Being stupid sucks

Stopped at Bike Source on the way home last night to pick up some things that showed up just in time for that race next week that we're not supposed to talk about.  Items scooped and sidewalk surfing through the urban maelstrom between me and mine home, I went around the front of a car waiting to go right, through the crosswalk, and on to the sidewalk...

when my front wheel went just over the side of the concrete and into the finely hewn edge of the landscaping.

Slow motion but probably less than a second passes.

The bike goes over, left side of my handlebar plants itself on the sidewalk, and then the right side plants itself in my rib cage as most of my weight comes down unexpectedly.  I spring right back up in the normal "walk it off" style, but immediately discover that I can't.  I can't breathe and everything feels green.

I sit down in the grass and give myself a once over.

Huh.

I'm not feeling good at all.

Wait a few minutes, get up, hands shaking... start walking with my bike. Get most of the way home, mount up, roll the final quarter mile to my house.  Go in, head straight to the bedroom, shoo the dogs away from our normal evening greetings.

The Pie follows me into the bedroom moments later.

Meh.  I have to tell her.

So, between labored short breaths, I explain it as best as I can.  Tell her I'll just take it easy and see how it goes.  Shower, crouching down to reach my stinky feet with a loofa.  Get some assistance drying off.  Try to get comfortable on the couch.  Fail.  Go the bedroom.  Also a fail.

Something might actually be wrong with my insides.

The Pie suggests going to the urgent care, and I can see that the nurse in her thinks it's a good idea. 

Shit.  Not my MO in most medical situations, but I'm looking down blankly into my belly button wondering what's going on inside my body part.

Urgent care.  Good news.  No internal organs are sad.  X-rays.  Nothing broken.  I think I got lucky and took the brunt of the bars into my lower ribs, the ones not connected to the sternum.  I really pissed off my intercostal spaces, but otherwise... okay?

Ice, ibuprofen and beer.

I was ready to call off today, but I decided to just ride my mountain bike to work and see how it goes.  Pretty much my whole left side hurts, from my shoulder, down my back, around the side, and stopping somewhere around my chest.  At least the mountain bike has brakes, an upright seated position, and a drooper for easy on/off.   Not my first rodeo.

So anyhoo...

I'm being sorta realistic here.  Next week is pretty unsure, being that these things usually take time and some rest to heal.

Stupid accidents are what they are.  Last week, I was coming down Trace Ridge at mach chicken feeling great, and then this temporarily takes me out of the game.

Dammit.

Hoping for the best over the next couple days...

Warning: Possibly offensive but still mostly about bike cycling computers

I do so appreciate the comments here and on FaceBook, as well as the random texts with advice on how to make greater bike computer.  I honestly do.

You see, long before the internet was useful for things like seeking advice, trolling unknowing fuckwits, and influencing elections, I used a heart rate monitor.  Consistently.  Annoyingly.  With information gleaned from books, magazines, and ancient scrolls.

I wore my heart rate monitor while riding the rollers, on road and mountain bike adventures, while sleeping, at races... and I used it to measure my anaerobic threshold VIA the Conconi Test.  I kept track of all of the whole idiotic pursuit in this journal here:

Average, waking, maximum, and whatever other heart rate information that seemed relevant.  Basically, my journey of going from a good beginner class mountain biker to a decent sport class mountain biker... recorded in numeric form.

At some point around the time that I moved from Ohio to North Carolina and no longer had to ride rollers in the basement to stay fit year around, I gave it all up.  I hold on to this journal to remind myself of those days, in a binder along with printed out (and received in the mail) race results.  There's also some pictures of me racing from the way, way back days, as well as some pictures from the NORBA National event up in Michigan that War Child and I drove up to so we could spectate and race in Traverse City.

This is also in the binder:

Strange, but allow me to explain.

There was an ad in the back of Bicycling Magazine that caught my attention.  Someone was basically offering "motivational" materials with very little description as to exactly how the motivation would be administered.  All you had to do was send a self-addressed stamped envelope and wait.  Being that I didn't have a coach or professional guidance, I figured this might be what I need.  What I received was a sample image of homemade porn and an offer to buy (more) photos and some sensual home videos.

