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If one aint working get another

This whole year cycling/ racing has presented one interesting obstacle after another. Each being solvable, thank you, and therefor each being a moment of pride in a job well dealt with. From India to DSG, to this weekend at the Mohican 100 I've come across a problem that when resolved it makes me feel quite accomplished even without a trophy to display.

I suppose that is why racing bikes can be considered an instant gratification device, not unlike crack. I mean anything that makes you feel good can be addictive, even if the process of getting it can be as painful as riding a 100 miles or robbing a convenience store and getting your leg run over as you trip while sprinting away across a busy highway.

There are very few places in life where a mistake can seem so colossal, while actually being so trivial and repairable. Sure if you take a wrong turn during a race after having almost bridged a gap created by an earlier crash, it's going to seem as if all was for naught and the purpose of continuing is questionable. At that point one has to find a good reason to continue.

At the Mohican I went through a list of reasons why to bail, which turned out to be an existential debate on why am I here. I'm here because it's part of a series, and since I'm no longer in a position to get worthwhile points I should ditch. If I do this race then I might be expending unnecessary energy, I should ditch. I could quit and race tomorrow at Iron Hill and make some money to feed my dog. Do 100 milers appeal enough to me anymore? I mean really, the sense of accomplishment is old hat. I've done close to 20 of these things, most of the courses 3 times at least and this was going to be my 4th time around this track.

That's when I realized that the sense of accomlishment comes in a variety of colors. I do sort of like coming from behind. I did feel responsible for leading 5 other riders astray when I missed the turn and they had come from a long ways away. Maybe I should vindicate myself by trying to stick with it and do some work to make their time feel a little more worthwhile.

Eventually that seemed like the thing to do. I put my head down, tried to make up for lost time and kept the pace decent. When I was on the front I tried to do my pentenance. Surely one or two of the lead group would fall off and someone in my group would have a chance to take maybe a top 5. Eventually it came down to Bart Gillepsie from Utah, Rob Litenwalner and myself. Bart was one of those guys I had come to respect just out of seeing his name and understanding him to be a good racer, and I was super excited to get to race him. UNfortunately it was under the auspices of me getting us lost and we didn't really get to have the cage match I wanted. Rob is an old friend by now and he was having a great day, getting dropped then ramping it up to catch back on.

On the last few climbs, Bart pulled away, and all I could do was motor along with Rob as my riding partner. At aid station 5 Rob got hot bottles that had been in the sun all day, and when he had to stop at station 6 I was able to continue on.

The last mile of the race course passes by my car and since I had long given up on caring about the possiblilty of counting the race to my overall series standing I took the pleasure in letting my dog, Gertie, out of the cage and she did her first unleashed trail run with me to the finish. Rob caught us just before the end and offered to wait but I told him to go on and in the end I finished 9th just behind Rob and Gertie.

Well that was over, I felt accomplished despite the race issues of an early stick in the rear wheel and going the wrong way. And I felt really good. It's too bad I didn't have an opportunity to ride with the boys on the front.

After eating I went back to camp, cleaned up and saw Elk come through then my traveling partner Nik Schaffer. After little socializing and eating Nik and I jumped in the car and followed Matt Ferrari home to State college where we slept, then woke up early enough to eat an early breakfast before heading to the Mid-Atlantic race at Iron Hill where I wold get a chance to crush myself and maybe earn back some traveling cash.

As usuall the race was humid, but the course was super packed and after a quick start with the legs punching me, I managed to go to the front and stay there. Holy crap I couldn't believe I felt that good. And I got paid enough to cover my weekend expenses! Ahh the life of a desperate Pro, chasing the bills.

Up next is the Hoo-Ha and then the Cowbell challenge in NC. I'm looking for traveling partners to NC if anyone is interested. Then I go to Colorado on the 28th. And If anyone wants to drive out with me to split the trip let me know. You'll probably have to fly back from Denver since I'm not coming back till after the 18th of July.

