Below Mason Dixon with sweet tea, Keith and the Lichtenwaller

Tuesday I rode in this....

Wednesday was 10x worse....
Thursday Keith and I drove 14 3/4hrs to my dads in FL
Friday we landed at RazorBack MTB Park in Reddick FL.
50degrees and sunny....
It's funny getting in a car with people you don't really know and driving for hours. Keith is funny, which makes driving 15 hours bearable, almost enjoyable. I lucked out to have found someone eager to do their 1st 12hr race at the same time I was contemplating getting out of Pennsylvania's worst weather of the year. Keith is new to endurance mtb racing and tho I subtly tried to sway him in the direction of the 6hr race, he wanted all 12. He's his own man so what could I do, but more importantly now we would see what he could do.
So we drove his car, which was a 9yr younger version of mine. Seemed like a wise choice till it started overheating about 6hrs in. What could we do but stop and eat some Mexican food. That seemed to do the trick and besides a few unexpected micro-climates, we had no problems the rest of the trip.
My dad was up and waiting with some grilled chicken when we arrived around 10pm. Senior Price lives in a quaint small town with only 3 blinking lights, so I was a little surprised to be roused from my slumber by the sounds of slurred voices shouting in time with the disco lights of Johnny Law. Expecting to see Keith duking it out I ran to the window and watched as Officer George tried to question the driver of a white truck while his passengers failed to obey orders to stay in the cab of the truck. After passenger #1 got tossed in the back of the car, Passenger #2 minded his mouth a bit more. The Driver got off easy when he explained that he was on medication and wasn't drinking. Apparently that excuse works, because George let him go, while acting as a personal escort. Keith didn't hear any of this. He thinks I dreamed the whole thing.
We pulled into the RazorBack MTB Park's, parkinglot and set up tent right next to the SoloGoat himself, Ernesto Marenchin (sp). He was between fellow IF'er Harvey Minton and us. Ernie had just gotten back from a pre-ride and was now in turmoil, because his travel mate Brett had lost the car keys, and was back on the trail looking for them. We consoled Ernie, set up camp and got ready to pre-ride. Suddenly Rob Lichtenwaller showed up and we both just about pooped our pants in joy, shock and agony. Now the race was really on. Rob, local Trek regional rider Andy Mills and Ernie totally upped the level of competition: there would be no coasting through this one.
Rob lives an hour and a half away from me so my desire to start a 'riders ride share' sight got some positive reinforcement. I told Rob that and he said his new sight was going to have a section for it. Look out for www.veganrob.com. It's not up yet but will soon be. Rob, Keith and I pre-rode and found the course to be it's usual fun and challenging self. Definitely staying focused and on the bike would be important. We got back to camp, found out that Brett had the Keys on him the whole time, they were stuck in his gut!? No really! Okay, just in the front of his shorts, but don't you think you have noticed keys in the top of your shorts?
The next morning it was actually cold when we woke up. Below freezing as a matter of fact, I thought the locals were going to shiver to exhaustion before the race started. Rob and I lined up together for the Le mans run and laughed at the people wearing better winter gear than I have ever owned. By the 10:30 start I was comfortable in an under-tee, short sleeve jersey, shorts and kneewarmers. Thats the least amount I've worn for riding all year.
