A road race less traveled

Around 4:30PM on Friday I decided on my plan for the weekend. I did not do the marathon race right here in the Queen City on Saturday. I did hear that they had a great turnout (despite a soaker passing through Friday night), and there were somewhere around twenty guys in the SS class. I'll admit I was thinking about the race from time to time all day, but I chose to spend the day with the family. The rest of the family was headed to an adoption class to regale the students with tales of our adoption of Nia, and I went along to give the happy father's perspective. The Pie takes a lot of time outta her life to help other's along the bumpy adoption road, so I did my small part today as opposed to riding more circles in the dirt.

On Sunday the Notorious B.I.G. Worm and I headed down to Greenville to participate in a cycling double header. First we hit up the trails at Paris Mountain. I was amazed that the citizens of Greenville have such an awesome trail system right at the edge of the city. It was hard at times to not feel like I was in THE mountains... fast flowy trails, little technical sections, a worthy downhill course, actual CLIMBING, and views.

all photos: Big Worm

I was not able to ride up the wall of this culvert no matter how hard I tried. No, this is not part of the actual trail system, but being Paris Mountain noobies we had to check out all the tourist attractions.

Little drops abound all over the trails. Here I am the instant I landed (as you can tell by the complete compression of my front tire). Do I love the Rampage combo on the Flow rim? You tell me...
Yes George, this is why I want the new WTB Kodiak as soon as it gets to your toy store.

Then it was time to don my civvies and head over to part two of Sunday's double header.

We rode over to the US Pro Road race course and then backwards up the big climb. We met up with Tomato (who was a big help in the logistical planning of our day) and company. As much as I liken watching road racing to watching paint dry it was kinda neat to have lead motos and such trying to shave off my kneecaps as they went by. We watched the big boys crush the mountain climb, observed as the crazy Columbian spectators pushed the stragglers up the climb, and marveled at how much gasoline it takes to keep all the riders safe on the course. VIP SUV's, cop cars, motos, a helicopter, ambulances, and of course the Broom Wagon... all in the name of bike racing. Weird.

Hopefully this is the start of a new trend. No, not skipping the actual participation of races in order to spectate more slightly less interesting events. Instead I hope to have more new experiences and avoid doing more of the same old same old. Some of the races I've done in this year 2009 I've done quite a few times. There are a few I hope to do forever (like PMBAR), but I think some will have to go the wayside to make room for new events in 2010.

This year I made the mistake of passing up the opportunity to travel to the Dakota Five-0 with the Twin Six fellers in order to do the Shenandoah 100 for the fourth time in a row. The Shenandoah is one of my favorite races, but I regret that I didn't go for the new adventure and chose the safe and familiar instead. Meh. Next year I hope to avoid that situation entirely and try to pick something new over the same old same old when possible. Ironically, I can see my year starting out just as it did in '09 (Six Hours of Warrior Creek, PMBAR, DSG), but hopefully the Trans-Sylvania will turn it all around and get me on the right track. Of course it will still be mostly East Coast oriented, so coming up with a whole slew of the new won't be easy, but I'm gonna do what I can.

FYI: Backcountry Reearch is having a sale till Labor Day. Now is your chance to get Awesome at a lower price than usual (with free shipping). It has never been cheaper to emulate me with your choice in fine (yet affordable) cycling related equipment, so take advantage of this opportunity to strap it on like Dick.

Jumble... I.... Unnnnhhhhh

I don't know what to do. I have seventeen different plans for tomorrow. If I decide to go to the River's Edge Mountain Bike Marathon I can either:

Drive out there, do my best, and if I make the podium sit I can sit there patiently and talk to whoever I might know for three hours till the awards. I should be home by 6:00pm

Drive out there, suck, miss the podium, and be home by 3:30pm.

Ride my MOOTS out there.... yeah, I'm not doing that on a SS mountain bike with a loaded messenger bag.

Ride downtown, hop on the CATS route 5, ride the 4-5 miles from the Little Rock Road drop off, race, win (of course), drink beer, beg for a ride home, fail, and call The Pie for an extraction.

I was going to pick one of those plans until Big Worm hit me with a new idea around 3:30pm yesterday. He suggested we head down to Greenville, SC on Sunday, find a trail to ride, and then watch the US Pro Road Race Championships. I contacted my peep in Greenville, and he's making it sound like some sort of good time....

So, race and do something that's a lot like everything I already do or chase down a new adventure, a once in a lifetime opportunity? I know watching road racing can be a bit like watching paint dry (sometimes), but I kinda know what four laps at the White Water Center feels like too. What to do, what to do... Spend $65 to ride 50 miles on my local trail or spend the day in Greenville riding five miles of singletrack and screaming "ALLEZ!!! ALLEZ!!!" at George Hincappie the rest of the day.

Maybe I could spend the weekend sleeping. I'd like that too. I guess I could start building jumps in my backyard for my new Nummers.

Should I get black, or white, or raw? What would make you the most jealous... Thad?

Introducing Stevil (like I know him or something)

I don't change things here very often. There are plenty of folks on the sidebar under the heading "Suffering from regularity issues" who really deserve to be moved down a peg and join Dejay in the "Have you seen me?" category. Except for the MOOTSblog (which never moves up to the head of the class when it updates) the bottom 6-10 folks would be on the bubble... assuming I actually had a bubble and the propensity to follow through with my classification system.

