Po Dee Uhm

Although I started the day ready for some fun...

photo cred: Mark Duffus

In a rash moment before the start I let my true emotional state creep in...

photo cred: Mark Duffus

I wasn't too sure about my "plan", but it was all I had, and I was going ahead with it. I made sure to get to the start line early since we were headed into an off camber festival of grass from the start, and I didn't want to get stuck behind too many "can't stop, won't stoppers."

photo cred: Mark Duffus

That's me lowering my front tire pressure due to what else? Peer pressure.

Southern Cross promoter Eddie O'dea stood just at the outermost point of earshot and announced...

"Ready,"

"something unintelligible..."

And people started rolling down the hill. No one seemed to be sure if he said "go," "set," or "praise Jesus," but it was obvious the race was on, and there was no getting it back. I rolled down the hill, and jumped into the first corner in second place overall. Once we hit the first grassy climb I was shot back through the field a few places, but whenever the course went back down I was able to blow past the cross bike riders as they dragged their canti brakes hoping to not fly through the course tape.

By the time we hit the first major run-up I could see that Gerry "The Pflug" Pflug had already opened a sizable gap on the rest of the world. No worries for me since he decided to leave his SS at home that day. Once we hit the pavement out of the Montaluce Winery the real race was on.

I saw two single speed riders (Jimmy Deane and anon) get past me as they drafted our geared counterparts. I can not draft very well on the open road, and I just sat in waiting for a climb fight to break out. Once the road turned towards the sky I quickly reeled in the anon single speeder and made my way back up into the field until I could see Jimmy. He was riding with Todd Henne who was giving him the Dicky Primer 101.

"He's gonna sit back there and wait until he feels it, and then he'll go off."

Jimmy looked back down the road for me, and when I saw his head turned I gave him a polite wave back. I was feeling pretty good... in a relative manner.

When the pitch got super steep I saw Jimmy pop off the bike and start walking, so I chose this moment to go. My 38X19 was proving a bit much, but it was not the time to let it show. As I passed Jimmy less than one hour after the start I realized that with a field of 20 or so single speeders I did not want the lead so early in the race. It's just not how I ever do things... at least when I do them right.

photo cred: Mark Duffus

Towards the top of the first major climb the road was getting super steep. I couldn't see anybody riding ahead of me. Everybody was walking up the road, and as determined as I was to ride the whole course (minus the CX run-ups), I bailed. When I was almost at the top of the climb I was able to remount, but moments later single speeder John Karrasch came past me. Meh.

I had to stop at the first aid station since I was way out of liquids. About ten minutes earlier I had unscrewed the lid of my bottle in order to pour the remaining contents down my mouth. It was obvious that my single bottle between aid stations was going to have me running on the lean side all day. After I just missed the aid station, I swung back around to it and stopped to look for my drop bag. John continued on, and he kept his gap back to me around twenty seconds... until the first big descent of the day.

I decided it was time to play. Even though the there was no point, I gassed it when I could in order to close the gap down. When I saw my opening I took the inside line and passed him to let him know I was back in the race, and he and I went back and forth all the way down the mountain. We wuz racing.

When we got to the bottom we pulled along side of each other, and John introduced himself. He didn't seem to know we were at the front, so I didn't bother to make that public knowledge. I asked him if we should be all smart and stuff and work a paceline, but neither he nor I liked doing that "racer thing" all that much on gravel, and trying to keep a paceline working with two single speed riders with different gears is just annoying anyways. Although we drafted at times we spent much of our time between the two bumps on the course profile riding side by side.

Unbeknownst to us, Kelly Klett came into the first aid station slightly behind us. When he was informed that he was in third, he got a nice mental boost from that nugget of happy. He started his gallant chase, his unabashed pursuit of the two guys riding at a semi-conversational pace to the base of the next climb... doh.

Once the second major climb commenced John left me behind. I emptied my bottle again, and I worried a bit about the possibility of cramping as I chased after him. This time I went closer to twenty minutes with an empty bottle before I rolled back into an aid station. John had to stop this time, so we would be leaving the aid station around the same time. That is, until I saw the cans of Pringles....

I grabbed a can of Pringles and poured out a three inch stack of compressed potato sawdust as I watched John roll back out onto the course. Seconds later I saw the inspired Kelly round the corner with no intentions of stopping at the aid station at all. First became second became third in the blink of an eye.

