Winter Short Track '26: Race Five

Winter Shart Tarck couldn't consume my brain any longer.  Unless someone has a serious setback, the top five spots on the overall podium are locked in, so my thoughts start wandering to the upcoming Single Speed aSSault on True Grit Epic.  Keep in mind, Türd has tried to talk me into going for at least three years, but I can't imagine being fit enough to do fifty or a hundred offroad miles in March... well, fit enough to do more than survive and mebbe have fun.  That meant that this past Saturday, I went out and burnt some of my weekend matches on an intown, long'ish for me this time of year ramble.  I just got a Topeak Midloader Drybag I'd been itching to try anyways, so no better time than now.  I'm not known to use bike luggage, but one cold ride this past December without carrying good clothing options has me thinking differently.

As a reminder of just how old I am, I noticed that trophy is out on the side porch sitting on a shelf made out of an old wine box.  The various physical representations of my accolades are strewn randomly about the house, as it seems oddly vain to have them all collected together for display, yet somewhat disrespectful to the events themselves to throw them in the attic or toss them out.  I've told my kids just let the bulldozers that tear our house down deal with their disposal when I'm ded.  Anyways, according to my memory, 2006 was the third year of the Winter Shart Tarck Series (then known as the Sir Edmond Halley's Cup), the very first time they offered up a single speed class, and also the first year of the National Ultra Endurance Series, and also also the first year of this blerhg.

Jeebus.

Sunday, I finally got to do my old school bike commute to Winter Shart Tarck, partially to warm up but mostly to get more True Grit garbage miles.  I loaded up my backup with everything I thought I might need and was well on my way before I realized:

* I tossed in a tube and  CO2 in case I flatted in one of the glass-strewn wastelands between my house an Renaissance Park but brought zero tools to remove a wheel.  I need to remember the Vertigo Meatplow V.11 has no tools stowed away in some hole.

* I'd overfilled my tires planning on airing down when I got there, but left my Topeak digital pressure gauge at home. With 32" wheels, there's a big difference between 19 and 14.5 PSI. 

* I didn't bother packing a rain shell and was only wearing a cotton hoodie, and as soon as I turned west, the sky was filled with dark clouds.

This will all be fine.

It didn't rain.  I didn't flat.  Charles from Excite Bikes hooked me up on pressure, so I have no excuses.

I have no issues clipping in at the start and found myself out front for all of seven seconds before I took my foot off the gas realizing I had no business up there.  Long story very short, I knew Jason would have to beat me with three riders between us to bump me off a fifth spot for the overall, so I mark him and anyone else that might impact things.  

My allergies have been filling my head with hot pressure, so any effort I can save might keep me from sleeping on the couch and coughing all night.  I get around him on the second lap, see Neuffer and Keith up ahead duking it out for the fourth spot, so I just keep my efforts at 95% hoping to gap Jason enough to not have to be worried.

You should see what 100% looks like.

FWIW: I get enough of a gap that I can take one ceremonial stab at the A-Line climb, fail, run the rest of the way, and insist on an old school hand up from the dwindling crowd of spectators at the top.

I complete my "goal" of the Perfect Attendance/ Mr. Congeniality Award, AKA fifth place.

I also failed at my goal of pushing my lungs and sinuses and ended up on the couch Sunday night.  Nice work.  It was pleasant having The Pie and Boppit out there at the final race yelling and barking encouragement from the sidelines.

Now to focus on Single Speed aSSault on True Grit Epic.

Oh... the bag?

It fits three and definitely not four beers.

Here's hoping the bags fits my new gravel bike... oh, and who wants to buy my "old" gravel bike?

Winter Shart Tarck '26: Race Four

Despite waking up Sunday and looking out the window at the steady rain, I was in a great mood.  I considered yesterday's race a "win."  Well, as much of a win as I can taking credit for snagging fourth place in a strategic race while ignoring the fact that we had Türd in sight but we got caught up in what some call "negative racing" whilst a spot on the podium was just there mebbe in reach?

