Mountain Bikers Roll With It

The Psychosis Grows OMG NFW

2011-09-17T05:21:00.000-07:00

OMG. NFW.
I saw a post last week claiming this product yielded a great local CX finish. I thought there was only one guy who would do anything to win win win here in New England. See how naive I've been!
The mere act of posting this may lead to more folks thinking this sort of aid is now warranted if you want to be at the front. IT'S NOT!!! It's an artificial aid and anyone using it should be guided back into the light. DON"T USE this crap. It's unacceptable.
Race head to head and see how you do. Train to become fast. Using BS products that tempt but clearly cross an ethical line is cheating. CHEATING. It's not your accomplishment, it's an embarrassment to use that stuff. It's shameful. Legal does not equate to ethical.
Feel free to slap your close friends who are entertaining using BS products.
Got it?

My Ego is Gonna Complain

2011-09-11T09:29:00.000-07:00

I began racing in 1998, in white cotton socks and blue jean cutoffs. Sexy, huh? The race was the Mud in Your Eye at Fort Rock. My finish wasn't exactly inspirational, but I thought “Hey. I can do this!” The second race was at Mt Snow in 1999- on the expert downhill course on a fully rigid XC rig. The result:

A. No one was injured

B. People pointed at me

Then came my first jersey, a front shock, and by October’s Second Start Enduro, a pair of Carnacs and clipless pedals. When promoted to Sport, it was under duress. At the time, my “training” rides were 30-45 minutes long. I even wrote a letter to EFTA begging to stay in Novice class. It didn’t work. The response I got back was “What doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger.”

Fast forward and I have earned a handful of Expert NECS season titles, served on EFTA’s board, stepped onto the podium at the Nationals, and been fortunate enough to ride in some spectacular places. I have always enjoyed head to head competition with like-minded racers. MTB racing has been a pleasure and competitively successful indulgence.

Simple Stuff

Training has always been about what can be done in balance with other aspects of life- a job, a wife, a family, a home, and a garden. In the earliest years that meant 2-4 hours/week, 4-6 hours as a Sport, and since; 4-6 in the winter, and 7-10 during Spring and Summer with less in the fine cool months of Autumn. Throw in some tempo blocks, big gear climbs, trailclimb intervals and races… shake well and BOOM, race on.

I eat well, stay hydrated, and try to get enough rest. This is largely enough regarding nutrition and recharging my batteries. Of course I try to load some carbs before long races and get plenty of protein after hard rides. I keep it natural and avoid long names on ingredient lists. I put a couple ounces of rice syrup in my water bottles. It’s been available in health food stores since the seventies. Gels give me gas. GNC and branded uber-products give me the creeps.

Bikes? They have evolved rapidly and I’ve always been slow to spend. A rigid Jamis gave way to Homegrown hardtails until I finally got an Trek Top Fuel in 2008 as part of collective physical and mental healing after a MTB induced hospitalization. The HTs are faster, but the FS is easier on the body although it needs constant attention and spontaneously combusts.

I generally stick with what works, resulting in a tendency to wait and see rather than being a leader when it comes to training, nutrition, and bike innovations. It is an economical approach and keeps the focus on the experience rather than on enticements by manufacturers.

Puzzlement

A few years ago, I watched as some local pros and a few experts sprouted wings when they saddled up on carbon 29ers. Remember when Superflys appeared? The pros with these trail-leveling craft almost always beat the ones with square wheels. Like a magic pill, 29erized experts catapulted ahead. I have struggled to find the fitness to keep up, occasionally overcoming but most often I am left scratching my head. At $4K-$8K each, there are a lot of them at races now.

I began seeing posts on amateur blogs exclaiming about winter training camps in warm sunny places designed to get a jump on the local competition here in New England. Training camps? We’re local amateurs, right? OK, so it’s an excuse to ride too and we all understand that. Cool or freaky? Definitely geeky.

Commercials during the Tour de France, neatly inserted between segments during the morning live broadcasts every hour or so, urge me to “Ask your doctor for a Little T”. “Combat fatigue.” “Restore vigor.” “Increase libido.” Each slogan-y 30 second spot is used to entice competitive cyclist viewers, especially aging cyclists. Last week I heard an ad for testosterone on the radio during my morning commute. Heck you can go to The Mall and on-line and load up on all sorts of eccentric and prohibited temptations. I wonder how many times I am seeing the results of these products locally. Muscle mass and spectacular results speak louder than words. Most of us have just become older.

“Hey, look at that!” - cars trunks brimming with before, during, and after enhancements. OK, I took some Endurolytes™. I’ve since gone to drinking a can of chicken broth at the mid-point of a 100K race. Four years ago, we never saw the omnipresent white bottles nor heard the telling sound of pills. In the old days sonny, people got cramps while racing and if you rode evenly enough, you would not get cramps. That’s managing racing – not managing the correct supplement blend.

Recently I heard an amateur racer, here in NE, get ready…. uses an altitude tent. OMG- a tent!!! Are you kidding me? Go ride in Tibet for a month. That’ll work. Just do it when there is a race immediately afterward so the effect shows. Sheesh! You have definitely crossed a line and need a greater purpose to serve.

Anyone else seen tossed 5 Hour Energy™ bottles on course this year? Every time I see them, my thought is “Is that what people are taking?” …a conglomeration of chemicals in more small white bottles? I thought a wake up coffee and a mid race iced tea in a 100K race was radical.

Resolved

I ride and train locally. I don’t consume jars of supplements. I don’t wear hormone dispensing patches nor do I take precursors. I don’t see myself sleeping in an envelope. I don’t see myself “investing” in training camps. I don’t see myself borrowing against my home to buy the latest race machine. I don’t see myself gulping down concoctions to keep the pace.

I race a couple of bikes that don’t roll like 29er ceramic bearing hardtails with sloshing smooth treaded tires. I recently raced and found myself hanging on for dear life in the grupetto until I had to back off… while drafting …on a road section. That was a first.

In 2012, I’ll be doing more riding alongside friends, ripping it up and throwing down a few beers afterward. I see myself paying off my mortgage and riding something I got on a deal. I see myself a little less obsessed with racing and I expect my ego to complain. That is something I can live with.

Ultimate XC Race Report

2011-06-25T05:00:00.000-07:00

Race Map: Here.
Race Pictures: Here.
Race results: Here.
Now that we have that out of the way, here's my race report:
I did this event last year along with several MTBMINDers: Katherine, Eric, Steve, Chris, and Ernie. Steve's family was there as was Marissa and Ernie's honey Lisa. I think we had more teammates than any other team at the race. Not so much this year. I arrived after the 5.5 hr drive from Concord and found Chris and Marissa parking lot camping and Marissa having just finished the half marathon Saturday. "There was a lot of sun" was probably the best summary of her race depiction- that and she said she might have gone for the whole enchilada, if she had it to reconsider. Chris eminated confidence, ready, poised and pointing out his new 2x FSA crankset. I went to pick up a racer packet, sweet high tech fabric T and presented my 40% accurate French to the amused women running the registration.
Down by the finish area alongside Lac Tremblant, awards and finishers of the 58K trail run mingled- looking wobbly and tentative in the sun. Tears flowed down the faces of some upon finishing - as I saw on a few more faces after the MTB race the following day.
I reread a quote recently which goes something like "I used to ride my bike to go outside and explore the world. Now I ride to explore the inside." A race like this invites both. I have been a bit nervous about racing it this year, knowing what sort of mental and physical stamina is required. Doing a handful of longer rides has been reassuring, but it is an intimidating day on a bike, given the placement of the climbs in the last 15 miles, the sun, and the interminable climbs in the last 15 miles. And then there was the climbing in the last 15 miles. Am I clear? BTW, there are some killer climbs at the end of this race.
At 2:15 am I woke and twilight-slept for the next 2 hours before rising to be part of the caravan drive to the starting locale- a chapel in St. Bernard about a half hour away. Picturesque? Check. Chilly? Check. Different starting place from last year? Check.
It seems everyone in Canada knows Dan Desrochiers. EXHIBIT A: "I'm doing this race put on by a guy named Dan." Quebecquois respondant: "Ah yes Daaan." Self: "You know Dan?" Quebecquois:"Oh yeeaasss, I know Daaaan." Everyone knows Dan- even the Quebec ambulance driver at a gas station 40 miles away who decided to strike up a mid-pumping conversation on my way home. Daaan is apparently everywhere.
So Daaan gives the race instructions en Anglais et Francais and makes the claim "This is the most difficult race of this distance in the world. The second half is very difficult so save something for the second 50K." We are told to go after a round of applause erupts in honor and respect earned by the few racers who have already done the 58Km kayak and 38Km run in the two days preceeding the MTB leg. I am humbled by their determination and fitness, wondering what makes them focus on this aspect of their life to the degree it takes to be able to do it.
We're off and riding the first few kilometers on a dirt road. Chris is positioned 50 meters in front of the rest of the field. Nice to see some green way up there. When we hit the singletrack, he's out of site as are 20 or so guys itching to go fast, and go fast RIGHT NOW! I'll see many of them later on as they fade after their youthful enthusiasm is tempered by the race's duration. The new course uses most of last year's early singletrack and incorporates new stuff built by the guy in front of me who is riding a SS. The bench cut narrow trail was a pleasure as well as talking with the guy who built it. He was in heaven , finally seeing racers on the trails he built for that very purpose. It was his third day of racing the solo UltimateXC. "32x17 may be a little strong, eh?" Eh. When I feel my rear wheel deflating, he was gone gone gone. I hit it with CO2. I 'm running Stan's and the air is jetting out through a sidewall's teeny tiny hole. It fills with Stan's when I spin it sideways. I'm off for another mile before its dead flat. It's a long race and I try to remain calm, changing to my only spare tube and away I go.
The race goes up and down for the next many miles- some sandy, some singletrack but mostly old logging roads - some of which are only used in winter by snowmobiles- overgrown and wet bottomed in summer. We cross the 4 lane highway "tampon" or buffer zone to neutralize the traffic light's effect. It was a well timed and became a pee stop. The gathering racers socialized with the FOQCC(sp?) Canadian national UCI federation officials monitoring the, um, tampon. After that we rode alongside a couple of rivers, sunlight sparkling on each eddy and wave, reflecting the azure sky, contrasted by the lush green vegetation. I didn't stop to smell the roses, but I made sure not to miss what was all around me. It's absolutely spectacular around Tremblant, including each time a view from a high place was afforded- simply gorgeous lakes dotting green land under blue sky... you get the idea.
At one point a rather large hare ran out across the trail in front of me, took a quick look in my direction and scooted back into the underbrush -fear making its appearance and then retreating.
Every aid station(each 10K) saw a bottle refill, an endurolyte and at every other I started munching on power bars. I made a deliberate effort to eat and hydrate well in prep for the climbs- no bonking right?! As we made or way ever closer to THE MOUNTAIN, we skirted a golf course. There is a gnarly descent that I flew through- and succeeded in ripping another tire's sidewall. She went flat a mile or so later. What now? I was in no man's land and walked the next mile to a road crossing where a French only speaking marshall was posted. Next thing you know, the race official is having a tube delivered to me- dans dix minutes". 25 minutes later, it arrived. My pacing and readiness didn't yield any benefits as I eventually accepted my fate- today would be about finishing, not about posting a clean race's time.
Rested and ready to rip the second half, I started the first long climb- the one in the woods that goes up gradually. Each time you round a corner, up it goes again. Somehow I remembered it being shorter and hotter. Its descent is a la VT50- as fast as you dare on overgrown doubletrack- only three or four times longer than the VT50's streaking DHs. It tempts a racer to stay off the brakes completely. On a few of the sweeping turns, flattened vegetation revealed the outcome of those who should have grabbed a little more lever and explains some of the bandages and bruises seen at the finish. It is the first time my hands would throb during the race.
At the bottom, I rode out onto the gravel desert that signals the arrival of biking hell. This was where Chris cashed it in earlier due to repetitive flatting that extinguished his will to continue. Temps had risen to over 70 degrees and the aid station was crowded by those in the know. There is really no incentive to rush at this point in the race. An official warned people to please fill their water bottles and eat. "This is a one hour climb." he said, looking me straight in the eye. Naaaaa...It's only 40-50 minutes on loose gravel with a black fly conclave at the halfway point. I have about 20 bites to show for it. At the time, I hardly noticed, but even now I have each and every one and they look like oversized mondo black flies made them. One is a triple bite - in a row- from a fly who apparently decided to eat her way through to an exit along my spandex' seam. This is the climb where, last year, Tyler Merritt bonked, reclining on a chairlift's seat until recovered enough to move again. He finished 6th this year. Live and learn. During the second flat it seemed like half the field had passed me- and now I was passing them- at about 3 mph. It sucked to be them, almost as much as it sucked to pass at 0.1 mph faster, while walking. That's right, I hiked about half of it.
Upon arrival at the top, the views were spectacular and I had no problem contemplating my navel. I was in no hurry and enjoyed the several moments before descending the hiking trail down the front side of Tremblant. It is a rocky, twisty trail used for hiking. My arms went numb after about ten minutes and ached to the point of failure for another five before I finally grabbed a little too much front brake and washed out my front wheel at 10-12 mph. I endoed, watching my right pinky finger flip backward to touch my wrist. An inventorying revealed everything was attached and I could make a fist- so no torn ligaments or tendons. Race on. I rode past some hikers a couple of times- whose mouths were agape with astonishment that anyone would be riding down this trail on bikes. One exclaimed, to my amusement " Oh My GOD!" as I clattered by. Unlike last year, I knew what was coming next - another gravel access road climb, hotter, steeper, looser, and thankfully a bit shorter. I did another 50/50 ride/hike and didn't feel any cramping like last year. More non-authoritative passing ensued. "Hot enough for ya?" " Nice day for a ride." I can't wait for the next climb." et al... Sarcasm works when suffering.
The World Cup DH course section is a blast. The shingled ramps and bridges are a hoot. And then came that pointless(everything up to this time had a point) climby singletrack. I guess the rocky cascade of waterfalls makes it worthwhile- on a day when hiking with your sweetheart. Past the last checkpoint, I let it fly, finding myself powerful for the last cobbled street descent through the village. As I passed another racer, they exclaimed en francais, and then in English for my benefit -and at the top of their lungs- " If they send us up another climb, they are F*CKING A*SHOLES!!!" I guess Daaan isn't since we didn't go up again. But he could have been cuz one more climb would have been a real game changer.
I crossed the finish line with a sense of tremendous relief- arms at my side. 8:07:21 for 20th overall - 56 minutes faster than last year and 'what could have been' regarding the flats. I was second master by <1 minute.
1st place overall was Aroussen LaFlamme at 6:18. He's a pro who raced in the Tour de Beauce with Mancebo and Ben Day last year. I'm guessing there wasn't much walking on his part, eh?