I haven't really added a new blog in a while even though there's a few out there I visit from time to time that aren't on my sidebar. This is mostly due to laziness. The last one to get added was Fatty (I think), and he made the cut due to some weird love connection. I had been reading Fatty (all right, Elden) for quite some time, but I never bothered to put him on my sidebar, partly because I didn't really know him (or been in a fist fight with him), but mostly because linking to someone like Fatty or Bikesnob seems kinda redundant since everybody on the planet already reads their excellent blogs without me giving them the nod. Also linking to their blogs, as such a non super star blogger that I am, seems to suggest that I am somewhat on par with their offerings which is more awkward than crashing one of Ming the Merciless's Dance parties.

threeframes.net

So anyways....

When I posted up my Fool's Gold race report I ended with a nod to a fellow blogger:

"That guy over at SWOBO's HTATBL would love me today. Number 66 in 6th place, a certain sign of the Apocalypse."

I have been reading How to Avoid the Bummer Life for quite some time, however I never bothered to link it on my sidebar. Since the blog was affiliated with SWOBO I felt as a Twin Six sponsored rider it would violate my contract if I had a convenient link to the competition. Although the content seemed innocent enough it coulda been some covert marketing technique. You know, some subversive advertisement disguised as a friendly blog (kinda like how you sorta want to buy a MOOTS or a set of Industry Nine wheels right now, but you don't know why...).

When I posted the link awhile back I wasn't entirely aware that strange things were afoot at the time. I noticed the blog hadn't been updated in awhile (Aug 4th), but you know how some bloggers are. So the day after I posted the link on my blog I got a comment from the author of HTATBL:

Stevil said...

Thanks for the shout, and you know I love you, but all heads turn here.
http://www.allhailtheblackmarket.com/

I have to admit I forgot to go to the link in his comment immediately. I can't readily remember why, but eventually I did, and that's when I got the cold shiver inducing yet warm all over news. Stevil is no longer is affiliated with SWOBO for reasons unknown to the general public. Fortunately for us he is still inspired enough to share his gray matter with us on an almost daily basis on his new blog All Hail the Black Market. Thank my lucky stars... how would I ever get my daily fix of Budweiser, David Lee Roth, random Youtube videos (not the typical shit everyone always puts on their blogs ala "Performance" or Danny MacAssKill), random occurrences of the Number of the Beast, and eighties senior class pictures. Usually there is also some substance to be had on his blog, although he does have a cast of California characters that I do not know, although I am pretty sure they taunted me at SSWC08 in orange jumpsuits by throwing beer cans and insults at me as I rode by. Seems like a swell bunch of guys....

There is no more random of a somewhat bike related blog that I am aware of at this time. Do yourself a favor and keep up with Stevil at his new location and be sure to tell him I sent you (I'm looking to get a free t-shirt outta this).

BTW: I just realized Stevil said he "loves me". I don't know how I feel about that.

I shall win and I shall jump and I shall look most handsome.

Anybody (locals) driving past my house on the way to the race this weekend?

Still caught in a mosh

It might take awhile before I can get back into my self absorbed world and start some quality blogging again. My thought pattern needs to be at least 50% bike related for me to really have enough blather to fill a whole standard length post. You see I have a running mental narrative throughout the day, and each day's blog post is basically a concise Reader's Digest version of that narrative. My obsessive/compulsive nature really takes over when I have a major issue in my life, so I tend to drift off into a world of conversations that may never happen with others and possible scenarios and just how I will handle them. Not worrying about the future has never been one of my strong suits.

I've been considering racing this weekend at the Widmer Brothers Rivers Edge Mountain Bike Marathon. It's local, only fifty miles, and taking place on my favorite Charlotte area trail. The price is right, and there's beer and food after the race, but I still have a few sticking points (don't I always). The race starts at 9:00am, and I'm figuring it would be a five hour (or less) endeavor. So I think I could finish up @ 2:00pm and assuming (and it's just an assumption) I could make the podium I would want to stick around for the awards. There's the hitch... the awards are at 5:00pm. I'd be selling this on the homefront as a quick local race, but it looks like I could be gone from the house from 7:30am to 6:00pm, which is about the same amount of time I need for a road trip to the mountains, and pretty much negates 100% of Saturday's family time (a week before the Shenandoah 100). Sometimes life is all about priorities.

Speaking of priorities...

I realize I haven't put to much effort into Peter's contest recently. Although this guy has decided to declare an all out war just for the sake of beating me I haven't mustered the strength to duke it out lately. Sure, when the Nummers first came out I was trying to think of things I could do on such a fun little machine, but when it comes down to it how much money could I sink into it if I won the frame?

Peter "I'm so rad" Keiller taking the Nummers off a sweet jump.

Lately I've been thinking about getting a road bike (*gasp*) or maybe even an all mountainy geared machine (another *gasp*) for shits and giggles. Usually the reality of our economy reminds me how stupid it would be to sink that kinda money into a new bike when I only get in about one recreational ride per week. Sure, if I lost my job I could ride more, but the guilt associated with the recent purchase of a sweet rig would cause an inner turmoil that would rival the battle between good Kirk and bad Kirk.

Being somewhat of a bike geek who's interested in all things bike related it sure is hard not to dispose of some disposable income every once and awhile on something new that promises (according to it's marketing propaganda) to change the way I roll over the surface of this fine (but rapidly decaying) planet.

So if you place a vote for me by clicking some random link to Peter's blog keep in mind I have no idea what the hell I can do with the frame if I win it.

My sincerest apologies

Thanks Blair

Sorry for the recent interruption in service. If this slight hiccup has inconvenienced you in any way please contact the management for a full refund.