I was fu;;y prepared.  I'd already put Forekasters front and rear on the Vertigo Meatplow V.7 AND mounted up two fenders to keep the mud outta my eyes, eschewing the 32" wheeled bike and its not mud friendly tires.  I'd put an industrial garbage bag over the front seat of my car, and the plan was to step outta the car fully dressed, double rain outfitted, and start warming up immediately.  Plan on being back at the car with ten minutes to go to shed my layers down to race approved rain gear, then head to the start.

The single speeders line up, and we are few.  Normally, we are upper teens or twenty plus deep, but today we are nine.  First place overall (Avery) lines up next to me, and I see his tensioned single speed and wonder how that's gonna work out.  Historically, it seems like it's been a recipe for not certain but definitely potential disaster when there's mud at Renni.  I'm never been anywhere near him after the first twenty seconds of the race, so whatever. 

Just as it happened yesterday, I can't clip in on the first or second try.  Dammit.  People are flying past me, and I feel like I'm riding backwards.  We get to the hairpin before hitting the woods, and I can count the riders ahead of me.  Eight.

I went from being second into the woods at race number one to second to last at race number four.  Meh.

photo cred: Pisgah Paparazzi

I can only guess how things fell apart from there.  My heart rate is pegged, but it feels like everyone is effortlessly riding away from me.  Jason is the next rider ahead, but every time I give it a little go-go juice, he keeps his ten second gap.  I see a rider sitting next to the trail, but I'm thinking "is that a rider on the side of the trail?"  I'm not seeing or thinking straight but mebbe?  Everything and everybody is covered in mud, and the few spectators in the woods are just random shadows.
 

photo cred: CLT MTB

Either way, I decide to pump the brakes, or in this case, pedal less hard.  In terms of the whole series, this double points day (of course it's double points day) isn't going to impact my situation all that much as long as there are no riders between Jason and I, so why am I risking my biscuits sliding around in the mud?

Well, then I see first place overall in the series (Avery) running with his bike on the trail ahead of me (actually adjacent through the woods but also way ahead), and I realize if I don't get my head outta my ass, there goes a larger double points leap for Jason.  Ack.

I had to suffer a little more ouch to get around Avery before I could drop my muddy clothes into a puddle in the parking lot under the semi-cover of my tiny hatchback, all for a hard(ly) fought for sixth place.

That was fun(?) but mostly hard and somewhat scary.

One to go.

Winter Shart Tarck '26: Race Three

This year, the Winter Shart Tarck Series has offered up the full gambit of conditions in the first four races.  We had a day in the mud, not one but two postponed races in a row due to ice then snow, a cold AF go at it on frozen trails, and then this past weekend's back-to-back suns out/guns out Saturday followed by racing in the rain on trails that looked like rivers and ponds on Sunday

I came into Saturday's race with a slightly more positive outlook on the world than I did a whole week ago.  Despite my desire to ride my bike the five miles to the race old school style, I drove over early so I could take a few runs at the A-Line climb option between the earlier races to see if I could use it.

I could not.  

I still suck.  I just don't consistently have the power needed at a clutch moment on the climb to keep the bike rolling.  

Whatever.

I'm wearing new shoes today because someone was selling some high end, super-stiff jobbers they'd won in a raffle at a cheap enough price.  I mean, I'm gonna run outta yellow shoes eventually, so I might as well start getting used to a different shoe option (black, boring).  I had a bad feeling that clipping into the pedal on the first try might not be as intuitive as I'm used to, and I'm correct.  I miss clipping in until the third pedal stroke, and I'm off the back of where I was wanting to be going into the woods.

It's a seven lap race, so keep in mind, when what happened exactly where isn't really stored in my memory when my brain was operating on 50% of its needed oxygen for full processing power for thirty five minutes.  The following is based on a true story tho.

I managed to move up on the first lap and also witness Jason taking the A Line ahead of me and opening up a huge gap over the riders taking the B Line that were just in front of him on the lead in.  He's close enough in the overall points that I have to be concerned about him, but damm... he's gonna get a multiple second advantage over me every time he cleans the A Line.