That will be the last pedal stroke for a while at Tremblant. Two and out is my current view. It is tough race every racer should be confronted with, but walls are walls and my head hurts from banging mine against this one. And there must be some other race that will draw my attention. The TransAndes, TransAlp, or TransRockies sound pretty good. Daaan says he'll be on a team with me. It'll give me great pleasure to encourage him on the climbs.

The Feel of an Olympic MTB Course

2011-06-12T06:24:00.000-07:00

Katie Compton's pre-ride video.
I often wonder how to convey the feel of a MTB course to someone who doesn't race, doesn't float through the woods streaking downhill on the rivet of commitment, trees a blur going by and then the hard corner, dumping of momentum, and hard push/grind, spin heart grabbing uphill, over would-be obstacles and doing this repeatedly, in the sun, in the rain, in the dust, in the mud... you get the idea. Somehow this video conveys the sensations I'd hope to get across - through Katie's helmetcamvid despite the synthetic course with 'event' features and contrived composition. OK, so there are some boring stretches and no racers, but it comes across to me.
Imagine going mach one with your heart in your mouth after the gun, over and over... it's not hard.

Big Ring Rumpus-ness

2011-06-08T03:45:00.000-07:00

I've been trying to get some big miles in since my first couple of races in preparation for the UltimateXC - and laying off high intensity efforts. Since I need more long rides, I had been debating racing the Rumpus at all, but had the dubiously brilliant idea of doing both, a long ride and racing. Wednesday I went over to FOMBA with Andy Gould, who put on a pro display as first Expert overall in 1:26 Sunday. We did some LT laps around the course and I was surprised to have some good sensations, despite being almost overtrained ( riding 12 hours the week before and 90 hilly miles Monday.) I held off on making the decision until the day before the race- to ride from Concord to FOMBA and back. Stupid? Maybe if all I was thinking of was the Rumpus, but I've become pre-occupied with the painful vision of last year's UXC-walking up Mt Tremblant in the heat in hour 8 of a 100K race with something teen thousand feet of vertical. More miles is almost always the answer and so I rode my trusty hardtail the 25 miles to the race and arrived a hour or so in advance.

The first person I see is Tom Barton, who happily tells me how bad it is for me to have ridden to the race. Alrighty then. Game on, Tom.

It wasn't until the 15 second warning from the starter that I let a wave of adrenaline come over me. GO! and Dennis Flanagan absolutely flew off, head down, churning down the railroad bed with 12 of us in his wake- right up until he went straight and we all took the right turn. Oh the humanity! I felt bad for him knowing he'd have to sprint to try to get back on while we'd all be thinking- "How could he have possibly done that?!" Sometime during the first half lap, the selection was made with Bob Bisson, Tyler Munroe, Mike Good and I taking pulls for three laps, Tyler's turns a little soft after racing at Auburn the day before. My god it was fast.

On lap four Bob dropped his chain and fell off the bunch. I yelled "Let's take the hope away!" I know Bob is strong and I hoped to rally the troops to dispense of him when we had the chance. Fat chance. I was alone and off the front, eventually putting them all out of sight... Lap 5 and I could see the three of them coming back to me on the RR bed and so I backed off to recover, accepting that they would work together against me, or that they just didn't have anything to give.

Early in lap 6, Mike Rowell came by. I went straight onto his wheel with only Bob able to get on mine. Just before the chicane and start of lap 7, Bob and Rowell opened a little gap on me and I spent the next half lap a mere five yards behind and desperately trying to get back on Bob's wheel. Shite! I just could not keep that up and rode in solo for 2nd, nearly a minute down. 1:32:25. After changing into fresh cycling clothes and eating a bit, I rode home, ate a horse, and fell fast asleep. Thanks to Geoff McIntosh for toting my clothes and extra water to the race. 2 weeks 'til Ca Na Daaa.

Think You Are Fast?

2011-06-05T05:30:00.001-07:00

Think again.

Glocester Bouncer

2011-06-02T17:01:00.000-07:00

The race:
1. I rode
2. Mosher rode away
3. Flanagan faded
4. Hung on after slow flats riding on the rim for 2nd. Ripped sidewall and Stan's x 2 CO2.
5. Broken shock bolt on the Top Fuel - must have been the big downhill hits.

And, while I did NOT write or otherwise participate in the making of this doozy , I think you'll find that it rings true. Be patient.

Bikes a la Joos

2011-04-21T07:15:00.000-07:00

Turns out Mike Joos has mad art skills, per Salon.com.
"Jesus would ride a bike with thorny crown wheels." Thank you for the clarification, Mike.

Olympic MTB Course Video -London 2012

2011-04-20T18:29:00.001-07:00

I wanna ride this! Strangely synthetic, yet countryside.

Fat Tire Classic

2011-04-19T11:01:00.000-07:00

Tom Samson rules when it comes to getting it done. His win over two others with 1/4 mile to go was yet another testament to his competitive prowess.
Closer to Earth, I travelled to the race with mixed thoughts, uncertainty ruling me going into the first real XC race of the year. The newly laid out course was surprisingly dry during the pre-ride with Andy "watch out for this guy" Gould... very little mud and fast fast fast. After watching Steve Segenchuk's standing-on-pedals-only display( look ma- no saddle!), I was happy to have a comfortable perch for the race.
At the start, I looked around and saw a tough cast of characters: Steve Arsenault, John Mosher, Bob Bisson, Joe Rayno, Andy Chambers, Mark Virello, Ken Welch(NY's dominant master) and so on in a field of a dozen or so. No Curley, no rematch. I had little idea what I was bringing to the mix, a knife or a gun, trying the FS and hopefully finding some full length XC racing legs en route. Got the holeshot at a low speed - kinda strange to have the crew relatively sedate - until Ken, Mosher and Rayno abruptly blew by on the second section of singletrack. Game on. I hung back a bit, picking up the pace but not going nutty -as they seemed to be. The rest of the first lap I just concentrated on output, navigating the 6" deep mud hole in good shape and powering over any trace of a climb. Lap two and three went by at 24 minutes a lap as I picked off riders from other age groups here and there, slowly accepting my place in the pecking order - the "Hell of the Fourth". 3/4 of the way through lap four, I saw Joe Rayno climbing up the short gravel climb. He's was mashing away, throwing his bike left and right as I hit the gas and powered by him. I looked back at the top to see his inability to respond. That was a boost. If I could just hang on, I'd get on the podium. Going into the last little singletrack section, I was blocked by a slower racer... waiting and waiting and waiting until I hit the gas once it opened back up. That's when I saw Ken Welch 50' ahead and 100' from the finish line. Sprinting, I caught him but not by enough- his wheel half ahead of mine as we finished. 1:37:21 and 3rd Ex Master. I'm pretty happy about the race, having managed energy, equipment, and excitement effectively and getting my share of the cost of gas paid. Mosher was untouchable- nearly two minutes ahead.(if I recall his time correctly)

King of Burlingame

2011-04-05T16:32:00.001-07:00

Every year I wonder if the itch to race will be strong or weak, erupting uncontrollably or fading into retold stories. And here we are at the start of a new race calendar. Racing racing racing riding riding riding, both activate anticipation that urges me through the day until 5:30 comes along when I meet some buds at a trailhead and plunge back into the flow of singletrack. But feeling a rapidly approaching race date sends me into a productive, deliberate, and timely contributor at work, disciplined trainee and smiling companion. Racing induces a sense of purpose and I plan to enjoy it.

Last weeks indoor TT woke me up. Yelling, the screen, being on the spot and coming away with a good feeling was a prelude to the King of Burlingame - a real short intense effort, outdoors on dirt and rock - a real novelty for me. The snow is just off up here and so are my trail skills, as in bike handling. Pre-riding the course late Saturday was a wake up call to my ulnar joints, forearms and triceps... oh yeah... upper body... I forgot about that part of me this winter, except for The February of Shoveling. OK, so race morning we down some oogles baked Friday night, a bit of iced coffee and it's raceday!

Wilfred Brimley held my seat as the countdown got ever smaller until... BANG... I'm away and wondering how to race- easy- breathe- keep my head up- faster- let er rip- where's the line- through the slot- here comes the rockpile- stay right cross over now- good good- find the rhythm- lockout everything now and cruise- 97%HR- TT position - oh look at the beautiful lake!- hey I'm racing pay attention- long effort on the doubletrack - turn it - firm ground here- hard left - back... waterbar steps- through the water up- there's Beal - damn threw my chain!- c'mon c'mon get back on- Torching it - through the rocky up- damn chain off again - Beal's down nowhere to go- he's up- "Get on my wheel and I'll pull you"... hey where is he?- back into the trail- hard- hard- hard- all the way- Done!

That's my story. 31:02. 15 of 46 expert, 16 overall of 140something... 3 minutes faster than last year due to this year's dryer conditions, and I like to think, fitter circumstance. Results here.

Millie's Bikes And Brew's Timetrial

2011-03-28T18:28:00.001-07:00

This weeks oddity: A 6 mile indoor time trial on computrainers with flights of 8. The generous Millie's dispensed two beers to every racer. Guud. The place was hot.

Digging Carrots in February

2011-02-27T13:30:00.000-08:00

Each year we leave some carrots in the ground. Not only do they "stay good", they mature, starches turning to sugars long after the frosts give way to snow and sub-zero temps chill. Then one day in mid-February, we'll get to hankerin' for some carrots and get busy digging beneath the blanket of snow down into the moist soil, loamy and unfrozen. (Psst... carrots make bikes see better.)

Riding the Ice

2011-01-09T18:14:00.000-08:00

The ice, she's an unforgiving mistress.
Click here for today's Elm Brook State Park ride. 3 minutes.

Video Fix - Bavarian Cowpath Extravaganza

2010-10-18T18:51:00.000-07:00

Somehow bringing my stuff(kit, helmet, shoes, pedals, tools, tube etc.) leads to hitting the trails and breaking up otherwise end to end days of work. It's a welcome event and this past weekend Georg picked me up at the hotel in Munich and we ventured south to the Alpen lands of Leggries, taking in a gravel road ascent and cow-path descent up out of and back down into the clouds. That was one good beer consumed listening to some old gents singing traditional tunes while overlooking a sea of white with Austria jutting upward beyond. This bit of vid should give you some of the malty flavor. What a day.

ECCC Collegiate Racing

2010-10-06T14:54:00.000-07:00

Catamount Family Center Oct 2
For the past several weeks, the local collegiate MTB racing scene been rockin'. These kids, ahem , young adults, fly in both XC and gravity events split between Saturday and Sunday with XC and Dual Slalom or 4 Cross the first day, and STXC and DH on Sundays.
I've be travelling with the UNH team as "coach" and it's been wicked good, ayup.
Exhibit A(Catamount Family Center Oct 2):
Exhibit A implies there is an Exhibit B(Catamount Oct 2):

Mount W and Tinker

2010-08-25T17:32:00.000-07:00

Moments before winning, Nico Toutenhoofd grinds up 22 degrees of pain.

That's Peter Ostrowski getting career advice from Tinker Juarez, atop Mt Washington moments after Tinker placed 2nd in 58:08. Thanks to Tom Barton's invitation earlier in the week, Tom and I spent the weekend transporting, breaking bread, and sharing the glow with a guy whose prolific results still has him a professional at 49. Tinker was a graciously approachable, chatting it up with none other than this 10 year old lad - Jonah Thompson from Albequerque, NM. The kid rode a full size frame with 150mm cranks and a rolled up the big one in only 1:28.(!)

Equally impressive was Andy Chambers' ride, a 1:02 good for thirteenth overall. I've got to post Andy's and Tinker's shots here with appropriate signage backdrop reading "OLD POWER HOUSE."
A good day on Mt W.

Running the Great Wall

2010-08-16T20:16:00.001-07:00

The Great Wall at Mitianyu- a notch in some of the super steeps of the Wall.

Tower 23.

I'm still trying to wrap my head around the past 11 days spent on supplier visits and 2 day's as tourist in the PRC(People's Republic of China) and Hong Kong. My god it was hot(90-105 degrees) and smoggy. NH is truly Disneyland in every pleasant respect.
We had to run downhill on the Great Wall to make our ride back to Beijing.
What a blast of economic prosperity, construction, and crush of people! Saw a few fantastic sights: Beijing's Olympic Village and The Forbidden City and people people people...

The Forbidden City
And of course there was the bike, not just any bike but a rear suspension rocker!

GET DIRTY

2010-07-25T11:34:00.000-07:00

If you havent' seen the new MTB anthem, have at it.

VT MTB Fest- Not USAC

2010-07-24T10:51:00.000-07:00

250 rode for two days of exquisite stuff. Highly recommended.