Family issues from 500 miles away have taken up a bit of my spare time over the last three or so days, and with that I have had a lack of sleep and a pretty well shaken thought process. Hard to feel like part of a solution from so far away, so the feeling of helplessness is a bit hard to shake. Things are back on track now, so I should be able to get back to the business of non-sense and tomfoolery that normally eats up my free time. Some things have fallen through the cracks in the last few days, and I've even misplaced my wedding ring somewhere... at least it's just the $10 surgical steel ring that replaced my gold one some time back, but it is the thought (or lack thereof) that counts.

Seriously though, it's not like you missed anything. I squoze (my word) a 2 hour bike ride in on Sunday at our local trail gem, Sherman Branch. I mounted up the Salsa fork (468 A-C/43mm rake) once again to make sure I'd be down with the carbon Niner fork geometry (470A-C/45 rake) if and when I can get my hands on it. Once again, I found myself riding along not noticing the shorter fork (the old Niner fork was 490A-C/40mm rake), and enjoying the slightly quicker steering in the tight twisties. I'm pretty sure I'm gonna dig it, and the rumor mill says a slow boat from China (or Taiwan) should be pulling in any day now. Is my fork on that boat? Does the Pope like soap on a rope? Who knows?

I'll see if I can do better tomorrow.

Weird (un)Science from the folks at Niner

We all know that I've been coveting the Niner Carbon fork that recently became a consumer ready commodity for quite some time now. Ever since my first romantic post that marveled at it's wonder I've been secretly plotting to somehow procure one for my mighty marvelous MOOTS. Although I am very aware of the fact that the Niner Carbon fork failed the virtual pea fork test, I have no intentions to use the Niner fork as cutlery especially when it comes to the mass consumption of peas.

Niner fork virtual pea test: FAIL

They did test the fork in a more appropriate manner, and as impressive as the testing machinery appears to be I still wonder how the carbon would hold up in real world conditions.

You know, real world conditions... like someone jumping out of the woods and attacking you with a 16oz hammer. Well leave it to Chris from Niner bikes to think of such a horrific incident actually occurring. I'm sure he wondered for at least two to three minutes just how he would be able to guaranty the safety of the riders who were already out there on Niner carbon fork equipped bikes.



Wow. I'm currently riding that very same steel fork (well not the same fork, but the same model... I'd be very upset if Chris did that to my fork) on my MOOTS on a regular basis not knowing how susceptible it is to damage from a hammer wielding assailant. I now have more reason than ever to get this carbon wonder on my bike as soon as possible. I was originally interested in the fork for its light weight (550 grams? Really??) and increased comfort factor, but now I am quite aware of the fact that my steel fork is a serious safety issue... or at least that's what I'll tell The Pie when the credit card bills shows up.

photo cred: Big Worm

Dicky: "Dejay, aren't you worried about what would happen to you if some hammer wielding assailants jumped out of the woods and started beating on your fork?"

Dejay: "Geez, I've never thought about that. I'll twitter Chris on the next climb and see what he has to say."

Am I racing at the Cackalacky Cup tomorrow? Dunno... gotta figure it out before registration closes at 4:00pm this afternoon.

Why did Gunnar get rid of his mullet?

Probably the last thing I could say about the Fool's Gold 100 is this; I got a chance to scan (over analyze) the results the other day. I should never bother looking at the results since I'm rarely satisfied after I do, but I did it anyways. The gaps to the three places in front of me were 13, 16, and 18 minutes. I'm not sure how much time I purposely pissed away shooting for the 4:20pm Sweetwater 420 prize or when I bonked because I was too stubborn (stupid) to pull out a gel and eat it when I was hungry, but I know I lost some time there. Maybe not 13,16, or 18 minutes, but I'll never know, and apparently I'll never learn. You gotta keep your head in the game from start to finish kiddies.

I check my stats at least once a day. I'm always a bit disturbed when I see that someone came over to the blog VIA some form of electronic communication that I can't see. Most recently I could see that someone clicked over here from a private email that was sent through the Mafia Racing website. Just what were they talking about. Is there a hit out on me? How much money is on my head? What did I do wrong to piss off the cosa nostra? Or is this communication coming from a more positive direction and the higher ups (the Godfather?) are trying to buy out my MOOTS contract... I'll never know.

I also got some hits from this forum here: www.surmtb.com. Not only is it in another language it is also a private forum with a log in. Do I have a fan base in another country that I am unaware of? Am I the target of some America haters? Just so you guys know, I never supported any George Bush policies or doctrines, so please don't lump me in with the war mongering "patriots".

Facebook has opened up a whole slew of new... new... I don't know what to call it exactly. There's something definitely new about it, that's for sure. It's not necessarily a waste of time, it's not really been all that useful, and it's not as glamorous as twitter, but it certainly is something. It has opened up an entirely new avenue for mockery and smack talk, so I have to say therein lies a great benefit for some one like me with so much to give.

Without facebook I would have never known that Gunnar Shogren felt slighted when I didn't mention his incredibly impressive second place finish at the Fool's Gold. I mean, second place... wow. Coming in second to The Pflug is like winning the mortal single speed class, which unfortunately doesn't exist, so it's still just second place. Congratulations Old Man Shogren.

I did a google image search for "Gunnar Shogren" and this came up in the results. I found it far more interesting than any image that actually had Gunnar in it, so I'm going to go ahead and use it as the visual representation of Gunnar winning second place at the Fool's Gold 100.

Fastest Bike in the World update:

Due to the fact that the Cane Creek headset had lizards etched into it I spent an inordinate amount of time trying to keep the lizards centered while I pressed it in, but I still managed to get it finished last night. I haven't been able to ride this bike since sometime back in June, and I can't wait to enjoy the free speed at work today. Packages will be delivered in an expedient manner.