The letter explained that she was trying to raise money to pay for college.  Oddly enough, she was an art education major, which just happens to be my BS degree as well.  At least there was a higher purpose to it all.

Basically, back in the '90s, if you wanted SPAM mail like this:

It cost you a stamp and an envelope.

I don't hold on to many material objects from the past, but somehow this still remains in my world of things.  A reminder of simpler times, I guess.  Mebbe because at some time long ago, there was an ad in the back of Bicycling Magazine for semi-personalized porn, and I thought it was important to note this moment in history.  Mebbe it's because I knew someday I'd have a blerhg and being looking for content.

Back to what I was writing about in the first place. 

I know basing heart rate zones on anaerobic threshold makes the most sense (for the layman without access to "sciences"), but I'm not willing to bother with all that.  I did go ahead and bury myself going up Spencer to the intersection of Trace Ridge to see what kind of maximum heart rate I could manage.  It was no STRAVA KOM attempt, what with riding at a chatting pace up to the Killing Fields section, but from there, aside from having to get around some other riders, it was all I could muster.

186 BPM was my max, and I found that I'm actually capable of holding over 180 BPM for small stretches of time.  So, I went ahead and plugged that all into my Wahoo cycle sporting computer, and I ended up with what looks like more reasonable numbers to work with in the future.

Obviously, the old 220 - your age (50) = 170 Max HR is not the buenos it's cracked up to be.  From all I can gather, @150 BPM is where I'm going anaerobic, which hurts a little... part of the reason I bothered with the HR monitor at all was to act as a tachometer to keep me from going into the red too early into a long race.

BUT (big but).

I can't imagine starting the Pisgah 111 or 55.5 going up Clawhammer or lower Black Mountain and not blowing through that cap right from the beginning.

Anyways, this toy has been quite the distraction so far and mostly just confirming what I already know.  It will be interesting to see what kinda numbers it spits out when I'm at the Breck Epic riding above 10,000 feet for six days straight... and to see what it's gonna do two to three weeks later.

So, mebbe not as motivating as glossy soft core nudie pictures and videos, but it's certainly something, if at the very least, slightly less strange.

Ride by the Numbers

Two rides over the weekend.  Both of them recorded on my (still) new Wahoo Elemnt, so they both indeed happened... although my STRAVA is still set to private.  This information (for the most part) is for me, not bored lookie-loos.

I'm still trying to get a hang of this... and figure out what to do with "data."

Saturday's ride was less than inspired.  I wanted to make the most of the day, so I loaded up and drove over to the USNWC.  Trail status was open when I left the house, and with its 45+ miles plus of trails, I should be able to get all I could eat.

Pull up in line to pay to park... and I can see the "trails closed" red flag waving in the wind.  Make a quick u turn... pull out my phone... check Twitter.

Closed eight minutes ago.

Fuck all.

Go home.  Decide to ride the Backyard Trails less then a half mile from my house, almost an hour of my day wasted in the car.

Head out, hit some trail, some greenway, some more trail... just tryna enjoy the day before the predicted storms fuck everything up.  Stop to raise my seat post... break the end of my 3mm allen off inside the bolt.  Dammit.  Feel something else hinky down in my cranks... wobble, wobble, wobble.  I can move them back and forth inside the bottom bracket.

Head home.  Address "things."

That was the first time I'd ridden the Vertigo Meatplow V.7 since the TSE.  I guess my post-race once over needed a twice over.  That said, I guess I'm lucky that the Greenway Classic was postponed a couple weeks ago.  Woulda been a frustrating fifty miles.

Sunday's ride.  Kangalangamangus had asked me to go with him earlier in the week.  I assumed the ride was off with the potential storms that were predicted.

It was not.  After the turd of a ride I had Saturday, I was in.

I made the right call.

A loop of favorites in the North Mills area.  Upper Trace is getting super gnarly.  Sooooo worth it, and a good crew to boot.

On the wall at the Mexican restaurant mountain bikers don't go to... because?

This.

Anyways, the Wahoo stuff I'm tryna figure out now that I have it.