Here is some footage of the Waterbury VT MTB Festival last Saturday.

It's from the "Stowe Epic" including some fantastic bench cut trails and the stuff on the von Trapp estate ( yes, The Sound of Music). A guy named Hardy has done a big chunk of creating the trails and he took us out for a good long 5.5 hrs of saddle time. It was somewhere around 90 degrees - perfect for a 200 oz of H2O summer ride.

Mont Tremblant Race Report

2010-07-06T18:57:00.000-07:00

Mont Tremblant was quite a scene: a slopeside ski village with a hundred stores, restaurants and bars, merged with a hotel complex. Big. I ventured down to the start finish area and saw some of the mondo-racer types finishing the 58K trail run. The finish area was on the Lac Tremblant beach, after the racers ran straight through the middle of the village. I imagined myself slipping underneath the surface after finishing the next day. The podium was huge, as was the production the promoter pulled off, something well integrated with the local businesses and Mont Tremblant resort.
The MTBMind team came together in time for a couple of pics and nervous reassurances before hitting the hay. Our 4:10 am alarm wasn't needed after a night of hooting and hollering out in the street as partiers, well, partied in displays of righteous inebriation on an echoey street. The start was 25K away. Steve's family sleepily carted us to the starting field and before we knew the details, Dan started the race. I am seen here licking magic sleep crusties while poised for pain.Game on. The same silly fast start as a 2 hr XC race blasted away from me. I took up a position alongside Katherine for a bit, hoping to survive what I thought would be 6 to 7 hours of riding, feeling the weight of power bars, tools and tubes straining the fabric of my jersey, pulling the whole jersey back thus effectively strangling me until which time I loosened it to the point where oxygen resumed its flow into my bloodstream and my eyes reopened.
The first fields gave way to some nice wooded singletrack over the farmland of Bertrand, president of art glass designer thinkglass.com, and friend of Dan Desrochiers who had built some trails for the heck of it. I came across him twice on the trail as he clicked off some pics that he later sent my way via e-mail - including the promise that he'll race it next year. His trails were tight and had a nice steep flow through lush Quebec woodland.
Eventually we came to the second checkpoint and feed station. They were at 10K intervals throughout the race, manned by great support people who'd grab my bike, fill my bottle and offer bananas, PB&Js and boiled potatoes alongside hammer gel. I opted to carry one bottle and refill it at every checkpoint, which worked perfectly except for the 7th and 8th checkpoints which seemed VERY far from one another, but maybe it was becasue of the something thousand feet of climbing in between. At around 40K I rode up on Steve S and we pedalled for the next 25-30K or so with James, who eventually finished third in the three day full solo event. The guy can ride and after two days of killing himself, eventually rode away from Steve and I when we got to the 5K backside climb of Mont Tremblant. The climb was after what I guess was 5 hours of riding and in 80 degree heat, up a fireroad in the sun. Unlike the race's previous sensations, walking parts of the mountain was friggin' demoralizing except that when I reached the halfway point, Tyler Merritt was laid out on a chairlift seat, regrouping or sleeping or cursing but definitely not moved forward. Someone had it worse off than I, which gave me momentary relief until the road once again turned upward after a short descent. Like Steve, I rode the last supersteep to the applause of 20 or so spectators, hoping that my show of force didn't cost me in cramps later. As I crested and rode to the aid station, a gentleman official informed me there was only 26 K to go. It seemed impossible. I just didn't want to accept it, but there's nothing better than riding to get to the finish and that I did, down down down the white knuckle super fast hiking trail thinking "is this sucker ever going end?"- I could hardly feel my hands but for the dull ache. At one point I stalled out and flopped sideways while waiting for a guy to extricate himself from some blowdown trailside. I didn't clip out and the torque on left leg sent it's hamstring into a cramp. Oh! So there's the cramping... It only reappeared once while walking up the next fire road climb for an instant, which I poured water and electrolyte tabs over. One tab for each bottle was my strategy and it worked fine. Somewhere along the way I ran out and I copped some water from Bob, another hardcore full solo racer and threaded my way through more hillside bridge-laden trail. The last 5 K was simply nonsense. It was fresh cut super twisty that would be fun fresh, but sucked tired, 'cept for the lovely cascading waterfall. After finishing I realized I hike-a-biked it during the eight hour of the race, hence the uniformly applied distinction as "sucky." At the end of it, there was a super steep descent over some ledges slopeside which I ripped in order the distance myself from an anonymous road racer. It was a surge to feel the end coming and soon I flew down the main street lined with tourists spectating and yelling encouragements at the curiosity. The end in sight, I spread my arms and relaxed after nine hours of saddle time and no flats. I dropped my bike, shoes, jersey et al and waded into the water where I immmersed myself, plunging into the underwater world of the lake.
The lack of flats during this race was significant for me, having succumbed to the Pinnadebacle a week earlier. Research shows that my method, and this is double secret, to prevent flats is 1. freak out over a Stan's No Tubes slow leak a few days before the race, putting off my wrench who sees No Tubes as "an experiment", 2. carrying one tube in my jersey and another taped to the seatube, and 3. also carrying three 16oz CO2 cartridges, none of which were used in any way except as sweet resistance training weight. And I mean really sweeeet. Works purrfectly. I finished 18th in 9:04 or 8:53 depending on which results are referenced and with a very big smile across my face as first old guy of a not so huge field of 3. Meh. After the swim, Steve rolled in and before long, Ernie and then Eric crossed the finish. Katherine, kept the suspense high, arriving as the most happy finisher at 13 hours. MTBMIND got it done that day and I'm still experiencing a solid sense of satisfaction. Speaking of satisfaction, Paul Simoes, oft-relegated-to-second-place demi-god, pulled out all the stops, riding in harmony with the course in 7:40to win by more than 20 minutes. Paul had an awesome race performance and looked fresh on the podium after a brutal day on the trails.
P.S. If you are or were a Wayne's World fan, you will have noticed the references to my costume theme, something that was lost on, well, pretty much everyone who saw me. As Garth Algar, I'm sure I rocked the biking world, or definitely something really cool like that, like what Wayne would do if he was... king... of the biking guys... riding bikes... on mountains.
Costumes afford anonymity, which I put to good work while staring straight into the face of a unsuspecting, shapely 20 year old race administrator saying "Woah, you're Babelicious. If you were President, you'd be Baberaham Lincoln." BTW, I didn't win the $500 costume contest. A three day full solo guy with a red arrow mohawk did, a costume which we'd best be quick to employ next year.

This Just In - Simoes Takes the Ultimate XC 100K

2010-06-29T06:38:00.000-07:00

I'll put up a proper post in a day or two, but for now I'll tell you that the race was won by a margin of 20 minutes by none other than Paul Simoes. Paul had the ride of his life while schooling the locals., winning in in seven and half hours. Most commonly word used to describe the course: Brutal.

Ultimate Ultimateness

2010-06-25T10:40:00.000-07:00

This coming Sunday I'll be on the 6am starting line of the UltimateXC 100K MTB race -Crazy Quebequois Dan Desrochiers idea of sadism with a smile. My race training has been nothing but... almost nothing. Fact is, I've been on the bike to train for 2 hr hillclimby races this year, which means all my training was for the Pinnadebacle. Naturally, I treated training for a 62 mile 80% singletrack with 8000' of climbing as incidental, until I woke up last Saturday with "OMG WTF!" This prompted some quick thinking.
With plan in hand the following day, I departed Concord on the road bike with zeal and a fresh outlook at 6 am. My head said go, but my legs said otherwise for the first hour. They whispered "Not now Albert" and clung to their bedsheets - pulled up around their somewhat hairy scrawniness. I pushed on to Gilmanton and downed a coffee from the general store with remarkable doping effectiveness. Caffeine, my hero.
From then on it was "Game On!" ( the significance of which will be explained later). Rt 140 rolls easily and then its up up up to Sanborton on Rt 132. A long set of rolling hills keeps ya honest. Then I buzzed Rt 127 through Salisbury and back to Concord. 4 hours later I resigned myself to the fact that it is going to be a reeeaaallly long day in Canada. Don't get me wrong - the ride went well, it just seemed interminably without termination.
Now it's four days later and I've supplemented my rigorous preparation by 1. freaking out over my No Tubes rear wheel that was leaking, 2. riding for two hours Wednesday evening in 85 degree humidity, feeding clouds of deer flies with my blood gorged buttcheeks (they took me for all I'm worth), and 3. riding a few times at 6 am, doing 1/2 hour wakeup spins. That makes me fully prepared for a 62 mile race on an unusually cautioned course, right? Riiight.
My double secret strategery:
Shhh. Don't tell anyone. Dan ran into some official issues with his race. Seems that the Canadian Cycling Federation has taken exception to his holding a MTB race without their sanctioning. They took the strongarm Mafioso route and posted that they would ban all participants from competing in any of their subsequent events if you race in Dan's race. That makes perfect sense doesn't it? It kinda reminds me of high school teachers that would hold everyone for detention unless someone squealed on the 'troublemaker' who'd orchestrated rebellion against administrative tyranny by getting everyone to wear shorts to school, in the middle of January. Jackasses. Oops, that just got me banned for life. Oh well.
Therefore Dan changed the race to a costume contest- with official timing- and a $500 prize. My plan is to take the podium by storm, wig and all. It's amazing what suffering and humiliation people put themselves through for $500.
BTW, the forecast is for 70 degrees and sunny... And my tire is holding air.
Auspicious.

Fast slippery singletrack

2010-06-13T18:26:00.000-07:00

The Pinnacle saw the largest elite field yet - thirty something PJ announced at the line. Tom Sampson edged O'Keefe by three seconds... I'd like to hear the story.
Despite the lack of any mud holes or water anywhere on the course, it was slick with the slightest film of mud on pretty much everything. It ate a few riders- one poor sod passed by me while I walked across the field, displaying a classic broken collarbone hunch and in obvious pain while Michael Goode pulled down the win but paid the price when his shoulder met a stationary tree after clipping a sapling with his bar. More prevalent mortal reminders were huge raspberries on bruised thighs. The bruises under the crushed skin take a while to dissipate don't they? Mmm. Hmm.

Lap One: today's race plan was to put as many experts between me and the rest of the field on the first lap, ride steady through the top and bolt down the downhill. I rode away OK, but had some bobbles on uphill roots here and there, making up for it with good solid power and a little recent pre-ride familiarity.
Lap Two: plan-ride steady and get out of the saddle on any longer rises - which worked out but for a few nagging slippery spots.
Lap Three: The rocky stream jaggedness 1/3 of the way up just before you head back up again on the doubletrack bit me, well my rear end. I flatted 100 yards later and suffered the consequences. I had made a conscious decision to run heavier tubes in my tires and skip bringing air, tube and lever. So there you go.

I was going for broke and it was working out, but as I've said before, you have to get all of it done.

So,Ya wanna race the Pinnacle

2010-06-10T17:56:00.000-07:00

That means you'll wanna see this to whet your appetite. The big rippin' downhills - both on back side and the tricep jiggling main descent- hold up against any downhill singletrack. Last evening Brian Currier, race promoter and fast guy, shared some cool new stuff w/bermed corners that beg you to throw your bike around them. If we're lucky, we'll see it next year.
Enjoy. For better quality go here

Willowdale Race Report

2010-05-30T06:33:00.000-07:00

The answer to my last post: There sure was. 400 mountain bike racers on a warm spring morning can't be all wrong.
By now, most everyone local in the MTB racing scene heard what a turnout there was, how the course was fast, narrow and traffic plentiful. The race was pretty much everything racers want, including generous schwag being raffled(you didn't even need to buy a raffle ticket, just enter the race and you got one) and weather everyone in the entire universe thinks is a perfect day.

Smackdown Section One: ... maybe I misunderstood.

EFTA races are put on by individual promoters with EFTA sanctioning them and providing a series framework. What happens is someone who races manages to cobble together a totally non-profit EFTA race, and then thousands of us enjoy it over a period of several years, producing $1K-$5K in charitable donations each year. It is all about racing and and benefiting others. Racing welcomes people with uber-fit shark-like racing minds, recreational tourists out for a ride, and the rest of us in between. Races are a good thing to be able to access, live, breath and remember, and promoters deserve great appreciation for getting it done. Putting them on is an imperfect science and one with glorious results.

Since you looked over here, here's the race report I set out to write: Sunny, hardtail, high rollers, low seventies, dry, crowded, strong effort, consistent throughout, busted a spoke, stopped to wrap it and ate up 30 seconds or so, got back on, pressed, missed the win by 34 seconds, found my rear v brake rubbed for the last lap. That's it in a nutshell. I was ready willing and able but relegated to 4th and a taste of what might have been. Next up is the Pinnacle, a race that puts the Mountain back into Mountain Bike Racing. It has a solid climb, albeit tamed from years past, some sweet pump and the famous DH singletrack that begs you to stay off the brakes if you dare.

Smackdown Section Two: Any Expert Master/Cat 50+ in the northeast who wants to race a killer Mountain bike course head to head, be there. Let's have our own NE championship. Was that direct enough?

Oh and I rode with the GSW out of Concord last Wednesday. Ouch. Patrick Roane and crew sure do put out the wattage. Yes, I got dropped - with 2 miles to go- but still felt like something was accomplished.

There must be something happening

2010-05-22T17:44:00.000-07:00

Willowdale has 254 pre-registrants. Who woulda thunk?