I ate my stack of Pringles like a sandwich, and moved up on the RPM's to make chase. My legs weren't having it. I had no idea I would need that much liquid to avoid cramps on such a short course. I never anticipated the demands of the higher effort, and of course I left my mustard and electrolytes safe on the shelf at home. Exlax.

My calf would have none of this silliness. Any real effort and it would lock up immediately. I stopped looking ahead and started looking over my shoulder for pursuing riders while I tried to catch up on my hydration. I felt like I was nearing the finish, but I came up to a course marshal who informed me that I was still six miles from the end. I was out of liquid again, and I knew unless Kelly or John were having similar issues, third was as good as it would get.

When I finally got back to the winery I knew Eddie was gonna bagel punch us with another cyclocross course, complete with calf ripping run-ups. He did not disappoint, and I wanted to punch him in the balls as soon as I saw him at the finish line.

So anyways...

Kelly managed to catch John and take the "W." John rolled in for second, and I tumbled off my high horse all the way back to third.

More tomorrow.

Shit. I almost forgot to mention...

Today is the last day to register for the Trans-Sylvania Epic before the price increase. The TSE Registration Incentive Package is still around as well... until it's not.

I can bench press a car...

I've been distracted.

Last night while packing I wanted to listen to Barroom Hero to get stoked for the race, but my iTunes kept on playing down the list. When I hit this I just kept playing it over and over and over:



Sad.

I'm now better prepared for the after party at the Montaluce Winery than I am the actual race.

Back when I "pushed the reset button" in January I thought I'd be somewhere else by now. While I was tracking my weight loss with fancy graphs and whatnot I forgot to plan around the month of February, a month with four significant dates all celebrated with the eating of calorie dense food. Not to mention a road trip to AZ, what with it's mandatory three meals a day...

Now I sit here just about as heavy as I was when I first hit the button.

March. That's the month. I can feel it. That will be the time when I walk away from the sweets in unruly disgust and, like my boy Grig, I will say....

I AM INDEED GETTING A SALAD!

Race report on Monday.

Doh.

PS: I'll have some Awesome Strap Race samples (a few) with me at the race. Hit me up if I know you AND I like you.

You can't stop the good news train

The good news just kept pouring in yesterday. First I got an email from Grant at Swiftwick about Tuesday's post. While I was disappointed to hear that there will be no such thing as a Four Aspire, there will be a new sock coming down the line that I should like. It will be a tall'esque sock with a linked toe, and it will be the lightest sock they've ever made. I think it was going to be called the Dicky Bitches Too Much sock, but that's just the working name. Production socks will probably get a name that rolls of the tongue slightly easier. I put my vote in for Bagel Puncher.

Later in the day I sent an email to the folks at Backcountry Research regarding my beer coozie tool bag.

Although they are quite busy getting ready to launch the new Awesome Strap Race, the R&D department is looking into the feasibility of my idea. If you thought it was a great idea you might want to put the needle, thread, and coozies down and take a step back. My grandiose idea might become a reality, and they're saying that they can make them for way less than the $100 pricepoint I had in mind. Apparently they have machines that can sew faster than the people of Santa Poco*, so it shouldn't take an hour to make each one (as it did with the prototype). I'll let you know.

Then came the great news regarding mountain bike frames and the UCI frame approval process. Apparently there are no current plans to force the mountain bike industry to subject their equipment to the same process as road bikes that will be used in UCI competition. Why is this great news? I can only assume that the hold up on my new frame had something to do with this possible snag. Being that the only thing standing between a man and his custom frame is usually a curmudgeonly tinkerer with delusions of grandeur and a Napoleon complex I'm sure my frame sponsor was prepared to smelt my frame down to an aluminum Bocce ball if the UCI tried to mess with his world. I now expect to see my frame very soon, well as soon as the smugness wears off.

Speaking of smugness, this frame is not mine, IF is not making my frame, but this frame did arouse me in a weird sexual manner last night.

Anyways, with all the good news pouring in I felt so elated that by the time I got home to my empty house I decided to celebrate with a beer... which had to be drank quickly since I no longer had a usable coozie. I killed some time on the interent and stared at the Meatplow from across the room. With so much success in the air I went with the positive momentum and decided to swap my tires around.

The 2.35 Rampage came off, the Ikon 2.2 moved to the front, and a Small Block 8 2.1 was mounted to the rear... all in less than ten minutes. I can't believe I was avoiding that small amount of effort for over a week. The bike is down to 19.4lbs, and that's as good as it gets. I'm sure I'll be racing some folks with more sensibly tired cross bikes, but whatever.