My Backyard/Greenway ride:

1:55 riding and I had the auto-pause turned on.  I was surprised that I could stay in the Hard zone as much as I did on a flat greenway with a 32X18.  I also ran with Boppit for a bit, went back and hit a couple of my favorite jumps (old and new), and mebbe did some putzing about.  The other surprise was that most of the time that I was on actual trail, I was in that Peak zone... and I don't know how riding a bike on a local trail would be fun going much slower.

The Pisgah ride:

With the auto-pause turned off, that's 4:15 run time, but only 2:11 ride time.  Out of that, I was Peak for almost half of the time riding, and Hard to Peak for all but twenty minutes of riding.

Once again, I don't know how I'd ride this any differently.

You gotta get up to get down, and I'm amazed that when I'm actually going down, my heart rate is easily in the 140s or higher.

So, I guess my question is... what's the take away here?  Is there one?

Dunno.  Money pissed away, a digital distraction, or useful information (if I can only figure out what to do with it)?

Step Up

If you're looking for a "ho-hum" type update, please read onwards.

With the cancellation... I mean "rescheduling" of the Greenway Classic a couple weeks ago, my streak of racing, recovering (sorta), racing, recovering (mebbe), racing, recovering (not really) pretty much ended.  I'd planned on keeping it up, and now that I haven't...

Well, I have nothing close to a respectable plan.

Things are now hot and humid enough in the morning that if I go out looking for junk miles before work, I'd need to come home, shower, and then cool off before getting dressed and jumping into my commute.  Otherwise, my clothes would be super-saturated in stank, and my coworkers would despise me that much more than they already do.

I've been looking for races to fill in the gaps.  Nothing for a couple weekends, and then I'm heading to that underground stage race that I can talk about afterwards but not so much beforehand.

#embargo

I thought about using the fitness gained from all those long days in the saddle towards something else later in July... like mebbe ORAMM, but I don't think I can.  I've done it so many times in the past, so other than the chance to do it in the 50+ class, it's a hard sell at $140 for "one more time."  It really is a great course (for me), and doing the Pisgah Enduro™ on so many of the same trails made me feel all nostalgic and whatnot for those glory days.

But all he kept talking about...

That leaves me with a huge month plus gap till the Breck Epic, where I'll be duo'ing it with Chris M in the 50+ class.

Race to keep the motivation going to stay fit.  Stay fit so riding is more pleasant.  Ride because I don't think I remember how to play volleyball.

As if any of that matters.

Oh.

On the day of my actual birthday, things went as expected.  I paid bills, folded laundry, went to work, found a zit on my cheek, and came home to a puppy-destroyed, back porch flip flop.  Good times.  I also was (predictably) glum.  Hard not to acknowledge the ticking off of another 100,000 miles on the motor... at least for me.  I'm just shit at actual birthdays.  As much as I might remind myself that a day spent moping around is a day wasted, I'll still allow myself that.

I came home to a Pie that was dressed up, and she dragged my out to eat at a local establishment, refusing to let me wallow in my filth any more than I already had.  I did appreciate that.

Better mood on Tuesday for sure (and the rest of the week) and already thinking mebbe sixty won't be so trbl.

Got to halp build this on Wednesday, which means I still can contribute to the greater good, even at my advanced age.

I'll never ride it, but whatever.

And now, this?

The party happened.

Fun was had.  Friends were in attendance, both old and new(er).

Most of the day, I was reminded that I still have a tendency to try to cram too much into my time on this planet (healthy and unhealthy).  I was busy after work Friday getting shit ready for the party, and because I promised myself some "me time," I was up later than I wanted to be so I could watch a movie The Pie would have no interest in seeing... like ever.

The guy "John Wicks" himself in the first ten minutes by killing his own dog... spoiler alert.

Anyways, then up at 6:30 AM because I wanted to sneak in a Pisgah ride BEFORE coming home to get ready for my pre-party ride... because that made sense?

A shortened version of the Classic Wilson Creek loop which got me home by 4:30 PM, even with a prolonged stop at Hardee's.

How do you wait ten minutes to be handed a lukewarm burger?

Go to Hardee's.

I got home and really needed a nap.  My previous night's sleep was dog pooh, filled with anxiety-riddled dreams during the periods when my eyes were actually closed.  I considered going face down on the couch when I walked in the door, but I knew I'd just be thinking about everything I needed to be doing.

