Hard to believe. Bill Nye and I leave for Duwango Tango Mancation '16 tomorrow. The plan, as it was/were/is... coming together. Which leaves me with this:
Two piles. One bound for Durango (foreground), the other prepping for the Shenandoah Mountain 100 (background)... because the plan calls for this to happen. I'll get back next Thursday, go to work on Friday, leave for Stokesville on Saturday.
Staring at stuff. Grabbing things. My anal compulsion to bring all the things.
Let's face it. The blerhg will die for a short while. Less of a death and more of a shit-stasis. I don't see having time to update anything until after I get back from SM100. I guess I could take my craptop computer with me, but it's such a dick. Not to mention, I hope to stay sorta busy even when we're not riding. I want to stop at King Cage and get some locally sourced titanium bottle cages for the By:Stickel Meatplow V.6. Also, Ska Brewery and river soaking and... whatever. I hear there's some great antique stores and haberdasheries in town as well. I'll probably be an asshole tho and post on Facebook and Instagram, just so you know for this short while, my life is better than yours.
That's what social media is for, right?
I'm not sure what kind of shape I'll be in when I get back from Durango. The whole race thing could go either way.
I could be strong and light from riding above 6,500 feet for six days.
I could be destroyed and fat from riding above 6,500 feet for six days... and eating and drinking my way into a stupor whenever I'm not on the bike or buying antiques and cowboy hats.
Dunno.
We didn't plan for success or failure that far ahead.
I was stoked this past Tuesday when I headed out for my 1.25 hour ride before riding to work, knowing that I've got maybe three more of these before the Fool's Gold 50 (60?) on September 17th. Basically, I'm not too far away from all rides only occurring for fun reasons and no more early weekday wake ups. Which I hate.
Getting up, that is, although it is said that you can't drink all day if you never wake up.
BTW: Some have asked me how I feel about the Fox Step Cast 32. At some point, I'll get to it. Mebbe after the SM100 or the Fool's Gold 50 (60?). I promise (sorta).
Wake up in the darkness. Have to pee... hard. All the moisture that was usually distributed throughout my body is now in my bladder. I let it all go into the weeds.
Find some Gatorade. Ice cold from the cooler. Now I have a (much worse) headache.
Wake up again. Fart loudly. Again. Having one of those "why didn't god kill me in my sleep" moments. I hear others ambling about, banging pots and starting stoves. I guess I need to get up now. Despite having a proper mustache, I felt the dead opposite of how it feels to bronze in an Olympic mountain bike race.
It's already warm. Humid. I eat a couple Pop Tarts. Andy gives me some slightly browned water. It's much easier than making my own coffee, so I appreciate the kindness. I consider putting on a special outfit, reconsider the heat, inconvenience of it all, and non-breath-ability of the fabric. I put on a kit instead. Shanna's wandering around the campsite with her ass cheeks hanging out of her princess outfit. I feel immense guilt and shame. Return to the tent, squeegee the chamois cream out of my bibs for reuse, and change into something more single speedy.
Head over to the start and just sit there regretting at least seven but no more than fifteen things I did the night before. None of them illegal. Well, we were stopped before we completed the more illegal of the things we considered, but it was more of a borrow situation in our collective minds.
We line up for a LeMans start. Doug announces that when he finishes chugging his beer, we can go. A few seconds in, some of us decide that since we're just walking to our bikes anyways, might as well go now.
Watts comes running by me on the way to his bike.
"You're trying too hard, Watts." ~ me
He responds by shrugging his shoulders.
I get to my bike and hop into the melee. Rider density maxed out at the entrance to the single track. There is no flow in flow trail when you're riding a train. I regret not at least jogging to my bike to stay outta the traffic to maximize fun potential.
I make a few passes, and Bill Nye is no longer in the active role as my wing man. I'm without friends. Sadness and a lingering hangover to keep me company. I see Buck at the side of the trail fixing his bike. He tells me to wait up. I soft pedal. He catches me, passes me... leaves me. Meh.
I pass Montucky and Cinder Block at the side of the trail. I decide shortly after that they will be my friends. I stand at the side of the trail and wait.
Montucky catches me. No Cinder Block. We get stuck behind some riders who can't figure out a switchback.
"You want some hot wine?"
Montucky's sales pitch left a lot to be desired, but I was going to be caloric-deficient on the day and not in a place to say no. We stand there and clog up the trail until we finish up, unknowingly holding up the first place woman. Not our fault (that she didn't want hot wine).
Out from a trail and into the open, we are told that we are 15th, 16th... so on. I tell Montucky that either we are trying too hard or others are way better at hardly trying. We need to slow down.
We get to the hike-a-bike. I can see Buck up ahead. Montucky stomps by me, puts his bike across the entire trail.