The run started off with people running like they were being chased by gators. A steady pace saw me at my bike in the top 5 and off I went with Andy behind me. The first lap I took a little fast on purpose. These early season races are for experimenting and I paid for it with a heart rate that didn't drop below 160 the first 4hrs. That course is one of the most fun I've ever ridden, and it keeps the short steep climbs just close enough to discourage relaxing. Because the trail builders had to utilize a limited amount of space you often got a chance see other riders though the woods, but it was sort of disorienting to try to figure out where they were. My team-mate Harvey and I exchanged pleasantries once or twice when we saw each other.
Andy went by me half-way through the 1st lap and Rob caught me soon into the second lap. And that was the start of our yo-yoing. We were pretty much within urinating distance from each other the first 10hrs of the race. We caught Andy after lap 3 besides a brief stint riding my wheel I never saw him again. Apparently he dropped out do to blurry eyes caused by dust and cold weather.
My pit was just before the Start-Finish Line and Rob was just after, so he usually went through first and I would catch him as his wife Sara pitted him. That battle kept the race tense and really made stopping not an option. On the 10th lap I took my longest break of about 4min, because I was feeling a bonk creeping in and it was a good time to put on the arm-warmers. My Dad was there by now and taking good care of me, stuffing salmon down my throat and such. The first few laps I had to give him instructions on how to pit properly. I felt rejuvenated, caught Rob at his pit, and we rode together into the 11th lap. With him in the lead I could sense something was amiss, and wasn't surprised when he pulled over and to take a leak cause he 'couldn't concentrate'. I held my pace without attacking and expected him to pull back up. After about 30min of no Rob I did start launching some mini attacks. I figured he had a lot more experience at night riding and was sure he would cruise up at any moment. After no Rob at the end of lap 12 I thought things were going good, but no one had given me a split to him, and according to my watch I was was going to have to do two more laps before the end of the race. Since the race started 30min late I figured we would have a 10:30pm cut-off. I was due to finish my 13th lap at 10pm so as I went by I told my Dad to be sure and get me a lap as I came through to start my 14th. With about 2miles to go on the 13th it dawned on me that I had seen a sign announcing a 10pm cutoff. Sweet relief! Especially since I was feeling another energy drain and had non Idea if Rob was catching me or not.
It was great to come across the finish line in 1st for my first race of the year. Rob came in about 11min later. It was another great battle between Rob and I. Keith came through in 10th overall but 1st single-speeder. He schooled his first endurance race, and got a big trophy to take home to his daughter. The ride home was going to be good. Harvey Minton book-ended the Podium with me by taking 3rd overall after battling young local Chris JANISZEWSKI. That race came down to a matter of who would go out for a final lap. They were within a minute of each other and just barely made it in time to go out for another, but Chris conceded by not subjecting himself to another lap.
I should thank Harvey's wife Lauren for giving me some valuable race help/info, Kirk for some of the fire in my gut to win and the post-race shower and of course my dad.
Our drive back was fairly uneventful, except for the sore knees, and Maurice's BBQ joint. I imagine if you have any confederate pride you should have a picture of Maurice on your mantle and a bottle of Maurice's special sauce in the fridge.. Frankly I find it a little out of my normal range of beliefs. It definitely made the drive a little more surreal. Weird..........