So, pace about and do things and wait until close to 6:00 PM.  People start showing up for the ride.  Faces of the deep past... like The Wonderboy... with his rigid Zion he hadn't ridden in years.  Wonderful.

A quick loop or two at the Backyard Trails, and I needed to get back in case people started showing up.

And they did.

The Boy and Bill Nye were already there dumping ice and beer into the kiddie pool.  From there, the next seven and a half hours were a blur of people coming and going ending with closing down Lucky Lou's and heading home to lie down in the mulch with a beer I'd never drink before going to bed.

I love all my little friends.  I really do.  Thank and blessed.

I planned on heading out to the new trail opening on Sunday, but I split the callous on the ball of my foot pretty good Saturday night (or Sunday morning?).  The best way to get it to heal is to stay off of it and slather it with petroleum jelly.  Going to work on Monday would be better with less exposed inside foot stuff.

So that's what I did, all day long... until The Pie and Nia returned from their trip to Georgia.  Well, aside from picking up the yard and making the house normal again.

And then I did a whole lot more nothing.

Monday was my actual birthday.  I'm now fifty.

I'm left with this.

This is the rest of my life.

or.

This is the rest of my life!

or.

This is the rest of my life?

TBD.

Sorry not sorry about the lack of party pictures. What I do have is only because my friend Nathan grabbed my camera for a bit and played with it. The thought of photo documenting anything was beyond my grasp.

It's a go... as much as it is anything.

So, it's gonna be a thing.

I've decided to go ahead and do this thing tomorrow.

The short on the details:

* You're invited if you know where I live or know someone who does.

* I plan on riding the Backyard Trails from my house around 6:00 PM.  Knowing my group of friends, I doubt we'll roll out earlier than 6:30 PM tho.  One or two tiny loops and if some jumpy people are there, over to the jumps to "oooooh" and "aaaaaaahhhh" at their talents.

* I'll be riding somewhere earlier in the day.  I don't know where or when.  I may be difficult to get a hold of prior to 6:00 PM.  I wanna make the most of my day and pretend to be an "athlete" for a bit.

* We should (will?) be back at my house by 8:00 PM.  If you can't ride/aren't about the ride, just show up some time after then.

* I live in small neighborhood.  Don't park like an idiot.  Lots of street parking.  Don't clog up the works.  There's a giant parking lot less than a quarter mile from my house.

* Bring beer.  A sixer. Cans.  More if you need it.  I'll have a kiddie pool full of ice.  There's a Harris Teeter a quarter mile from here with an excellent beer selection.

* I promise nothing.  I offer nothing.  I want nothing.

* Don't drank and drive.  Turn around, don't drown.  Etc.

* If you need more details and aren't a Facebooker who can see the event page, all the fine print is at the bottom of this post here.

Other than that, come.  Don't make a mess.  I don't wanna clean up after a bunch of filthy animals.  I plan on going to the Cane Creek Cycling Tour at Allison Farm Flow Trail Opening Day Sunday morning, and I don't wanna be crushing your beer cans instead of having fun.

Can you hear me, Major Tom?

From Wikipedia:

"Buyer's remorse is thought to stem from cognitive dissonance, specifically post-decision dissonance, that arises when a person must make a difficult decision, such as a heavily invested purchase between two similarly appealing alternatives. Factors that affect buyer's remorse may include: resources invested, the involvement of the purchaser, whether the purchase is compatible with the purchaser's goals, feelings encountered post-purchase that include regret."

I wasn't even out the front door at Bike Source before I felt like running back to the counter and begging for my money back this past Sunday.

I'd mentioned a couple weeks ago that if I'm gonna continue to keep doing longer events, I need to start keeping track of my current status in some fashion.  My days of blindly feeling my way around the woods with a number plate on my bike, burning matches willy nilly, slowly losing my desire to continue breathing and moving...

Those days might be behind me.

Not knowing if I've been out for one hour or three, if I'm ten miles from the finish or ten feet, if I should have drank one water bottle or three, if I have any matches left to burn or am I on my last one?

I went all in with the full bundle Wahoo Elemnt Bolt.  I knew I'd want the front hub wart anyways. 