I'll be doing to Marathon Nat. Championships in Breckenridge then the Breck Epic then the Breck 100.

See ya.

So Glad to Have You

I've been longing for this. An East Coast Mountain Bike stage race. I'm not saying that I have anything against the West Coast, Coasta Rica, BC or India, but I'm a little sick of the travel necessary to go and race a great format.

Imagine if every time you wanted to eat Thai food, you had to go to Thailand. Every time I wanted to race a format that I particularly love I had to go to someone else's home. Not really satisfying and I always end up comparing it to riding back home.

So now there is the Pisgah Mountain Bike Stage race. Four days of riding in the Pisgah state forest of NC. Every day we leave from the same town, do a different loop and get an incredible amount of singletrack. Plus it's going to have all the climbing you want without having to be at 12,000ft. My lungs are so happy.

Todd Brenham has proven to be a great promoter with his other races, the Off Road Assault on Mount Mitchell and the Swank 65, so I believe he'll have this pretty dialed right off the bat.

Two Races: Mind over Mud

I'm only going to post pics from the Dirt Sweat and Gears race I did this past weekend in Tennessee (none of them I took. Except the car). Problem is I've been unmotivated to get my camera battery charged, and I think I'm a little burned from the photo explosion that was India. (Yes I'm sorry that hasn't been updated!)

That story is so overwhelming, I'm not sure where to start, so I'll get current and travel back in time later.

Here are a couple of links with good coverage.
www.cyclingdirt.com
www.cyclingnews.com

See picture above, feel the utter hopelessness that man is experiencing. In the middle of the race, in the woods, in the middle of the course, if you were silently trudging along listening to the sound of your feet making the sucking noise as they were pulled from the jaws of the mud at each step, the silence was bound to be broken by the primal scream of some spirit that was being broken by the trail.

My own spirit was in danger of being stolen away. I had to yell some explicatives at the ground because it's well known that is how you deal with mother nature. Scream in her face like she's a crowd sometimes.


I'm not sure what it is that makes me hate quitting. I guess ultimately I realize that very few things kill you, and our bodies have an amazing ability to forget pain due to a natural process that helps us repeat mistakes like returning to the abusive relationship I have with racing. That took a year off my life. Mother nature is coming for me. I knew she was waiting, but I walked right into her backhand.

Last week I thought I had gotten the advantage by surviving Michaux Maximus, (a known abusive partner), when I came out in first place after riding all day in the rain, playing it cautious and tip-toeing around the rocks in my way. That was good. I was on a high, thinking I had achieved a new mental level of calm in the face of prize fighter.

Apparently the forces of nature were only delivering their warning through meger messengers, and when it it came time to answer to the sky directly I was humbled. I was reminded that I'm not that in control of my chi as I'd like. I think alot of Chi was demolished in the woods of southern Tennessee last Saturday.

I guess it's fitting that when you gather some of the biggest names in American endurance racing in one spot you are bound to have other forces ready to tussle. A big pot of money brought the names as well the fact that the race is part of the National Endurance Calendar. Name dropping would include Jeremiah Bishop, Evan Plews, Josh Tostado, Brandon Draugalis, Ernesto Maranchin and me.

I had cordinated with Bishop to car pool down, but he decided his wife and kid were more important, so I lucked out and had my tenant/roommate/ housemate/ Sponsor, Levi Olson come down with me. His parents lived an hour away from the race and he knew how to drive/ change tires and build bikes. Ultimately the most important function Levi performed was cleaning bikes.

Thank you Levi! Each bike took about 20 minutes to get the mud off and he was cleaning 3 bikes a lap between me and Bishop. I'm not sure who was more beat at the end than I was.