I catch up and get around him, which only means that he gets to use my tiny draft on the gravel and pavement... and we repeat the same arrangement on lap two.  He passes me and develops a gap when he takes the A Line, and I have to close it back down, get out front, try to drop him, and he gets to use my diminutive draft again.

Third lap, and I realize I have a weapon... if I wanna use it.  Jason is right on my wheel on the gradual climb up to the options... and I slow waaaay down, robbing him of his precious, much-needed momentum to nail it up A Line, forcing him to follow me up the B Line.

"Dammit, Dicky," he said lovingly.

Well, Jason is a friend, and while race is race, I decide I won't do that to him again.  Also, I know that titty-dicking around with him back here fighting over fourth place is doing nothing to close down the gap on Thürd... I mean Türd, and smart frands would work together to do just that... key word being "smart."

photo cred: Pisgah Paparazzi

The race wasn't necessarily decided by our occasional intermingling with lapped traffic, but it certainly impacted it.  I got caught up behind someone going up B Line on the second to the last lap while Jason was perfection personified on A Line, and the match I planned on using to deliver a death blow effort was wasted getting back to his wheel.  Pretty sure on the final lap, we were both slowed down on the lead in, and he went for it anyways, despite having no momentum... and finally failed for the first time.

And that was the race for fourth place, done and dusted.  Dammit.  One top three would be nice, but that's the way this cookie done went and crumbled.

Winter Shart Tarck '26: Race Two?

That was a dismal three weeks.  Mebbe you don't know me, so allow me to introduce myself.  My name is Rich Dillen (some call me Dicky), and I've been eating, breathing, and living mountain bikes since the '90s.  My happy place is in the woods trying to pedal my bike in a hurried manner.  This is where I find true joy.

I don't really "train" with "data," but I'm very aware of the fact that being in Zones 4 and 5 is my joie de vivre, my Steve McQueen, my Ford vs Ferrari, my Top Gun.  The highest heart rate activity I did in the past three weeks was shoving my bike precariously forward through snow, or mebbe when I got a shot of adrenalin during an "oh shit" moment on a patch of ice.  I can admit that I let a little depression and darkness sneak into my brain, and apparently I let some food and beverage slip into my waistline. 

tl;dr I got fat and lazy.  Unmotivated.  Meh.

I've been outside on a bike every day since December 29th.  That's a lot of time spent standing in front of three different closets, a bunch of shelves, and a few drawers trying to figure out what to wear every day.  I'm kinda over it.  So when faced with a the concept of dragging my lethargic ass outta bed and getting dressed for thirty five minutes of sucking sub-freezing temperature air into my lungs, I had a hard time convincing myself to get in the car... which hasn't moved in three weeks... and apparently needs gas. 

I suited up entirely ready to ride before getting in the car; sleeveless base layer, windproof long sleeve base layer, wool base layer, thermal long sleeve jersey, sleeveless flannel shirt, wool socks, knee warmers, bibs, jorts, cotton tiny hat, nitrile gloves, Hot Hands, and one size too big summer gloves.

I wrote that all out just so you would have to suffer mentally reading it (or not) as much as I did picking it all out. 

Dropping the Debbie Downer vibe for a hot sec, at least when I got to Renaissance Park, the trails were entirely frozen.  Great news, since I brought my Aspen shod 32" bike.  No sliding around in the mud today.

The start.  I wasn't feeling it.  Instead of gunning for a top position into the woods, I settled for good enough.  Today is just a day to put in my time for a participation trophy.  I mighta started to have fun riding a mountain bike after a lap or two.  My only real issue is my braking fingers touching the aluminum lever (Shimano, why my XTR brakes no longer have crabon levers?  Oh, because they break...oh yeah).  They are past numb and well into throbbing and semi-useless as a functioning digit.  I use the flat sections of the course to drape my hands over the bar and wiggle my fingers.  I'd like to say it halped, but it didn't. 

photo cred: Pisgah Paparazzi

Also not halping things was Keith sticking to my back wheel like he was hot glued to it for dog knows how many laps.  We're going something close to 20mph on the gravel and pavement, so I it's gnawing at my brain knowing that he's saving energy that he'll no doubt throw at me on the final lap.  My heart rate is pegged trying to open up a gap anywhere (175 avg, 182 max for the day), but it's not working.