I hate how it looks, but the only thing I would hate more would be getting a bunch of GPS (in)accurate numbers whilst twisting and turning in the woods.  Those folks that say just add 5-10% to your total distance numbers... because your $300 computer isn't as precise as my old $35 Cateye Mini?  Those people should not talk to me.  On a practice commute this week, I hit a wart-free 41.1MPH on my tarck bike (48X18)... ummmmm, no.

The bundle also had a heart rate monitor strap, and that was something that I'm actually interested in for what I'll call "reasons."  Back in 2016, I listened to a podcast about "older athletes," and my only takeaway was how important it is to not burn up your matches early on in a race.  You only get so many trips above your lactate threshold, and then you're dead, figuratively speaking.  My friend Aaron assuaged my stupid desires and loaned/gave me a wrist mounted device, which I had limited success with when using it to do anything other than monitor my sleep efficiency.

I couldn't see it while riding without taking my hand off the bars, sometimes I'd have trouble getting it to function (my fault), or it would lose my pulse and basically become an expensive bracelet.  I gave up on using pretty quickly.

I hate chest straps, and I haven't used one since the mid-90s when I thought I was an "athlete."  I also realize that I'm a stubborn moron who doesn't know what's good for him.  I easily get caught up in the furious pace at the start of a race in an effort to... keep up with some random guy I don't know who's on a single speed... or something stupid as that.  Burnt matches tossed left and right, leaving me gassed halfway through the event with nothing inside me except regret and sadness.

So now I'll have a tachometer and also look as good as my buddy Watts.

And I'll be the guy who knows the top of Wheeler is at blah blah blah elevation, and I'm currently at blee blee blee elevation etc etc etc.

I'm gonna use this thing for a bunch of other stuff, but for the sake of brevity, I'll just keep all that to myself.  I didn't mount the cadence wart... which surely means the bundle savings is all but null and void... but I'm on a single speed, so my cadence is what it is.

I waded right down into the deep end of the buyer's remorse pool until my head was well under water.  If I end up figuring out that this purchase was undoubtedly asinine, at least I'll have purchased that knowledge VS all the FOMO in the "what if?" lobe of my brain.  It does bother me so to put such a thing on my simple riding machine, and I have to admit that I was ready to throw it across the room when I got home and spent at least two minutes just trying to find the power button.

If anyone wants to start a death pool taking bets on how long it will be before I give up on this thing and sell it like a so many complicated geared bikes of the past, please feel free.

Oh, and when I mentioned on Monday that you can mount a Garmin to the aluminum mounting brackets for the CubiCubi lights...

Of course I thought that my Wahoo would fit on there and of course it's totally but only slightly different and doesn't work at all.

Meh.

Some would say I sold my soul, whilst I would argue that I already lost it in a game of Quarters years ago.

Sporks don't come with manuals.

This post is terribly timed, but it is what it is.  Longest day of the year right around the corner, and I'm gonna talk about bike lights.

All these tiny boxes showed up from Topeak a couple days before I left for the Trans-Sylvania Epic.  A bunch of "things" from the CubiCubi modular light systems line.  Honestly, I looked at all the boxes, tried to figure out what's what, and then left them on the bench to figure out when I got back into town.

I eventually opened all the boxes and started sorting things out.  What's what?

There's a certain amount of pieces, parts, and options.  The one configuration I'll probably use the most?

Beer bike, grocery fetcher, greenway destroyer and all about towner.  This bike usually has the kinda light that helps others see me, but isn't quite as useful for seeing objects in my path at speed.  1,200 lumens with a 6000mAh battery sure packs a punch.  Above the light and on top of the arm, you can even mount a Garmin (which is ironic for reasons that I'll blerhg about Wednesday).

What's left from all those other boxes?

Batteries, more mounts, cords, tiny screwdrivers, a million allen wrenches... and more.

You see, the modular system means you can mix and match things to suit your needs.

The lamp head can snap on to three different sized batteries for different run times and maximum light output.

You can take the smallest battery and the helmet mount kit...

And end up with a feather weight helmet light that allows you to distribute weight evenly front to back on your helmet... or plug the tiny battery directly to the light to simplify things... or plug in the big battery and have 1200 lumens mounted to your melon... or whatever else you can imagine doing.