"You want some hot wine?"
Yeth. As if I have a choice.
We finish pushing up the hill and catch Buck at the first beer stop. We drink some of that. It's bueno.
A loose alliance is formed. We ride off together. Montucky's Bluetooth speakers playing what sounds like a Quentin Tarantino movie soundtrack.
photo cred: Chris Reichel
We stop when we need to. We stop a few times because we don't but there is a bench so, stop anyways. We pick up another rider that knows Buck but refers to him by his other nickname, "Asshole." Now we are four.
We ride together, stop together, navigate our way by suggestive arrows together. At some point, Montucky starts running on fumes... so he's left behind.
"Where's Montucky?" ~ Buck
"He dead." ~ me
It's hot, we're tired, we're flailing. We ride together until the finish, which was some indiscernible distance between five and twelve miles for the last couple hours (it seems).
Eat. Water. Water. Consider a nap. Think better of it. Change into evening wear and relax in the only shade in the campground, which unfortunately (for the children) was the playground.
photo cred: Andy Forron
Consume enough beverages of a known quantity to get in a familiar state of being and then go up to watch the decider events for SSUSA '17.
I see people prepping for a foot down competition. I assume it's part of the deciding. I watch.
It's actually to decide the real SSUSA champion, because racing is dumb. I'm also dumb because I miss the opportunity to play bike games.
The decider event happens, and it's leaf blower polo.
photo cred: Colleen O'Neil
Bellingham, WA beats New York in the finals.
photo cred: Colleen O'Neil
I'm happy because that means I don't feel like I need to go.
More regrettable things happen. Still pretty sure nothing illegal is successfully pulled off, but perhaps there were some offended parties. Nothing out of line for a single speed event tho.
Sometimes you get urine on you. C'est la vie.
The evening ended with Bill Nye's and mine own bikes missing, a walk back down into the holler, I might have chased a skunk on foot...
Up and in the truck early in the morning on a Friday to do the thing I said I wouldn't; travel eight hours to ride less than forty miles the next day only to turn around and go home the day after.
So we're basically heading up there for two parties and one ride with friends.
Jim scoops me and then Bill Nye. Then highway, and more highway, and PA back roads. We pass this tiny bar around 3:00 in the afternoon, just about a half hour away from Raystown.
"Man, I remember passing that place on my way to the Trans-Sylvania Epic so many times." ~ me
Jim applies the brakes in a less than gentle manner and the truck heaves ho into a turn around. We're going in.
Steele's Tavern
As America as it gets.
Cheap beer. Cheaper pool.
Hot bologna, you say? I dunno. On crackers? Why didn't you say so? You had me at $1.25
A few games of cut throat pool and we get back on the road.
We roll into the parking lot at 5:05PM, five minutes after registration opened. Couldn't have not planned it any better.
No sooner am I signing my life away and I'm handed a beer. I guess I brought two kits for no reason. We're not riding today. Business done, set up camp so I know I have a place to sleep tonight (if I can find it all the way down in the holler), and head back up to the Pine Shelter to see who crawls out of the woodwork as the night progresses.
A lot of the usual suspects showed up, along with all manners of celebratory accoutrements. Miscreants, scoundrels, thieves, drunkards, ruiners of things... friends.
The night went more blurry than a crappy iPhone photo rather quickly.
Some things were done that were instantly regrettable and other things that had regret attached to them that wouldn't be felt until the morning came and the self-induced haze burnt off entirely.
Now I've got to restart my heart and moisten the cotton someone apparently shoved in my mouth before I went to sleep. We've got some simulated bike race thing to do.
There's a reason I don't change my header image very often. Or the sidebar images to the old blog or past results... or anything else that's outdated or at the very least, tired.
It's difficult and time consuming (for me).
Only so, because I don't know entirely what I'm doing and don't want to learn, much less store that information in my head part for future use.
I decided it was finally time to add CarboRocket to the list of Dick Supporters the other day. Thought I could squeeze such a thing in before I headed out the door for a "training" ride on Tuesday.
I was wrong.
I borrowed the html I've been using to put linked logos into the sidebar years ago. I felt like I owed as much to my supporters ("sponsors" sounds so elitist, especially considering what I actually do). I don't know what html is or how it works. I just figured out that I copy and paste links into places where I see them in the code, push publish, and hope for the best.
So the CarboRocket logo was too big after a couple stabs in the dark... and I accidentally used a gif.. and after thirty minutes or so, I was late for my ride.
And that's why I don't change things on the blerhg very often.
I was inspired into action because I got my purple drank in the mail.