When you're a hammer, everybody else is just a nail.

* Greatest movie ever.

I am in a pickle

Southern Cross is creeping up on me like kudzu, all sly and night prowler style, but eventually all consuming and a pain in the ass to deal with.

I leave Friday after a full day of work, which means I'm shooting out of town in full-on Friday rush hour traffic. I still have no idea how to get there, other than go south'ish, and instead of figuring out how to get there I'm spending my time blogging and whatnot. Other issues to be sorted out?

I owe Eddie O'Dea no fewer than 12 quality IPA's. Let's just say there's a situation that needs remedied, and Eddie can make things go away. He knows people.

Not only do I need to pick up some broceries, I also need some props for the O'Dea cameo in my Topeak Ergon Training Camp video. Also, scripting is not complete, and my writing staff is threatening to strike.

Tire set up. I've been lazy, and I was considering just leaving the Rampage on the front of the Meatplow for the race. Riding 50 miles of gravel on a 2.35 is stupid. I've got a better tire and a compressor, but I may remain lazy until the bitter end.

Race plan. I went to SSAZ with no plan. I carried a Camelbak I didn't need, had no idea what I was getting myself into. I just slogged around for 4.75 hours wishing I would have at least looked at the map for more than five seconds before the race started. I have to figure out the drop bag scenario and take full advantage of it. Not so much in the name of making great bike race, but more so I just don't have to carry a bunch of unnecessary shit around all day.

I know you're thinking "Didn't you just have a three day weekend?", or perhaps you're thinking "I'd really like a pickle right about now."

I spent my time this weekend wisely. Riding, doing trail work, riding, spending time with the family, and when I had free time... I sewed.

I knew if I didn't get my SSAZ 2011 patch on soon I'd probably never do it. The travel status former messenger bag (it's not really a messenger bag unless it's used for messengering) got a splash of color in the form of Dejay's mug, but before I could put the needle and thread away I got another idea.

This was a beer coozie... correction, this was actually two beer coozies before I got around to hacking them apart. I don't use beer coozies all that often as my beer hardly ever sits long enough to get warm, although Peter will tell you that's because I pour them out when no one is looking. I took the zipper off a bottle coozie, hacked the bottom off a can coozie, and voila.

WTF is it?

I know what you're thinking. "Don't you already have a Genuine Innovations Repair Wallet for your tools?"

Yes, I do. This project came to me in a dream, and instead of doing all the things I needed to be doing in preparation for Southern Cross I spent my free time making this really awesome beer coozie tool wallet. Why? Because it's bad ass.

What's in my wallet?

That stuff in the above image is my race set-up. In the wallet I have:

a 4, 5, & 6mm allen key
an old drivers license
a tire boot made out of a Maxxis tire hang card
a PC-1 master link
a $5 bill

The Awesome Strap Race (not available quite yet) holds my tube, CO2, a small chain tool, and an irrelevant tire lever. Inside the hidden "stash" container of my Mountain Pipe pump (which doubles as a CO2 inflator) I keep a few patches and a couple spare PC-1 links (in case things go to hell). The Mountain Pipe has a nice mount next to the bottle cage which keeps my jersey pockets open for healthy handfuls of aid station cookies.

I know what you're thinking now. "How can I get one of those magnificent beer coozie tool wallets?"

Well, I suggest you make one for yourself as I have no intention of going into full production. Perhaps the folks at Backcountry Research can take the ball and run with it, but if not I would consider making a "one off" IF you supply the coozies and a crisp $100 bill.

Tomorrow I have to leave early for my yearly physical and Friday I have to load my car before I leave for work. Expect the quality of the blog to be a direct reflection of the amount of time I have to spend writing my pre-race drivel.

PS: I love Bilenky. I really love this Bike Rumor pre-NAHBS interview with Bilenky. I really, really love this photo of a Bilenky employee rolling T-shirts Gap style while wearing safety goggles.

If you're at NAHBS this weekend make sure to stop by the Bilenky booth and tell Hot Carl I said "Hi."

Taxes and New Socks: Prepare to be thrilled

I was off yesterday due to the holiday, but before I could make the most of the unseasonably warm temps I had business to tend to...