Ticks and Florida

I can't decide if my left eye tick is a result of coffee and laptops or a decision to go to Florida and race 12hrs. "12hrs of Razorback" is in Reddick Fl. Think thats funny.? Random Kegs on ice are funny, realizing that your cat's name is the same as your friends middle name, and his cat's name is the same as your middle name is funny.
What happens when you return to familiar roads? Familiar territory is a sharp blade. Use it or get cut.
My Raffle tickets are almost ready. Let the 2007 fundraising begin. I'll elaborate at a later date, but be aware that Independent Fabrication (worlds greatest sponsor and frame builder) is letting me raffle a custom Frame and fork (road, mtn, track, touring) to help me. This is grassroots funding, and I believe a sponsorship program with potential. Of course it's not a handout, its up to me to raise the interest and participation. I want to rant, but will save it for later. I'm tired, it's ten and I got a long week coming up.
Oh yeah, There is good graffiti. I happen to like almost all attempts to cover the walls in this world with ink and spray paint. But this one has been around for years and despite one persons lack of respect, it has remained untarnished.
And this is my post race warming device.

Anonymous, needs to step up. I'm no government.

Okay Anonymous, I hate guessing. FG means what? Oh did I ever post these from Florida X-mas Trip? Of course I didn't. I would know. Click on ole


GeorgeWashington.
I love Corn Dogs.

Did I say Granada?