Welcome to the crabgrass jungle baby.

This weekend is the Cackalacky Cup time trials... more fun than you can shake a Lemond Aerobar at. Two time trials, one with technical obstacles and one with just straight up speed. I want to do this event again (I did it two years ago), but there is no single speed class. I either have to pony up $60 for a one year USAC license or sandbag the sport 35+ class. Some of the money goes to a good cause, so if I actually race the cause gets my money, but if I stay home I have to fight my inherent laziness and motivate myself to ride somewhere else. So do I sandbag and have a good time, or go ride some laps on some local trail that I have ridden a thousand times before?

Big news (after this brief message from our sponsors)

Today's post will have to abbreviated. I know most of you are expecting a third day of Fool's Gold 2009 reflections, but I had to be up at 5:00am this morning to post up early so I could get out to Drake Coatings before work to pick up The Fastest Bike in the World. Tom Drake was doing some top secret experimenting on my frame, and although the experiment didn't work out so well this go around (the masking material was too sticky to get the pinstripes perfect) my frame and fork now have a fresh coat of some flashy candy blue to dazzle all the hipsters about town.

Speaking of hipsters...

I now have the one item that any self respecting vintage riding hipster should own:

Mike Piazza says "Hipsters give tight pants a bad name. Hey shiny new guy, ain't it kinda dark in here for pictures?".

Yes folks, you are looking at a NEW Cane Creek 100 THREADED ONE INCH headset!!!!

Professional quality photo ripped from the Cane Creek site, Mike Piazza was not available at the time

Never ones to let the past stand in the way of innovation, Cane Creek is now producing a headset you didn't even know you needed. Let's face it, those of us that are still embracing their old skool track frame with more affection than a last minute prom date needed this headset to exist. My old headset had seen better days, and The Fastest Bike in the World deserved something with a little more panache than a clapped out Vantage headset. This little piece of jewelry will put the "bad" in my bad-ass messenger bike that rules the mean streets of Charlotte with an iron fist. Hopefully I will have my ride that defines the word "fly" put together in all it's aluminum glory tonight.

In other news (that was broke here first) I WILL be going to SSWC09 in Durango next month. I must send a big thanks to George and Mandy of Bike29.com for agreeing to be my handlers for the seven whole days I'll be spending in Colorado. I'll have to put them in touch with Thad and Peter to get an idea of just how demanding of a guest I can be. They better break out the Sharpies and start striping all my Peanut M&M's now, or they're not gonna have enough time to do a whole five pound bag (as stated in my handler contract I must have five pounds of custom striped peanut M&M's available at all events).

Will there be more Fool's Gold stuff tomorrow? Maybe some more baby kissing or hand shaking to get your vote in Peter's contest? Dunno... we shall see.

Little bit of this, a little bit of that

I know most of you are expecting at least two more days of verbal spew about the Fool's Gold race from last Saturday. I partially feel like I should be plugging away at Peter's popularity contest while I have your attention. I mean, traffic over here is always at its highest right after a race, and then I get almost an equally abnormal amount of traffic here for a few more days as people seek out my thoughtful insight and reflections regarding the event. Should I rob you of my romantic ruminations and use this as a platform to push my agenda of becoming an endurance dirt jumper in 2010?

Even if I won the Nummers what in Gunnar's name would I do with it? I don't have a set of Spanish cranks and a bottom bracket, and I don't even speak Spanish so how would I even understand the installation manual? Even with a 410mm seatpost I would never be able to get Eddie to fit me with laser-precision and Dartfish video analysis for maximal endurance dirt jumping efficiency. I don't have kiddie wheels anymore, but I do have some various quality parts laying around. I don't necessarily need to win the frame, but I don't like to lose... especially internet popularity contests. So if you wanna see me win a dirt jump frame and then have to figure out what to do with it, then vote for me by clicking any link over to Misfit Psycles you see from now till October 1st. Whoever gets the most people to click over to Misfit Psycles wins the frame. I'm aware of the fact that Oct 1st is like a million years from now, and I will refrain from harping on you for your vote on a daily basis in order to keep things marginally interesting here.

Do you still want some more Fool's Gold?

I found this striking image of quite the handsome athlete while surfing around yesterday:

photo stolen from mattisonbarnes's picasa album

While riding on a gravel road during my second 50 mile lap at Fool's Gold I saw a convertible BMW coming in the opposite direction. There were two hair gelled gentleman in the vehicle that drew my attention as they cruised along the rough road full of dusty braking bumps. They drove past and gave me a nonchalant nod as they slipped out of my view. As soon as they went by I was overwhelmed by the smell of cologne. I stopped thinking about the "race" for a moment and started pondering on what exactly two guys were doing cruising the back roads in the Dahlonega Mountains wearing enough cologne that I could smell it for at least five seconds after we crossed paths.

I noticed a few odd things in the Georgia mountains. Over the last 60-70 or so miles I saw seven times more butterflies than I did fellow racers. There were also a plethora of mushrooms in every color of the rainbow. Elk described one as "a giant purple mushroom that someone had thrown a fried egg on". There was one phallic fungi on the final trail to the finish that looked EXACTLY like an albino penis. Seriously, if you didn't see it you are either blind, or just not that into mushrooms, or too much of a homophobe to admit you see things that look like a penis in the woods.

More Fool's Gold tomorrow? We'll see....