So Levi and I loaded up my new/used car and headed south with two bikes on the roof and one frame with a bunch of parts in the car. I'm sad to see my little Subie go but my nephew will get a few more good miles out of her, and I now have 'the grey squirrel' to take care of.So we made it down in luxurious style, with working cruise control and AC! 14hrs of traveling, one bike ride, one rack replacement and multiple conversations about bike related things Levi and I got to his parents house at about 2:30am on thursday night. The next morning we drove for the longest consecutive period with out being rained on since we left to the race venue, where we found a field full of weirdos riding two-wheeled machines obscured by a layer of mud and hay. Turns out they were bikes and when I realized that my pre-ride would result in that I decided that a road ride would be the best choice for a warm up. Jeremiah and I went out for a cruise but on the way back in curiosity got the best of us and we decided to explore a little of the course. I got a mile in and said no thanks, turned around and tried to get out of there before Jeremiah returned to ask Levi to clean his bike.

Plus we had a bike to build if I was going to have a second ride for the day. Turns out I couldn't have done it without another machine. I had just gotten my 08 bike back from the factory with reconditioned with a new team paint job and I was eager to get'r up and running, knowing that certain death was instore for any bikes being ridden the next day.

Of course I was missing an essential (in my mind) spacer so I had to make the bike go..Coaster in place, the outlook was good since it hadn't rained yet and the race was bout to start. At the start line with a minute to go, the skys delt us the joker card. Rain was coming down as the RC plane circled above us, inviting lightening.

Lap one I took it relatively easy. I had the wrong tire on the back, and figured I had plenty of time to make up time on the three people ahead of me. I'd get Levi to switch tires as I went out for the next lap and things would be good. About an hour later lap one was done, my bike was exchanged and the rain was starting to slack off. JB had 3 or 4 minutes on me. That didn't seem like a big deal since we had 11 more hours to go.

This is where I make note to self. When a muddy race is emminant go to front. About 15minutes into lap two the rain had stopped and the mud began it's grabby, sucky, sticky, clogging ways. I soon had no drive train that I could see. My tires were the size of mack truck rubber and my bike weighed 50 lbs. This is where the trail ended, the novelty began for 2 minutes and the misery began for 6.5 hours. Riding downhill was hard and required pedaling. Riding on flats felt like a sprint on a stationary bike with the resistance turned to 11.

Bikes began exploding all over the course, as if someone had a super weapon that tuned into the frequency of bike, and shattered them with sound waves. Some how my bike escaped, probably because it was no longer a bike and had turned into the swamp thing.

Not my bike above, but a good representation. By the end of lap two I had screamed for forgiveness a few times while somehow moving past Tostado and Brandon, which put me in the unfortunate position of being in 2nd place and in the money, enough to think that quitting was real stupid. I concluded that if I trudged forward as if a sherpa carrying the goods for the money I would be alright. A couple curses along the way would release the steam building up in my 30 lb shoes.

It didn't even bother me that I was grabbing trees with poison ivy all over to help me hoist myself two extra feet up the trail. One of the rare times I could ride. Notice this bike had my 700x45c tires on it. The no longer in production Mutano Raptors cut a half hour from my 3hr lap times. That meant I could ride 2.5 of the 10 miles verses 2 of 10 with the other bigger tires. But no matter what tires you rode, it sucked. As in the mud didn't let go.
I couldn't believe what we were doing to the trails or ourselves by continuing on with the charade of a race. Fortunately they were private trails and the owner was the promoter, and he said keep going, until he realized that with 4 hour laps no one should go out past 6, inorder to avoid people getting lost in a mud bog at night. I came in around 5 and Jeremiah was there waiting for me, and was ready to call a truce in order to avoid going out for another lap. No protest from me and we waited to see if third place was willing to do the same if they came in before 6.

I lost a couple of years in the race, but Levi was key to Jeremiah and my success. I stayed in second, while the legendary Andy Applegate got 3rd with 4 laps also. Last year the winner got 11 laps in. Draugalis only did 2 laps and got 4th overall after getting 2nd last year with 11 go arounds.
Indy Fab rider Kylie rode on a coed-duo team for her birthday!
Seriously that was the worst thing ever. But like I said before, my brain has a way of making me forget the miserable activities so I might go back.

