Hope the short track goes a little better tomorrow. Season goal is at least one top ten finish. Here's hoping!

Butler at Muscatatuck

The collegiate mountain season kicked off this weekend with a cross country hosted by Butler U. at Muscatatuck Park in So. Indy. Rolling into the park early Saturday my legs were feeling decent, but my ego was still a little battered from the preceding weekends beat down. Chatting and pre-riding with fellow St.Louie-ian ZHaf motivated me a bit, but the delayed race start and squadron of Wilson riders cracked back.

Rolling off the line, we jumped into the woods at 0.5 past light speed vying for position before hitting the tech single track descent. Led by a couple of junior pro elite supremos we covered the 5.2 mile lap somewhere just over the 20 minute mark; not a sustainable pace. Coming through the feed on lap 1 I was somewhere in the top 10, lap 2 outside the top 10, and lap three back in due to the extreme pace setting jerks pulling out.

About a mile into lap 4 I caught a pedal on a hidden log while descending and went down hard on my left knee. Catching my wind, dusting myself off, and straightening the skewed bits on the stumpjumper, I attempted to turn the pedals over and grunt back up the hill hoping to recoup lost time. No shirts, no shoes, no dice; I was done. The knee was throbbing and destroying myself over a 10th place finish for 2 more laps seemed hardly worthwhile. I hiked out of the woods, threw my bike like a good sportsman, and iced my shit.

Two DNFs in two weekends has me pretty beaten down. This elite racing thing is for real. I am going get a little experimental and try switching up my training and nutrition routine for the next week or two. We'll see. Seeking coaching or training advice if you've got some.

Perhaps I will travel to Wisconsin next weekend.

Cape GerardDepardieu

Lead:

Wow, I have no aerobic capacity!

Lead-Up:

Today marked another development in my cycling pubescence. Akin to Max in Where the Wild Things Are, I felt like a mere adolescent among aged behemoths. Leading up to the Cape Race, I had a few solid workouts including a weekend of singlespeeding in KC and a few tempo rides this past week. My last workout ride, Thursday, saw me riding the Castlewood race loop from earlier in the month. Demoralizing; I left the Wood realizing that I was about five minutes off pace (per lap) to hang with the true aficionados. This grim truth would haunt me for the remainder of the weekend.

Lead Out:

Off the line, the 9 man strong expert open field sprinted through the grass. Hesitant and cautious, I trailed the pack into the woods following Dblack and Scotto. The first half of the course consisted of ridiculously buff, practically paved, rolling hills. Trail conditions and its rolling nature made for a high speed opener. Unfortunately I left my lungs somewhere last week. I managed to stay with my companions throughout the first lap hanging just a few seconds back. By the double track climb, mid-way through the second lap, I had no choice but to back off the pace just a bit. Much of the middle portion of the race eludes my memory as I ventured deep into the pain cave. Laps 2-4 went by with no talking, minimal drinking, and my head slung low between my shoulders, whilst attempting to bridge back up to the back of the pack.

Taking an incredibly circuitous route through the small acreage park, the trail offered ample gaging of gaps between competitors. Frequently, I would spot riders from my class and reckon to be about 30 seconds back. To the best of my knowledge, I think that I was able to keep a majority of the expert 35+ folks at bay, which I am pretty proud of for my first upscale outing. A disclaimer though, that this is the perception of a dehydrated shell of a man.

Rolling across the line a few minutes before the 1.5 hour mark, I went out for my fifth and ultimate lap. The rolling section went swimmingly as per usual and I gulped the rest of my water ascending the double track. Cresting the hill, entering the twisty singletrack, my body shut down, violently attempting to remove stomach contents. I pulled off course and dry heaved for about a minute. After spitting up some water and gu, I hopped back on the Stumpjumper and took off into the woods. A few turns later, I noticed the rear end getting really loose coming around corners. Then, the bike developed a straight line wiggle. Pulling over to inspect the rear tire confirmed my fears, a sidewall gash spewing Stan's all over the trail. Taking two signs from the big man, I called it, Game Over.