Fool's Gold 2009/ Now poison free

I was standing around with Elk and fellow endurance camper Todd Henne late Friday night shooting the proverbial shit. Elk asked me what I thought would be the reasonable amount of time to cover 100 miles in the Georgia mountains. Since I had done this race the previous two years it was assumed I would have a clue. The first year I did this race it was 100 degrees and the course was over 110 miles, and my second year at Fool's Gold I started the race slightly poisoned (as Tyler likes to remind me) and got quite lost for awhile (my fault). I was not the right person to ask when it came to estimating the time, and I'm not sure how we came up with an answer, but we all agreed sub-nine hours would be something to strive for in terms of normal human performance.

At the start with Captain Morgan looking dazed behind me and Skiddaldophy looking resplendent in Twin Six attire.

When the race started I went off the front attached to the rear wheel of none other than Chris Eatough (video evidence here in case you think I'm full of shit). After keeping Chris from making a wrong turn fifteen seconds into the race we were headed up the big climb to Cooper Gap. Gerry "The Pflug" Pflug took right to the front of the lead group with great haste. I decided to close the gap and introduce myself to "The Pflug". I pulled along side of him and said "Hey Gerry".

"The Pflug" he replied

"Yes, sorry... hey The Pflug" I sheepishly responded.

"Mister The Pflug to you" he said through gritted teeth.

"Mr The Pflug, did you know that the first person to the top of Cooper's Gap will have a virgin sacrificed is his name?" I queried.

Gerry... sorry, The Pflug stood on his pedals in anger and screamed out "The Pflug wants sacrifice!!!", and he rode away never to be seen again. Either that happened, or I rode up to Gerry as he was riding off the front, introduced myself, made a flippant comment about "sucking his wheel to the finish line", and then dropped way back into the main field where I belonged. My brain's kinda fuzzy on the details, but one or the other happened for sure.

As I took my place at the very back of the lead group I couldn't help but notice that out of the top twenty or so riders about half of them were single speeders. Let me say that again... going up the first climb half of the top of the field were single speeders. Not only was I floored at the level of competition in the SS class, I was also struggling to stay at the back of the action. Getting a top five here was going to truly be a bit of a struggle for a hack of my caliber.

On the way to the top of the hour long climb I made two valiant passes, one on Elk when he stopped to tighten his water bottle cage and another on Russel Henderson who was digging in his saddle bag for a breath mint (I think). I was now sitting pretty in the single speed class (eight place) with only ninety miles to go. Sweet.

Not too long after the hour mark my iPod (which accidentally got switched on in my gear bag) lost power. I was now looking at eight or more hours of non musically enhanced riding. Meh. I've been forced (by silly mandated rules) to ride without it before, so no biggie there, but I took a bit of a hit on the race morale.

I had blown off the first aid station, and when I rolled into the second one I noticed there was no food available. All I saw were drop bags and beverages of the usual variety. Hmmmmm... my plan was to live off the land, and it was looking like the land was barren. Since I had only put about eight emergency gels out there in my drop bags I was going to get more than a little hungry if this teme continued. I had "assumed" there would be food at the aid stations as there was in previous years, and my assumption was certainly going to leave me hanging if things didn't change.

After the Bull Mountain loop, and the kidney pain that is associated with a run down the rocky/rooty/bumpy Bear Hare trail, I found myself catching Shane on his pink Carver 69'er. He said his rear tire flatted on the descent, and I wanted to verbalize the thought that his inferior small rear wheel was to blame. Not wanting to tempt the fates that balance my karmic world I thought better of it and kept my mockery to myself. I passed Shane, and as I pulled into aid station three I saw that there was still no outside food support, so I grabbed all of my gels from my drop bag and decided to just ration them out accordingly.

Somewhere before this point of the story I passed another single speeder on a Fisher Superfly. I don't remember where it happened, but I figured that I should catch everybody up to speed since I was pretty sure I was in sixth place as I approached the fourth aid station. At the fourth aid station there was food galore, so I stuffed my pockets like a starved inmate with as much food as I thought I would need for sixty miles, and rolled off feeling a bit better about my "live off the land" strategy. With one more stretch to go before the end of the first fifty mile lap it was now time to see it I could make the sub nine hour time a reality.

I rolled into the start/finish area at the 4:24 mark, which meant I would have to do the second lap no more than twelve minutes slower than the first. I was quite doubtful that I could pull that off, but my secondary goal came right to the front of my mind. One of the neat things about the Fool's Gold is that the rider who finishes the race closest to 4:20pm gets a case of Sweetwater 420 Pale Ale. I started doing the math in my head, did it wrong a couple of times, but eventually figured out that I needed to do the next lap in 4hr 56 min to bring home the beer. Could I add 32 minutes to my next fifty miles? Sure, no problem.

The next time up the terribly long climb to aid station one I found myself right on schedule for the beer. I added ten more minutes to the climb knowing that the next section to aid station two was mostly downhill, and I wasn't planning on adding any time while the speed was being given out for free. Right on schedule I rolled into aid two (now with food!!), grabbed three cookies, and headed out onto the heinous Bull Mountain loop.

Something happened out there on Bull Mountain. I would say that I bonked, but I felt more like I lost touch with reality. Journey's "Don't Stop Believing" kept playing over and over in my head when I thought about the beer, but I felt as if my brain and body were no longer communicating with each other. I considered laying down or waiting for another rider (to come along and give me a hug) since I hadn't seen one for the last 30 or so miles, but I kept moving. I thought about eating, but the terrain was so rough that eating meant stopping, which at the time seemed stupid. I forged ahead going deeper into the bonk cloud.