It's honestly my favorite flavor of Half Evil, the drink with most of the calories and hydration I want in one bottle. The purple drank flavor also has zero caffeine, which is best for me 95% of the time, as I like to save that (caffeine) for later as opposed to having constant access to it. As excited as I was about getting a resupply of the stuff, I was even happier that they've swapped over from tubs to resealable bags. Cuts down on waste and whatnot and way easier to pack for travel.
Speaking of packing, I've gotta get all my things together NOW. I'm getting scooped at some ungodly hour tomorrow morning to make our way to SSUSA in PA. I can't remember the last time I traveled so far for such a short race, but only an asshole would be traveling to SSUSA with the actual race on their mind.
I might be an asshole, but I'm not that kind of asshole.
Not for nothing, but I signed up for the Fool's Gold 50 (60?) late Sunday night. Not entirely sure why, but I know I'll probably be shaving off my mustache when I'm done racing for the year, so perhaps it's just to keep it a couple weeks longer. I'm also stoked that the venue has returned to a little more after party friendly status, complete with camping and such.
Wasn't too hard of a decision to do the 60 miler over the 100 (which is actually 90). Shenandoah Mountain 100 is just two weeks before the FG, and I didn't want to spend nine to ten hours in the Virginia mountains thinking about nine to ten hours in the Georgia mountains in my near future.
I don't really foresee any real podium chances down there. With the NUE Marathon series drawing in riders like Ernesto Marenchin and James Litzinger (who both have a shot at 1st in the series), not to mention the usual suspects and the Motor Mile Mafioso (aka: Dicky Dream Sqaushers), it would take a miracle to get me on the box.
Or I'd actually have to start taking things seriously starting now... and keep that up for a whole month.
No.
Not looking forward to the fifteen mile gravel and pavement lollipop stick out (or back), but the lollipop itself has some awesome single track. It's good enough that it only takes me a year and a half to forget all the soul-sucking road sections and only remember the good times, thus my almost biannual appearance at the event.
Oh yeah, yesterday I restarted my running campaign for the third time since I started the restarting this summer. Over two weeks ago, I went out and ran almost six miles at a 7:40 pace... and then it hurt to walk the next day. Even worse another day later. My feet parts (upper foot to ankle) hated me for that. Damn it. Back to two milers at a much more reserved pace.
I got my ride in on Saturday, pretty much the very ride I was looking for. Black Mountain, Buckwheat Knob, Bennett Gap, Sycamore Cove, Pisgah Tavern... not in that particular order with lots of climbing in between. Mileage somewhere in the ouchy zone without going into the "this is going to ruin tomorrow" sad place.
Something interesting. There ended up being more bikes and people there than I was expecting. Nothing bad, but I noted something worthy of notable notableness.
Aside: On the way there, I learned something about Nick "Dip n Spray" Barlow that made me uncomfortable yet extremely proud at the same time.
Of the eight people there, only one or two didn't show up with a preexisting or about to happen issue.
Shoe related malfunction, bent and could/should be replaced brake lever, brake lever way out of adjustment, a rear thru-axle that decided to stop doing its job, clogged valve cores, and a sticky rear brake that needed bled (me).
Mountain biking is hard on equipment. It's so easy to take it for granted that it's just going to work properly when we grab the bike after a week of it sitting in the corner. Mud, dust, water, vibrations, cycles, one too many rides on a set of pads...
I'm as guilty as anyone. As I stood in the parking lot of The Hub talking to Sam, he noticed I was fiddling with my rear lever. It wasn't snapping back to its happy place.
"Meh. I just worked on the front one two weeks ago. The back one was fine. I guess it's seen as many big rainy days and lake-dunk cleansings as the front."
Not so much a lesson learned for me (I'll never learn), but it just goes to show you that either you learn how to work on your own bikes AND keep up with it, or you find a good mechanic, treat him/her right, and let him/her work on your bike when it needs it. Don't just ignore your issues and hope they get better. They don't.
I mentally dealt with my brake issue all day, on top of a few (sorta planned) nutrition and hydration issues. Not so much planned, but I knew wasn't going to have enough water and food to get through the day in the best possible manner, but it wasn't going to kill me, so fuck it.
I mighta felt like a hobbled and crampy pile of pooh later that day tho.
On Sunday, pull out the pads (which needed replacing... surprise), do the cup/air bubble thing, clean the pistons, remove valve cores for good measure (while I'm already piddling with stuff) and clean them up.
Here's my opinion on sealants. Either you pick a sealant that has very little particulate matter and seems to be all dried up every time you check it (meaning you don't have any sealant to do any actual sealing) or you pick one that has plenty of suspended solids and stays liquid long enough to be useful (but will occasionally need to be cleared from the valve cores). I'm flat-free (aside from a giant sidewall tear) with TruckerCo Cream for a year and a half now, so I'll deal with a little maintenance if that means I'm not fixing a flat in the woods or standing next to a race course watching the world go by.