Led:

Overall, the Cape turned out to be an educational first Cat 1 outing. I feel pretty ambivalent towards my performance, as I exceedingly outperformed any of my Cat 2 efforts this year, but would have still rolled across the line dead ass last, even without the mechanical. Now knowing my weaknesses, I look forward to the college season kicking off next weekend and hope that the next time I roll with the Stl cats I can hold some wheel a little longer.

Now for a week of rest as I may have overtrained a bit.

Ma Dingle Speed

rather than enduro-ing around crowder for half a day, i lived out my own RIM 2008 all-star fantasy team ride at landahl. that trail is gnarlier than i remembered. 4 hours of rigid gearless left me needing a hoveround. backed that up with some car camping and a 2 hour jaunt at rockbridge. for a protected trail, not impressed.

sneaking in some rides this week with hopes of bringing some pain the next few weekends. could result in:

-more broken bike parts (F-SRAM)
-tendinitis (anyone know tai chi?)
-face melting destruction (toxic avenger eat your heart out)

Penrose

Things that don't mix:

Crossbikes & Track

Spandex & Ghetto

Enchilada Tofu & My Crap Factory

Heed this advice gunslinger.

Forecast: Chawesome weekend of cyclicnicity bra.

Dirt Biking

Naked Biking

Drunken Biking

SRAMit Up Your...

Turns out that I discovered an inherent flaw in the Reba fork family. Upside, easy fix. Downside, parts are backordered. SRAM may receive a package of fecal matter anonymously.

On the flippity, after 5 stupidly laborious hours my faux-crossbike is back in action and I managed a solid rail to trail at sunset. Every once in awhile Missouri manages some beauty.

Terry Rd is hot sex.

Fork My Life

Detonated Reba damper garners no racing on race day. Fork my life.

One Giant Huck for Mattkind

Entering a world of pain.

(Proud to be a Cat 3 Observed Trials rider...not sure what that is but darn proud nevertheless)

Dreamscape

Two weeks after USNats. I've done a bunch of stuff, seldom bike related. Here is a MSPaint collage summing up the past two weeks. It's real nice.

Ready to get back on the bike and start training for the fall. I am choosing to skip some races in August in hopes of being fast through October. That, and I need to get this tendinitis monkey off my back.

2009 USACycling National Championships

Prelude: The most amazing weekend of racing of my life.

Interlude: Over the past two years, cycling has become a mainstay of my life. Racing bikes was natural progression as I am incredibly competitive in all walks (or in this case rides). Within the last few months, my fitness and intensity as well as determination have exhibited near exponential growth. An early season victory at the WORS opener in Iola as well as a captured MO State Champion jersey this previous weekend offered me an opportunity to compete this year at Nationals. Curious to see how I stack up compared to other riders at my level and enjoying one last summer of frivolous college existence, I decided to take a stab at the big show.

Accompanied by my mates, we rolled out of the StL late Wednesday night to drive through the night. Thanks to a caffeine enhanced marathon session behind the wheel by Nate-dog we cruised into Granby, CO near lunchtime Thursday. A quick nap, snack, and stretch saw me ready to take my first look at the course. Immediately upon exiting the campground, I washed the front tire on the switchbacks heading towards the start/finish basin. An glimpse of the road ahead, the race was to be dry and loose.

Each lap of the 8.7 mile course loop consisted on nearly 1,500 feet

of vertical climbing to the ridgeline followed by an equal descent. The start/finish chute sat on the opening quarter mile climb leaning skywards at a 15% grade. The climbing there out consisted of equal parts rocky singletrack switchbacks and exposed fireroad. Topping out around 9,000 feet above sea level riders are offered a breathtaking view of the range before starting a wickedly perilous drop down the eastside. Dropping a few hundred feet on the loosest, steepest singletrack I have ever ridden culminated in a huge World Cup Style 30 ft drop section. From the drop back to the line the trail offered many fast sections with punishing washboard action. Sport was to do two laps.