A Beautiful Day in The Neighborhood

2010-05-16T16:56:00.000-07:00

Just got back from the Grind. The warmth of the sun and merciful cloud that came over on lap three, coupled with an air-as-refreshment sensation that only happens on certain spring and autumn days, made for an auspicious vibe.
We clicked off the starting line and Spin Arts went to the front and there they went, further and further away until I hear they sprinted for the photo finish with The Curlinator getting the job done. I, on the other hand, looked over my shoulder once during lap one just before the open field tape maze and saw Michael Goode. I rarely look over my shoulder when racing since it just invites a follower to be there, as if they materialized because you invited it into your perception, and it takes our eyes off the mission at hand: faster, faster, faster!
I broke out some mojo and chased away the demon, coming into waves and waves of traffic, which I actually enjoyed it - getting to talk up some guys that are back on the race scene between "OMG this incline out of the mud is getting longer with each lap", "wow there really is a LOT of traffic today", "this is not my beautiful race" and "ride or run?" The course defies conserving energy as each corner includes a rock, root, or angle that chases speed, You are forced to. Sprinkle in some candy coated rock gardens and shake. I maintained and didn't stink up the technical parts too badly finishing third in 1:32:06.

Root66 and EFTA had a good cross-pollenation thing happening. It should happen more often. A beautiful day in the neighborhood thanks to Doug Peckham, Family and Friends.

Oh, and Hines killed it, riding aerobic to demolish dreams. Fast guy, with Wilson ripping down a 1:25 to lead the expert field. Zoom.

Oops, killed a cyclist.

2010-05-13T06:48:00.000-07:00

There are some things that defy logic. Apparently being drunk while driving, and running over and killing a high school student on a bike is, ahhhhh, just a mistake.

A Rochester, NH court accepted a plea bargain for a $930 fine. Glad that is settled.

Things that lack just treatment simply infuriate me. That and things like Boumediene vs Bush and the Barnes Foundation story. It is a small world in which my friend Rob ended the Boumediene's living nightmare.

Humans: a random and destined-to-be-temporary species.

Hard Core?

2010-04-28T03:56:00.001-07:00

The Inaugural Ultimate XC Race is happening at Mt Tremblant on June 27. Seeing Dan Des Rosiers' announcement about it got my blood flowing. 62 miles, 80% singletrack, >8000' of climbing and a warning about its difficult nature, I said "That's for me!" Dumbass. Dan's races are a product of imagination and inertia, i.e. the moment he asked me if I thought a figure 8 course for a ice crit race course would work back in Feb of 2008, I knew I'd have to do any and all races Dan promoted. In Chaos We Trust. No one was injured in the making of the race except maybe Racin' Rick's ego when he almost took us all out on the final turn ... singlespeeders...

Last night I spoke with Dan and I learned that he's added a twist: $500 to the best or most disturbing costume. Which got me to thinking along the lines of "What would Thom Parsons wear?" It's a take on "What would Jesus buy?" as a Christmas theme, only I am referencing the one MTB racer who earnestly delves into the realm of heroic disturbation. (Disturbation: process of repeatedly evoking mindfocks in the hopes of inadvertantly revealing a profundity) or something like that. I'm thinking paint-on speedo. It'd go nice with my hairy back. Haven't figured out the chafing issue though. Anyone offer some expertise in this area? On second thought, I don't think I want to know how such expertise was developed...so nevermind. Still, the contest is for real.

The race is part of a three day contest of kayaking, running and MTBing. Anyone wanna share a condo or rooms at the village? I promise not to wear the speedo except in the race. Peace yo.

Al

Satisfaction

2010-04-20T07:15:00.000-07:00

Sunday turned out to be perfect weather for racing. By 2:15 and the start of pro/cat1, the temps were hovering around 50 degrees with partly cloudy skies. The course had only one wet spot. It seemed to be improved over my only other foray there two years ago to the extent it had more singletrack and excellent flow - a high speed ripper throughout with three very short rises/climbs. I came with no ambitions other than to make a solid effort, get in some high HR work and be around the racing scene renewing friendships. Kevin Hines decided to race pro rather than demolish the field by 20 minutes so that left a Cat 1 50+ field of 17 guys, the biggest I've seen except for the Nationals. Ken Welch blasted his way through everyone to take the win - I never saw him after his bull-in-a-china-shop start - but I did have the unexpected pleasure of racing most of New England's 50+ best- "The Most Hated Racer in Cycling" Paul Curley, Steve Arsenault, Mark Virello, Bob Bisson, Andy Chambers and more. On lap two Steve came around to pull after I'd done much of the work early on. He was tearing it up- lean, quick and skilled through the tighter parts with Chambers and Bisson somewhere up ahead. Steve got us back up onto Chambers' wheel by lap two and we became 4 in a line - 4 to 6 feet off one another's wheels for a lap and a half. It was surely a highlight of the 2010 season for me to feel that level of flow and trust between riders so closely matched as we streaked along after so many years of racing one another, and with Curley as the hard core tactician waiting to strike. I was tense, blissful, wary. Last lap and we were hammering when with 1/3 of the lap to go we came into a small rise and everyone slowed a bit up the rumbly roots with soft organic matter around. The odds of me beating all in a sprint was low and I knew I'd have to make a move at some point. The opportunity presented itself at that moment, so I drilled it up and over and through the top, separating myself from the bunch until Curley was able to bridge across on the next section of doubletrack - sneaky, quiet, looming. We hit the gravel hill and Paul signaled to two Bike Barn guys as he killed it at the bottom, positioning himself to use the two other as blockers. Then he ccame all the way across the 8' wide trail left to right to block me out- riding me into the leaves toward a tree - enough to elicit a few choice words and amazement at his level of aggression. Paul is a 29 time national champion and used to make a living back in the 80's and early 90's as a professional racer, living in Switzerland as a part of the UCI World Cup scene. He is no slouch and doesn't have his dubious reputation cuz' its a joke, it's because he is a shrewd and fierce competitor who knows how to win and will do anything to get the result. I figured I could learn something from him tactically. Watch , learn, employ. He held me off and then after the last steep, proceeded to block at about 3MPH, forcing me around so he could draft and come around me on the final sprint. We rode at 3MPH for a hundred yards before I jumped, and sure enough Paul came around me at the end by a bike length- but he made a critical mistake, finishing in the lap ride-through area instead of the finishing chute. I used his own tactic of using the course to the advantage of the front rider, keeping left in the field as I sprinted, but still straight as an arrow without impeding him - using the course to challenge. Jill had explicitly directed everyone had to go through the finish chute when we were waiting to start, but Paul had been so focused on taking the sprint that he goofed, handing me the last podium spot when he crashed his way through the separating tape, pulling out two stakes and screwing up the chute areas to get back over the finish chute. Had he looked up, or otherwise kept a clear mind, he would have come around OK. It was a moral victory and I couldn't contain my huge smile. We left the venue grateful for a great day of racing.

Hip?

2010-04-15T12:00:00.000-07:00

Sunday, I hammered the same ride as last week's hill blasting despite lingering hip discomfort... from walking. When I did Tucks x 2 on last week's Saturday/Wednesday combo, it pushed me into some kind of hip revolt. I'm referring to "hip" as the thing at the end of your femur that connects leg to torso, not the MTB "hip" associated with being a)under 35, b)wearing ladies clothing at races, c) singlespeeding and d) blogging a marguerita full of sarcasm and asuteness.
I'm not hip, but I have two and one decided to say "WTF? Al". Tight piriformis? Inflammed joint? hehe. Or just plain tired out? I opted for tired out and so went for another hill killing ride Tuesday evening- 40 miles in 2.25 hrs after agreeing to a 1.5 hr worksession- riding in after dark and wondering how my hip would deal.
Somehow, doing more to something that seems to want to chill yields a stronger, more vibrant you. And that's what seems to be working for me this week. The hip is fine and the legs are OK so everything is a go for the first real '10 MTB race, a race that looks like it'll be a battle of attrition in Farmington. Hey, did ya notice Cat1/pro goes off at 2:15pm? That's damn late for a race but we'll have to suck it up in order to enjoy the mud covered glory of finishing somewhere in the pack. Hip.

Tuckerman with the Right Tools

2010-04-06T18:04:00.001-07:00

Saturday was the SPF40 day we had hoped for- peaking out at temps warm enough to see some skin.
I decided it'd be best to use the boards instead of treads and packed up skiis, poles, boots, food, water, and enough other stuff to wear a lasting groove in each shoulder from footfalls and gravity. Got up to the lunch rocks in time to watch a small avalanche carrying some boulders and dirt down the right side - coming in our direction but harmless. Climbed up the supersteep "Lip" area of the headwall, stepped in and eased back down past the main headwall's waterfall and icefalls, - spectacularly beautiful in that high place... (You can see both the Lip where people are climbing and the brown avalanche in the photo above if ya click it.) Sherburne was moguly and soft and had an unannounced plummet into a 30' ice shrouded waterfall- that was surprise. There was one walking section if 50' and so last run made the parking lot. Grandeur.
Here is a two minute video of the ski run Get in a car and go hike it, ski it, ride it, whatever!

Always more there

2010-04-02T10:01:00.000-07:00

Got home last night and hit the road with a hill finding compass front and center. Hill one: - .9 miles of " Oh god I have no climbing power WTF?" Hill two: .7 miles of "this is going well, I guess I'll find some more hills". Hill three, " was that a hill?" Hill four: .4 miles of "damn this sucka's steep, oh hey, look at the purdy view". Hill five: .5 miles of "Ok so this isn't really a hill" followed Hill six: .5miles of "this used to be steeper" climb and a Mach 1 12 mile blast back home.
It was weird. Weird as in when on the downhills "if I have a blowout at this speed, the Red Cross is going to come with a wet vac" weird.

Skiing Tucks tomorrow, or bringing a bike to try to ride some of the headwall. It's a coin toss right now. There will be pics if I finally blow off the thrill of skiing the lip for the sake of the MTB ride o' the day. Stay tuned...up.

King of Burlingame's Usher

2010-03-30T07:31:00.000-07:00

Saturday four of us roared into Burlingame Park stuffed into a too big super-black, super-slicked(Armor-alled sufficiently to render it a candidate for poser status since we couldn't step on the running boards, step-ins etc) Ford badass 4X4. My first view upon walking behind the truck to access my rig for a pre-ride of the course, was Malesky's third leg pointing my way - issuing forth a puddle on the ground immediately behind the truck. Gawd! WTF? Dude that's what the woods are for!

After pulling the truck up a few yards, we off loaded, changed clothes in the 38 degree breeze and ventured out on the unmarked course, using the map from Grimley's site. The 34 year old among us zipped off up the road, full of quick, with bravado in his wake.

We found the yellow dot trail and followed it for a bit- streaking throught he first swoopies when suddenly we were confronted with a rock garden that seemed to have no line. We settled on the middle way and proceeded through the rest of the early sections a bit on guard as we realized the KOB is no 'flat double track' course. It is flattish, but throws down some testy rock gardens, sometimes after bridges that make pre-riding essential. At one point we came to a 6' drop down and I'm thought someone's going to break something there the next day. We rode the rest of the trail, circumnavigating the pond, crossing off-camber bridges and scouting hard bottomed lines through the mud holes. At one point we are forced off the bikes to tiptoe around a flooded trail section. Upon completion, we were wet, muddy and bewildered by the wakeup call of reality. KOB is fast but it also challenges.

The next day we arrive and I warn Hilljunkie about the one drop. He's nervous about the roadie crossover factor but is probably capable of 350 W for the duration. What I later learn, after racing the course, is that we went off course during the pre-ride since it wasn't marked until 6 am on race day, and had ridden some stuff that was not part of the course. Hallefrickenlujah.

Most of the guys showing up to this have been riding through the winter and so it's a tough bunch. My mission is to ride strong, with no bobbles and no broken body or bike parts.
The starter, Mr. Coffee, holds my seat and steadies me as they delay me for the no show riders in slots 16 and 17 and then boom, I'm gone. Through the opening fishtaily mud hole and off. After four rock gardens I'm feeling relieved since it becomes apparent that the real course bypasses the super-gnar section and I'm out of the saddle to re-accelerate after every turn. Good body feel, legs strong, head up and hitting the right lines. Then comes my brush with greatness as I call to the guy floundering ahead that there are two of us coming through and Kevin Hines and I glide by and in an instant, Hines glides by me like I am igneous bedrock mounted to the earth's crust as the tectonic motion of sea floor spreading progresses. Yes, I am only an usher for the great one, the KING of Burlingame. We bypass the off camber bridges and I'm finally near the last road section when I bobble, my only, and clumsily get up onto the road and drill it through to the end, never catching site of Hines again. He's 49 huh? 29:05. Wow.

Later on after finishing, 34 year old guy struggles to figure out how he could possible cut off 3 or 4 minutes to podium in his sport class. I wonder how many days there are until there is a real MTB race, the kind that is 20+ miles, climbs, and includes extended technical sections. The KOB TT is a novelty race. Novel enough to keep me coming back. Finished 24th of 133 starters in 34:23. No mechanicals, no regrets, all smiles.

BTW- here's an astute observer of rationality.

Itching for a Fight

2010-03-26T12:41:00.000-07:00

Last night in the man cave, I swapped out some tires, settling on some Maxxis high rollers for Sunday's TT race in Rhode Island. While the Dead swirled around me, I could feel the adrenaline that has been waking me at 3 am and finally at 5:30 the past few nights. Damn, it's that pre-race surge of tea party like irrationality- react first. The beast has awakened within, gnawing away at relaxation, calm and poise. At work, FY planning deadlines, Dilbert direction from corporate and human foibles have been conspiring to put me over the edge- but I've come to realize it is me, the animal, the seeker, the race hound pacing back and forth, waiting to run, the trapped animal seething that is driving me to use the F word under my breath, to look at issues and challenges, to feel something big ahead.
The competitive genes have come alive after a year of wishy-washiness and pleasure seeking while on a bike. I wondered if ithey would appear on their own, or have to be conjured up by music, cycling videos, or reviews of past year race reports in my annual excel workbooks. The answer is a clear no.
The EGO. The identity. The me-ness that directs action and elicits interaction with the world outside, wants to know what all the fitness focus is going to yield. Will the race put a stamp on the ego's desires, or kick me into another mode, humble - aw shucks - oh well acceptance? That is probably healthier but somehow lacking and starves the desire to prove to myself that I will, I can, I do. Will Shiva quash the flames of the ego, freeing me to be one with the cosmic reality that is total expansive awareness of our inter-related and inseparablity from the whole? During the race, my ego will be out there: one with the effort, one with the bike, one with the terrain, one with all that have, do and will ride. And the destroyer will have to wait until another day.
Monday I'll have something to talk about. Until then it's all a dream of the ego, trying to predict the future.
Surge of adrenaline racing inside... you know the feeling brothers. Time to race.