Speaking of imagination...

They've got side by side and over under configurations so you can run two lights, a GoPro Session, piggy back a secondary battery for ultra long run times... oh and mount your Garmin (dammit) or use a battery as a power bank that charges some but not all things, or who knows how much you can do with all the options?

I certainly don't.

Honestly, since I was super busy when I got back from TSE,  I only got to fiddle with the options a little here and there.  There was little sense of urgency, being that the sun is out most of my waking day right now.  I'd just walk over to the work bench while cooking dinner or messing about (tiny home benefits) and touch and fondle and scratch my head.  The selection of items I received confounded me oh so slightly.  I've got two bar mount brackets, two big 6000mAh batteries, one 1260 mAh battery, an extra box (housing?), one helmet mount... but only one lamp bit.  So, lots of options, but I can only really use one at a time.

I'd say I can't wait to put this stuff into service, but do I really have a choice?  It really is the most versatile/adaptable light system I've ever seen, and if you're one of those high tech commuters or roadies wanting to run a light for safety, a camera (also for safety), and a Garmin, this has to be the cleanest setup out there.  This entire pile of electronics and plastic and aluminum and screws and straps is 1,000% more capable than I ever will be, which is usually how anything more advanced than a spork is gonna be.

Bring a fork or a spoon.

Firstly, a small reminder.  The Dicky 'bout Fiddy Party (deets at bottom of this post) is next (not this) Saturday.

Unless it isn't.  Don't forget that the last rule of Party Club is...

"If it rains or the trails are closed or my backyard is a mess or I decide parties are stupid, I'll update this page and end up at The Spoke Easy drinking Miller High Life and staring at Greg Martinez. Srsly."

That is very much real, and I should update the blerhg and the FaceBook page to relate the status of said party next Friday.  I mean, I was talking to The Pie (who is taking the kid and dogs with her and evacuating the premises) the other night, and was thinking, "What if it's a spectacular weather day?  Wouldn't I rather go to the mountains instead of waiting all day in an empty house to ride the Backyard Trails at 6:00 and then enjoy beverages at 8:00?  It is my (almost) birthday after all."

And there still is a chance that my back yard will be the consistency of Dinty Moore Beef Stew with the coming precipitation.

And if you've never had Dinty Moore, well la tee da.  I guess your parents' country club didn't serve a full menu.

Also, just about every hour or so, I think about how stupid birthday parties are and my desire to be at the Cane Creek Cycling Tour at Allison Farm Flow Trail Opening Day on Sunday instead of cleaning up empty beer cans outta my lawn.  Then add the PITA of getting a bunch of ice and cleaning out the kiddie pool and the disappoint of only three close friends showing up...

or the total ass opposite.

Because I did go to college for five years, and I've seen it unexpectedly go both ways.

So, party mebbe but still just.

This past Saturday at around 11:20 PM, I signed up for the Greenway Classic 50 miler with about a half hour to spare before the price jumped another $30 (ask me how I feel about those price jumps when you see me).

But...

"Due to the 3+ inches of rain and thunderstorms expected over the course of the weekend we are unfortunately going to have to reschedule the Greenway Classic.

We try never to do this as we know you all have spent time training and prepping for the race. That said, we want to be sure that conditions are safe (and fun!) for competitors, and it looks like this weekend’s weather is not going to cooperate with us.

We will send out a reschedule date in the next week. We will automatically transfer all registrations to that date. If, once you hear the date, you cannot make it you are welcome to transfer your registration to a friend.

Thank you all for your understanding and we hope to see you all out at the rescheduled date!"

So, there's that.  I'm saddened because I wanted to use my post-stage race fitness towards something, but stoked that the no refund policy meant rescheduling VS keeping our money and shrugging their shoulders.  Also, being that the majority of the course is on normally closed-to-bikes horse trails, I'll be drinking 100% less horse poop tomorrow.

Mang, I didn't drink one beer Sunday through Thursday night.

Now, what to do with myself?

The Pisgah Enduro™ '19

I've followed up the Trans-Sylvania Epic with the Pisgah Enduro™ weekend a few times over these many years.  I can remember lying prone in my tent after day one of the Enduro™, my vision turning green, waking up covered in drool.  T-total exhausted.  From just plain not recovered to entirely destroyed.

