Race Across My Eyes

Saw the King of the Mountains Doug Jansen last night in semi darkness, indoors. He was silent, smiling, and eyeglassed. Sounds creepy doesn't it?

I guess the same could be said of yours truly since we were exiting the Lowell Showcase watch other people doing things, eat, and get fat Cinemas. The place is astoundingly huge- but maybe that's a reflection of my myopic Concordianess.

Boys, the movie that played was the Race Across The Sky - 75 minutes of Leadville 100 shot from motos, on foot and from helicopters. Friggin awe-inspiring shots of some of the ridge riding with pulse quickening orchestral tension as Lance seems to speed from land to sky. Well, it was a bit overly dramatic, but it was real footage with several interview breaks, personal vignettes of coming back from injury, including tears jerked as some got pulled when they failed to make checkpoints within the allotted time. Touching. sniffle...

Dave Wiens, who arguably owns the race after winning 6 times, is featured but man, I know quite a few of us groan when Lance is at the center, and he very much was in the film just as he was during the pre-movie panel dicussion/inteview. Yep, the movie was presaged and closed out with a supposed live panel in a theater - Travis Brown, Wiens, Armstrong, the race promoter and Trek MTB slave, er...domestique Matt Shriver. Pretty cool, almost natural.

The movie was a great depiction of this year's Leadville 100- from start to finish. Amazing that the guys who shot it did so only 2 months ago.

Go see it, buy it or whatever. It's a thrill. The trailer (click on the wee button)

Doubling Up

Here's some meat: http://staging.vimeo.com/6350152




It pretty much shows the 401 for what it is: exposed, fast, flowered, and a big floaty dream.

Rippin' It at Crested Butte

Holy bejeezzus! A force in the universe opened up and swallowed me whole, rendering me unable to access blogville. Until now.

Arrived in CB on a Saturday evening after calling ahead to Big Mountain Sports in the hopes we'd pick up the steeds. Dang- we'd have to wait until Sunday am. Remember the Tour de? Well, Pete at BMS has a Boonen fetish and had to put us off until after the Champs d'Elysee's bunch sprint, which I reminded him would end with Cav' thundering home ( And oh my god did he! )

At 11:30 Pete showed up and we headed out to Hartman Rocks thinking we'd get in a couple of low altitude(7500') miles before the seasonal afternoon T-storms roll in.

We hit the trailhead opposite a car dump a la The Hill Have Eyes, sure we'd be harvested for our organs if we hung around and accepted the hospitality of strangers.



Rode there over dusty trail and exposed syenite for an hour or so before the predictable lightning fueled end. Hartman's the high desert and a world away from CB's lush meadows and mountain side forests. The two areas are different and in my eyes, CB is more to my liking. OH yes, WAY.

Sunday night we spent much of the night lying awake in the hostel bunks in what ended up being a private room for a week. I pity the next tenants since we kept the "drawer of doom" stocked with stinking clothing... a stink that would take a week or two to fade fo sho. We even cringed when we'd enter the room and prop the door open to let the beastly cloud dissipate. "What IS that smell?"

Overnight, Clayton and I decided to hit the biggie on Monday and awoke to clear skies, an auspicious sign which we took to be affirmation to ride the 403 and 401. 5 hours and 40 miles later, the morning's bold decision panned out. The 403 and 401 are dominated by alpine meadows and ripping bench cut narrows. The 403 has a reputation for its steepness and technical sections. It had both, including the last mile of switchbacks grown in with bar-high flowers. East coast experience kicked in and we flew the whole 403, wondering why guides recommend dismounting and eeek, walking, several sections. Still it's fist bump worthy as you'll see here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M4Mdom0IPVk

We kept on, topping out on Gothic at the trailhead for the 401 and after a breath robbing climb to about 12,000', began the sweetest highspeed downhill rip I've ever ridden- freakin' superfast sidecut on sometimes 60 degree slopes through meadows of delphiniums, sunflowers and skunk cabbage up to your shoulders in places, punctuated by switchbacks and crushed flowers- evidence of crashes. It felt like being on the edge with falling a non-option, so we didn't and instead cruised at mach 1 until finally the descent ended a half hour later. Giddy? Check. Shiteatingrin? Check!

5 hours later we rolled into CB, delirious with joy and fatigue. Kidz. Write down Crested Butte 403 and 401 on a piece of paper and put it in your wallet. It is one of your raison d'etre must-dos.
I'll pen more in the coming days including some pics and vids including the 401 and Monarch Crest which was all it is built up to be- alpine meadows and hours of downhill as fast as you dare.