I drilled it with two laps to go.. and that only opened up my one second gap to four.  Worth it?

Sure.

One more hard effort going into the final lap, and I finally put enough space between us to feel like as long as I continued to ride myself into an early grave, I'd hold him off.

I slipped from last week's fifth place to sixth with one previous top five rider not in attendance, and two new interlopers in front of me.  At least I'm well on my way to my participation trophy.

And how 'bout this?

I got home, showered, and with no bike to wash off or clothes to hose out in the driveway, I was happy.  Genuinely happy.  Like walking around the house singing and full of warm feelings.

I'm almost ashamed to say it out loud, but I'm that simple.

I'm sad.

I go mountain biking.

I'm happy.

fin.

This weekend, thanks to two races in a row being postponed, we got a double header with racing on Saturday and Sunday.  Time to stalk the weather and make good choices.  I got a mud bike together if things get sloppy.  Fangers crisscrossed applesauced.  

Dear life, Stop giving the lemons. I'm tired of lemonade.

Firstly, I did a quick interview with Jordan at Bike Rumor about my 32" single speed Vassago.  It is now essentially a prototype for the new Vassago Maximus Ti (and prolly a steel version too). I give up a lot of thinky thoughts that I was going to write about here on 32" wheels and their future, but now it's over there.  Consider this the worst unplanned bike launch in "industry" history, because it all started with "do you really want a 32" single speed?" and ended up with Tom saying "I guess I gotta start making these for everyone else."  No embargos.  No launch dates.  Zero marketing.  Just skipping right to the good part.

There was no Winter Shart Tarck Race this past Sunday.  Parks and Rec shut everything down at 3:00pm on Saturday, and we woke up to streets covered in shitty Charlotte "snow" that only covered the roads and apparently also trails.

I kinda made a vow to myself that I would keep some sorta fitness over the winter despite the conditions presented to me.  That weird '22/'23 winter (I'm still trying to figure out if that was a long or short time ago) when I broke out a "borrowed" trainer and saw what Zwift was all about taught me everything that I wanted to know; that I didn't just want to exercise, and I wanted to ride a bike.  Thanks to current sponsor HandUp, former sponsor GORE Bike Wear (R.I.P.), and... jeebus, thirty plus years of commuting and messenger work that had me collecting other pieces/parts of gear, I have plenty of clothing options to get outside and ride in almost any condition.  I'm prepared for just about anything.  It just comes down to how bad I want it.

So... I forgot a few things.  Mebbe tuck that hair in.  Also mebbe wipe the snot more frequently.  Also, when you allow a breathable waterproof jacket the opportunity to ice over (as opposed to stopping once in a while to break up the exterior ice layer), the moisture inside the jacket will create some kinda internal snow storm.

Which makes you cold.  Duh.

I considered myself blessed that I got out at just the right time.  The snow that I had the opportunity to crunch out twenty plus miles on turned into a literal sheet of ice a couple hours later.  The Pie and I were gonna walk up the street for a beer, but we didn't make it ten feet up the road.  Everything had glazed over into an ice skating rink.

No power loss overnight.  

That was bueno.

And then work shut down on Monday, which allowed me to straighten up my work bench, do drivetrain/hub work on my tarck bike, organize my Cholula lid collection, address some mold in the hall closet, fix a zipper, fiddle with the kitchen sink faucet, ride over to the store to collect all the groceries we didn't buy before the storm hit...

I like being productive.  What can I say?

And now it looks like Winter Shart Tarck is being threatened again with more weather, so here goes another week of hand-wringing, battery charging, and prepping for something or nothing. 

At the very least, hopefully no rides resulting in more internal snow storms.

Winter Shart Tarck '26: Race One

Best laid plans and all...

Saturday, my only "concept of a plan" (that's now considered a plan when addressing the general public) was to halp Dr Mike bleed his brakes and do a cog/chain swap, go ride a few laps at the Shart Tarck course (he hasn't seen it in years), and then go play bikes at Airline until we got tired of doing laps.  Then post-ride refreshments at Brawley's... home, shower, start laying out clothing options, prep my bike, and squeeze the sads out of my legs.