And of note, that core was using a test/proto sealant and doesn't reflect normal use. But, it's the photo I have, so there's that. Air not going in/coming out of your valve with enthusiasm? Check you self lest ye wreck you self.
Oh yeah, also of notable notieness. When you check your air pressure/add air/let some out, do it with the valve stem at 12 o'clock. You'll be less likely to draw sealant into the core to begin with. Do I always do this? No. Should I? Yeth. When do I remember? When releasing some pressure with the valve closer to 6 o'clock and sealant comes out. That's when.
I guess my main point is that if you ignore your mountain bike and don't keep up on maintenance, things are going to squeak, function poorly, break, and generally suck. Sucky bikes make for sucky rides.
Learn things for yourself (and actually do the work) or visit your local bike shop often. Life is too short for sucky rides.
Speaking of maintenance, remember when I said that as long as I know I might get to ride Black Mountain again at some point in my life, that's a life worth living?
Well, I was told this weekend that they are marking the corridor for the reroute RIGHT NOW from Turkey Pen down to lower Thrift Cove. So how about that? At least people will have something to bitch about for awhile, so that will make things interesting in the interim.
Things are winding up. My brain is everywhere. A text from Jim a couple days ago reminded me that we leave for SSUSA in a week.
Doh.
Still gotta finish packing the By:Stickel for the Duwango Tango Mancation '16.
I really hate shoving my bike in a box. Such as a messy affair. Like trying to get anything that comes in a stuff sack back in its respective stuff sack. I actually pulled a muscle in my stomach getting it in there. I know that doesn't make sense, but it happened.
Not much going on this weekend except I'm sneaking in one more trip to the mountains, which should be enough to figure out if I have my fjork properly tuned.
Fortunately, I'll be on some of the same trails I've ridden the last three times that I've been up there, so comparisons should be easily made.
Also, I'll be dealing with my personal jellies all day long.
Bill Nye has his Enduro™ machine all built up and ready to ride (once) before taking it all apart to put in a box and ship to Hermosa Tours for the Duwango thing. Good to see that my poorly thought out purchase of shifty bits is getting back out in the dirt. I've not seen this completed thing in person, but it sure looks nice from here.
I'll bet it rides like a bunch of sour grapes tho.
You really can't blame me. In the past, suspension fork manuals have been relatively worthless. I hate using "sag" as a guideline. Give me realistic weight/air pressure charts, and I'll go from there.
Even tho most of the time I would initially adhere to the charts, I would go out, have a shitty ride (or two), and adjust from there. Usually, the suggested air pressures for my weight would be too low.
Anyways.
As far as all the knobs and buttons go on my more modern forks, fast'ish rebound, crank the low speed, rarely ever use anything other than "climb/lockout" and "trail" modes... since the fork would dive too much in the slow chunder on a sick descent (we have that on the Right Coast).
So, I can't say I looked too hard at the Step Cast manual. This time, it was admittedly a mistake.
Suggestions for rebound speed based on air pressure which is based on weight? That seems more scientific than "of course I don't want the fastest rebound, so mebbe few clicks in because... burrito?"
Also, those volume spacers. It should have been an obvious thing to look at in regards to the limited travel I was getting last week. Feeling shitty physically in addition to Basil saying he has a Fox fjork do something similar in the past... I was thinking that maybe there was too much oil in it.
Didn't really figure they already had two volume spacers in the fjork straight from the factory. I guess not everyone weighs as much as Emily Batty, so they shot for the middle. Derp.
So, take out the volume spacers, put the same amount of air back in, one click out on the rebound and full-on low speed compression damping.
Testing it by squishing it up and down in the bike room not good enough this time (not that it was good enough last time).
Sunday.
Hubbs had told me that the Tech Loop at the Backyard Trails was going to be shut down after the weekend for greenway construction. I told him that as much as I will miss it, I don't ride BYT in the summer anymore. Too much poison ivy and it's the most humid place in Charlotte (maybe on the planet).
But it is the closest place and it does have plenty of smaller hucks and such, not to mention there's a few flowy downhill'esque sections.
Shit. I'll go to the BYT.
Jump, flow, jump, huck on to the Tech Loop... run into Hubbs on his respective farewell ride. Chat about the future of the BYT.
Finish talking to him, get bit/stung in the neck, run into him again (such is the nature of the BYT, insect encounters and running into the same people over and over).
He tells me that he was attacked by fire ants the last time he was there. The fact that he didn't refer to them as "spicy boys" affirms my belief that Hubbs does a good job keeping his distance from the internet.
In the end, it was just enough of a ride to prove what a moron I can be, if I allow it, which I do... often.