The day of the race, I watched the U23 fellows from the drop and determined my line through the mess. I then proceeded to grab some chow and warm up for about 30 mins. I luckily rolled to the starting line just as the Sport group was called up. Placing myself on the front line, we were off up the ridiculous start climb. Partly trying to save some gas for later and also partly suffering in the high altitude, I parted the seas as riders came around me. By the time I reached the feed zone at the top, I had moved 3/4 of the way back into the pack. I spent the rest of the 5 or so mile climb up the mountain stuck in a freight train of slow granny-gearers, making up spots one or two at a time when possible. Astonishingly, by the time I reached the summit of lap 1, I had moved into the top ten. My masochistic side has always really enjoyed climbing, especially passing whilst doing so.

Hitting the technical downhill, I felt great and proceeded to rocket through the steep stuff. Coming up on the drop, I whipped around the corner, found my line and railed it. Two dudes in front of me had decided to run it, and I maneged to shoot the gap between them while dropping, making an epic pass. Rolling down the ensuing single track, it took a few moments to realize what had just happened. Upon realization my adrenaline exploded, lighting a fire under me. The added momentum earned me two more spots moving into the top five!

Jacked on adrenaline and GU, and experiencing a lack of oxygen to the brain, I came flying down the switchbacks towards the start/finish. Not noticing that they had moved the chute 10 feet to the right, I flew through the tape, off course and wiped out hard right in front of everyone. My right leg exploded with cramps due to the shock. I managed to remount my bike after straightening the bars and seat and started to pedal through the cramp. Unfortunately starting another lap meant that I had to conquer the hill once more. Cramping and cranking, I slowly meandered up to the feed zone loosing places like crazy. I snagged some bottles, massaged out the last of my cramps, and rolled on having dropped back out of the top 10.

My legs finally came around during one of the fire road climbs and I managed a few passes while climbing and descending. I caught a CU Boulder rider on the last set of switchbacks and used up the last of my strength to put myself inside the top 10.

Postlude: As aforementioned, this was one of the greatest weekends of my life. I felt great the entire race and was said to have smiled throughout. I am not sure what my expectations were as far as results, but I am more than elated with the 9th place that I posted. Having not been athletic or in shape for much of my life, my happiness with my performance is insurmountable. I readily look forward to further racing in Missouri with my Mesa pals and am eager to advance my skills.

Saturday following the race, Nate-dog, Bunnjam and myself headed to Rocky Mountain National Park. After a late start, we decided to hike the Continental Divide near Mt. Ida, summitting the 12,000 ft peak just after lunchtime. Aside from summitting, the highlight of the day was the close interaction with some marmots, a pack of long horn sheep, and a freakin' giant elk.

Yet another weekend I am thankful for those two chaps enabling my addiction whilst cheering me on. Thanks for the photos, bro-love, and stellar time! More to come.

A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte

The Missouri State Mountain Bike Championships dodged rainstorm, muckraking, and attendees to become one fine sauna soiree. Upon arrival, expert sleuthing discovered that 1. There were only 3 blokes signed up thus far for my class 2. Reason being is that the race didn't start for 1.5 hours. Nutter Butters.

After afforded ample ambling, stretching, & warm-up, I pulled to the line (denoted by the white mailbox adjacent the last shanty on the right) positioning myself at the helm of the Sport-ship Enterprise. Rocking the big ring /"St. Louis"/ "Pro-Dave" start, I led the field into the woods and remained at the front throughout the majority of the flats.

If this were a choose your own adventure book, you would be rockin' the read with all good choices. However, the remainder of the day from this point involves multiple bad endings, with some re-reads.

Prior to entering the tunnel of no-love, I slipped my chain off the big ring twice, embracing ground on both occasions, whilst giving up positions. Being off the chain is not as dope as homeboys make it out to be. Collecting myself and trying to recapture the lead, I redlined on the ensuing first climb, unable to catch my breath in the hottub-esque air. Thankfully, my training on Blue Ribbon (not the beer sadly) paid off as I descended like Stalone in Cliffhanger. In some cruel joke, the open trench of a trail connecting the two hills garnered the hottest stagnant air on course. Air quality coupled with un-buff terrain in the valley had me completely out of gas upon reaching the second climb. Like a bad YTMND, I rode half of Hill #2, spun out, shouted, and hiked; three laps in a row. Coming down the mountain, the air was good and the stumpy enjoyed a bit more big ring haulin'.