After about 30-40 minutes I decided I had to eat something. I remembered the caffeinated gel product I had in my right jersey pocket. I stopped, pulled it out, and squeezed the contents into my mouth. Fifteen minutes later I started feeling like a champ (a thoroughly beat down champ, but a champ none the less). I would tell you what brand and flavor of gel I ingested, but since I DON"T have a nutrition sponsor there will be no credit given where it is due. Suffice to say, some very main stream nutritional supplement company could be bragging up on the fact that they kept me in the hunt for free beer and a possible sixth place, but the chance for a proper endorsement has escaped their grasps.

Once I escaped the Bull Mountain loop I figured my hopes of winning the free beer were dashed, but I would keep trying to make up for the losses incurred on Bull Mountain. I realized as a full grown adult with a decent income I could easily purchase beer, but I was going after the principal of winning the beer more than the actual beer itself. I thought about all the races I've ever been in where money was at stake or perhaps a place on the podium, but I wasn't motivated enough to give it that little something-something to hold my head up and work to keep it. Not this time.

When I rolled into the final aid station I asked how far it was to the finish. "Twelve miles" the volunteer said. Assuming that to be the actual distance I quickly figured out I had to cover the distance in less than 1hr 5min. Ouch. I had to average just under 12MPH over twelve miles of gravel, double track, and singletrack after I'd already covered 88 miles with one severe bonking episode? Doable? I dunno.

I gave it all I could and gave up hope more than a jillion times. As I approached the final singletrack to the finish I was already past the 4:20pm mark, and I could see a fifty mile race competitor just ahead. Thinking that there was still a chance that I could be closest to 4:20 I gunned it to get past him. As one could imagine the fifty miler who had just been out on the course for nine hours didn't respond to my attack, and I rolled across the line at 4:27. The other person closest to the 4:20pm time had finished at 4:12, so I pulled off the "big win" by only one minute. Sweet... I mean Sweetwater.

Getting close to the finish smelling beer and burnt fifty milers.

Anyone who knows me well enough knows that if I can't get on the podium I like to get sixth place. Well, no podium this go around, but I'll "settle" for a case of beer and my lucky place.

That guy over at SWOBO's HTATBL would love me today. Number 66 in 6th place, a certain sign of the apocolypse.


All race images are from Mark Duffus

Think I can't do it?

Peter threw down a gauntlet the other day. Since traffic is slow around here on Fridays I'll pull out the big guns later. I don't like to lose (contests).

I'm off to Fool's Gold now, so catch you on the flippie flop.

Where do we go from here?

I have to admit I was a bit surprised yesterday. I didn't get one proposal in the form of a riddle, haiku, or short story from a athletic nutritional supplemental foodstuff company after requesting it from the masses. Surely this is must be an oversight on their part, as I can't imagine that there wouldn't be any company that wouldn't wanna jump at the opportunity to be associated with the goings on here at Bad Idea Racing. Seriously, I've got to be the top humor oriented, endurance racing, college educated, semi-successful, five time a week blogger out there on the interweb with a demographic tilt towards mid pack placing men in the 30-45 age group (with an abnormally large following of high school girls... they find me dreamy). What more could they want?

Since I have no nutrition sponsor for this weekend I decided I'd go old school. I made a phone call yesterday, and I musta got ahold of the decision maker:

"Yes, this is Rich Dillen, the top humor oriented, endurance racing, college educated, semi-successful, five time a week blogger. I have a very important race this weekend and I was wondering if you would like to sponsor me in a nutritional manner? It would be very beneficial to your company's image to be associated with someone important like me."

"Uhhhhhh... we have a special on a one topping large pizza for $12.99. Would you like to do that sir?"

And just like that the relationship was born from my need for food and their need for massive exposure. I'm pleased to announce my new race food sponsor....

Suck on that Hammer, Clif Bar, Infinit, Gu, FRS, Powerbar, Honey Stinger, and all you other companies that missed the boat. I can't believe you'd let an outsider like Domino's get the better of you, but I feel as if you have all left me with no other option at this juncture.

So I'm going old school at the Fool's Gold 100 this year. Pizza for lunch followed by a sensible pizza supper, and pizza for breakfast the morning of the race. Then the plan is to live off the land during the actual event. I don't think it will make much of a difference if I stop to fill my bottles and grab a handful of junk food at the aid stations this go around. Sure, it means "The Pflug" will put a little more time on me on his way to ultimate victory, but it will save me the time and effort of premixing a bunch of bottles, loading a mess of drop bags, and sorting all that shit out when I get home.

I'll be raffling off the empty pizza box (after I autograph it) at the Fool's Gold this weekend. Talk to Namrita or Eddie about how to get your chance at a piece of cycling history. Make sure you don't miss this once in a lifetime opportunity. Proceeds from the raffle will be used on my next large pizza for the Shenandoah 100.

Mike Piazza is ready to get Awesome.

Are you?

More thoughts on SSWC09 and Interbike

I'm coming down to the wire on my plans for SSWC09. Most of the time I have my "season" planned out six months ahead of time, but this SSWC09 thing is stuck in my craw. My potential travel partner is in the middle of changing his world around to accommodate gainful employment so he can quit selling cigarettes to children at the local playground. I think he should pull a Moocher and quit the whole car wash scene... it's not as glamorous as they make it seem.



Anyways, if Thad has to bail I'll no longer have a travel partner. I already have a place to lay my weary head at casa de Matt McFee, founder of Hermosa Tours, so that is already taken care of at this point. BTW... how awesome is it that my floorspace provider just happens to operate a mountain bike tour operation and also happens to be running the shuttles for all the big rides at SSWC09??? This is a hard opportunity to pass up, but without a travel partner I have to foot the bill for a rental car outta Albuquerque on my own and all the other travel bullshit. This turns my tidy little vacation into the most expensive event I'll do all year. So currently I have no plane ticket, no rental car, and no solid plan... which means that as a planning kinda guy I'm getting very close to the "go-nogo" moment.