Time to get my tax stuff together. One of the great parts about being an unprofessional cyclist and hack journalist is the copious amount of 1099 income that comes with the territory. Now I've got to figure out if I can write off the beer I drank at TSE and Breck Epic last year as "entertainment." I certainly was entertained...

Once I knocked out the adult paperwork, I headed over to the BYT (codename for the Fight Club type trails about five miles from my house). Once I got there I wasn't so sure I would be welcomed with open arms.

I've got to say that the recent work out there is off the (insert whatever the kids say things are off of nowadays; chain, hook, hizzle, pushpin, etc). It seems like I was just out there a couple of months ago, and I can't believe how much new trail there is and how many features have been built since my last visit. I've gotta ride there more often.

Taking care of my obligations as a high life, elitist sponsored rider, I put on my new Swiftwick Aspire socks for one final ride before passing judgment on them.

What are the new Aspire socks all about (aboot for the Canadianicans)?

That piece of marketing propaganda might have been considered "For your eyes only" distribution, but nobody told me, so whatever. Swiftwick has a lot more to say about the technological advances of the new sock in their January newsletter. Their newsletter writer is not very funny, but they certainly are more informative than I am.

Grant at Swiftwick knew I would be interested in these socks because they have something I've been wanting (and asking for) for quite awhile.


Did you get that? No seam AT ALL - NONE. There are times, some times, when I get the seam of my sock, any sock, all funky, and it rubs on my pinky toe in an adverse manner. Sometimes it's no big deal, but other times it bugs the shit out of me. Now there is no seam, and life is all good in the piggy hood. I have now worn them on three rides, including the very long ride/hike at SSAZ, and I really want to make them my go-to socks, but I feel like they are going to get my...

Seal of Semi-Approval.

What could I possibly have to complain about with the Aspire? I mean, they're black, comfortable, wicking, and tasteful enough to wear with my tux, but something is missing...

Huh?

How about the two extra inches of cuff* that I've grown accustomed to?

My first Swiftwick socks were Zeros. Once I got my hands on some Fours I thought I had found true love. I did have a short fling with some Twelves, but it was definitely a Papa Bear experience. There might have even been a carefree weekend of debauchery with a pair of Twos, but I'd like to try to forget that ever happened. I went back to the Fours and did my best to stay away from the Sevens lest I get even more confused and conflicted. The Fours are my comfort zone, my happy place, my cool side of the pillow.

Maybe I'll just put my Fours in a time capsule where I can't get to them for a few weeks in order to give the Aspire a fair chance. Sock fidelity is hardly my forte'.

* The new Aspire comes with a two inch cuff (shown in my photo), a one inch cuff, or with the Namrita approved... *urp*... Zero.

Fish in the water

This weekend was pretty much everything I want in a weekend. Great weather, good times, good people.

I talked Fajita into joining me for some trail work. It was her first time out with the loppers on a big work day, and she was digging it.

Although as the day dragged on she spent more and more of her time up in trees, we (as a group) managed to get a lot done.

Photo cred: Frankie

Of course the first thing I tried to do that day was hack a shortened sapling down. On my first strike the sapling struck back and smashed my thumb against the Pulaski handle.

Meh.

That makes two days of trail work in two months. I'm thinking that maybe I need to make it a trend and try to get out at least once a month. I always feel much better about myself and just slightly more self righteous, so the motivation is definitely there.

On Sunday I had a scheduled ride with Dude. Emily had contacted me late on Saturday, and she wanted a piece of the action, so our number was three for the day.

The ride I wanted to do was a little on the aggressive side. For the locals who know what I'm talking about:

Thrift > Black Mountain> Turkey Pen > South Mills > Mullinax > Squirrel > South Mills > Buckhorn > Black Mountain

The push up Black Mountain is always so much fun. Just ask Emily who had not taken the time to put gears back on her Kish since SSAZ.

We managed a decent pace, but on Turkey Pen Emily voiced concerns that she might be slowing us down a bit, and not wanting to poop on our party she said goodbye. With Dude and I alone now we managed to push through the woods at a PMBAR'esque pace and made great time. As always, Dude was ripping down the descents at a speed I just don't understand as making any sense in this physical world I live in.

Squirrel has seen recent work, and I don't know if I like all of it, but for the most part it seemed all right and necessary. Any locals wanna chime in on that? I saw your tracks. (Doh, old news)

With our reduced numbers, we kept stops short and sweet. Anybody recognize this place? Normally the stop here is a water filtering twenty minute+ snack break.