Feelin' Groovy

Ahhhhhhhh. It feels sooooooooooooooooooooo good to be NOT racing. I haven't any series goals nor obligations to race this season and I have to say the season is going exceedingly well. Every ride is about having a good time, being in the flow, clearing clearables, and getting ready to ride 5 days in a row in Crested Butte.
TookyWheelWorks' Brian Rossignol is setting me up with a heavy duty Trek Madone Team box to ship the Top Fuel out and back via FEDEX. FEDEX, I believe in you. It ships out this week. It'll be cool and dark my friend, but we'll meet again on the other side and rock some mondo trails. Oh yes.
I've formulated a rough plan for the week there: a night of sleep followed by a day of chilling out to let the blood gases adapt to the 8500' elevation. Of course, we won't be able to resist some sort of ride on that first Sunday, so the hell with Rev A of the Plan, it's on the Rev. B - ride some on Sunday... but no real climbs.
Monday, we'll go down to Gunnison at 7500' and ride at Hartman Rocks. It's a high desert rock fest with around 70 miles of singletrack and host to the Rage in the Sage race. Tuesday we'll hit the 403>401 as a loop including Snodgrass - a long and hopefully inspirational day of wildflower bordered buff singletrack high in the valley. Wednesday, if our legs are still attached, we'll head up Cement Creek to the 583>400 and Star Pass at 12,000'. This is supposed to be a lesser known, pretty damn high and remote area at the top. I saw a couple of pics and it looked the closest to the feel atop the Pang La when I rode in Tibet, 'cept for the vegetation. Intriguing. Here's a pic:

Thursday we'll tackle Reno>Flag>Bear>Deadman's and finally the climax on Friday. Well you'll just have to wait to hear about that ride until it's done.(pssst, it's called Monarch Crest)
There are a handful of other uber rides in the area that I'm struggling to work in somehow: Strand, Deer Creek, Doctor's Park and Texas Creek. Maybe I'll commit mitosis and do them all. Time to split.

68 Miles

68 miles. 6.5 hours.

Saturday The Clayton and I rolled out a bit after 9am, headed to try to ride an elusive loop from Concord around Mount Kearsarge in Sutton, and back. With 100 oz of water and 5 power bars we hit the railroad bed on Bog Rd and rode the series of snomobile trails and a bit of road's flat terrain up through Hopkinton to the Blackwater Dam. From there we went into the Army Corp of Engineer's land grab under canopy of old pines along the Blackwater River. It's a beautiful calming place, except for the rooty overgrown trail that meanders along side it. The undergrowth is low and lime green right now. It was wet and humid and dreamlike, a bit surreal as we passed by one meander that affected us similarly- images of naked women bathing- nymphs- in the serene forest's river. A lovely place. I had the Helmet hero in my camelbak- but it stayed there the entire ride so you'll just have to imagine a Parrish painting to conjure up the ambiance.

It didn't last long as we popped out on the class 5 Little Hill road and made our way up, up, up, the not so Little Hill. "FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!!!" shouted a bloated Chris Farley. In that humidity, it was a hard effort to make it up without dabbing- something that eluded us both- mine when after coming to a dead stop- still clipped in mind you, doing a trackstand for 1,2,3,4,5 seconds, simply unable to turn over the cranks on a supersteep while balanced, touching one foot lightly and then clipping back in and riding away. A strange moment. Damn! Almost a no dabber.

Soon we came out on Kearsarge Mountain Road - past the kiosk and rode upward, getting a wave from descenders Sean Snow and tri crew before peeling off left onto snomobile trail 8, skirting Kearsarge and dropping down through a May 2006 wash out to North Road. We came back over Kearsarge via the Winslow Park end of Kearsarge Mountain Road. It's a friggin' killer but we paced it up, taking inspiration from the long views, chatting it up with some horses, and admiring the wildflowers.

Then we dropped into the forest and the descent through more assorted class 6 roads that became streams, and more streams and more streams and more... it was wet and a thrill to go backcountry over whatever is presented- full of rounded greenish coated rocks and closed in with June overgrowth, mud spattering our faces with our arms throbbing. Finally we came out north of Andover at the covered bridge. All that was left was a long Rt4. We rewarded ourselves after the last climb, downing a 16 Molson Ice picked up during a quick watering stop at Salisbury's corner store. Success tasted pretty good while standing at the edge of a field, knowing only Colby's downhill and the flat run in to Concord remained.

It was one long day with good mileage prep for Crested Butte's July demands. I pigged out later on, doubling up on Haddock dinners and then drove to Rochester to pick up a Thule long tray for $15! All Hail craigslist. (TM)