But when Eric "PMBAR Honcho" Wever sent me a text on Thursday telling me that the race was almost sold out AND due to a change in Ridgcrest policy, this would be the last time one could ever ride a mountain bike down the Rattlesnake Trail... ?

I'm in.

Dammit.

So, I found myself dragging my duffle bag back out and loading it with a lot of the same items that I just unpacked two days ago.

Drive up Friday after work, get there around 8:45PM, insert myself into one of the rooms in the lodge, notice there are names on clipboards outside each room, assume they're all reserved, move my shit out to the couch, talk to Eric, he tells me that the names are from an event last weekend, move my shit back into the room, drink a few keg beers, and then head to bed.

I'm only in for the one day event because I put off so many things for the Trans-Sylvania Epic and then just put them off again to be here.  On top of that, I signed up for the single speed class, and I'm the only one entered.

So, not really racing as much as I'm riding and enjoying the day and mebbe doing some dick measuring against all the Endurbros with their goggles and visors and pads and squishing and shifty bits.

I start my day by helping load up the first U-Haul truck full of $8,000 plastic bikes, and watching the racers load their DayGlo human forms into the school buses.  I suggest that mebbe we move the full truck to the start so we can start unloading early, that way people can just get on with it when they get up there.  You know, reward the people that gave up their bikes early as opposed to rewarding the "last on/first off" expectant slackers?

So, I find myself in the front seat of a U-Haul with a guy who works for TriBike Transport who tells me all about what they do... and I'm shitting myself in amazement.  I had no idea tri-dorks were so dorky, but I'm a dirty mountain biker type, so mebbe I'm also ignorant.  Anyways, it's an eye-opening ride to the "top," and my reward is that I get to help unload the bikes... which I actually enjoyed.  I made it a personal challenge that we would get an entire U-Haul unloaded before the racers in the buses arrived.  We're mebbe three of four bikes away from getting the job done before the the yellow tubes start chugging into the parking lot.

I see some riders get right to their bikes and start up the road to the actual "top."  I grab my Vassago Meatplow V.8 and join them.  On the way up, I see some missing tape that should indicate a left turn.  I guess some people don't like others having a good time.  Stop, toss some logs across the intersection, move the remaining piece of confirmation tape a little closer to the turn.   Find the same thing at the next left, confirmation tape on the ground.

People are assholes.  Only like 10% of them... kinda like the person in the minivan on the way here on I 40 that though it was her job to keep people from zipper merging into one lane only to try and come in on me without a signal at the last minute.

"Go ahead and hit me.  The left side of my car is already dented and dimpled.  I've got plenty of time this evening to get your insurance information."

I get to the top of Rattlesnake.  I've got two full water bottles, and I honestly wonder if I've checked my cages in awhile to make sure they're tight.

I haven't, and I don't.

I start down, and I can immediately feel my seat tube bottle whacking my calf.  These are my favorite Carborocket bottles, and I don't wanna lose another one (although I lost one in an Uber, so I can't blame the cages).  I slow down, grab my bottle and squeeze out half the contents before jostling it back into the cage.  This is not the easiest thing to do in the thunder chunk at the top of Rattlesnake (nor the smartest), but the idea of stopping in a timed section in the name of safety seems ridiculous... despite the fact that I'm literally racing no one.

I get down to the bottom safely and with two bottles.  Fortunately, my close to the front start meant I didn't run into the angry hiker who was yelling at people and physically getting in the way later.

Mebbe I won't miss Rattlesnake at all in the future.  Them Ridgecrest Christian Conference Center folks apparently don't get "mountain biking" or "fun" or "WWJD."

On over to Kitsuma and down.  I'm super stoked to not be in the Hard Ass class this year.  After a week of riding rigid at TSE, I certainly missed my squish fork and traction and speed and joy.  At the bottom, I eat what I'm considering my "lunch."  Grilled cheese for days, Coke, Pringles, Peanut M&M's, and mebbe a slice of bacon.  Perfect.

On up and over to Star Gap and all it's tight switchbacks, which are waaaaaaaaayyyy better on a fork with moving parts.