My original tooo-slow rebound setting was causing the fjork to pack up on the gnar downhills and when added to the limited air volume, I had minimal useful travel when things were getting hairy. This affected traction, kept the fork compressed too much (making the HTA wonky), and also made it hard to get the front end off the ground to get over obstacles (stupid but sexy rebound knob).
I should mention this is the first fork I've owned with three settings/compression damping modes that I've actually enjoyed riding in the "open" or "descend" mode most of the time. Had I remembered what I read oh-so long ago in Michael Cushionbury's review on Dirt Rag...
"I mostly kept the fork in open mode, rather than the middle setting, because compared to pre-2016 offerings, that setting now performs very well. Only when the trail smoothed out for longer stretches did I go to medium. And of course firm was great for pavement and gravel riding to the trailhead."
Yeah, had I remembered, perhaps I woulda figured out I was doing something wrong from the get-go.
A ride at BYT does not equate to a ride in the mountains tho. I'm looking at one more ride next week (prolly local) and then SSUSA in Allegrippis (which is pretty rigid frok friendly)... and that's it until SM100.
Still on the fence, but one leg is closer to the ground than the other right now.
My plan to go the mountains was a pile of fake meat crumbles. Almost the real thing, but not really.
I was spurred into the making of a plan when Eric McKeegan of Dirt Rag infamy asked me if I was going to Pisgah this weekend.
"If you're going to grace us with your presence, yeth. I'll try."
I attempted to assemble a posse. A small posse.
Then, Jordan from The Hub texted me and said McKeggan was coming down and I said that I knew and she said she wanted to ride and I said that would be nice and she said she'd try to make it happen so I said I would make that happen.
Then I invited Scott Rusinko because he bitches that we never ride together unless we're racing.
My attempts to get one warm but capable body to join me in the Fit of Rage failed. I forgot some people that were on my Rolidex. Sorry.
I head west alone, Pop Tart in the passenger seat to keep me company... at least until I hit Shelby.
Roll into The Hub parking lot. Check my messages. McKeegan is running late and out for the day. WTF? Also meh.
Check to see if Jordan messaged me. Nothing. Prowl the lot and find Scott and parked next to him was Son of Bob Moss, Adam Steurer. Then Captain Morgan rolls in.
I go into the shop to see if Jordan is inside. Sam (the other owner of The Hub) is installing a headset into a carbon Santa Cruz... with a broken hand... and a mallet.
"Are you doing that in front of a wall of tools, some of which might be the right ones?"
"It's my bike, so yeah."
Sam also tells me that Jordan is more than likely not making the ride. Meh. Four dudes who can (and have recently) rip(ped) my legs off. I'd say "beat my dick off," but only a few people in the Southeast would understand what I meant.
We ride out of The Hub parking lot, down the bike path, hit the climb to Bennett Gap, and it feels like a race to my legs. Probably because I'm only used to racing these guys. Soaked with sweat at the top, we proceed down Bennett, something I just did two weeks ago on a bike slightly more appropriate for such terrain.
I don't know if it's the 100mm fork or my inability to dial it in correctly... or the 2.2 tire not giving me the confidence of a 2.4 and nothing close to the 2.8. I feel... sketchy.
Scott flats. Sidewall tear. He plugs it? Plug a sidewall tear? Is that gonna work?
No.
A few minutes later, a tube is going in on the side of the trail. When he's done fixing it, he fills his pockets with these ground scores:
Probably leftovers from a previous sabotage I talked about earlier. Just off the trail in a strange area. Hmmm.
Bottom of Bennett, climb up Clawhammer to either do a shortened ride just like last time I was here settling for Middle/Lower Black and Sycamore. We get to the decision point at Maxwell, and decide to go up and over Black Mountain.
Two weeks ago, Kyle told us that the "locals" were saying upper Black was blown out.
"Impossibru," I said.
I had just been down upper Black on June 18th (day after my birthday, that's how I know). It was nothing I woulda called "blown out"... any more than it normally is.
I'm feeling like pooh on the hike up. I fall over on a short riding technical section, and I have this strange stomach muscle cramp/pulled thing that has a pretty embarrassing back story. We get to the viewpoint and hang out.
Coming down. The locals were right. Amazing how much this trail can change in less than two months. I walk a short section... something I don't know if I've ever done on upper Black. Jeebus. It's bad. That and it's slick and this fjork isn't doing what I think it should and I'm thinking about this tiny tire and holy shit. It's just the opposite experience I had last time, railing the whole thing with Colin, Phil and Kürdt with conditions that were... perfect.