I've also given a lot of thought to whether or not I should go to Interbike. Once again, finding a place to stay would not be a problem, and even getting into the show wouldn't require slipping a union security guard a Benjamin this year. The only thing standing in my way is a plane ticket and a reason to actually go. I had mentioned that the only thing I'd really be looking for is a nutrition sponsor since I'm happy with my current user serviceable bike parts and Mike Piazza (Bad Idea Racing manager, coach, attorney, directeur sportif, Dicky handler) is already in intense negotiations with MOOTS as we speak.

" What we're talking about is money, real money, Amigo money. No dough, no show... Yeah, I know I'm just quoting Three Amigos. So what? Are you threatening me? Our price just doubled."

So when I look at it realistically it will cost me more to fly out to Vegas, drink beer, and carouse than I would actually spend on nutrition EVEN IF I ate the proper things I should be eating while "training", racing, and such. Besides, I went to the websites of a few of the companies I thought about approaching and most of them had an online form that you need to fill out (when the time comes) if you are interested in sponsorship. Problem is I don't really fit into a form. When I approach someone for help I usually approach them as myself, not some fill in the blank character. When I present myself for who I am they either "get it" or they don't which is fine with me. If they don't get it then they would do well to stay clear of me. None of that fits very well in a form. All of my sponsors that are currently graphically displayed over there to your right (my left if I was inside your computer) "get it", or at least someone working within the company "gets it". They see whatever it is that they see in me that's worth supporting, and I'm glad they all hired someone (or are actually ran by some crazed overlord) who is mentally unstable enough to work at my level yet can still hold down a job.

So if there are any nutritional supplement companies out there that are run by mentally unstable folks I'll be taking YOUR applications for sponsorship starting today. Please send your proposals my way in the form of a riddle, haiku, or short story to teamdicky at hotmail dot com or just leave them in the comments section. I'll look them over at my earliest convenience.

Sometimes things are better left alone

Mark "Elk" Elsasser is flying in on Thursday to join me for the drive down to Fool's Gold this weekend. In an attempt to save money and enjoy his travels without the burden of a bike box he shipped his bike down to me last week.

It's a good thing he shipped it to Team Dicky World Headquarters. I don't know what woulda happened had he sent it to one of my branch offices. It mighta got lost in the mailroom, liberated by one of my less than trustworty servants, or tied up in customs by WADA (there always searching my mail for performance enhancing products).

I thought I'd do Elk a favor since he's getting here late on Thursday, so I went ahead and unpacked his box for him. I got the bike out and put it on the stand in preparation for the build, but there was more stuff at the bottom of the box.

"What do we have here?"

Can't see it?

We'll be camping out both nights in Georgia, and I guess Elk is just a little too sophisticated for s'mores. Sweet baby Jesus, I loves me a well built gingerbread house.

I remember Elk mentioning a problem with pre-race jitters and bathroom reluctance issues, but it looks like he's solved that problem.

Packing material?

No campsite is complete without a nice Yankee candle... I guess. I dug around looking for an Enya CD or maybe some bubble bath, but there wasn't any in the box that I could find. Oddly enough the candle was beached whale scented.

More packing material. Geez, Elk must really love his bike a lot if he's using fluffy kittens for packing material. Don't worry, I saved them for re-use on his return trip.

A little reading material?

I sure hope he can read quietly to himself. I'm not much for romantic novels without a historical theme.

I guess the Fool's Gold mighta been scheduled at the wrong time of the month for Elk. Guess I'll be picking up Elk AND Aunt Flo Thursday night.

Four day work week

The best thing I've got going on right now is a little four day work week mojo. The last four days of my life have been quite an energy drain, but knowing that I only have to get through four more "normal" days before I make an escape from reality to that place where the only thing that matters is moving my bike through time and space for 100 miles makes it all a little better... even if I'm facing off against a man-eater like Gerry "The Pflug" Pflug. (even though now, as he faces public scrutiny, he denies eating people)

"Listen, we don't necessarily eat people in my dojo... well, unless it's necessary to eat people for nutrition's sake, and then I guess we do necessarily eat people, but on a only-when-necessary basis."

Over the weekend I rode uptown to witness the Charlotte Presbyterian Criterium (I'd link to it, but the website has exceeded it's bandwidth). Always a little weird to ride my bike into the city on my day off, but I just can't fight the desire to be standing there behind the barriers with riders blowing by at high speeds making a strange human powered breeze while I put down some coldies and pretend to care about who wins. I left with a few beers in me (thanks to Vinny and Dude) and a strong desire to own a sweet road bike. I researched the problem yesterday and found that the one thing that stands between me and road hotness is a pile of cash that I don't readily want to part with at this juncture. Well that and the sneaky feeling that it may not see as much actual use as it gets in my fantasy world that plays out in my head.

Today the streets that served as a race course Saturday night will go back to being my Monday morning office. I'll try to relive one or two of the high speed corners on my not so high speed bike, and then I will get slowly sucked back into the reality that I'm just at work thinking about the weekend like everybody else. At least mine will start on Friday morning.

SRAM Force on ti or carbon for around $2,000??? Not quite. It's not cheap being snobby.

Bar tape does not make the man

Last Saturday I donned my Fat Cyclist jersey for the first time. Since we had a lot of rain earlier in the week I was forced to grab my piece of shit, eight speed down tube shifter equipped, pink bar taped, messenger abused De Bernardi. Why not ride a bike with pink accents while wearing a jersey with pink accents and tempt the vile tongues of passing motorists to spew forth the typical "Faggot!" when the opportunity presents itself?