We got started on the bike work later than anticipated.  I was able to get his rear brake from going ineffectively to the bars doing nothing to doing braking type stuff like slowing down and also stopping.  We managed to get our asses on the bikes by 2:00pm... that is until Dr Mike punctured his rear tire after four miles, and the Orange Seal wasn't doing the trick nor the two bacon strips we stuck in there...

Shit.

Drive back to my house to add some TruckerCo Cream and another plug and we're back out on the trail at Airline before 4:00pm and drinking our first Brawley beer in the dark.  By the time I got home, I'd lost all desire to do any of the rest of my concept of a plan.  So goes it when I find Little Sip in the cooler before I make my leave of the premises.

When I woke up at 8:00am, I realized I had a lot to do as far as getting me and my bike ready for 40° and rain, that is, if I wanted to get to there in time to check in, get dressed, and warm up.  I grabbed pretty much all the clothing options and threw them in the backseat of the Honda Fit of Rage (because I'm not riding my bike over in this weather), drove to the overflow parking lot (assuming the main lot was full), checked in, saw the lot wasn't full, drove my car back around to the other side of the park to get ready... and forgot to anticipate just how many people were going to want to talk to me about "the bike."  Somehow, between the titty-dicking around and the conversations and nineteen wardrobe changes, my warmup (at least that's what I call what I do) was minimal at best.

Line up at the front next to what looked like an athlete to my left and Türd (also an athlete but huskier and more hirsute and in a flannel shirt) to my right.  There were loads of familiar faces in the field and some not so much.  Nineteen of us, because even when the weather is shite, you can always expect the dumb single speeders to show up anyway.  I checked out the athlete's tensioned SS conversion and saw his 34X18, so he either knows what's what or that's just what he has.  Short conversation, but pretty sure he said this was his first single speed race, but obvs not his first rodeo... but that said, are you really that much better at your second rodeo?

I digress.

In the back of my head, I tried to remind myself that this is only the first of five races, so keep it upright, try to have fun, and finishing are the only real goals on a day like today.

"GO!" and clipped in on the first try, and I'm guessing I put the "32 inch wheels are going to suck at accelerating" commentary to bed because I managed to enter the woods from the pavement in second place.  That's despite me being a 130lb, 57 year old man capable of making minimal watts.  Then the athlete did "athlete" stuff.  Despite the baby diarrhea mud, he put a gap into me like it was his job.  Although I'd been enjoying the extra traction provided by the big wheels for a couple weeks now, the Aspens are not frands with this kinda mud.  I already knew this, because I tried to use them a year or two ago at Winter Shart Tarck with the same results.

Pop out of the trail on lap one to the flat gravel road, and what feels like a tidal wave of riders came by...  Calvin, John, Türd, Brad (arch nemesis... at least in his mind)... dammit.  From second to sixth in less than a lap.

photo cred: Pisgah Paparazzi 

There you have it.  What you've been waiting for... a picture of a 5' 6.5" quinquagenarian man on a 32" wheeled biked.  Not so strange looking, emmaright?  Welcome.

Follow Brad into the woods, and since he's from out of town and I've ridden this course for what feels like half my life, I know the lines... he doesn't yet.  I'm on his wheel, try to come around on the climb, he gets a little cheeky, and I have to wait until we get back out on the gravel to make a pass stick.

Now I'm able to see Türd and count out how many seconds of a gap he has on me.  Shit birds.  A five second plus gap has become ten seconds plus.  That lap cost me some, and we're going to start bumping into lapped traffic, so now it's going to come down to timing.  Will Türd get held up because this is where luck matters almost as much as abilities?  I never got stuck too badly on the third lap, but I did lose my shit trying to take my desired line through a technical section only to find some of the worst mud on the course.  Had to clip back in and restart and...

I came out of lap three still within sight of Türd, but now twenty seconds back.  Look back and I have a similar gap to Brad... so now I'm in no man's land for the final two laps.  The only motivation to "try" now being you just don't quit because you never know...