Waking Up

2010-03-17T17:18:00.000-07:00

The grey and brown and white and blacktop and pine's green have finally given way to the white shining rays of spring. Hallelujah and more sun salutations on this fine Wednesday, a day when paid spin class plays second fiddle to the promise and reality of calm woody trail, and raging riverside trail.
As the Wiccans say " Blessed Be."
Thank the powers that be for the relief and opportunity for the restoration of my sanity, imposed upon, even eclipsed by the interests of 'the business' during the long sluggish semi-consciousness of winter.

An hour and half outside right now is a wakeful experience. Don't wait.

Story of the Day

2010-03-05T08:33:00.000-08:00

There is a site that posts child like observations about the world, accompanied by stick drawings, and are often more accurate than our life-filtered adult perception.

The one posted today reads:

This is a special bike that's not very good at listening to excuses, so it takes you exactly where you really want to go & if you kick & scream it makes you pedal harder & go up steeper hills until you're too out of breath to complain & after awhile, if you're lucky, you start to see that it doesn't really matter if you laugh or cry, because it just wants to ride like the wind.

To no particular point - under the category of "things that make you say 'Hmmmm?'"

TT ( The Nausea Drill )

2010-02-27T20:21:00.000-08:00

Note that TTing requires head tipping as shown in exhibit A above.

Had my first indoor TT test this morning since 2003. I have only done three and all in the month of February.
2002 was when I got some coaching from Mt W and NHIS Series hammerhead Seth Hosmer. When we started he set off right away with an assessment which included a 20 minute TT test on a computrainer in his hot( a furnace where New Guinea tribesmen suck the tanoana out of shunken human heads) apartment. I think part of my brain remains between the floorboards. Result 227 W. Av HR 177. Max 180.
2003 was another, only not as hot and with some earpleasure TT motivation rock a la Zeppelin, Lenny Kravitz and the Dead. Result 246W. Av HR 180. Max 186.

Today, the TT was hot and compounded at 5 minutes in when I asked for more resistance. The computer that makes the adjustment to the mechanism has a delay, which the operator didn't allow for and next thing you know I can hardly pedal, and over 400 watts is coming out o' me wee lit-tle legs - and drops to 200W for the next minute as my blown legs recovered and I got back into the rhythm. Started out at 260, lulled into 250 here and there capped with 336 for the last minute.

Result: 262W. Max 409. Av HR 177. Max 190. Bonus: 5 minutes of nausea as the nasty metabolic byproducts flushed out. Blechh!
Feel pretty good about it now. It was friggin hot indoors again but I was functioning. Some delicious chocolatey goodness(milk) helped the blood sugar bounce back. And then I got to watch, and fan with a piece of cardboard, Mike Lambert's TT. Serious.
I weighed 161 lbs when I stepped on the scale this morning for est 16 lost in the past 3+ weeks. That makes the power to weight ratio 262/(161/2.2) = 3.59. People do this because they want to. Imagine.

2010-02-23T16:36:00.000-08:00

"Hey, is that a pair of Amfib(TM) tights on that bikin' guy?" Funny you should ask...

Set your clocks 'cuz right now is "Blithering Idiot Exclaiming The Virtues of a Product" time.

Pearl Izumi Amfib(TM) tights are a wicked super comfy three season tight. F'in, they ARE the awesomest awe-inspiring awesomely super awesome epitome of what every mountain biker finds to be perfection when riding, and when standing around in a parking lot afterward. The front panel is wind and waterproof, the rest has fleece pile everywhere inside, and 8" ankle zippers make it pretty sweet for form fitting warmth. Awesome. Awesome awesome. They are, yes, indeed they are.

Just got my second pair in 4 years. Life is short so treat yourself. If I write "awesome" one more time, my head will explode. Awesome

He always looks like that.

2010-02-22T16:55:00.001-08:00

After a sweet night ride.

The scene at Massabesic:

Michaux Bound

2010-02-17T10:30:00.000-08:00

Decided that 4 hours of early season racing in Pennsylvania is AOK. Last year I did it on a whim with Mike Patrick and Rickey Visinski and had a good time chillin with some other nutties out in the middle of the woods, riding bikes and basically, staying out of Chris Eatough's way. I got in 4 x 9 mile laps, a broken finger and a lot of driving. I can bend the finger enough now that I can actually make a closed fist again- after one year - which I will likely use to punch another rock at an inopportune time on March 14.

I wonder how my Trek will do on the 3 feet of snow they received? Guess I'll find out soon. C'mon sun and do your tidings- melting away the vestiges of winter before we arrive.

Here's the link: http://www.bikereg.com/events/register.asp?eventid=9743

They have good beer.

Two More, Including a Bike

2010-02-11T09:46:00.000-08:00

Blair Mathieson and I descending off the Pang la with Shishpamangpa in the background. Ya, the place is biiiiiggggg.

Blair's bulging surfer legs almost got in the way of Everest - I'm still waiting for a royalty check from Chris Charmichael. Think I should send him a bill?

Old Ride, Good Memories

2010-02-09T09:52:00.001-08:00

This time of year evokes longing to ride on actual dirt wearing shorts and short sleeve jersey on some sweet singletrack. And it also evokes random memories, but still biking related. Today I am remembering riding in Tibet, so here are a few pics from 2005...

This one was taken after Cha Cha decided he owned the road going up the Karo La. When we got to the top, there was a Tibetan woman knitting and another collecting dung, yak dung to be specific - in a big basket that was slung behind her back and lashed to her body. Can you imagine saying to your wife in the morning just before you leave for a day of barley harvesting "Hey honey, would you mind going to the top of 15,600' pass and collect some ... dung?" I know my wife would come through and I'd have a big heaping pile of dung when I got home. Fo sho'. Hey, waddaya know - here she is now:

A few miles later we rode by a clan of hotties lounging on some rocks, who for some reason are into dogs, very unfriendly dogs, and cute little sheep, and beer... there was a pile of Lhasa Beer empties behind them, like say 300 empties. Come to think of it, that's a good afternoon - hanging with the peeps, mountainside, waiting for brightly colored foreginers to ride by on bikes while sipping a tall one. Yeah!

The last is from the Lamna La after leaving EBC. This was at about 16,000' and in an area of many stones, many many stones about the size of a head that rumble the living shite out of your arms, shoulders and head. I got stoned that day by some naked kids as we rode past a small bridge. Literally. Seems stoning foreigners is a quick thrill for the little ones. No wonder kids are stoners and the ladies drink bee-ya.

Anyone want more?

Weigh In 1 and 2 And ...Riding

2010-02-08T06:52:00.000-08:00

Last week I walked into Health Services' scale room and mounted the platform.... 173.75 #. Hmmm, not bad but geez, I felt the weight melting off all week and somehow had 8-9# loss in mind. Coming in at 6.25# lost, I felt an odd sensation of "Hey! I worked harder than that. Were my brake pads rubbing of something?" - just like in a post-race review where everything went well but you end up slower than last year's race, or slower than the guy you beat last year. That just goes to show me it'll come off as fast as it does, but there is a redeeming explanation too: my weight has just been moving around! Ah, yes, surely the bench presses I added to my weight (pun irresitable) routine 4 weeks ago must be adding muscle mass in my upper body as I lose it around the middle! Eureka.

Today I stepped on and my weight was 171.75. What the?! I ate less calories and exercised more than the week before. Conclusion: my upper body must be bursting forth like Arnold or Rocky. Impressive. My mirror says otherwise so there must be a mysterious force at work. Logical huh? This morning's weigh-in also taught me something else, that MLW and my decision to discard our "other" scale at home was fraught with ego... we kept the one that was 5-6 pounds less than the discard some years ago. I stepped on it today before leaving home and it showed 166 pounds. OK, so my scale at home is 5-6 pounds light - which means race weight is really 160# and I had 20 to lose, not 25.

Somewhere on my body is a chamber labelled "super dense fat inside". It has a tiny little hole from which yellow ooze eminates and dissolves into my bloodstream when aerobically exercising.
Which brings me to riding.
Saturday morning I ventured out on my Canterbury loop 22 miles of solid riding on snowmobile trails, marshes, some road and plenty of hills. It was 16 when I left and 24 upon return... I stopped three times for a nice 2.5 hours ride on stuff that was solid and offered some long continuous pushes. The legs felt pretty beat later on but not enough to keep me from going out again on the same route on Sunday with a new riding buddy, Pete. 22 more miles. 5 hours in the dead of winter on that route. It puts a smile on my face like the one that grew across my face last night when New Orleans intercepted Manning's pass. That's all folks.

Back to Riding

2010-02-01T13:15:00.000-08:00

I can't imagine anyone wants to hear about anything other than bikes, bikes BIKES! So here's more on bikes.

Any one of you reading this blog know that last July, Clayton and I rode some of the Western Slope in Colorado, namely Crested Butte but also some in Gunnison and the high ridgeline of Monarch Crest.

We shot video at MCrest and I pieced together a condensed version of ONLY 8 minutes. Since the ride is 30 some miles long and descends from 11+ thousand feet down to Salida at 7700, it's hard to cut out the boring stuff cuz none of it was boring. We lucked out with a perfect day, 'cept for the hailstorm on Rainbow Trail as we neared the end.

The speed and terrain were quick and rumbly once we were off of the first main ridgeline. I can see why people doing the Continental Divide consider this section among the finest.

So HERE is the video.

In other news... my new riding bud Pete put this edited VIDEO together of Ft Rock when we rode. Dig the nice musical edits...

Does anyone like this stuff? Does it make you nauseous, hate me like a drunken boasting idiot, or am I able to simply convey some enthusiasm and, at least for a moment, share some of the good bike vibe? Well?

Ethics....

2010-01-28T05:41:00.000-08:00

In the sixties, my basic values were formed. I lived in Baltimore and participated in the first desegregation bussing program. I was bussed to a school in a "colored" neighborhood. On my first day at the new school - I was made to hold the hand of a local girl and the two us us led a staged group walk to the playground for newspaper photo ops. I was in 2nd grade, a tow-headed kid who was embarrassed, not by the integration, but because I had to hold the hand of a girl.

At home, my Republican parents expressed ideals about respect and inclusion, despite their parent's backgrounds and disdain regarding "coloreds." This even included a framed notice of sale for "Two Good Slaves" from an ancestral auction in the 1800's that hung on the kitchen wall of my paternal grandparents. I recall the word "nigger" being used by my father's father and my mother's mother. I do not recall my parents ever using the word, nor disparaging anyone of another ethnicity. But I could see fear on my mother's face as I left to go to school "across town." She could feel fear and a sense of "wrongness", but acted on her ideals.

I have tremendous respect for my parents' ability to intellectually embrace the greater concept of "us", and choose to pursue a self-less view, despite their fears and pre-dispositions due to their parents' coaching and many friends' statements. At that time, "whites" lived in separate neighborhoods and there were mostly two parallel societies with one believing themselves to be "superior" to the other.

What I now recognize is that my parents set an example of acting on their ideals, despite the temptation to be self protective and to act selfishly to protect their own position and preserve their sense of "superiority" or otherwise exclusive and controlling status. They recognized we are together in our community, nation, and planet. This was when my values were being formed... ages 4-8.. a time when the fundamentals with which a person views their world are imprinted.

The sense of pursuing ideals as a virtue and the only truly worthy pursuit- go beyond the self and enter the realm of selfless action. In practice, I have found I revert to self when I look at my actions: taking care of me and my family first, then a small part for others. I still struggle with this and have not sacrificed self to the same degree that I satisfy self. But I have made choices: the type of business I am willing to support, the charities I donate to, and the political stance I express and actively support.

Around 1980, our political leadership began expousing the merit of "I, me", first. Much of the media touted the supposed ideal that accumulated riches was our right and we shifted to a "have it now" society. Borrow today, scramble over others to get what's yours and pay for it later. "Greed is Good" marked the front cover of Time magazine and our leadership openly encouraged it.

Here we are 30 years later. For me, the consequences look like shite. Our values are confused, our national identity is that the US is only a segment of the global market and our national ethic to serve on another, muted. To accomodate our selfishness, we have narrowed our view, our inclusion, to us/me versus them(others). We are doing this to one another.

Ideals and ethics are interwoven. Manifesting them comes in the form of acts. As a crude example for let's say, Christians, ask yourself, "What would Jesus do in this situation?" Then do whatever the answer is. For the agnostic narcissists, ask "How would this look on the front page of the newpaper?" Then act in a manner fits. For those who feel genuine love for another, ask yourself " Would I do this to my Grandmother?"

On the playing field of MTB racing, we compete in a safe and mostly inconsequential arena. In life, I invite you to follow the Golden Rule. If you have forgotten "The Golden Rule is an ethical code that states one has a right to just treatment, and a responsibility to ensure justice for others. It is also called the ethic of reciprocity. It is arguably the most essential basis for the modern concept of human rights, though it has its critics.[2] A key element of the golden rule is that a person attempting to live by this rule treats all people, not just members of his or her in-group, with consideration."