We did take a short moment to take in the view from the top of Black Mountain.

I think the Dude was updating his Facebook status while we were up there.

"OMG, on top of Black Mountain with @Dicky. Wish U all were herez... except you @Zach"

Being bored with the view I tried to use digital imagery to see if I needed to trim my neck hairs.

Yes, I do.

Hands down that was the best mountain ride I've been on in a very long time. No shortcuts due to lack of time, no mechanical, no stops over five minutes, no fuss, and no muss. Just a lot of ripping and tearing, and that's what I came for... the ripping and the tearing.

We also managed to bump into Emily two more times in the magical Pisgah, because that's what happens. She picked a slightly shorter route which had us intersecting at one point, and she was just about to leave the parking lot when we rolled back in. She gifted me with a couple New Belgium 2° Below beers (since she knows I can't find them in Charlotte anymore), but when I got home they were warm. I went to my new standby.

This beer is Sierra Nevada Torpedo IPA. Everyone knows I like submarine movies, and this beer is named Torpedo. That's sooo awsesome. The only better name for a beer would be Torpedo Fist. That will probably never happen. This beer has reinforced my new rule regarding the direct correlation of the ratio of ABV to the price of a six pack.

7.2% : $7.99 = Near Victory

Speechless

You might have noticed that blogging has gone back to five days a week here. That would be due to the fact that I've been working a full schedule again. This is not a sign of better times. This is only because my boss has an issue with an old motorcycle injury that is going to require surgery.

Yes, now is the time of year when things are getting nicer outside, and I could be getting in one long ride a week in (if I had the time).

Yes, this is the time of year when I need to be riding a bit more to be sorta prepared for the upcoming "season" (if I had the time).

Yes, this is the time of year when I've run out of winter filler topics, and I'm stuck with little to write about every day (like today).

I could be talking about my new frame, but I am not. Let's just say that it is still "in the works." Remember, this is my fault for announcing that I was going to announce my new sponsor. I take full responsibility for all the bad juju. It looks like its race debut will be the Six Hours of Warrior Creek, just as the 2009 event was the debut for the MOOTS.

This weekend I hope to put the Superbeast back to proper use.


I'm working on a day trip to the mountains. 32X20 standing by and Camelbak loaded to the gills. I want a big day in the woods. According to the fuckingweather.com it's fucking alright in Brevard, NC, so I wanna make some fucking hay while the fucking sun fucking shines (sorry, some of my more influential sponsors have been disappointed with the certain lack of gratuitous profanity lately).

Now that I am Santa Cruz's number one best looking rider I gotta represent. The old Mark Weir is dead. Long live the new, slightly better looking, much more awesomer, and a tad less portly Mark Weir... that would be me.

TSE news I now know

There's tons of Trans Sylvania Epic news of interest that I haven't shared lately, the most fascinating of which I just saw this morning.


That's Mark Weir sitting in his JEEP hangar next to a....

Cannondale?

The whole story is here, and it was written by the curvaceous Mike "I used to have some sweet hair" Cushionbury. Apparently Mark couldn't stand that there was a better looking rider out there on a Santa Cruz bike, so he jumped ship from his long time sponsor and headed to the greener pastures of Bedford, PA. I used to think of Mark and Santa Cruz as peas and carrots, but I guess they're more like peas and canned cat food now.

At least Mark will be back again for another TSE. Let's just say he and his crew kept things quite....ermmmm... animated.

What else?

The odds that I get extremely chicked at the 2011 TSE keep going up. The women's field now includes, Selene Yeager, Sonya Looney, Rebecca Rusch, Sue Haywood, Amanda Carey, Karen Potter, and Vicki Barclay. Eeeshh. That's a stacked field, well unless "stacked" is a derogatory term when used to describe women. If that is the case, I'll call it a "luscious" field in order to keep in the good favor of the woman folk.

NoTubes is the presenting sponsor for 2011. They make the best tubeless rims in the world, and all the cool kids run them. Not to mention Stan was one of the kindest, most inventive out-of-the-box thinking guys I've ever met. I think I told the story before, but back in 2001 I ordered a tubeless kit. The mailman didn't get it to me in time, and I called NoTubes. Stan's wife answered, and she said he was in town (Charlotte) for the Memorial day holiday. I called him, he came over with a kit, and then he stayed to help me install it. Too bad that was a time before blogging and digital cameras. I would say that back then he looked like a middle aged Robert Duval, so this is the best I could do to recapture that magical moment in my garage:

In unrelated news, the Southern Cross pre-race nightmares have started. Tire swaps the night before, someone who shouldn't even be at the race tinkering with my brakes and stripping a bolt that shouldn't be there either, running late to the start... I woke up to The Pie shaking me. I thought she was trying to comfort me, but apparently I was sleeping through the alarm with my good ear on the pillow. Doh.