Big Boy Rides

Hey guess what! I didn't make the NY Times like Doug Jansen did http://hilljunkie.blogspot.com/2009/06/i-made-new-york-times.html, maybe cuz I'm not Hilljunkie and didn't win Sunapee, Turtletown Pond and can't climb mega gap cols like Jure "Robot" Robic http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jure_Robi%C4%8D of RAAM fame(and I lack a certain special sumpthin' like state sponsorship support from the Slovenian Special Forces.) Maaaybe. These two guys have tremendous positive vision and they live it. Kudos to them and an inspiration for us on a good day.
Which brings me to(sound of THUNDER!!! ) Big Boy Rides!(...echoing sounds of distant Thunder...)...a.k.a last night's ride.
No matter how many miles and hours I log, intervals I drive myself through, or fat sources I deprive my body of, sometimes the trail makes me feel like a lame wuss whose skills went out the window like helpless alien abductees. It's on those rides that I usually ding a shin after coming to a dead stop in some wet lichen covered, eroded rocky water crossing and catch myself from doing a full force face plant by busting out an awkward push up while bending a few fingers into positions that some Chinese contortionista does for money. These rides remind me of what I aspire to, to be a Big Boy(Popeye theme song).
Last night my bud, The Clayton, was carving up some more logs (Chainsaw carving garden spirits while kayaking with a MTB over one shoulder anyone?) and couldn't/didn't make the ride so it was me and 2.5 hours of daylight, a hardtail and all of Concord's woods to hammer.
I stealthed into the quarries and went straight up to the top, over the granite whaleback, past C*nt's 60' water jump and down down down to the bottom - something I've NEVER done in 10 years of riding there, crossing the tweak bridges and popping out by Auburn St, making my way to the base of the techy Hospital trails(Winant Park)http://www.5rct.org/winant.html and ripping my way up stuff most riders only descend. No dabs folks, just out of the saddle power and chin up in the air eyes 40' ahead quest seeking. Rode down Fisk Hill on the resevoir side at at 1 million rpms, out District 5 trail, clamoring over Beech Hill, rippin the 1 mile DH I use for ridiculous hillclimb repeats, continuing on through Mast Yard, Jim Hill trail http://www.ci.concord.nh.us/trails/trails/concordv2.asp?siteindx=C50,50,60 , and back via Bog Rd railbed in 2.5 hours. 29 miles. My reward: chocolate milk, plateful of spaghetti, a beer, and a restful night of sleep and two teaspoons of confidence.
I'm riding the wave guys: Seems like I'm on a roll. Time to buy a scratch ticket...

Wondering

Hmmm, the MTB racing gods, er... GODS, seem to have me under their thumb this year. I raced Bear Brook last year with "A" race fitness, only to flat twice and eventually break my chain. The four mile run back was entertaining, but not my idea of racing. I had been the first one to register and had been issued plate #1. Niiice to look at, but perhaps a curse.
Flash forward to this past Sunday. I'm well rested and ready to rip. My race plan is to ride steady the first lap and then go all out on the second lap. I pick up my plate and its, you guessed it #1. I'm thinking positive and am feeling I'm about to have my redeeming race and in the process put others on notice of my fitness and racing prowess, or some such silly pride based satisfaction and affirmation that the intervals and repeats will pay out today.
Lap one: I'm riding steady and away from the other Expert Masters. I feel at ease and that the pace is almost too easy.
Descending Carr Ridge, I come up on a Vet racer and let him know I'm flying and would like to come by when it works. No response. I ask him to let me know when it's good. Still nothing. I ask again as we come into the flattish swale mid way down and if it's "OK now - on your rig.." and begin to go around on his right and he wide bodies a bit and I say "Woah I guess not!" He has been silent the entire time and I wonder, iPod?, when suddenly something in him snaps and starts screaming explitives and insults. He totally lost it. I guess the pressure of someone from behind was too much for him - which he took dramatic exception to. His reaction was so full of Fing ahole fing idiot fing stupid piece of shite that I inform him he was swearing at the wrong guy- I'm on the EFTA board and talk like that'll will get him DQ'd. I pass left and he unloads again. I turn my head to get his number and say "Number **, that's it!" I'm loathe to quash any guys' ride ambitions, but this was the first time I've ever even heard of someone so out of control on the race course, let alone be subjected to it. It has no place in racing. He yells a threat to meet me in the parking lot later as I ride off and away, feeling surprisingly calm and truly astonished at his behavior. As Letterman says: Weird wacky stuff. Deal.
Lap two: I'm riding stronger per plan as I enter Hemlock where I planned to convincingly win the race. When I reach the piney flat section I soft pedal to let a female racer find a place to pull over, which she happily does. As I stand on the pedals to accelerate, my chain snaps. Noooooooo!
Here's when I think "Ok just check it out and maybe you can piece it together." Incredibly, I'm able to bend the bent plate and push the pin back in against a big ring tooth. I start to ride, only to hear nasty grinding and the chain snapping again. I must have twisted the chain when I put it together. Too much. I start laughing at myself and asking racers for a chain tool - for a while. Finally, Ernie Lozeau gives me his and rides off. Thanks Ernie! I spend the next 20-30 minutes fumbling with a chain tool I'm not familiar with that doesn't seem to hold the links in place - meaning I have to have three hands or hold the tool with my mouth while supporting the links. It's a comedy now as I let the chain run through my fingers 3 times with plates and or spacers dropping or pinging off into the leaf piles. I shortened the chain three times as a result and finally got it together when a junior stopped and became my third hand. By then I was thinking about the birthday cookout waiting at home. Beer, food... yum.
I rocked the rest of the last lap - much of it out of the saddle and flying - still some 20 minutes behind the deserving winner, Tom Barton, who had a strong ride and was able to make body and bike work for him, which I obviously was incapable of.
So I'm wondering if it really is the year for someone else to get the palmares and for me to ride with my buddies. Not just wondering really, but just slowly accepting.
The big news is CRESTED BUTTE!!! Yeah, I'll be there for the last week of July for nothing but riding riding riding 401, 403, Monarch Crest, Hartman Rocks. The MTB riding gods are smiling on me after all.