Unless you do know.  I ended up in fifth place.  So there's that... with plenty of jeering the entire day from the hearty but also hardy crowd that braved the rain and cold to heckle.  Appreesh.

I'd say here's to better planning this weekend, but assuming Central NC doesn't get whackadoodled by a blizzard*, I've got plans Saturday that are certainly going to impact my performance despite any and all efforts to do otherwise.

* Jeebus, we really gonna get whackadoodled by a blizzard?!?!!?

Oompa Loompa Thirty and Two... I've got another blog post for you

I wasted almost all most of my glamour shots of my Vassago Bicycles 32" wheeled single speed mountain bike (mebbe the Maximus... just trying to feed the Google machine) on the last post, so...

Sorry, wrong image.

Sunday's ride was going to be a more proper litmus test for the big wheels.  Aside from the technical A-Line climb at the Winter Shart Tarck course, there's not a whole lotta technical bits.  The other few sections that slightly challenge a racer's skillset, the big wheels rolled over them like they weren't even there.  The only downside I found to the big wheels that was glaringly apparent was on this high speed drop which had been heightened a week ago by adding a telephone pole to the lip (and filled in mostly with dirt):

What used to be a high speed, straight yeet three feet'ish high off the top sending you ten to fifteen feet out now has a bump where the pole is exposed... and that bump sent the rear wheel up to my taint for a brief visit.  That should make all the "you're too short to ride 32" wheels" haters so thrilled.  That said, the landing is an energy suck, and the go-around is faster/smoother.  I needed to send it in order to do some FAFO testing, but this bike is really meant to be my go fast/stay low XC machine.  It is a stupid rigid single speed after all. 

Anyways, I used to be a "gimme all the drop I can fit in the frame "guy, but on this bike, I might reduce the travel a bit.  That way, my saddle can tell my thighs can send a warning to my ass.  Dare I say I mebbe shoulda bought a 150mm travel dropper as opposed to reducing a 180mm down to 155-160mm?*

Sunday, I headed out to the Backyard Trails, the trails that are close to my house and a huge reason I wanted to live where I do.  They are some of Charlotte's oldest trails.  Janky.  Tight.  Rocky.  Rooty.  Steep.  Elevated features.  Plenty of jumps, drops, cannons and whatnot if you're one to yeet yourself haphazardly through the air.  The opposite of what's usually being built in this era of mountain biking.  This place has next to zero flow.

First things first.  This bike is still rigid.  While the monster truck wheels do make some things disappear, a pile of giant rocks or huge roots are still gonna send a message.  That said, all the tight turns were made easier being that I wasn't as worried about losing traction in the loose soil or over all the stupid gumballs that litter the trail this time of year.  The only real challenge I had on technical climbs had more to do with the 32X19 gear I have on the bike for Shart Tarck next week.  Where does 32X19 on 32" wheels put me in the 29er world of gearing?
 

Some people like Excel spreadsheets.  I like Chicken Scratch dicksheets.

So 32X19 on 32" is steeper than 32X17 (which I don't own a 17 tooth cog for... reasons?) on a 29er and not quite as hard as 32X16.  Normally at the Backyard, I run 32X19 but if I were too lazy to swap from my Pisgah gear (20) or my super flow trail gear (18), I just make it work. 

So through all the tech and twisties and lumpy bumps, I was not disappointed.  That said, I would still pick my 130mm squished fork Optimus for this type of riding.  Bypassing all the yeet opportunities hurt my feels pretty deeply.  I was sore the next day, but that was three days of rigid riding in a row, and also I did trail work Sunday morning, which always makes my old man body parts hurt.

And now it's time to race it this weekend.

Oh, and to address one thing that's been brought up about the downsides of having 32" wheels...

The bike does indeed fit in my 1Up rack, and it hasn't fallen out yet.

* I spent more time writing about reducing the travel on my dropper post than it took to reduce it to 160mm.  I also had time to realize that mebbe there's a reason the top XC pros run what I'd considered too short droppers.