Michaux Reminder!

Since there seem to be a lot of racing choices this weekend, I thought it might be fitting to let you know that Michaux Maximus is going to be something worth considering.

For 2009 the course has been almost completely changed. A lot of the course was designed out by Tomi, from Tomi cogs, and in my opinion is going to blow the doors off pretty much every other race out there. 45 miles of mostly new, or new to non locals, will great you.
There are some classic trails in there I haven't done in years, after burns and logging erased access to them. Consider it if you are a trails rider.

It's the race you'll find riders like Eatough, Bishop, Dragaulis and myself at. Why do laps on something that doesn't change or challenge you with the new?

Relax we're late..

Taxes done, now back to the story.

Fires, smoke, small showers, tea.

As I was saying, perspectives are important, and happiness is easiest to maintain when expectations are constantly being updated.

After traveling for two days I figured my first priority was to put the bike together and get a ride in. It seemed like the best option in the face of the wall of bs what was coming our way. I spent the morning putting my bike together in front of a crowd of people. Again another theme to get used to was being a spectacle where ever we went with the bikes. India is probably one of the few places where my drunk and prematurely dropped wheelies are appreciated.

After my ride to the North Sikkim boarder I returned to find Doug sitting in the tourism office. That was some good timing. We cheered each others familiar faces, exchanged funny horror stories about rides, food and prison cell hotel rooms.

In the tourism dept I come face to face for the first time with the man who I have been working with for the past 6 months to promote the race in the states. He is the event manager and responsible for the racers comfort for the next 11 days. When Tim says he looks like the man from Indiana Jones who ripped peoples hearts out, I should have seen that as forshadowing.

Still at this point we are all glad-handing each other, smiling and getting introduced around.
I go to Doug's dingy hotel hanoi and tell him he needs to come to our place the next day.

No Bananas: Weirder is India

Before I left for India I new it was going to be an experience of a life time. When pitching a story to a magazine they want an angle to know where the story might be going. Unfortunately the way I travel tends to be more about getting there than the actual destination. Or it's the strangeness of the destination that makes the traveling more unpredictable. Going to the other side of the world could be judged to be the extreme of the travel page. In the end I ended up physically where I predicted, but was taken on a whole other journey that tested my mental, physical and social constructs.

I'm embarrassed to say that the Khachendzonga MTB Expedition turned out to be amazing despite it being a total joke of an organized race. True there was good racing going on, but as far as being compared to what other stage race participants might expect, it was like buying a box of Lucky Charms and getting rice inside.

India is technically an english speaking country, but don't let that fool you into thinking that communication is easy. I'm wondering how much of that was an issue with the person I had been in contact with through out the planning of the trip and the race. In exchange for my help in promoting the race in the US, the promoter had promised to pay my entry and my airfare to the race. Seemed like a sweet deal. To sweet.

Remember nothing is free. Upon arrival in India the promised transportation wasn't there. One of the most daunting things is being in a foriegn airport with a language gap, tons of luggage and no idea what to do next. I called Saroj, he talked to the tourism guy there, gave him an address and we prepaid at the taxi booth for the destination. As our taxi wadded its way through the Delhi traffic, past three wheeled vehicles, pedi-cabs and burning trash our driver got a call from the organizer, who proceeded to tell me that there was a problem with the pre-arranged accomodations. Instead we were taken to an expensive hotel and left till the morning trip back to the domestic airport for our next flight.

On top of this introduction to the subcontinant, we were on an 11 hour jet lag. The hotel had what was to be the last bath tub we would see for the next three weeks. A surreal walk through the back streets to a market area was our next task in a search for food. A few moments of calm was welcome. Then I check emails and got a message from Doug who was a day ahead of us saying that the promised shuttle from the next airport to the race start wasn't there and they didn't even know about the race. This was starting to look ominous. My heart was sinking and I was wondering what I had gotten my friends into.