We get down to Hot Dog Gap. Regroup. Dark clouds in the distance. Roll on, regroup, Captain Morgan is dirty in places normally wouldn't be if one were to stay upright on the way down. I tell everyone that this fjork and tiny tire are coming off for Shenandoah 100. I'll try and figure it out later this year. Scott puts his dibs in on the resale. I also admit that I'm partially glad McKeegan isn't here to say "I told you so."
Back when I first mentioned getting this fjork, he told me that anything less then 120mm isn't worth it. Meh.
Down to the bottom, rain hits us as we ride down the bike path, make it to the shop. Happy. Exhausted (at least me). Soaked in sweat and rain.
Go in, beer, Sam shows me a picture of a brake that came into the shop with an SAE carriage bolt holding the caliper in place. I assume the person might have used a mallet to install it. That tool does everything.
Get home, eat three dinners, drink three beers and decide that maybe
it's time to look at that fjork manual a little more closely (past page 3 at least).
Sigh. I guess my dissatisfaction with the current state of both political parties was not apparent yesterday. Anonymous said... "why don't all you libtards pack-up and move to a socialist country already. Fuck off."
Sorry to all those out there that I didn't waste time looking for examples of both the RNC and the DNC failing to fact check statements and statistics during their respective conventions. Since I was trying to write a post primarily about a chain ring, I thought I'd done a thorough enough job... although, if I only alienate one person per post, mebbe not so bad after all.
I'm sure both parties will have all their ducks in a row by the time we get to the debates.
I've always felt like I was an equal opportunist offender.
Hoping the stars align and I get a ride in the mountains tomorrow.
I really, really, really, really wanna get the egg ring and new fjork up there for some real riding... since between now and then I'll be:
So yeah, one chance to ride this bike in similar conditions before I commit to some really long climbs and descents over 100 (or 150... or 165?) miles. I'm 95% sure that I'll run the suspension fjork, if not just because of a recent conversation I had with Bill Nye. I mentioned that this will be my last SM100 for awhile, being that it will (presumably) be my tenth finish. He said, "Why not enjoy all the downhills then instead of beating the shit out of yourself for a change?"
Sage wisdom from the Science Guy.
The only thing that has me scratching my head is my tires. Paranoid me wants to stick with the 2.4 Ardent/2.2 Ardent Race combo. I hate flats. I have yet to flat on this combo.
Racer boi me wants to swap to something a little lighter... like .33 - .5lbs lighter. Because I have them.
In there. Somewhere.
Does anyone remember what tire I was running when I punctured the rear on the descent at the Shenandoah 100 in... dunno? Some year?
That information would be handy to have right now.
If only there was a way to keep track of all this.
All I could figure out was that it was in 2010...
Was I fat back then or were my bones just bigger?
I figured out that I did flat a Stan's Raven tire at Breck Epic on Stage 2 just before this race and replaced it with a Kenda Small Block 8 that was nearly impossible to install/remove (no bueno for trail repairs)...
so I replaced it before the SM100... but with what? Obviously, I wasn't sponsored by Maxxis back then, thus I was running any rear tire that was handed to me on a podium or at an aid station... or found in a bargain bin.
The other strange thing? I ran an elliptical 33 tooth ring with an 18 tooth cog. Now I'm considering running a 30 X 18 (which is slightly smaller than my standard SM100 32 X19)?
Da fuq?
It is very apparent that I have no idea what I'm doing.
Throwing darts at the board in the dark. Obviously, the lazy option would be to do nothing, and I'm leaning that way since leaning is also lazy.
The elliptical ring. Been there. Done that. Why go down this bunny hole again?
Dunno. Curiosity? Boredom? The desire to tinker? Fuck with shit, as a friend once deemed it.
Anyways.
Just tossing that in there because if you mention elliptical rings, some old guy that wants to prove that he's been around the block has to say, "Didn't we already have enough of that stupidity with Biopace?"
To which I answer, "no."
Because I owned at least one mountain bike and one road bike plagued with this type of drive train. So, I guess I haven't had enough with oval rings... yet.
In case you're not old enough to remember, shitty mountain bike full suspension designs that bobbed while pedaling suffered from something that people called "Biopacing," a term
that none too politely referred to the aforementioned advance in pedaling efficiency that functioned like a cold turd. That's how bad it was.
The newer generation of oval rings seems to make some sense. At least the parts that I can comprehend. Granted, most of the science out there comes from the ring manufacturers, which is like getting crime stats from the RNC (or insert some falsehood stated at the DNC here).
Oval ring profiles (like crime statistics) can be greatly over-exaggerated to create fear amongst the (old white) peoples.
Want to listen to some folks smarter than I blather on and on about elliptical rings? Here's not just one, but two podcasts over on Mountain Bike Radio's Engineer's Corner to fill your ears and the empty space between them. The first one is a conversation between MBR's Ben and Phil the Engineer, and the other one is Ben (again) and Brendan from Wolf Tooth (insert more RNC/DNC commentary here).