Anyways, my destination was my not-so-local bike shop Bolt Brothers. There was some stuff waiting for me inside the retail establishment that has been helping me with parts all year, so instead of hopping in the car I decided to kill two birds with one piece of shit road bike and ride the twenty miles out to the shop. Just eleven minutes into the ride one of the aluminum nipples in my front wheel decided it didn't want to be a nipple anymore, and it snapped in two in an act of defiance. My front wheel now wobbled to and fro, and I had to decide whether or not to continue since I was so close to my house. My two decade old brakes did not have a quick release that I could quickly release in order to allow the wheel to pass freely through the pads, but luckily the Cane Creek levers did. I popped the lever open and went on to the shop wobbling the whole way, but at least I knew I could fix it when I got there.

It's not a very pleasant ride to the shop. I pretty much take Providence Road the whole way, and it's one of those roads you wouldn't ride a road bike on if you had a choice. Narrow lanes, poor shoulders, fast moving traffic... every reason I avoid road riding as much as possible. When I rolled up to the shop it was strangely dark inside. There was a sign on the window that explained it all. "Shop closed today. We're out supporting the Out for Blood charity ride. Come see us out at Cane Creek Park."

Shit.

So I turned around and road home defeated, yet looking resplendent in Fatty pink.

Fast forward a few days...

Wednesday night I pre-wrote Thursday's Pflug Eats People post since I had some spare time. I figured this would allow me some extra time Thursday morning to ride some bonus miles before work. I woke up at 5:30, posted up my slanderous lible, ate breakfast, and grabbed my hot beverage to surf the WWW a bit before heading out the door. That's when I heard about Fatty's wife Susan passing away Wednesday night. I've never met Elden, and I'll bet he could walk right up to me and punch me in the nose before I would recognize him (I would like to think he wouldn't do that). Still I feel the same connection that a lot of us feel that have lost a loved one to cancer. I'd love to give Fatty a big hug right now... as long as he didn't punch me in the nose first, but the distance between us is a bit further than my arms reach.

I didn't head out the door early yesterday as intended. I climbed back into bed with The Pie and the dogs and enjoyed the time I had with some warm, and mostly furry, loved ones. It just seemed like the thing to do at the time.

Fight cancer here.

That's all I have to say about that.

Gerry Pflug eats people (and other facts)

Yesterday was the last day to register for the Fool's Gold 100, so the start list should pretty much remain unchanged. I checked it last night and noticed that Gerry "The Pflug" Pflug is now registered in the single speed class. This "man" totally dominated the single speed class at the Cohutta 100, the Lumberjack 100, and the Wilderness 101... not to mention a second place in the thin air at the Breckenridge 100. He's all but sealed up his number one spot in the NUE, yet he has decided to come to Georgia because he wants to tell the single speed world "There is no mercy in my dojo".

I started trying to gather information on Gerry to see if he had any weaknesses. I went straight to the bastion of all things truthful and facty (Facebook) and asked around. The following is what folks in the know had to say about Gerry. Some of it might just be terrible rumors, but most of it is just too incredible to not believe.

When Gerry does a hundred miler he puts a whole fried chicken in each of his drop bags.

Roger Masse tried to pass Gerry at the Wilderness 101, but Gerry looked over at him and said "Oh no you didn't". Roger dropped back sheepishly and went into the next aid station looking for a hug.

Gerry had such a significant lead at the Cohutta 100 that when he broke his chain at the 68 mile mark rather than fix it himself he went out into the woods, captured a squirrel, and trained it to fix his chain (through intimidation and reward) just to keep his hands clean.

"I wasn't going to do it, but when Gerry offered me his nuts I couldn't say no."

Some folks say Gerry is in his forties, legends has it he may be as old as 87, and Gunnar says "I remember when Gerry used to deliver my Sunday paper on his Schwinn Stingray. He was a nice young boy as I recall".

Gerry eats a giant Lebanese salami every morning for breakfast.

"Meat in a skinsleeve for breakfast! Success!!!"

Gerry came into the third aid station at the Wilderness 101 way sooner than expected. When he arrived he demanded some Pringles, but the volunteer told him they weren't there yet. Gerry grabbed the volunteer by the wrist, took a bite out of his forearm, and exclaimed "You are now my Pringles". He rode away with his mouthful of volunteer meat screaming "You'd better hurry up and get to the next aid station Pringles".

Gerry doesn't carry CO2 or a pump since he can fill a 29X2.1 tire to 39PSI with his mouth in under ten seconds.

Powerthirst wanted to develop an energy drink using Gerry's sweat as an active ingredient. The drink, which was going to be simply named "Pflug", failed as they were never able to get Gerry to sweat. "He's just too cool to perspirate" claimed one lab technician.

Gunnar tried to congratulate Gerry on his performance at the Wilderness 101, but Gerry didn't remember "old man Shogren" from his paper route days, and sensing "stranger danger" he preceded to beat Gunnar with a giant Lebanese Salami.

Apparently he left Gunnar naked and handcuffed to a refrigerator after the beating.

Race promoters are considering changing the name of the "single speed class" to "Gerry's class" or "Gerry and the other guys who should probably look into other sports like curling or Etch-a-Sketch".

I'm scared. Is this Gerry Pflug as fierce and awesome as they say? Will it be enough that he beats me to the finish line, or if I look at him funny will he beat me a huge tube of meat? Does he have a sense of humor?

I guess we'll see...

Any of the rest of yinz heard of this Gerry guy?