In case you haven't heard, my friend Reuben and I will be leading two training sessions in Granada Spain from March 23rd too April 9th. The first week will be a more strenuous week with a couple centuries and some serious workouts. The Second week will be catered to a less intense crowd. Read about it at BiciFitness. I spent a month in Granada about 6years ago, sleeping in a cave, and Reuben went to school there for 3months. Sure to be beautiful and culturally enlightening. Plus you get to hang out with 'two crazy guys'. Okay not that crazy. We'll be sleeping alot, and eating fried octopus.

Clean out the cobwebs, Click this to Watch METALOCALYPSE

New for 2007
OKay, I vow to keep this going. No matter how mundane the reports, there will be something here. We must push forward.
I plan to revamp this site a bit, add my '07 race schedule, and get a sponsor-link section underway. For anyone wondering, Indy Fab and I are sticking together in the '07. There are plans for traveling and visiting shops and people around the country. You know, growing some roots.
I'm excited about the coming season. INDY is building me a Ti 29'er with.....a Carbon Lefty fork from Cannondale. At 2.72lbs this should be a barnburner of a fork. Plus changing a front flat won't require taking off the front wheel. There are a few other cool features about the Lefty. For one, the same fork works on 29'ers and 26'ers. Just add a few shims and off you flow. The stem-steerer combination is super light, and the fork as a pretty low crown-race height, compared to other 29er forks.
Stan's NoTubes has offered to make me wheel sets for racing, training and auctioning. Another super light-weight addition to my bike. I'm excited about the auction wheelset, because it will be a custom wheelset,..whatever the winner wants from Stan's vast selection of parts.
Another passenger on my train is WTB, who are offering up saddles and tires. I went after these guys after meeting Dain Zaffke at La Ruta. He was a super guy, and I told him how much I loved the holy grail of saddles, the Rocket V. A little back and forth, and we were on our way.
Wool is weal! On board is SmartWool. My favorite sock maker, amongst other products.
Much thanks to those folks.
To more normal news, Did a great ride in Jim Thorpe with Elk, Bob and Yozell. 6hrs of great weather, tacky rocks and valley vistas.
There was another sighting of Elsasquatch. This mysterious man/monolith/manga cartoon never gets to close. I'm hoping to one day have a face-to-face.
In other news I've continued Coaching the RPM classes at Breakaway bikes. It's great getting up at 5am, riding 5miles, and telling people how to do something. I'm on a power high twice a week.
Check out the tees Jeff Lockwood is having made at http://www.rideyourbicycle.com/.

Punnkn Bike Enduroo

WE (topher, Jeff, yarnell) drove to Pittsburgh the night before the punk bike enduro where we watched a ritual of modern kabuki theater. Grown men. Actuating a desire to rumble with other men. The KSWA is the humble begining of any pro wrestlers career. Poorly faked punches and leg pretzel tangles holds. Screaming fans drunk on the theater, that they make themselves entitled to partake in. The fight is better out of the ring, amongst the people. The ring is stage and they may cross into the public but the audience never breathes the air inside the ropes.

Then we woke up after a night next to the surreal fire at Brad Q's house, and got dressed in our own spandexed hallucinations. Our ring of fire and ice. BUrning thighs and lungs: freezing hands and feet. We raced around Pittsburgh in 9 short stages. Young Daniel wins on a Fixed Niner. Topher Fixed his 1982 chrome Diamond back Acent. Me on a fixed Villin and blown fork. Yarnell, Toph and me in stonewashed jeaned tights. Sorry I got no photos of those.
Jeff Lockwood is making some nice shirts over at www.bittergravity.com
Pittsburgh is a city that all Pennsylvanianians should visit. And you.