One final thing about TSE: Registration prices go up on March 1st by $100. That's almost six twelve packs of Fat Tire Ale. Hurry up or stay sober.

Public Service announcement time.

The Topeak Ergon Racing Team is having a contest.

The prize is desirable. The catch? You have to make a 90 second video to enter. Anybody who has ever made a short video knows it is a PITA to make a GOOD 90 second video. I assure you, mine will be good. Enter if you dare.

And one more thing.

The auction for that wheel I mentioned Tuesday ends today. Get your mountain bike fixed in a smug way at a cheap price @ 6:45pm EST.

Nothing says "I love me" like a Phil Wood hub.

Ice cream explained (or not)

So last night as I was driving Mom home from her first chemo at 11:00pm I asked her what was the worst part of the experience (always looking for the lighter side).

"The TV channels didn't match up with my TV at home, so I had a hard time finding something to watch."

There you have it.

The new Dirt Rag is out there on the news stands or in the mailboxes of the chosen.

You know a new Dirt Rag means another new episode of Wazupwidis from yours truly. I've already received quite a few emails regarding the "out there" sorta topic I selected. That's what you (the reader) get when they (the editors) give me free rein, not to be confused with "free reign" or "free rain." New editor Josh Patterson even gave me a nice lead-in in his opening volley on page six. Warms my cockles, it does.

Also in this issue?

I am separated by fewer then two pages from an interview with my good friend and arch rival Rebecca Rusch. Josh Patterson served up some softball questions, and Reba delivered the soft goods. It's beyond me why he didn't ask her some tough questions like...

"Paper or Plastic?"

"Clubbing baby seals or clubbing with Sean Combs and George Bush?"

"Who's better looking, Grig Martin or Dicky?"

Who wouldn't want to see her squirm as she coughs up an answer to the latter?

You'll also find a couple of articles about SSWC2010 and New Zealand that will make you feel even worse about not going last year than you already do.

Thanks guys. When do I get the peachy assignments?

Since I was up late I'm keeping this short, but I do want to keep you up on current events.

is to

as

is to

In the words of Jack Cates/Missouri Miller: "I'm a ragtop man."

You know how I know you're gay, Missouri?

You didn't pay a little extra at the DMV to help the Pennsylvania River Otter.

Why do the gays hate wildlife so passionately?*






*I am assuming that everybody here has a sense of humor when it comes to wildlife preservation.

More short track, some Southern Cross, and my nail expenses

I know I probably shouldn't be able to drag a short track race report out to two separate posts, but some Monday reflection has drawn me to a higher, yet self serving purpose. I tried to figure out just how Noel "The Killa Thrilla Gorilla" Kirila ended up coming around from behind me and only finishing one place ahead of me. In the first race he managed to pull off a stunning third place, so what was he doing slumming back in the dregs with me?

I closely examined the starting line photo...

and found this:

That's Noel "The Killa Thrilla Gorilla" Kirila facing the wrong way right before the start of our race. Notice the look of confusion on the faces of series leaders Luke and Tim? Notice that fellow Bicycles East rider Dave Elliston is standing there smiling, but not letting Noel "The Killa Thrilla Gorilla" Kirila know that he's going the wrong way? Way to go Dave. We single speeders look out for each other, but in the wrong way.

I also realized that while Noel "The Killa Thrilla Gorilla" Kirila, Bruce Stauffer, and I were playing reindeer games back in 6th, 7th, and 8th we missed a chance to work together to pull anybody else back. I feel largely responsible for such silliness since I was "testing out" different places to attack... that is until I fell over. Watching the expert class race after ours and reflecting on it, I can now see that much energy was spent dicking around and not working together. Whatever. It was fun. Experts don't know how to have fun. They just like to win and get the girls.

The 38X19 gear selection was quite a revelation.



Sorry, too much Iron Maiden while in Arizona has caused me to associate everything in life to a Maiden song.

The gear worked much better than planned, and it will stay on for the next two weeks until the next event on the schedule for the "season."