All three laps were fairly uneventful. Heat, exploding chest, anger, dissatisfaction. I came across the line in just over 1:30. High-fiving chaps as they rolled in, I realized that more folks were behind me than I calculated. Inquiring with the officials, I found out I won the golden ticket and would be taking home the WWF belt. Instant pregnant woman style mood change (elated and wanting nachos NOW!).

I snagged a sweet blingy necklace, a yellow jersey, and some Chipotle nachos. Despite the officiated accolade, I don't feel super stellar about my performance. Having not ridden the big climb and having blown up every lap, I worry about next weekend with the 4,500 ft of climbing at 9,000 ft above sea level. Like DrewB says, "I'm livin' the lie." But, I have to say that the temporary ignorance is bliss.

Most importantly, my mates Bunn, Nate, and Natty spent 6 hours in the woods today cheering me on and snapping these stellar shots. I really appreciate my friends and hope that I can return the favor to them some day. Thanks guys!

Mo' Money, Mo' States

Missouri State Championships are Saturday. Forecast includes, rain, mud, & dead fish smell.

Snuck in a few reconnaissance laps this afternoon.

-Lap 1 Five finger death exploding heart

-Lap 2 Freakin' Bonesaw (that's a good thing)

-Lap 3 Tired Meatsicles

It's going to all be about endurance and pushing the man ring. Good training for the big picture.

Keep the Faith

When offered free tickets to see Judas Priest and Whitesnake, my mullet spontaneously grew 3 inches that day. Despite only knowing a handfull of songs between the two power chord ripping rock squads, I thoroughly enjoyed the show (the show around me that is; the stuff on stage was pretty decent too). The evening employed every ele

ment you might expect from a steriotypical 80's arena show; laser lights, fog machines, motor bikes, pleather, rhinestones, big hair, and 15 minute guitar and/or drum solos. Whitesnake was playing at a mere "State Fair" level, but Priest totally brought their ready to rock a mid-size hockey arena musical powers. In conclusion, Rob Halford's falsetto shrieks melt the face.

Also, this came to me attention. Not sure what I plan to do about that.

MWSSC '09

Following the Bump & Jump in late May, I inadvertently stamped my ticket for a excursion on the pain train. I guess I got a little heavy early on with the high-end training leading up to the WORS opener (a trade-off for my first first). The ensuing month was spent dodging rides whilst nursing some ITB Syndrome/ Tendinitis conglomerate.

Throw the tiny violins in the river of tears, 'cause this weekend meant sick single speed action at Binder Lake. After spending Saturday skiing with my pops, I awoke from my coma induced sleep Sunday morning, sore and sun burned. F it. My roommate, the original ghost face ss killah, and I pulled up just in time to see the herd roll off into the woods. A quick smattering of Asos on my boys and a few arm circles to loosen up, we sprinted into the single track on a hunt down.

Not far into the trail, we joined up with the leisure suiters and after a few Top Gun-esque duo flybys, Mav and the Iceman settled in with a midpack group holding a sustainable pace. Most of the first two laps consisted of an enjoyable cruise, chatting with friends along the way. Total hangout session.

Wash U Squad: Chris Bunn-bo Baggins and Myself Gnar Shredding

At the end of the second lap, my legs felt great and my pre-race chicken sandwich was still fueling the tank, so I gave the poop-rod some gas and flew by a couple of Seagal-ians leaving my Wash U team mate to his own devices. I stayed on the throttle throughout most of lap three surprisingly feeling really good despite the lack of training. By the third go around, I either really had the single track down or was to tired to make turns, but either way I flossed the shit out of that trail (like a dentist on pcp). Rolling past a few more bro-skis, the dogs started barkin' during one of the open field gruel sections. Just a few miles from home, I managed to stay on top of the pedals and roll in for an 11th out of 40 or so.