Halleluah! La Ruta da 3

Our last race night was spent in the shadow of the volcano Turriabla. For some, sleeping at 9,000ft inspired a restless night. The volcano loomed at 11,000, breathlessly waiting to spew it's red love in our direction. At that altitude temperatures were cool enough to start the fire in the wood-burning stove of our room.
The lodge was the highlight of accomodations of the trip. The road to this Lodge Turriabla was an endless spool of shoulderless pavement and bone-jarring dirt. They had dinner waiting for us cooking in 5gal pots on big wood stoves. Outside, It was a toss up as to which was more threatening, the volcano or the 75miles left of racing.
This jungle diorama had to disappear in the dark at 5am the next morning, when we boarded the bus for the ride to day three's race start. The start was at day two's finish and started climbing up the last kilometers of yesterdays desent. Due to some slackers we arrived late at the start and barely had time to change clothes and lube our chains so by the time we got in line, we found ourselves staring at the back of 400 people. Not an ideal situation.
The upside to this was the fun of snaking through 370 heavy legged people. Tim Daughtery was with me and we made a nice two car train slicing up and through the crowd like a knife in the hand of a family butcher. It was fun slaughtering riders, but as we worked our way up the ease of overtaking others was dwindling, and when we passed a googled eyed Hillary Harrison, the slaughter became much slower and tacticle. I lost Tim (who was on a single-speed) on the climb, and began the rolling gravel-pavement-gravel sections. We were cruising through the last of the foothills before the final drop towards the Carribean. I caught one group of about 5 guys, who I recognized from days before, by holding steady on the climbs then gaining on the desents. After rolling up to them I dropped them for good going into the longest (30min) desent of the day. It was all gravel and loose like a late night christmas-party necktie.
This was the best drop of the race with dry sketchy corners that you could risk taking inside lines on, and as the passing continued I noticed a kid from that 5 man group was hanging with me. At one high speed 90 degree corner, I hit the brakes hard and did a 360 powerslide with my right foot as the pivot. The kid ended up being the son of Hert, the bearded, flip-flop, shirtless and jean short wearing rip-van-winkle. Pro surfer and junior national champ, he was the first Costa Rican I met who could desend well.
And he could climb! On the last climb of the day, he tells me at the bottom, this is my hill, I'll see you later. Later being at the end of the day. Did I mention he was 13 the first time he did the race? One nice thing about riding with him for the two hours was his personal feed vehicle. What ever he got I got. Ice water before the climb, cold baby food in sandwich bags, pineapple. We were set. If you go to Race La Ruta, make friends with the locals. Take heed.
So though I never saw Nys again, I did manage to catch some of my other nimesis before the end of the day. Alone on the downhill after getting dropped I suddenly had a missile on target from behind. It turned out to be Andreas Hestler, who had flatted a couple of times. I took advantage of his monster engine and worked with him to catch a group of 7 guys. It was so impressive watching Andreas motor, and though I like to think I did a share of the work he was definatly the one pushing me.
When we caught that group of 7 locals we were once again blessed with their support vehicle. More cold drinks, snacks and random benefits. This part of the course was a long false flat drop towards the beach. About egual to the angle of putting a couple playing cards under the legs on one end of the dinner table.
We hadn't hit the majority of the railroad track section but the thought of it loomed. Andreas had proven to have a huge advantage on them with his full suspension bike, while all I could de was watch him pull away at times. Just before the a major train section Andreas missed the turn and since I was second in line I was first on the tracks while he went to the back of the pack of 8. At the first bridge I decided to ride it instead of walking, which gave me an instant gap on the group. With about 4 more similar bridges and trestles I found myself with a significant advantage. I didn't try to kill it, since I knew they would probably catch me later, but I wasn't going to give up what I had. After a while of pressing on I see a couple of guys moving up on me, and was eventually caught by Andreas and this other annoying Costa Rican, who I hadn't been able to shake for the three days. I pulled over to let them pull through but Andreas refused and when I asked him if he was tired he snapped at me that he didn't like to be jumped!! Ha. I jumped Mr. Hestler himself. But look, he caught me, I knew he could. I just let it roll. Anyways I let him stew for a while, took my pulls. I did feel a little bad because we had worked together, and formed a little bond up till that point. Sharing food and all that. But racing is racing.
It didn't matter because as soon as we hit the last 5 miles of train tracks, he was gone and I was getting swallowed by the guys behind. Apparently racers behind us had had problems with locals trying to knock them off their bikes on this section but we didn't have any problems. After an eternity of riding the ties, we banked a left and were on a jeep road with the Carribean 100ft to our right. A moment later, the train went by!
No one told me there was an active train on the tracks we were riding. THey didn;t look like they could support a train, they were so beat.
So with the end supposedly eminant I taged onto the back of two riders and held on with everything I had. The road was firm but long and flat and the only relief was the view of waves crashing on shark infested waters.
Eventually one Tico fell of and there was only Marcello and me. He was crushing it and eventually I dropped once we hit the pavement. I caught one more person before turning into the finish shoot on the beach of Limon.
That was the hardest day of all three for me. Hot, dusty, tired and relieved, I got a beer, ate some food, and waited for Topher.