Short/long of it (or the oval of it), my 30 tooth should feel like a 32 when I'm pulling the chain with the widest part of the oval at the top and a 28 when the narrowest section is at the top. That means in one revolution, you go 32, 28, 32, 28. So, like shifting four times per revolution... in single speed terms, like jumping up one tooth, down one tooth, up one tooth, down one tooth in the rear (about) with smooth infinite mini-shifts through the entire range. That's a lot of SPR (shifts per revolution).
I should feel that, right?
I've only got one ride on the ring so far. Did I notice anything?
Yeth. I noticed that I was tired and thought I might vomit or shit myself. Not the ring's fault, I imagine. I was Variable #2.
Helping to invalidate the test, I put a suspension fjork (variable #3) on my bike hours before the ride instead of the rigid crabon frok that's been on there for... a year? Dunno. The best way to ruin an experiment like this is to change more than one variable at a time. Not to mention, I have absolutely zero data points to compare anything because I don't really do "data."
So, I'm going by feel.
Which is terrible for someone like me. For example, if I'm driving a car, I could be excreting buckets of sweat before my passenger might request some air conditioning.
"Oh, I guess it is hot. I didn't really feel it."
I'm pretty good at observing things with my eyes. I can spot broken/bent/loose spokes on other people's bikes like nobody's business (that would be a trbl business BTW). I see all kinds of things that are out of sort, but when it comes to feeling things?
I lack the ability to feel.
Shimano never mentioned that the computer they went with to design Biopace was a product of Cyberdyne Systems, Skynet's first attempt at wiping out the human race with technology.
I'm just going to leave the ring on there for the time being. Not a lifestyle-altering amount of money was spent on the new ring, and since it does serve to keep the miles off the OG Race Face ring, it's not really a waste even if I end up feeling "meh" about the whole thing.
Maybe my feelings will start working in the next month or two, and I'll have my eureka moment. If not, fine. Nothing ventured, nothing gained and all that.
Although, something ventured and nothing gained would suck, I guess.
Either way, even if it doesn't work, I don't mind actively sticking things in the "no column" because I actually tried them. I ate lentils the other day and liked them, and I swear I didn't like them the last time I put them in my mouth part.
So, there's that.
Maybe if I put some Bruschetta and feta cheese on the ring, I might like it. Worked for the lentils.
THIS POST IS NOT JUST ABOUT THE BACON STRIP TIRE REPAIR THINGS. SCROLL DOWN A FEW IMAGES IF YOU HAVE THE ATTENTION SPAN OF A SQUIRREL.
Granted, I've only done this twice. Once on my own bike on a ride in Pisgah, and another time on a friend's bike at the USNWC.
Both times, the tire held air like a champ.
Over the past few years, I've seen more and more people taping the tool to their bikes, on the handlebars, a hydro line, wherever. I don't like that so much.
I keep mine in my Tülbag with my other repair stuff. I shove it in a tiny plastic ziplock bag first tho. As far as I'm concerned, part of what makes it work is the fact that the little rubber booger thing is sticky. When I see them mounted/taped onto someone's bike with that bit exposed, I wonder how long it can be exposed to rain, dirt, mud... whatever before it loses it tackiness.
I realize pro-level riders prolly just replace them before racing, but for cheap people like me? Am I gonna stick a new one on my bike before an event? And what about on the reg for everyday rides?
No.
I should mention that the tiny ziplock bag does end up getting pretty beat up after awhile and needs replaced.
Anyways...
I almost always click the links on MTB sites that show setups of the pros looking for anything that might be useful. Like this article on PinkBike, Pit Walk: EWS Round 5, Aspen-Snowmass.
Had I not been paying attention (and reading the comments), I might not have learned that long hair and power tools might not always play well together.
Something to keep in mind when my hair gets to pony tail length, and I'm in the presence of snarky teenagers.
Also, there was this:
"Joe Barnes has one of the neatest tire plug solutions we have seen so far strapped to his top tube."
Okay, I'm not Gorilla taping something to my bike. Just won't. A thousand reasons, only five hundred of them vanity related.
This is ten times better than taping the tool to the bike in a somewhat handy location, requiring the unfurling of said tape to get to the tool. This is gonna save seconds for the anal (and more successful) racer types.
Being that I'm anal but not successful (and I hate tape), this is what I took from it:
I did have to file down the tool a bit to get it into a Sharpie cap, but the fit is spot on.
This should keep things nice and tidy, yet still plenty handy when shoved into my Tülbag. The cap is also slightly less finicky than the tiny ziplock bag in my gloved hands. So, bueno. I shaved seconds off my flat repair time (which I haven't had to do in... years?), and I won't be going through so many little plastic bags.