At least we were prepared for the next day's trip and welcome in Bagdogra. Courtney and I grabbed a taxi to the next town over to get our Permits into Sikkim, but found the office closed when we got there. The next step was to grab one of the waiting trucks to ride to the Sikkim boarder and get the permit there and maybe sleep.

When a foriegner in another country it always feels like someone is trying to get more out of you and the need to be on guard is mentally fatiquing, but we payed our $8, climbed into the back of the truck and realized that we didn't get the 3 person bench to ourselves but had to share it with 2 others, making the honda RAV sized suv an 11 passenger car.

Luck had us in a truck full of helpful people, and when ever there was a snafu they sort of just made our next trip decision for us. It was interesting how when a problem has to be tackled, people will gather and discussion will begin. All of this in another language, so we were left on the outside looking into our destiny. At the Sikkim boarder we had to get out, walk across a floodlight lit bridge through a wet road as if it was the DMV. It turns out that the state we were leaving, West Bengal, was suffering from some bird flu outbreak, which kept our chicken and egg consumption on the rare side for the next three weeks.

Courtney and I had originally decided to break the trip up and not travel all the way to Gantok, but we also realized that when traveling going with the flow is essential, so when the pasengers decided we should go all the way, who were we to argue. Since it was night time for most of the trip we were denied the pleasure of seeing what we were getting ourselves into. The one thing that was recognizable was the snaking lines of wildfires rippling up mountainsides. Ominous foreshadowing? Fortunatly one of the passengers was affiliated with a hotel, so at about 11:30pm we found ourselves in front of the Manul Inn. Unknown at the time was that this was to become our base for the rest of the trip, due to our incredible host.

Awake in the morning we are greated with a pleasent little room, sun streaming in and a hazy sky that prevented any views. Bummer since we had expected to have the third highest mountain looming in our peripheals the whole visit.

I guess it was time to change the perspective.......

Incredible India

I don't have time to really get in to it now. I'm still in India, recovering from the race.

Here is the short of it.

I won

Corrupt organizers

Beauracratic weasels

Media explosions

http://www.sikkimexpress.com/archives19.htm#31

Today we start

We couldn't wait to leave Delhi, but not sure that we ever want to leave Sikkim. Just about the friendliest police state ever.

We are taking off today for the start. I can't some it up here but maybe a haiuku will help.

Chance in eleven

person box, no choice is ours.

Eggs not allowed.

A place of Contradictions; Cliche, cliche

As I'm reading up on my immanent trip to India, over and over the reference books warn you/ me to be prepared for a land of contradictions. Bustling cities/ Empty country sides, Wealthy middle classes/ extreme poverty. Hot/cold, Spicy/ mild.

Cows in the streets, religious groups that let vultures carry the dead away. Tibetan refugees in lands where plastic bags are confiscated at the boarder as if it's a smutty magazine in church.

Interact with nothing but your butt with your left hand and green and yellow are lucky colors, instead of a sign of vomiting.

Men hold hands with each other and women are both leaders of the country and at one time encouraged to throw themselves on their dead husband's funeral pyre.

The list goes on. That's not my list. It's my research. I'm leaving final conclusions on hold.

From what I just heard, no India Currency is allowed to leave the country.

I'm excited to get to know another culture.