Jay De Jesus benefit bike jam.

A man of the world and bicycle scene experienced some Menengitis. He came close to death and spent 9 days in the hospital. He had a fundraiser at a friends house in Marsh Creek on Saturday. I went up with Dave and Tim.

Day 2 of La Ruta

Day two seemed like an impossible feat to Topher. I had to take him by the hand and have a heart to heart about why he had to start the next day and get through the first hour for the children back home. We cried a little, straightened ourselves up and marched out like the men we are. Besides,, it was just a little volcano with only 8,707 feet of climbing in 40miles. My faith in Topher was solid, and for myself I had high expectations. The previous day I held back a little in preperation for the next two days. Plus if you looked at the profile you would see about the most perfect bell curve a statistics professor could ask for.
35 kilometers up and 35 down seemed to level the playing field,,umm,, I guess thats not a level playing field but I was ready to establish some downhill dominance. We wouldn’t go all the way to the top of the Volcano Irazu but our peak would still be around 9500feet, and the weather was known to be the most unpredictable of the race. We were almost guaranteed to find cold rain, mist, and possibly hail. So I ditched the hydration pack, loaded up the bottles and pockets with provisions and included armwarmers, an undertee, a vest, matches and a bivy sack to my arsenal. I ditched ther cyanide pills since I had a live volcano at my disposal.
Another group start with about 450 riders pawing the earth, licking yesterdays wounds and getting ready to sacrifice themsleves again to bicycle love in the shadow of an activevolcano. My game plan was to hold a solid position to the top then release the trigger on the return to earth. Gravity proved to be a fickle ally.
The climb started almost immediatly on pavement, and the group quickly began to sort it’self out. We took a few gravel roads and at one point we were on what had to be the only piece of single track in all 175 miles of the race. Unfortunatly that only lasted about 300yrds and was a hike-a-bike for most of it. I found myself with similar folks from the first day which was encouraging since they had all finished in my vicinity. At the top of a run up a group of spectators had gathered to shout, cheer and offer as much vocal support as you could imagine. It was the spitting image of some of the notorious cobble sections of the springclassics, where the crowd gathers and is literally in the face of the riders struggling up the impossible. Once again rejuvinated by the crowd I took the right on the pavement with a lightened spirit ready to climb and hold the 15th position that someone told me I was in.
This is where the weather started to turn and suddenly I had to pull up my armwarmers and throw on the wind vest. At 12km to go the heavy mist rolled over the landscape and a light rain mixed with the fog, turning each rider into a rolling island isolated from the landscape, and escaping ahead of me or disappearing in to the fog behind. I chased a couple of local Lightspeed riders who I was certain were getting little pulls from their support vehicle which rolled with them all the way to the top. That was technically against the rules. I crested the lip of our climb and took a right down a washed out gravel road that was the beginning of our decent. I stopped because I was going to fast to look through my dirty glasses and I took a leak. I was shivering but excited and decided to collect my thoughts before getting to far into the downhill. It was going to be dangerous and fast and would require a clear head to the bottom and I knew I wanted to hang on the edge of safety. Jumping back on the bike, I was enjoying the decent and wondering when I would catch the first person. A couple of minutes passed and I was surprised to have not caught anyone, but I figured it was only a matter of time.
Then I came to a “Y” in the road and saw no signs giving any direction. Shit! A rider support car rolled up. He didn’t know which way to go. Panicking I realized I had taken a wrong turn somewhere. It didn’t make any sense. I guessed it might have been one spot a little further back. I went there but saw no arrows or riders tracks. A different support vehicle with a photographer came by. We discussed the situation for a minute even though they spoke less English than I spoke Spanish. Language barriers are like trying to talk through the glass in the prison visiting section with your lips sewn shut.
I gave up and went on. Screaming, to let off steam. My plans were screwed. I rode for a while with this support vehicle next to me and the photographer hanging out, then I got a sinking feeling, and realized that they thought I had cut the course. I stopped them and showed them my tracks from my decent and made sure they understood that I was back-tracking for fear of them disqualifying me for cheating.
All I could do was climb back up to what ever turn I had missed. I screamed to myself a few more times, said hello to the horses that were in the road which I had passed in happier times going down. On the way up I actually passed my turn again and had to turn back around to go the proper way which was a left. I had gone right, the natural flow of the road. Oh there were the arrows, 10ft up and a couple spray painted on rocks.
I spent the rest of the time catching people I never should have been behind. The drop off the back side of the Volcano was everything I had hoped for, too fast, too sketchy, and too long. Some sections were impassable by car. But it was so fun passing cars and other riders on loose inside corners. I got a lot of personal joy out of that, despite my plans on self mutulation later. In short it was fun.
I figured I lost about 30 min in my little mistake.
The finish was a repeat of the day before, but in a small town with beautiful daughters everywhere. I heared about Jeremiah Bishops downhill dash for glory that ended in a crash. Unbelievably he still came across the line in 2nd despite broken teeth, a cracked cheekbone and a seperated upper palate. I guess I was lucky.
Topher showed up later in high spirits. We signed autographs for the kiddies, I passed out a bunch of stickers to them and generally had a good ol time.
I know this is long but I have to mention the Lodge we stayed in that night. It was at 9000ft, shadowed by Volcano Turriable and invloved the best food the the trip. Check the pictures.
Tomarrow...Day 3

