2025 Trans-Sylvania Mountain Bike Epic Stage Race: Part Two

I spent the better part of Stage Three thinking about mebbe making the effort to bring the Optimus Meatplow V.10 back out to play.  It would save me from changing the brake pads on the Radimus, but I'd have to figure out how to bust that bolt that's torqued to 52nm outta the eeWings without my cheater bar (busted 30.4 Syncros seat post) and the strap to hold the non-drive side arm to the chain stay.

Gorilla tape and a 130lb man standing on a ratchet might could do.

Remove the eeWings, remove the broken plastic cranks, shove shiny cranks into sad, empty crank hole...

Shit.

I always forget that my plastic cranks use a spacer orientation that defies all instructions and manuals, and the eeWings are 2.5mm of space from being happy.  Reinstall cranks, install new brake pads (the rear ones were down to the spring), and forget the dream of riding the Tussey Stage on the Optimus, something I'd been fantasizing about ever since I bought the bike last year.  

Stage Four.  Tussey Ridge: 38 miles, 4,100 feet

At least it wasn't going to rain (a lot) today, but the previous two days of precipitation meant that some trail had to get taken out and replaced with BONUS gravel mileage.  We were still gonna get John Wert's ill-shaped, fuck-faced rocks and the joy that is Tussey tho.

I always get dropped on the gently rolling gravel outta camp at the start on Stage Four.  At one point, I found myself in fourth place reminding myself that I'm racing a stage race, not racing for stage wins.  Let it go... but less than a satisfying feeling of finally getting to wear the leader's jersey outside in the world like a champ and falling off the back like a chump.

I honestly can't remember when or where I got around who, but eventually I was back out front and mashing the potatoes.  Gob bless you, John Wert, inventor of rocks... I guess.

For what it's worth, trails like John Wert are why I kept coming back all these years.  I just love the constant battle of trying to move forward and plan three steps ahead, only to have that plan fall apart two steps in and start all over again.  It's so mentally engaging, I don't know how to make the normal people I work with even come close to understanding how I get so much joy doing such a silly thing.

Tussey was a sheer delight, and I can't remember many happier moments up there.  It's never felt easier or shorter.  I felt like all the rocks and log-overs were air-hugging me.  I ended up with the stage win and a better buffer back to second and third.

Stage Five.  Bald Eagle: 22.5 miles, 3,300 feet

It was really up to the guys to decide if we were gonna party pace or not.  Colin and John were separated in 2/3 by only three minutes, so it's not my decision if they wanna duke it out and actually race five outta five days.  Fortunately and also unfortunately, they decided to lay down arms and throw up high fives.  Fortunately, because it's tradition (sorta) and fun to finally ride with all the other single speeders.  Unfortunately, because a lackadaisical start means getting on the trails intermingled with slower company, and at 150 feet of climbing per mile, the moderate paced roll was gonna hurt on stupid single speeds.

It rained.  Of course it rained.

Not in the photo, Colin... who was smart enough to snap the photo...

But mebbe not smart enough to dress himself for the coldest, wettest day on Stage Three.  Heroic display of guns.

There were no drop bag beers and very few shenanigans outside of a broken dropper lever (manUfaCtureR: iT's a FeAture!).  We made sure to honor the year one tradition of reversing the podium on the day, and I was stoked to finally celebrate a hard earned DFL.

Only slightly bummed that we weren't up to no good, but for the most part, not too many (if any) racers stick around to hang out Saturday night.  Not a difficult choice to avoid tipping back a few when I'm planning on driving halfway home after the awards.

I'll probably epilogue this whole thing if I can find the wherewithal to do so.