The race is from March 20th-29th. Keep your eye out.
www.sikkimmtb.com

Attacked by Animals: Returned to Earth

I like to travel. Usually its a chance to step outside myself, be a fly and watch the world do it's own buzzing. Now that I've given myself sufficient distance from the month of February I think history is ready to reveal the success that the month was for me. Like the former president I like to think that time will be the true judge of a life traveled in haste.
Being that it was bitterly cold in the northeast with sub double digits temperatures and I had a growing intolerance for my beard, layers and frozen dish sponges, it was time to go south. I decided to make the trip serve multiple duties. One: do the second Snake Creek Gap race on Feb 7th. Two: Have a mini training camp in Asheville with IFers. Three: Visit all the family members that I have been pissing off by not stopping by and saying hi during hurried trips through their areas. Four: Race the 12 hours of Santos in Florida. Five: Get some tan lines that you could use as a straight edge. Six: Gather up my Lady friend and have a romantic drive up the East coast back to the big chill.

It's a BUI warning sign in NC.

Asheville NC was my first stop on Friday night to meet up with Sam Koerber to join forces in driving to the Snake creek gap race. After much committing and recommitting to going tonight, then in the morning, then no tonight, actually in the morning. We slept for a good 4 or five hours before waking up in time to make the drive and catch a shuttle to the race start. It was still cold but I went with shorts and short sleeves to psyche out all the comp. I had high hopes for a sub 2:50 time, since master trash talker, Bruce Dickman, had challenge me with a stay at the Mulberry Gap lodge as incentive.
Well Sam and Thomas decided to leave me to my musings in the first 30 min and I found myself wishing I was skipping stones on cripple creek. With three people in front of me I was thinking I was the biggest turd for thinking I could break 2:50, much less get top three. Then I was tweeking the bean thinking about the fact that it's only Feb. "Why am I going this hard?!!"

I barely caught Tim Carson before the final 6 miles and was a little happy to at least be sitting in 3rd place, but that guy is persistant like a street lamp shining at your eyeballs through the window while couch surfing at someones house.

Well with that race out of the way and me 2 min shy of my one goal in life, I decided to head back to Asheville with Sam and start getting to know some of the new IF team members. I went directly to Kylie Krauss's house and rendezvoused with Kylie and Kyle and got ready to come eyeball to eyeball with my first one-eyed cat.

He's not really a pegleg.
Chedder's care taker, Kylie

Asheville was a visit, where I finally got a chance to feel like the traveling fly I want to be.
Staying on Kylie's couch with Kyle, we got to be in attendence of a deep frying marathon birthday party, a couple steller mountain rides, some dumpster diving, scotch drinking,
race strategerizing and my newest favorite hobby; cast iron cooking.

Kylie's house mates had the cast iron cooking down to a "T" (as in the golden love that is southern sweet tea.) I knew my cosmic energies were lining up when, a few days later, my visit to one particularly neglected Aunt resulted in a found dutch oven on her property as we were doing a walk around. She lovingly took it back inside, scrubbed out the rust and reseasoned it for me. A symbol of our familial tie reseasoning.
I got ahead of myself here. Directly after Asheville I drove to my Granmothers outside of Fort Walton Beach Florida. After a long drive, my Gandmother was still up with a glass of Scotch in one hand and food wating for me in the kitchen.

A full nights sleep and a full gut, fueled me up for my ride to an Aunts house in Alabama about 90 miles away. A headwind of about 10mph fought me on the ride there, as well as the horror that riding highway 98 for 40 miles through Pensacola can be. Heavy traffic, navy fighter planes screaming by over head and the accelerated heartbeat thump of low flying military helicopters, make for a sensory overload. Strange that my city life hasn't desensitized me to these external anxiety machines. Fortunately the last 40ish miles were in Alabama.
I never thought I'd think to myself "thank god I'm in Alabama". The roads there were clear, calm, rolling and bereft of white noise. Each car that came by actually possessed a moment in time, standing out as a significant event.

It's travels and such.

Rain can't take away the Barrons

When there ain't nowhere else to go, visit the Jersey Devil in the Pine Barrens of NJ.
This was a rest, but the Official orange trail crosses the sandy roads, and gives 20miles of only singletrack.

Then there was Tustle at the Trestle. Forgot about that. This is what it looks like when cleaning up after.