I start to fantasize about the possibility of taking this bike to Breck Epic and mebbe squishing all those descents for the first time in all these years.

Mebbe.

Hit the final timed and truncated (due to a landslide that happened last year) segment and that's that.  They'd actually finally fixed the totally washed-out road just a few days before the event, but it was too late to re-extend the stage... because "rules" and "things."

It's just lumpy garvel anyhoo.

Obvs I won the one day single speed class, and fortunately, Eric did not make me get up on a shameful one man podium.  72nd outta 130 or so total folks on day one.  All I did was ride my bike (mostly) down a bunch of sweet descents all day in the sunshine and drink free beer.

Great times at the Pisgah Enduro™ once again, and I'm anxious to see the changes for next year that will be coming with the absence of Rattlesnake and all the mountain bike hating folk up there in those particular woods who think... whatever it is they think.  I bet they don't understand merging either.

First rule of Enduro™, protect thine self lest ye wreck thine self.

'19 Trans-Sylvania Epic: Stage Five

Stage 5: Poe Valley

The night before...

All was going so well.

I was in my squeezy leg bags during the unofficial but very much happening nap time at Upper Eagle when I heard someone walk in and look amongst the bunks.  I could tell by the gait and slinkiness that it was none other than Buck.  I considered trying to hide, but I knew he was just start tossing bunks until he found me.  Turn off the squeezy bags, unzip, grab another beer and head to the porch with Buck.

From there, Buck dragged me out into the world.  Over to the Kurtz cabin to have beers with single speeder James and consort with Levi and Lauren.  Then on to the campgrounds to hang with the crew Buck had introduced me to at SSWC '18.  To the dining hall, where the beginnings of a plan to geta head start on the final stage to drink beer and spectate started to formulate.  Then to Rimmey Lodge... and the evening gets fuzzy, and eventually I find myself in the pitch dark trying to find my way back to my bunk sometime mebbe after 11:00 PM.

Monday morning... I counted on being awakened by the kitchen sounds as per the usual.  Somehow, it didn't happen.  I opened my eyes, and it was already 8:00 AM.  I'd done nothing to get ready for today, and it just wasn't gonna happen in time to roll out an hour early.

I am fail.

So get ready, go over and apologize to the guys I'd convinced to join me (that I wasn't joining), and end up at the start feeling like a turd.

photo cred: Cindy C

I ask Chris if he wants to ride together today, being that we're partnering up for the Breck Epic 50+ Duo in August.  He agrees...

I set yet another person up for disappoint.

We head out at a casual pace, but I give it a little bit on the snowmobile trail... look back.  Chris is still with me.  On some double track, I come around fifth place Gary, and I wonder if mebbe I can keep my fourth place after all.  Mebbe even use my minute and a half gap to enjoy a beer that my (former) comrades in arms will have out on the course?

Look back... Chris is back there... a bit.

Get into some single track, things get dicey with a large group getting around a rider, and now I can't see Chris at all.

photo cred: Donovan

I do end up waiting on a climb once or twice, but it would seem that I need to decide if I'm holding up for Chris or mebbe trying to preserve my pointless fourth place.

I go for the latter.

I still stop and drink the hand up beer.  Do what I can to not die on the challenging, greasy enduro section, finish the day still in fourth place, meaning no podium for me all week long in the 50+ class.

After the race, without going into too great of detail, the crowds dwindled pretty quickly as people started to head home post-awards.  Mebbe twenty of us enjoyed ribs and chicken for dinner, Thom and I headed out on a beer run... and came back to about four other people not ready to call it quits.

By about 1:00 AM, it was just Thom, Josh K from Ohio, Ryan the promoter, and myself all staring at each other. 

Good enough for me to call it a day, being that I wanted to be headed home by 6:00 AM the next day.

Once again and for the ninth time, I had a blast at TSE.  If I were to say I've "learned" something from this year, it's that it might be prudent to finally use a computer of some sort.  Riding by feel is starting to not work out so well, being that my "feel" has become desperation and lunacy.  Having some grasp on passage of time and/or miles would go a long way in making me perceive forward motion.

Otherwise, good time, good rides, good year...