Despite not being a super legit race and not totally rockin' the mo, I am still really pleased with the result given my recent riding. The beautiful day and abundance of hooligans made the event for me. It's great to be back in the game again. Hopefully the legs agree with me tomorrow. If so, next up on the docket is the Firecracker 50 followed by the State Championship.

"Hear me baby, hold together."

Karma Police

Last Week:

Car Stolen

Legs Hurt

This Week:

Car recovered by police

Legs Semi-Hurt

Movie Accolades

Video more than fitting. Enjoy.

State of the Union

Having attended a party last night touting celebration of American history and ideals, I rolled out of bed through a smattering of red, white, and blue cans to confront my computer screen (as and most other Americans will do for on average 8 more hours). A New York Times article about reinventing the urban landscape in this country caught my eye:
http://www.nytimes.com/2009/03/29/arts/design/29ouro.html?pagewanted=1&_r=1&src=sch

The author discretely incites a call to action to our nation, consciously or not. I feel that although articles and movements like this seem outrageously progressive or "hippy-ish" to many, environmentalism and a sense of national responsibility will return to our nation through future generations. Just as I was born into an era and community where racism and women's oppression are becoming relics, I believe that subsequent generations of youth will be born into a more eco-conscious America.

However, my optimistic outlook may be unprecedented due to an issue of "critical mass." As the article makes poignant, we see cities in France, Denmark, GB, and China restructuring urban settings and mindsets for a more sustainable future. These cities, much older and more densely populated than US cities have no option but to adapt as critical mass has been reached. American cities, St. Louis in particular have no limits to sprawl thanks to the Eisenhower interstate system and car-culture that came in suit. What will it take for US cities to reach this critical mass? Rising gas prices? Shortage of natural resources? Government regulation? Awareness through community outreach?

I invest my stock* in future, educated, socially conscious Americans. Hah laughable.

*('Cause I sure as hell ain't investing in the stock market)

Existential

Why can't anyone give me a straight answer as to the meaning of that word. It is though they know I am haunted by such a crisis and withhold some secret in attempting to be courteous. Or perhaps it's embarrassment. Like the cast of the Truman Show with Carey or the Ting Tings Japanese manager knowledge is obscured.

I relate with Jack Lemmon.

A Norwegian Philosopher, Phillip Wessel Zapffe suggests four methods of coping; isolation, anchoring, distraction, sublimation. Soy un estudiante de distracción.

Lost Valley Luau

Bike racing resumes coaxing me to update my blog as I find it easier to record my training and racing through creative writing than by the confines of lines and tables in a staunch training log. Since my return from Texas in December, I have monotonously droned away on the cross bike racking up base miles like tickets at a Chucky Cheese. However, with only a few hundred tickets, I am still short of the ultimately cool radio control car or jam box prizes on the top shelf. These awards are strictly for the kids who's parents dump tons of money into the machines for their rascals or for those diligent enough to laboriously throw 1000's of ski balls down the alley. I will let you sort through the similitude of this abstraction, yet the point is I need more tickets(base).

"All the base are not belong to us, but I do have chance to survive make my time."

After a few rainout weekends, Sunday afternoon marked the opening of the MidWest Fat Tire Championship Series at Lost Valley. As I mentioned, my base and strength training up until now have been marginal with some last ditch effort intensity training the week prior. Lining up with the sport field, we were off grinding down the Katy Trail. As I speculated, a few Tool Academy cadidates blasted off the front only to be reeled in during the trudge to the single track. A small breakaway group of seven riders or so formed and began to slowly edge off the front. Strategically, I nestled myself in the middle, shielding the wind for the first few miles letting the ambitious do some of my work (the American way). Like a first grade class, the group single filed and held hands down the screaming descent into the loop. Once again, as I speculated, the monstrosity of a climb that followed segregated the field; men first, boys distant second. Seeing the girl scouts in front of me drop into the small ring, I geared up, called on the Single Speed gods and took the hill standing. Cresting the hill, I found myself in first by a marginal distance having moved up through some of the slower women and expert riders with only one sportivo following.