That's what I'm talkin' 'bout.

Weights and Losing Some

2010-01-25T07:51:00.000-08:00

The competitor in me is beginning to get restless and reared his ugly head last week, activated by the prospect of winning a weight loss contest - at work. Most people tell me I'm skinny, slim or otherwise unhealthily built. "Eat!" is what I'd hear from my Italian mother and Grandmother, if I was Italian.

At today's weigh-in, the number came in at a "healthy" 180 lbs of lean mean bikin' machine. If I stand in front of a mirror, I like to think it only shows in the love handle region, but I've managed to put on a nice uniform layer over my entire body of sweet sweet adipose tissue, a.k.a. blubber. I've noticed that my pants are a bit tight and that I look like a goober with high water cuffing since my hips, butt and physique makes all clothing sit a bit higher as its tries to wrap around an ever-growing girth. "Gee, these pant legs used to drape over my shoes but now I'm ready for to wade for trout."
I can hear your thoughts now: "No Al , tell us it isn't true. You can't possibly by 29 pounds heavier than you were at the starting line of the nats in '08!" Ok I'm not. Since we weighed in while dresssed in work attire, minus shoes, pocket stuff, and the congenital twin living in my abdomen, I am probably ONLY 177#, a mere 26 pounds heavier.
The contest involves two categories: % of body weight lost in 12 weeks AND % body weight lost in any one week. There are 31 competitors. I am in the "WTF is he doing here" category. Oddsmakers in Vegas are saying I stand a 1:31 chance of net overall and I say a 1:10 chance of a weekly loss title. Can you hear the NBA theme song pumping up the crowd? I can.
My goal is to weigh in on April 25 at 160. So let's see here, according to my calculation (Time x Avogadro's number x the circumference of the earth divided by pi x Schroedinger's equation net of atomic attrition and corrected by the dark matter gravitational distortion x coefficient of friction of the red pigment used on the heads of Nubian hunting tribes near the African Sahel known as Nuer), the result is something significant but probably not relevant to anything we've discussed so far. Let's just say everyone will be cheering as I approach the final weigh in. Everyone.

Snomobike Video and Cutting Ice

2010-01-24T16:26:00.000-08:00

Last week I made my way out to Mast Yard for a relaxathon. Yes, and now you too can watch this or take two Ambien(TM) to get a good night's sleep. Sometimes the purr of corduroy snomobile tracks makes everything seem at peace.

I did a stint as NH farmer today- cutting ice on Kezar Lake in Sutton. It's now resting in a 19th century ice house, awaiting August's Farm Days celebration. Wet, cold, ice, a lake, Model T's on skis racing out and back, sun, and some delicious venison stew kept the genuine nature going.

Riding the Bridges at Ft Rock

2010-01-22T04:23:00.001-08:00

Rode over at Fort Rock last weekend. Conditions for January... fantastic. The real coup was hitting the trails with some new buds that know the place. Here's the Hero Wide version:
Bridges in the Snow About 2/3 of the way through, Shadrack drops a nice lip and at the end, I'm forced to do a brief trackstand at the mid point on the swamp crossing bridge - that'll bring things into focus real fast, no matter if the consequences are water or ice. I've always thought that bridge would make a sweet race feature but alas, the Ft Rock Revenge is no longer. A race at Willowdale has replaced it. No doubt it''ll rock.

Pete made this one from the same ride with a VHoldr.
Pete's Awesome VHoldr Ft Rock smoothie
I'm in blue since you're all wondering, well maybe not... I like his resolution more... and come to think of it, maybe I'm encoding the movie wrong...maybe I need a lesson...or maybe I should just Shut Up and Ride. Tomorrow: snomobile trails in the Mink Hills. Varoom...

Mike "The Man" Patrick

2009-12-28T08:49:00.000-08:00

Found out pro Mike Patrick had a brain hemmorhage last week. He's out of critical condition and slated to enter a rehab in CT next week. Mike is having difficulty speaking and moving his right side.
Please direct the power of healing/love/prayer to Mike. He'd love to hear from us so please contact him at bikemike1165@hotmail.com or via snailmail at
Mike Patrick c/o Joan Cousins 60 Broad St. APT 2h Milford, CT 06460
Mike is a fighter so you know he is motivated. Let's give him a hand.

Plunging Through

2009-12-28T07:35:00.000-08:00

Over the Christmas holiday I managed to shoot some ice biking videos and edited down a nice little clip. Hey here it is now.... - four guys cruising Stumpfield Marsh and the surrounding flood control area in Hopkinton. Ric, Mike and Mike's son Brent and I rode a couple of hours on the day before Christmas, nursing warmth from the last rays of bright sun under blue skies. The surface was textured by the snow which fell when the ice formed, making a nice rumbly buzz from the studded tires and drifty corners when taken a bit too abruptly. Cold flat ice makes for the most traction, with bumpy ice coming in a close second and soft bumpy ice coming in third- the studs break away when cornering and the bumps make for less of an overall surface area of the tire's contact patch. We had soft bumpy conditions and Mike made good use of his shorts with hip pads as did his son who used his tailbone instead. Clever. Natural. Youthful.

It was a spectacular day on the ice. Which makes for a nice little segue to Saturday's ice ride.

The day after Christmas, Mike, Brent and I ventured out onto a certain local lake- buzzing along- excited about making our way the length of the lake and then over to Turkey Pond and it's marsh. Mike sometimes rides head down and when he does, I know I'll be struggling to keep up. When Mike put his head down this time I could see he'd be in trouble. There was a light snow falling and so the ice should appear uniformly white, right? A line of dark spots on the lake revealed another type of ice, ice with water on it.

I yelled to Mike as I slowed while scanning left for safe passage. Mike zoomed on and - accompanied by a classic cracking sound - watched while his front wheel plunged through, followed by his bike and 'heck, might as well go for a refreshing swim' Mike. Brent, naturally alarmed, ran to the edge - ignoring my yells to stay away from the edge and then, realizing he was in full "go" mode, to lay down on the ice to spread his weight. He didn't heed either and a second later was grabbed by dad and pulled in. Double the fun!

So we went from a nice ride to a swim and then from having two bikes and two guys to link together and form a chain to reach our cold water swimming expert, we had two guys swimming, two bikes, a lot of water and... Brent popped out of the water, just like a cork. Not long afterward Mike was out and I had retrieved his bike by extending another, hooking the bars through a wheel to pull it in.

In my jersey pocket that day were a set of Polar Picks, used by ice fishermen and ice sailors to drag themselves out when and if they break through ice. Just having received them as a gift the day before, I could have slid them to either guy as a plan B. They appear to work great, and have retractable spikes that afford the swimmer traction to climb out over wet slippery ice. (Caution! - the things sink. Put them in a place that's easy to access too, but don't let go of them if you take them out in an emergency. The mfg says to put them through your jacket sleeves and have them dangling but I can't imagine anyone doing so while biking.)

We cruised back and I made up some coffee while Mike thawed out in a hot shower. Later I went out solo, sticking to roads and the known thick ice on Sewall's Pond.

I had to wonder what some unknowing hiker, who may have seen the hole in the ice, thought. Maybe something like "nice day for a swim" or "Call 911!" or maaaybe
"More chlorine in the gene pool please." Silly bikers.

Sparklies in the Night

2009-12-09T05:13:00.000-08:00

The shift to riding at night is one that I anticipate with some uncertainty each year. Will someone with the same consistent zeal for riding come through this year, joining me for the adventure? Will the trails be naughty or nice? Will I ride and play in the dark with abandon, caution thrown to the wind until I hit that patch of ice before mounting studded tires - only to feel the bike disappear from underneath me- with that hard hip hit that aches for a week?

So far I have been out for 7 or 8 night rides and been joined for three of them. Some are sweet, but mostly the social rides involve many stops for light issues and head issues. The chaos is expected. The good time with my buds and accompanying sluggish nature signals the time to downplay the virtues of speed and constant rolling - the solo times offering the chance to ride end to end without a stop. Alone, I unbridle my fitness, become comfortable with the myopic 8 foot radius of vision - and the darkness that blankets me when I stop, go silent, and turn off my light to breath in the night, the woods, the calm.

Last night I did the drill- hustling home after leaving work a bit early, rushing to dress and get out the door, and the anxious ride to meet the guys in time. Nearly always, the more I rush, the more I wait when we come together. It is a force of nature, complicit in reminding me the world turns as fast as the world turns, no matter how much anyone speeds up or slows down. Rushing and waiting come together in neat packages, just like order and chaos.

We rode out to Mast Yard which is accessedvia no more than 1/2 mile of road and then onto railroad bed and a joiner trail system known as Lehntinen Park or "behind the kayak place", or the Snowduster's trail which holds the essential nature of the ride. It combines several seemingly independent systems built for different purposes- snowmobiles, trains, hiking, barge tow roads, mast tree harvetsing - that mell together when we ride... for biking.

At the lot where I met my buddies, a tree-tall shadow man called out "You guys ride up by Runnells Road?" "Yep, we do." A hand extended out of the dark and we met one of the land owners that open their gates to recreation- a godsend for all of us who use land with little regard for the owner's perspective, yet we openly receive the gift to us all. He simply asked us to keep an eye out for anyone going by his house under construction. Another figurative bridge built between biker and the community.

During the ride we passed through about 2 inches of crunchy snow with some sections having been shielded from the storm beneath hemlocks where bare ground quieted the otherwise noisy crunch of our tires. We passed through a couple of sections of woods - briefly- that were like the sugar coated images in past cards and of National Geographic where on top of the snow that had fallen, crystalline sparklies had formed during the past day or so of cold. In one of these sections, sparklieswere seemingly suspended in the air. Mike and I remarked upon it but the others had ridden right through them, self absorbed or altered in some other way to miss the kiss of unique beauty. Each sparkle was multi-colored producing a prismatic illusion. Science explains the mechanism, experience notices the mystery. Both areas were down low and next to meadows so cold air from radiational cooling must have caused the phenomenon that evoked wonder- or vice versa.

3 hours later I rolled back up to my door and noticed a slight shift- that time had passed, that something about the driveway, the house, and me had changed. Not sure what- but different and right and a bit more worn in a natural way.
Riding at night. Welcome back.

What Minks?

2009-11-09T07:23:00.001-08:00

I rode with some kitwits yesterday.
Kit- Wit: From the root knitwit re.: people that wear too many clothes when riding
Definition 1: cyclist who wears a $200 jersey and $150 shorts
Definition 2: cyclist who wears polar expedition weight gear compulsively
Definition 3: cyclist who wears a $200 jersey and $150 shorts over polar expedition weight gear when it is 65 degrees out, soaking it in his own perspiration before removing any one piece of it and when he finally does - usually on a steep hill, splashes his stinking sweat on your oh so cool kit.
I love riding with my friends, even kitwits. Yesterday we rode in the Minks Hills of Bradford and Warner, bushwhacking at one point to Devil's Den for a ritual sacrifice and needless exertion. Nice chunky caves there and a double secret passageway to the top. BUT NO MINKS! What the hell, I've never seen minks there. I guess they should have named the area Zebra Hills and then they would have killed all the zebras, and then I'd see Minks in the Zebra Hills. I like minks. They just hide when I come riding along.
I've seen minks on the shores of Lake Winnipesaukee, which obviously means Lake Mink, but they disguised the reference to the furry buggers.
This time of year, my mind wanders cuz I really want to be riding more, I become restless, annoyable, and in need of purpose in my life. I'm like a toddler who is grumpy until placed in water- grumpy until placed on bike. That's me.

Race Across My Eyes

2009-10-23T07:23:00.000-07:00

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

2009-09-01T20:13:00.000-07:00

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

2009-08-31T05:38:00.000-07:00

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

2009-07-13T11:37:00.000-07:00

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

2009-06-22T06:14:00.000-07:00

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

2009-06-17T06:00:00.000-07:00

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

2009-06-03T06:54:00.000-07:00

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.

Got my mojo workin', but it just won't work on you

2009-05-26T08:11:00.000-07:00

Raced at the rustic Coyote Hill venue this past Sunday- a day with two faces. We arrived to rain and 55 degrees, damn chilly when standing around in a T-shirt. Hmmmm, muddy conditions splattered the faces of Cat 2 racers and the guy who lost his vision while racing - heard he had a stroke - thank Godessence for ambulances. BY 1:30 pm, the day had swung to full on humid sunny conditions. Heat, eh? As I'm staged, Alan Moats makes a prophetic comment - "Hmmm, Al. That rear tire looks like it should be going the other way for the muddiness." I know he is using some sort of Zen like Obi-Wan Kenobi whammy on me. "Phft! Whatever."
The pros go off to a holeshot clusterF, some standing still while waiting for the weird to clear. Watching, I make a decision to keep the same from happening to me and when we go off, I'm out front making the holeshot and popping out the other side into a... field? Hmmm, note to self: pre-ride dummy! Yep, I hadn't been on this course-ever. I follow the likely leaders up the road climb and into the woods. "I'll just stay on their wheel and find the lines - kind of a learn as I go strategy. Smart." This works until I bobble at the end of the lap on a water hole with a muddy uphill exit. I'm cursing my over pumped fork and slipping rear tire... an extra 3-4 inches of over rotation accompanying each pedal stroke on the all the slight uphills. OK, I'll just get back on and that's when I realized I didn't have the juice, the mojo, the goods to do the do. I proceeded to hope that the others would come back to me or I'd speed up over the next two laps. "It'll dry out and they'll falter." Riiiight. That didn't happen and I was, well, humbled. Humbling is good for the soul. It kinda kicks cocky in the mouth and leaves you wandering around in a vague cloud of murk. On this day I gladly accepted my fate, bashing my head against assorted walls and finally consulting with my staff of scientists who monitor my body daily as part of the ever expanding knowledge base of Al Raine, MTB Racer.
Scientist One: "Our power tap montoring shows 700 watts for 2 minutes and then a gradual taper to zero watts by the finish line. Highly unusual!!!"
Scientist Two: "My review of heart rate montoring data reveals a spike at 30 seconds in and then gradual rising to double spike status by the end. The last reading of 574BPM is remarkable!!!"
Scientist Three: " The study of our GPS device exhibits usual magnetic activity which appears to have caused your bicycle to run backward for half of the race, which combined with your forward progress, means you actually rode for a distance 50% longer than the other racers. Astonishing!!!"
After hours of collaberation by the various scientists involved, the results were released, which stated, and I am not kidding here: "You didn't go fast enough to win, place or show, or maintain any semblance of dignity." Now there's science at work. How succinctlly put. MIT and RPI grads rock.
See y'all at Bear Brook. I'll be the guy with bells on.