Yeth, I know about that other product out there, the Sahmurai Sword, which tucks it all nicely into the end of the handlebar. I guess my concerns would be the price (@ $35), the fact that I replace my bar end plugs almost every time I swap grips because they're all fucked up from abuse, and that I already have a solution that works.
"This will be a weekend of competing agendas." ~ me
It was.
That thing I wanted to "test" this weekend:
Elliptical ring. I've sorta been down this road before... July '10 to be exact.
History, good or bad, will repeat itself.
So yeth, I wanted a good run at it on Saturday, but yeth, I was doomed to fail before I made it to the official weekend.
I got the email that my long awaited Fox Step Cast 32 fjork arrived at the shop on Friday. So my plan to run home, eat, shower, head to the directly to the Booty Loop to spectate... foiled. Must has the precious.
The Pie assisted me in making all my dreams come true. The fjork at the house, and then me off to the Booty Loop. At first, the luau party was mostly people less dirty than the individuals that I find myself in the company of on any normal evening. Me thinking about my fjork being at home alone... in a box in a dark room. Sadness. I could be putting it on my bike right now.
But then the dirty people started to trickle in. Before I know it, I've joined the Spoke Easy mayhem on the Col de Hopedale.
And then it's 12:30AM. Shit.
Go home, toss my personal effects asunder and go to bed.
Up early and fight my way through the self-induced brain fog. Coffee.
Grab the tools of the non-trade.
Some of my tools are the real deal. Others? They work fine also.
Basil said he would join me on my ride later that morning. Mount up the fork with not much ado... prolly one of the easier things to do for the home mechanic that found a pipe cutter in the ditch. Guess at the settings on all the knobs and such and head out the door.
Noble goals of riding the whole 30 miles at the USNWC. Head towards the north loops first... Figure 8 is closed. Shit. There's a drop-off on that loop that I know if I was ever gonna bottom a fjork out on, that's where I'd do it... meh.
We wind our way over to the Thread Trail. Hop on Academy. My head hurts. My tummy has sympathy pains. It's either the heat, my dehydrated state going into this ride, hangover leftovers, of not enough food in the last 24 hours. Trbl. I can't remember the last time I felt this no bueno.
I cut my ride off at right around 16-17 miles. Ded.
Came home, ate everything, chocolate milk, showered, nap...
As long as I can call sleeping for an hour and a half in the middle of the day a "nap."
Wake up covered in drool. Come to the realization that the reason that I hate napping so much is because I hate getting out of bed, so why would I do it twice in one day?
Anyways, gonna need more ride time on the fjork to figure it out and whether or not we work well together. Comparing it to the plush but solid ride of a Pike or a rigid crabon ENVE frok isn't really apples to oranges by any means.
My goal here was to give myself options. I don't much like dragging the Pike-equipped Stickel around on local trails. Don't always want to tax my joints (I've been told it takes a toll) with the rigid frok, no matter how much I prefer it. When I ordered this thing, I had some races in mind. Pisgah 111k for one. That was months ago. Now? Maybe the Shenadoah Mountain 100? Out of ten starts, I've only had a suspension fork once back in 2012.
I remember feeling nonplussed about the whole experience and ended up10th place single speed @ 9:02 finish time. Shit, I did a 9:07 with a deadly hangover (thanks, Watts) on a mile longer course last year. I also remember selling that fjork (that I'd only had for a month) right after the race.
History, good or bad, will repeat itself.
Anyways, about that fjork.
Everything I read before I bought it said that clearance is supposed to be restricted to 2.3 tires, but...
I think that's more of a suggestion. I got a Maxxis Ardent 2.4 in there. I realize that mebbe I'm being a total dumb ass by not eschewing the portly tire for something a little more svelte, being that I don't need all that volume if I'm not riding rigid, but I am, if not anything else, ignorant.
Groovy how they did this:
If groovy also means strange, but at least it's not inverted.
I'd planned on stickering over the back of the arch because I hate mud buildup in the nooks and crannies, but...
I don't think they'll stick to such little surface area. Guess I'll just blast it with a hose after riding in the muck.
Srsly. If there was a way to save weight, they did it. Check out my red knob.
So anyways, there was only one drop that I thought I might be able to land a little nose heavy to see if I could bottom out the fjork. I don't know how else to really test for proper air pressure.
photo cred: Basil
Photo snapped on impact. Results?
Mebbe 88 or 89mm total? Dunno. So prolly less air in there, I guess.
I've got two to three more rides max before SSUSA and then I leave for Duwango Tango Mancation '16... and then two days later I'm on my way to the Shenandoah Mountain 100.
Plenty of time (not really).
More about my going pear-shaped on an oval-shaped ring later this week.
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