Lap 1 meandered on insignificantly, loosing only one spot to the kiddo on the full suspension who apparently doesn't know how gears work. Somewhere in the midst of Lap 2, my energy tanked and legs started to compromise. A small group of riders, not sure what category got around me on the second gravel grind, putting in a considerable gap. Some words of encouragement from an unknown single speeder, afforded me the mental capacity to gap back to the group and eventually sprint them out to the finish line. However much to my dismay, our rivalrous haul-assing and sprint finish saw us across the line five minutes too early, affording a third lap.

Out of water, legs, energy, and rocket sauce, my body a la stock market began recession. The third lap was a sufferfest. I remember very little except that it started to rain making the new course milage euro as hell. With my white lips and vision narrowing to a pinhole, I crossed the finish line somehow retaining second place in my age category!

A Fictitious Graphical Representation of My Day

Honored, baffled, fatigued. I think this coming weekend might be spent with more base building rather than rim wrecking. Although I finished respecitbly, it was not the glorius finish I could have hoped for. Thanks go out to my teammates at Mesa, especially Matt for putting on such an awesome race, CON-AIR for the encouragement on Lap 3, and RB for the water and brownies.

when new years resolutions die

last week:
calorie counting
strength training
base miles

this week:
beer/fast food/soda
did some push-ups on my floor
short intense ride

Disappointing will.

Now is the Winter of our Discontent

I like discovering new things about myself. It turns out that I like to meet new people and really enjoy a good raged out indie trance techno jam session from time to time. Box wine is a fine lubricant to get the legs moving. Last night allowed the intrinsic warmth to return to the heart. Not quite there yet, "but I've got to admit it's getting better, better all the time."

St. Louis was beautiful today. With no forewarning, the skies cleared, the sun appeared, and the winds settled. This is time when the folks with any sense of logic reach for a mountain bike and shred tail like tax documents. I managed an afternoon ride at the Chubb, strangely not one of my favorite trails, but I assumed rocks equate to dry trail. Assumptions confirmed. Started in the east and rode the low stuff heading westward. Pretty good ride despite having lost all aerobic capacity. Somewhat worried about early season race performace.

Oddly, the Meramec was gorgeous; I never would have conjectured. The water appeared a spearmint green with patches of white ice flow giving view of the bright yellow sand beaches at each bend. I wish I had my camera.

Inaugural Ride for the Year of the Ox

Spent the last few weeks since Christmas at the edge of America, hiking in the Chisos Mountains. I often need breaks like this to rest the mind and recharge the proverbial battery. Having taken a long siesta from reality, school, the midwest, showering, and cycling, I return home to have my life explode in my face like an a la carte semtex sandwich. Pain and anguish gratis.

Not feeling like discussing my personal life further with the bits and bytes of our computers, I spare any further details.
Stumbling about attempting to pike up the pieces reminiscent of some natural disaster survivor, I climbed back into the saddle and attempted to sooth the soul with each subsequent stroke. Kings of Leon, TV on the Radio, & the Killers were my guides.

Friday was gorgeous weather to return to, affording some dirt bike action at Castlewood. Astoundingly, the legs cooperated and showed little sign of degradation. Sadly though, trail conditions were moist secluding me to the few rocky portions of the wood. One can only do so many runs up the east ends of Lone Wolf and Grotpeter. {Man I can't wait to move west...} Fortunately many other St. Louisisans capitalized on the weather reprieve as well, churning the moist trail into RUT-abaga borscht. Castlewood should be nice and crap come springtime!

Today I found myself meandering about the city and the rivertrail. Put in some miles for the base building thing I keep hearing about. Base building = bore fest. Some mind and muscle enhancing drugs would sure go well with my humus sandwich.

Here's to 2009, things can only get better. I eagerly await.