Storing it up

2009-05-15T08:19:00.000-07:00

Squirrells come to mind. Furry creatures that spend tremendous amounts of time gathering and hoarding nuts full of energy - storing them to be opened later. It seems like that's the story of a MTB racer's life: spend months on stationary trainers and studded tires maintaining basic health and a modicum of fitness during the cold months, followed by waking up and thrashing our legs as we hit the road for build phase during the introduction of spring, then moving to the sweet, transient joy of hitting the trail - poking around to see what condition the world is in and waking up those MTB-only muscle relationships, which gives way to repeated hard efforts - engaging the discipline and mental fortitude that drives us on that all important date with the starting line. Storing it up. Storing it up. Storing it up.
I haven't released it yet. Nope, it's building, held back behind the dam. Lean body weight at 150 something, noticable definition and mass appearing - especially in the hamstrings and vastus groups, mitichondria responding confidently when summoned. Which brings me to what I wanted to share in the first place:
This week I introduced race starts - those fuzzy little warm critters that live in the woods. I ride out to Mast Yard where several miles of flat flat flat doubletrack coax the effort out of me. At it's entrance, I put down a foot after the 25 minute road warmup. Then I unleash the emergency response crew BAM! Pounding on the pedals, out of the saddle for 10 seconds after clicking in, settling in to the saddle as brute circular force drives me over 20 mph, flying over the few roots and through the sandy stretch right to the 60 second point of "I can't possibly do this any loooooonnnngggggeeerrrrr! and I back off everso slightly, HRM at 171, 172, and the sickening feeling of lactic acid and hormones breaks over me in a huge wave, shouting at me to STOP! ... Then I settle in for the next 4 minutes of robust charging over the uneven and slowly curving route, easing back and forth to find hard ground PLEASE!, over the bumps, churning ever forward in the pine needle-filtered sunlight ONWARD! 173, 174 and finally it's coming... the end at 176. 30 seconds into the return trip, my HR is at 135, 60 seconds and I'm at 122, ahhhhh... the slow ride back to the start with a hit of water and a bite of power bar en route.
There is an effect, a realization that becomes apparent during hillclimb and race start intervals... dissociation. Part way through them, I become the observer. The watcher. My legs are cranking, my heart is running, my breath is even, my arms and shoulders relax a bit and I am doing the hard work while my mind monitors - as if from a distance. Legs? check. CV? Check. Mind? Present and calm? Check. It's remarkable when I, and we, get to this state. It's meditative. It's physical. It's spiritual. Consciousness. ( I often point this out to my yogini wife, whose kundalini practices take her there through a different mechanism daily. )
They've been allowing me to keep building more energy up higher and higher behind the dam, dammit! The nuts I'm gathering are accumulating into a big pile. Pent up. Waiting. C'mon, c'mon, c'mon! I can hardly (under) stand it!

Animal Sighted on Beech Hill

2009-05-07T07:49:00.000-07:00

Last night I turned a page. Rode out to Beech Hill, a 1 mile washed out MTB climb that rips out your heart, beats it with a dead porcupine, and then invites you back home for 12 year old scotch laced with LSD. This time of year, my first foray there marks my return to race fitness. I did an 'introductory offer' three repeats, which will become 6 three weeks from now. (WARNING - NEEDLESSLY LONG DESCRIPTION ALERT!!!) The ground is uneven and starts with a hundred feet of fist-sized crushed granite, gives way to muddy, starched shirt idiot-piloted "I can climb this with my Escalade... oops... I gotta back down" tire tracks, then churns up 200 yards to a flattish section that ya gotta hammer to keep the HR up on, and then steeps out over another 500 yards of leaf and stick-strewn rumbly class 5 abandoned road past the first male born in Hopkinton memorial and flats out again just in time for a middle ring acceleration with springtime black flies journeying up your nose, or mid-summer horse flies biting chunks out of your buttcheeks through lycra. Got that? It's a good undeniably tough climb immediately followed by the return descent. This is when most who have ever joined me become terrified, grabbing both brakes as I whizz downward, ever faster out of sight until the bottom and woithout recovery, repeat repeat repeat repeat repeat - ravaging my CV, engaging mitochonrial memory, developing DH skills, toning hands and forearms en route.
Fun. At least that's how I feel every time I'm done - a chest beating grin on my face. Superhero Al sensation - one I'll take to the starting line every race. Damn, no one else does these. Supreme - and they come with a shower and big ol meal. Killer. Grrrrrrr...

Turtle Pond, NO! Turtletown Pond

2009-04-30T06:46:00.000-07:00

Heat was a factor Saturday when the Capt'n and I raced at Turtletown Pond. It was 90 degrees in the shade at the 1:10 pm start time. The course is an 11 mile lap with two hills being the main features, Oak Hill, a 1 mile 200' vert climb at the start of the lap and a 150' 20% grade wall at about the 8 mile mark.There was a full field of over 40 guys and an official "neutral" first climb up Oak Hill. Then the racing began. The pace was high with some trying to get off the front but the breaks were consistently brought back. I rode on point only once, feeling myself slow the group when facing the wind. There were plenty who thought riding point was the goal, so the pace remained high and hot. This year the promoter added Hot Hole Pond Rd. with the wall coming 3/4 of the way through the lap. It was enough to cull the weaker riders - thankfully since a lot of them were riding willy nilly all over the gruppo's safety zones. "Hey #554, good god man - stay straight PLEASE!" There was still a group of 20 or so after two laps. Last lap: I'm calling for the two on the front to step up the pace on Oak Hill as I'm trapped behind them but they let me through and I'm pushing on the front, coming together over the top since the wind would prohibit me from getting away 10 miles from the finish. There are about 10 of us that seem quite strong in a gruppo of 20 or so and we're doing most of the work. Just before we climb the wall one last time, 1 rider goes off the front. The Capt'n rides up alongside and past me. I'm wondering if he's gonna pull/block/crack open a fresh pack o' Marlboros or? I decide now is the time, ease by and attack the hill. I get to the top and look into the faces just behind me. Tired and haggard! Good! I'm gooooone, chasing and gaining on the guy in blue over the next 2 1/2 miles, head down in TT mode, gruppo chasing. Dang! After a couple miles the group comes over me on the looong downhill 500 yards from the finish. I slot into 7th position, recover quickly and am set up on the road's yellow line in a near-perfect sprint position. We are subject to a 200M yellow line rule so everyone has to wait, wait, wait to cross the middle of the road and explode in a bunch sprint. SOB! A bunch sprint amongst a bunch of newbies, greaaaaat. But at 300 yards out, 5 guys take off left, crossing the road's midline and box me in as the rest respond to my right and the two guys in front of me touch wheels!!! Rubbing, rubbing...EeeeecccKKKKK!!!!!! Brakes! Stablilize! Everyone is still up and I roll across in 13th and relax, having dodged a bloody takedown. Others got gauzed and some carried off earlier in the day; the ambulance crew kept busy since a few crashes happened with the downhill bunch finishes full of New England's Mario Cippolinis.
I felt a bit queasy under the heat a couple of times but my body came up some strong climbing that set some of the race's tone. If it had only finished with the final Oak Hill climb as in past years... ;>)After the close call and nervous riding, I can't wait for some MTB racing! Bolted home afterward to pack and drive to Maryland and back Sunday/Monday for fam,ily's meber's passing. I had a MTBer-only moment when a car with two Greenbriar Challenge race-plated MTB's atop it pass me on 695 late Saturday. Only we understand. Later.
Hmmm, it must be later:I arrived homeafter work last night early and The Clayton pulled up in front of the house for a proper MTB ride. After the road race, driving, funeral and catch up, it was just the Rx I needed to break out of the accumulated funk. Dirt, long climbs, rumbly granite laden twisties and power. We headed into the sunny 60's, trees bursting with lime and chartreuse in the breeze. God inspiring beauty blowing right through me.
We opted for the snowmobile trail wilderness ride. I ended up on my back climbing the knobby power line off of Deer Meadow straight up tip over backward on the super steep that was meant for downhill travel over ledginess. Hardy har har and WTF? all at the same time. Climbed the rest after remounting, passing a heaving Clayton who just plain tuckered out before the top, but not for long. The rest of the ride was an assortment of dusty downhills on branch covered doubletrack and twisty navigation off of Weir Rd finishing out along the Merrimack River singletrack well into nightfall. The power was there for the entire ride. The skills showing and my hands throbbing with trail demands greater than what they'd been accustomed to. A proper ride. Skin intact. Springtime.

Who needs pedals?

2009-04-13T08:18:00.000-07:00

Saturday's errands:
Pick up birthday cake
Buy cards
Co-op food
Drop off Sidis...

Hey, stop right there! Sew up is more like it although I leave that to the professionals... Concord's Annicharico family cobbler. Forget spending $200 on new Dominators, just go to your local cobbler, right? Yep, that's exactly what I did before '05's Tibet ride and again this year with the pair bought in '07. New velcro, Lorica patches and the magical touch of real shoe craftsmen, priceless. They'll be ready on Saturday and until then I'll just change throw some pre-used cleats on my old sidis to suit the Eggbeaters. The photo I took of a patched Sidi I shot on the Lamna La that the cobblers have tacked to the wall made me feel confident. Ready in a week? Good stuff.
I returned home with the morning's hunter-gatherer harvest and changed out the cleats on the old pair. "I dunno, these things look pretty worn." I could just push the newly cleated shoes in and out of the pedal with one hand. Dumb racer brain takes over, reminding me that I hate Shimano pedals for MTBing.

1 day later, The Clayton shows up and we're off for 09's inaugural Quarries ride. Hmmm, the cleats sure are releasing easily, ah whatever... Beetch! My foot pops out. "Muthafaaka I hate that when that happens!" as in when ya pop out of an eggbeater and the end of it bashes into the side of your ankle - a mortal reminder when navigating a tight little rocky knar. I gave up relying on staying attached to the pedals and just started goin' for it and transformed into MASHER, LORD OF THE QUADS! The Whaleback rock? Check. Baby head clutter? Check. Hmmm, trackstand while waiting for my bud to clear the Rockpile? Check? Power up and over said Rockpile? Check. I guess I can ride like a big boy, momma. Sometimes sheer Will makes it happen when reliance on equipment fails. Easter Sunday was that day. 5 days until Return of the Sidi.
Which reminds me: When I was changing the cleats at home Jeremy at S&W created a monster at my urging: FRANKENSHOCK. He called me late Saturday with a smiley toned "gotterdun".

Directions for a FRANKENSHOCK
1. Buy a mint 20# 2001 Homegrown Limited in 2008 for $950
2. Race the SID Race on it for a season, letting the frustration of a racing a wiggly noodle fork without a lockout buildup in you all year
3. Buy a used '06 SID World Cup, crack the steerer while sizing it after you discover why it was only $50-the headset cap insert was ripped out by an Aggroman
4. Have a revelation to change out the Race's cartridge with the WC cartridge and lockout mechanism
5. Install it in the Race's body
6. Break off the shifter indicator on the your front XTR derailleur lever to make room for the lockout bar mount
7. Attach cables
8. Throw seven grains of salt over you left shoulder while chanting kirtan's to a Yogini
and voila, FRANKENSHOK.
Suddenly I wonder if I should go hammer me Mt Snow's XC Nationals climbs again. Naaaaa. Maybe at The Pinnacle, or Putney. Ya, Putney.

The Struggle

2009-04-10T07:31:00.000-07:00

I'm having a crisis. It all amounts to an internal conflict with the angel on one shoulder chatting up social riding, a relaxed season and an extra beer. Ahhhh, just to relax for a season. Oh how I long for thee, oh mistress of ease.
Then there is the devil, complusive, agitating me, goading me with a long pointy thing, compelling me to train! Look at your weight! Ride with a purpose, not for clowning around. You've got work to do and a race rep to live up to so get serious!
Oh how I hate the devil and love the sensations that he/she evokes: accomplishment, discipline, long term purpose... hey wait a sec... maybe the devil is the angel and the angel is really the devil!?! WTF, see I am having a crisis. Welcome all to my world. Truth be told, I suspect many of you who take the time to check other hack's racing blogs feel the same way. Maybe I should start a club, or a program: Race Addicted Compulsive Egos Riding Seriously, aka RACERS. Ingenious. I could cultivate them and then get them to buy into a 12 step program. Moowaahaahaahaa! MOOOwahahaha! I must be money.
I've lost 8-10 pounds in the past few weeks following my aforeblogged revelation that spinning classes and weekend riding does not a racer make. Also drilled some hillclimbs climaxing with 5 ascents of Carter Hill Tuesday evening- 3 x seated and 2 x standing and rocking the hill. Grrrr.
Looks like the devil and I sleep well together. Not so sure about angels, soft, fluffy, gentle, kind, embracing....... temptresses if ya ask me. Time to climb. 4/25's Turtle Pond race looms., dammit.