A break? PArty up.

My friend Eva had a birthday party. I saw a man with a tattoed cast.

La Ruta Part 3: Race Day 1

This is getting tedious...I’m sorry but like the race promoters say..”More than a race, a personal growth journey.” I’m trying to take you there.
Race day #1. We are gathered in front of the Best Western Jaco, it’s 5am and techno music to make the europeans blush is pumping. To our right, hidden by the hotel, is the pacific ocean and to our left are mountains, rain forests, volcanos, 9 micro climates and the endless unknowns of Costa Rica. With 515 starters it was important to be near the front for the start. I made it within the first 50 people along with Tim and Topher not far behind.
A quick rundown of my race day choices might be interesting for some of you, in case you decide to do this one day. Much debate goes into these choices and Topher and I spent much time calling around and waffling. Ultimately I decided on these things.
HydroPack..no bottles or cages for easier carrying of bike.
Hutchinson Bulldog Tires.. for mud with some custom knob shaping thanks to my clippers
Two Pairs of thin socks.
Fingerless gloves
Lube
Electrolytes
4 energy bars
4 packs of hammer gel
two tubes
extra brake pads, chainring bolt, Co2, valve stem,
sunglasses
cyanide pills
Ergon grips

The race start was great. The sky was dark blue with streaks of light coming from the east. For a 1/4 mile the race headed east and for a brief moment I thought hanging in the front would be a possibility, but as we turned left and looked up into the emerald jungles my dreams were run through a cheese cloth and all of my grandiose beliefs in my ability were strained out and I was left with the raw truth. This race was about going up. 10mins in and we started our first hour climb. I had prepared myself for the worst, this was expected but the wall of gravel, the lewd glistening of the jungle and the sight of Tico’s scampering up the road in front of me was a one-two-three punch. I settled in and waited to reel them in from below like bringing a kite back to earth.
We climbed and climbed and climbed, then moments of relief came in the form of a short decent that lead to another climb. The weather was almost perfect, no rain, random cloud cover to protect us from the sun and about 75-85 degrees. There were lead motorcycles, support four-wheelers and cars where cars could go. But they couldn’t go everywhere, and we were warned about a 12mile section that no emergency vehicles could get into and I walked past several motorcycles with riders trying to get them unstuck on the muddy climbs.
Most of the roads in that section weren’t really roads. I walked down one section. Topher later told me he walked down more than that. I don’t like walking downhill, but I also like my teeth. The mud was legendary, but probably not as bad in past years. My bike actually suffered frequent chainsuck for the first time and it made noises similar to the sound of sharpening and ax on a grindstone. A savior was the frequency of stream crossing which gave us plenty of chances to wash the mud and lube off our bikes. Plus a quick dunk for the body was better than any Landis style waterbottle douche.
During one particularly harrowing climb I looked over and saw Andreas Hestler lying on the side muttering something about the heat and loving Canada. I figured he was good to go, made fun of him and kept on riding. About a quarter mile up a farm kid was watering his cows and after a moment of wondering what his “When I was a Kid” (when I was a kid I had to hike 10miles up hill both ways to get to school), tales would sound like I thought about turning around to tell Andreas about the kid with water. Again better judgment interrupted that thought.
You have to understand that this first day was about survival. I went in knowing that any mental collapse would be the death taps and even if physically I broke down I could keep pushing if the brain was accepting of the situation. At one point I was out of water and the climbing starting to feel like a tread mill. I had been riding with a local named Marco for a while and he was gracious enough to give me clues about what was coming and he actually had a couple guys on a Ducati feeding him even though that was clearly against the rules. But it was standard practice for all locals and I didn’t feel bad about accepting plastic bags of water, coke, fruit and baby formula during the three days. At one point I stopped and used the bit of advice Keith Bontrager had given me and asked some kids who were watching the race if they could get me some water.
Again these four boys were in a place I couldn’t imagine there being a school, and there definitely wasn’t any electricity, but they ran inside and came back out with a two liter bottle of fresh water that I filled my camel back with. After thanking them and the shadowy figure of a woman in the dark house, I took off, rejuvenated by the generosity of people.
A particularly cool part of the race were the number of people who sat in front of their houses watching the parade of lunacy ride by and extra special were the locals who sat with their hoses ready to spray you down. I took advantage of each opportunity.
Through the day I steadily caught people, and took great pride when I would pass the majority of them on downhills. At least if I couldn’t climb with them I could fly my IF colors with pride as I took nasty lines around them. Loco Gringo.
As hour 7 came and went I started to worry about Topher, and wondered what he was experiencing. Hopefully it wasn’t hate for me.
My relief came when I rounded the final bend of the day and saw the finish line in a field on the side of a hill overlooking the central valley of Costa Rica. The organizers had showers, food and massages ready for us. Top notch and I was much happier with where my entry money went.
I showered, ate and got a massage from a man who wasn’t shy in the least. Tim came in on his single-speed and we sat and waited for Topher. And waited. And as the cutoff time inched forward we began to worry. When woman after woman came in in we worried some more. Then when the white-bearded, shirtless, cutoff jeanshorts wearing hippy with SPD sandals came in we really began biting our nails. At 11hrs and 46 mins he finally showed with a big smile and 14mins to spare before the cutoff time of 12hrs. If he hadn’t made the 12hr mark he would have been out of the race but allowed to ride the remainder days without getting timed. Apparently he took a few naps. Only about 260 of the 515 people who started made the cut off.
I directed him to the showers, massage man and food. I cleaned the bikes and waited for the shuttle to take us to our hotel in San Jose.