I'm in a quandary regarding Southern Cross. Do I take it slightly seriously, or do I treat it as I did SSAZ? I know just about as much about this course as I did the one in AZ. I have no plan, no intentions, and no idea how long it's going to take to finish. I do know I'm probably going to have to work all day that Friday, get off at 5:00pm, hop into rush hour traffic, fight my way out of NC, drive into some remote location in Georgia by myself in the dark, and then get a good night's sleep?

Whatever.

I'm still in "good time" mode until the Six Hours of Warrior Creek, so I think I'm gonna have to go into this slightly under prepared just to keep with the theme.

I don't normally promote crap I'm personally selling, but this thing won't go away. Two auctions, two second offers, and multiple reserve modifications later I'm still sitting on this.

My Phil Wood, double fixed, 135mm spaced, bolt on wheel with a Stan's rim. I have no purpose for this wheel anymore, and as sweet as it is, I want it gone. It's on eBay right now with 2 days 11hrs to go as of 7:30am today. It was expensive. It will sell for nowhere near what it cost me originally. Buy it. Pay for my gas to Georgia or my exorbitant manicure expenses.

The final short track race of 2011... meh

Last short track race of the year. In a perhaps not so smart move I jumped up two teeth from a 32X18 to a 38X19. Last time I tried something like that was back 2006 when I was racing with a broken rib. This time?

After a few warm up laps, I knew what I needed to do this time. The start line was moved from the top of a sidewalk downhill to an uphill grade in a parking lot. I needed to make sure I didn't get behind the guy that creates the division between the fasties and the others in the woods. Instead of warming up by riding in circles I waited at the entrance to the start gate like a buzzard waiting in anticipation for an animal to die. I wanted to be in the front row so I could get into the woods in the top three staying ahead of the gap that was sure to form once we hit the singletrack.

As we were minutes away from the start, I heard a clunk, junk, pop, smash about ten yards away from me. One of the Expert/Sport women who would start a minute behind the SS class had shifted her chain up into her spokes. She didn't look like she completely knew how to address the situation quickly, so upon noticing no one else noticing her dilemma, I went over to help.

Her chain was all up in it. Wrapped around pins behind the cassette, derailleur pulled taught, spokes looking unhappy. As I worked the chain free I heard them call the SS racers to the line. I missed the call up, and there was still a broken spoke that was flopping about, so I twisted it all up and took my place in the second row.

Not only was I in the second row, but I was also behind the guy that usually causes the split in the woods.

photo cred: Kangalangamangus

The start went total asses and elbows, and we only had probably about 30 seconds to sort things out. I tried to work my way through the field, but I entered the woods in sixth place... with the splitter in third. I watched as the top two riders (Sagur and Anderson) rode away from us, and there was nothing fourth, fifth, or my place could do about it.

At the exit of the woods we punched it on the gravel road to get around him. When we hit the grassy climb I hit it again just to give the big gear a try. I managed to get a gap, find the third place I wanted 4.something minutes ago, and then was slowly pulled back to fifth place.

photo cred: Lunchbox

Over the first few laps there was some actual racing, and I found myself in sixth place, but that was before Stauffer and Noel "The Killa Thrilla Gorilla" Kirila came up from behind and then made their way around me.

photo cred: Kangalangamangus

Twenty minutes in I hammered up the grassy climb, made it around them, and put some distance between us, but I couldn't hold onto the gap. They were all up in my shit again in a manner of minutes. As we made our way through the lapped field I had my worst concern come to fruition. Noel "The Killa Thrilla Gorilla" Kirila got around a lapped rider, but I couldn't get past her at the same point. When we hit the technical climb our pace slowed a bit too much, and I could no longer stay on top of my gear. I could not get around, and I stalled. I fell over in the rocks.

I held up Stauffer in the process, and as we exited the woods I promised to pull Noel "The Killa Thrilla Gorilla" Kirila back in the fold. When I launched after him, Stauffer did not follow. I was alone chasing a ghost for the final two laps.

photo cred: Kangalangamangus

Seventh place again, same as two weeks ago, but a fun battle nonetheless. That was the most "racing" race yet, and the only thing that woulda made it better would have been to lose a sprint finish to Noel "The Killa Thrilla Gorilla" Kirila by a half wheel.

Maybe next year...

A big shout out to the folks at Bicycles East, and my teammates, Aaron, Tom, and Dave... not to mention Steffie for being out there every week cheering us on.