Old Weird Harold

2009-04-06T12:31:00.000-07:00

Not so Fat Albert here reporting on the latest, wish it was the greatest, riding report(s). Harold Parker State Forest is laced with flowy and not so flowy technical challenges. For the newbies, there's doubletrack and a bunch of bruises waiting around each corner of the rocky technical stuff, and for the experienced, a set of wild ass super fast techincal power demanding trails. I myself prefer the latter, although bruises have their place in the past. Far away past, like last week even.
Last Thursday, The Clayton and I met at the Derry Park and Ride(how appropriate) and we parked(!) and then drove to HP where we ripped it for over two hours, riding away from the guides and lofting ouselves up, over and through every rock garden and uprock and drop. Rode super solid and beefy with the turbos on. Every once in a while it all goes right and ya just gotta keep on the gas and do it front to back. That was last Thursday evening. But the tale takes a twist folks: when we returned to the P&R lot, The Clayton packed away his wheels, clothes, dish washer, etc. and then drove off - leaving his C'dale Rush upside down in the parking lot. Quite a sculpture left behind in the Park, Ride and Forget lot. Priceless.
His call came Friday afternoon while I was deep into company heavy shite et al "Oh man oh man oh man, did you pick up my bike man? I think maybe it's in your car but man man man...." he went on for a while like this and after I did a quick "Yes a bike has NOT materialzed in my car overnight' check, his heart sunk further. For all of you Derry Park and Ride enthusiasts: it is a Black and orange RUSH with shimano stuff and naturally, a Lefty. If is had been a NORMAL FORK, he would have dropped the wheel out, loaded it and then put his bike in the back seat. Bad C'dale, Bad! Speaking of bad, C'Dale just announced it is offshoring and outsourcing its manufacturing. So much for buy USA. BUY TAIWAN everyone. It's American. Kinda.
My next race: The TurtlePond Circuit Race on April 25. My god: I prerode two weeks ago and realized just how much my power has lapsed since the fall. Oak Hill just about brought and end to my"I can compete at this" attitude. So that humbling made me focus a bit and bring on some hillclimbing. The test came with two laps yesterday, under control and with decent power. Two or three more hilly rides and I should be 10-4 good buddy. Until then, ow.

Michaux Mash

2009-03-18T12:50:00.000-07:00

It hardly seems possible, but here it is: 2009's first MTB race, The Michaux Mash. I drove to CT, picked up Mike Patrick and crosser Ricky Visinski and arrived in Chambersburg, PA late afternoon. We thought we'd check out the race venue and ride a bit of the course. Just finding the trailhead was an adventure - seeing how it is at the crest of a ridge after you take this dirt road to that dirt road- right at the fork, no it must be the other fork, oh the road is barricaded, now WTF, etc.. We started riding at 6:15pm, grateful we scouted the road maze before race day.So we start riding where the Appalachian Trail crosses an unmarked dirt road and find that the course is tight, rocky, and twitchy and is maybe a year old for the first mile or so. We descended a few hundred vertical feet on it and decided to turn around and leave the rest a surprise for the next morning. I'm feeling cautious after the first viewing and beef up the tire selection back at the bearry bearry guuud Travelodge.

The morning comes too early and when we arrive it is 38 degrees and foggy, real foogy. The highlight of thre trip there being that we didn't high ground on the road closure mud hole. It's 7:30 am. This race required a homemade number plate, so registration was mostly telling them your number and ogling the homemade french fry set up, burgers, veggie chili, fruit salad, bike porn, and costumes. I'm feeling at home with the chaos, smiling laughing atmosphere, and seemingly most relaxed promoter ever, Zach Adams. 4 classes: juniors, women, men open, and men masters(35+). And they're off!. I'm riding smooth and running by the racer clusterfs a la Derek, just happy to be out racing again and trying to temper the urgent voice of stupid racer brain since I have no business racing a four hour race, not having been on a bike for that long since November.

Keepin' in real...straightThere's lots of sharp PA rocks jutting up on the trail which led me to flat twice during the 4 x 9 mile laps. So, the lap's first third of twitchiness gives way to a screamingly fast downhill - supernarrow through a laurel forest... Thrilling us with speed as we descended the rest of the 1000 feet of vertical to the bottom of the valley. Then the 2 mile climb up a dirt road and abandoned logging road- one rider I passed shouted "This is HELL!!!" to which I responded "Heaven is at the top!" The poor bastid. During my 4 laps, there were a LOT of riders off the bike on this climb, nursing cramps, slumped over their top tube gasping and wondering why they did this to themselves. Aside from enjoying the rush of the descents, my strongest showing was on these climbs, just stroking it over and getting out of the saddle on the last 200 feet as it steepened - a good sign that the dreary winter's spin classes are paying off. (self praise stinks don't it? Sorry - just happy to survive it really)As I came through the 2nd lap checkpoint, Mike has his jeans on and is done for the day, knowing to heed his limitations when things are less than rocking. I'm running in something place without any specific goal other than to ride the full 4 hours. Third lap I flat again on the sharp rocks and at the checkpoint Ricky is standing there looking cooked and all done for the day. Three down! I push on, feeling good that I'm still with the program and talking up the course with my co-racers with a little humor, admiration and encouragement. It's about the fun , right!? Mid way through the 4th and last lap, a clean looking Trek rider blows by me - sure enough the rumor was true and I shout after him "GO CHRISSSSS! Rip it yo! YEOOOOOOW!" Eatough sure is impressive with his skill and wattage. The Champion. 15 mins later pro Chris Beck eases by- in white shoe covers - not as impressive, but puurdy. (insert sound of banjo here) The downhill gives me one last thrill ride and as I make the turn to start climbing, "Oh... What's that? You don't want to want to keep on keepin on... booiiinnnnnngggggg..." I step off the bike and stretch my talkative hamstrings for 30 seconds or so and get back on, chugging water and throwing down a few more shotbloks..."c'mon baby just a little more..." It works out and I finished in 4:22, 11th of 42 masters, 23rd of 100 overall, in one piece except for a sprained finger from an unscheduled hooked-pedal flight. I'd do it again - an easy thing to say after downing a Treog's amber, some chili, fries and handshakes with some serious MTBers. Zach and Brett put on a fine event and awarded the top 5 with masks and a royal, white "Supreme Masher" cape to a humbled Chris Eatough. Rockin'.

Dreaming a Moon

2009-02-10T06:17:00.000-08:00

5 black cherry Shot Bloks juiced me enough this morning to sustain me for a couple of hours on the snowmobile trails. What's that?... It was last night? Nope, it was just dark as in pre-coffee, pre-sunrise, pre-throne early morning dark.
I woke from dreaming at 3:46 am and stumbled downstairs to turn off the deluxe virgin mega-aggro dehydrator. The smoked salmon "squaw candy" came out well done - a little too done after my 1:00 am alarm failed to wake me or failed to go off... or maybe I should have set it to go on(!?)... depending if your are in the northern or southern hemispheres it will go off or on in the pm or am... no wait... that's water spinning one direction or the other when flushing... I mean their summer is our winter... well at least it is summer somewhere. Then I went back to bed. Warm, cozy, fluffy, ahhhhh...
I drifted in and out of semi-consciousness, dreaming of riding on snowmobile trails and asking myself if I wanted to go ride - right NOW. By 4:30, the answer was plain and I was up and dressing to thwart the 14 degree air temperature under a full moon. 4:45am and I'm on the winter bike- the Jamis Diablo LE. ( LE is Taiwanese and translates to "wicked good man". Really.) She's been running since '98 and gets the job done like the red devil she is.
The trails have finally set up after two days above freezing for the first time this winter. I couldn't resist them with snow and rain in the forecast and another spin session scheduled for this evening. I can't wait to hear AC/DC's "It's a Long Way to the Top" for the 27th time this winter. Oh boy, I'm getting excited just thinkin' 'bout it. It's February and I haven't been able to go out on the snomobile trails even once since they've just been too darn sugary and unsupportive of my riding, the bitches.
After a 2 mile road ride, I turned on the headlamp and entered the the forbidden zone, the land of snomos. Sunday's road ride showed me things would be good on the trails on Monday and Tuesday mornings and did they come through? Yabetcha.
Crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch ... the refrozen snow talks secret code, telling downtrail snow what's coming, until I stop.... for the moon, the big fuzzy full moon... bright, dazzling, shadowing each tree upon the trail, etching its light across the frozen river flowing unseen. I turn off the lights and ride, letting the front wheel drift in and out of machine tread and ski marks. I am invisible, part of the woods under the moonlight. All the woods know I am there to be with them, in them, part of them, as each pedal stroke eases me along, calmly, heart pounding, eyes adjusted, in heaven.
Booties and a pair of Craft wool socks work well, but after and hour and a half, brrrr, me toes is code! I turn back, reluctant, full of joy. I've been there. On a cold winter morn, I tapped into the vibe for a couple of hours. It fills me and today, I'm one lucky rider, or just a foolish smiling old man with a bike. Certifiable.

McFunk

2009-02-04T06:34:00.000-08:00

OK here goes... The chimney of Marlboro madness that is Captain High Pressure, called last Friday expousing hope. Hope in the form of trails, new trails for us, on the cape. "Nickaaaasun...ever heard of it?" with his New England harsh accent, "somewhaya out on the cape." I went to Jon Peterson's Bike Rag site... nuthin'. I went to Nemba and found a little something - 8 miles of trails, then onto mtbr.com and found oh... 30 miles of trails!
That led to a smoke filled mini van ride from the coast to the cape... where our hopes came true, but only after a false start. We arrived and found a bike path, and more bike path, paved, sterile, a slittle coating of snow and icy in the shade.... the Capt'n becoming grumbly and onery like he does. Then we found the goods: shoreline tight and swoopiness around the kettle ponds that are there, joined by woodland up and downs over the old dunes on 18" wide singletrack and only a few icy patches, one which ate the Capt'n...tee hee, HAR HAR HAR! He's always the one to lay on the laughs at the other guys expense so HAR HAR HAR! After 2.5 hours wee were spent and barely aware of the overall layout of the west side of the park. Sunday we took in the east side and began to see how it all fits together. There's a few features, but mainly just ever changing swoops. Nice, warming, dirty, sunny, swoops.
Go check it out and you'll be surpirsed why the pace isn't talked of more. Pure, buff, non-eroded trails. Ahhhhhh.... which doesn't explain my ice dam dripping ceiling angst and general malaise about slow work, the economy and aw just shoot me or put me on a bike. I'm ready for the healing.

Future World

2009-01-28T06:03:00.001-08:00

Over the past few weeks, I've compiled a list of all the New England XC MTB races for 2009. If you want to do them all, you'll have to be in three places simultaneously on a dozen weekends. There are over 40 XC races alone! Add in DH, summer cyclocross, hillclimbs, short tracks, 6 and 12 hour variants and the total becomes over 60! Gee what will I do this weekend... race? I hope attendance is up this year, but the number of races will water down attandance at any one. Oh well. We'll be out there rippin it up. Good to see promoter enthusiasm.

Man Cave Update: The old gold Schwinn is looking fine - after struggling to remove the Titec carbon seatpost which involved drilling, a vise, hammer, screwdriver, steel rod and finally (I threw in the towel...) hacksaw. The result was $90 worth of weird carbon and resin smell to save a seatclamp. Not just any seatclamp, but one with a little laser etched tomato. Hio happy tomato. Welcome to your new home. All that is left now if moving the cranks, installing a new seatpost and saddle(Terry Fly Ti for $37.77!), and scrounging up a pair of eggbeaters. All the bikes are wearing them. Stylish. With the oversized Michelin All Mountains on it, the thing looks beefy.

All this keeps me going in the dead of winter without a Pugsley. 15-23 inches of white powder is forecasted in the next 24 hours. Dirt, I know you're out there.
Cheers-

To Blog or not to Blog?

2009-01-22T10:02:00.001-08:00

Created the blog yesterday and I am now having thoughts of " Why would someone read it?" "What's good content?" and "Why bother?"
Then I settled on "Why not? It's a log I can look back on to activate fading memory."
It's
1. Practical.(A place to post)
2. Indulgent.(Forgive me -it's all about my perspective, but maybe someone will enjoy or find a golden nugget amongst my ramblings.) and WTF? it's
3. Inconsequential.

I'm heading for spin class tonight - an hour of high output on poorly maintained Giant spin bikes in a room of overweights desperate for better self image and social intercourse. Intercourse, good. I wonder if the instructor will play Michael Jackson's "Beat It" again.
Better put some tissue in the ears, just in case.

P.S. The Tour Down Under is underway and the Lanceroo's hopping mad.

The Quiver

2009-01-21T09:53:00.000-08:00

Decided to rip down the stairs this morning on my buttcheeks. Which got me to thinking: Hmmmm, wool and wax - I wonder if it would be quicker than the new RED? Think of it... SRAM ASSBUMP '10. I guess the fiber bearing system might have a few bugs to get past. Possiblities! Ah, Nevermind.
My quiver in the man cave just welcomed a new addition: a gold ano Homegrown Ltd frame - the one I busted at Landmine 2004. After two years, one of the original Fat Chance welders came through. She's lookin' pretty sassy "Ride me big boy, but build me up first." She calls out every time I walk by, swinging her top tube at me... I'm having a hard time walking by acting disinterested. Gotta conduct some surgery soon, moving a REBA Team from the race rig to her and cut out the other organs from my HG Pro whose dropout committed hari kari at FOMBA a year ago. I'm coming darling! She senses I've had others but I keep them at a distance. She's gonna cry when I wheel down the other gold ano HG LTD from the mud room, I just know it. Women.