What if you could start every day with a ride? How would it feel to see more dirt than concrete? Is it possible to wear a camelbak more than slacks? Pipe dreams, I know... But what is life without dreams? ...and sometimes those dreams come true where a couple times a week, lanes aren't determined by yellow and white lines, but by bench cuts and mossy singletrack. Sometimes, we wind down our day with a helmet hair and dirty skins. Evan occasionally, just before the sun goes down, flying down the side of a mountain is the reward for struggling to the top, and those things help put everything else in perspective.
Really, if you have to resort to a solar powered gnome, it's gone too far. I can only assume this was said with a straight face:
I'm not having the police telling me what type of garden gnome I can have in my garden. It's all very stupid but ... I will be liable for arrest and prosecution.
Tonight: Last night of night shift
Tomorrow: Poor Farm Pre-Ride
Thursday: Road Ride
Sunday: Poor Farm Fall Cup
Next Weekend: Probably day trip to Douthat with Liz
2 Weekends: MORE Douthat Trip
Wooooo-Hooooooooo!
Oh yeah, and last weekend:
Steve, a friend of mine, and I went out to the GW National Forest and rode the Southern Traverse, aka Shenandoah Mountain Trail. It really was a great ride and tons of fun. I'd recommend the route we took over the one described by IMBA. It was less milage, about 33 miles instead of 40, but probably more effort, and tons more singletrack (or at times, "half-track").
We did have to do some "trail-maintenance". There was an innocent-enough 2 in stick poking out of the hillside, which unfortunantly was squarely alighned with my derailuer. With barely a bump felt on the bike, snapped my hanger in half. Of course, I don't have a hanger and we discuss rigging up a SS (you can tell I was considering last resort options)... Steve ends up pulling an old Diamondback hanger from his pack to see if it would work, but mine's very curvy and the D-back's is ver square and oversized... What do we do? Grab a rock. In the tradition of our indians who mountain biked these lands before us, I ground the hanger down to fit on the Trance. 30 minutes later, we started again, fully geared, without even a derailuer adjustment.
Things felt good for about the next 100 yards when my seat post bolt snapped sending my seat and my ass off the back end of the bike. I didn't impale myself on the post, but did have a sinking feeling that this ride may not be in my favor. Maybe the gods were mad since I'd recommened going against IMBA directions. We were able to get the end of the bolt out of the top of the screw-in part of the clamp, removed the washers and the tilt-adjustment piece between the post and rails, ground the treads down on a rock, and were moving again in 5 minutes.
Heading south on the trails, no issues. Really, I think the gods were mad!
For the most part, cities across the country are pretty much the same. Whether you're in Dallas or Phoenix or NorVA or Kansas City, there are some American staples you can count on like traffic, strip malls, fast food, Walmart, etc... The accents will vary, the industries vary, and the flagship attractions will vary, but how the people live doesn't change much.
Vermont seems to be an exception to that rule. The state doesn't allow billboards, the McDonald's can't have golden arches, and the new Best Buy had to lower it's yellow tag sign because it interfered with the view of the mountains. I was there during the recent Spinach/E-Coli news, an editorial in the local paper reinforced the idea of buying local produce, because local farmers have a more intimate relationship with the land and consumers can know what farms they're food came from, and possible know the farmers themselves. One town that didn't feel like it fit in with the rest of the state is looking at actions give it some Vermontification.
Monday and Tuesday, I had to be in Vermont, near Burlington. The original plans for the trip were cut short, so I flew up Sunday night, worked 7am-7pm Monday and Tuesday, and left Wednesday morning. Unfortunately, I only got to see the town at night and didn't get to go out and see any part of the state. As far as outdoorsiness, this town of 40,000 people had more personality than Richmond.
While there, I went to two restaurants and two bars (one of each, each night). The only time I saw a non-Vermont beer, it was a Sierra Nevada, which isn't exactly a mainstream beer. Also, most of the wines I saw on the menus were Vermont wines. Local breweries are very popular and there are lots of them with my personal favorite being the Ridge Runner by Rock Art Brewery. 
The nightlife (and perhaps the daylife) centers around Church Street, which is 3 blocks that are filled with patio restaurants, shops, bars, and boulders to hang out on. I saw more people walking around the area on monday and tuesday than I see on a thursday in Shockoe Bottom. The city hall building is there, and along with some intricate brick work. At the end of the three blocks is the focal point, which is an old New England style steeple church. 
I also walked down to the edge of Lake Champlain, which I had considered riding around on my road bike if I'd had a day off up there until I saw how big it actually was. Of course, there's restaurants and a marina, but also the Ethan Allen III, a dinner cruise ship that quite large. The lake shore also has a bike path the runs most the length of the lake, which is quite impressive.
As for cycling, Wow! I saw bike and bike rack every where. I walked past three shops in two blocks that were larger than anything in Richmond. Talk about window displays. One had at several DH bikes, lots of womans (or woman's colored) XC bikes, two Cervelos, and tons of other stuff, Not bad for a place named Skirack.
Everyone I talked to seemed to be into hiking or biking or camping, and, most of all, skiing. I'm glad I didn't see it during the day or go out to the mountains. I might have fallen in love.
The Yin of my life is that I'm fortunate enough to have a job where I get lots of time off. If things are normal at work, I get three of four days off each week and mostly use to it run or ride. Occasionally, I'll run an errand or even spend an afternoon doing home improvement, like building shelving.
Before: 
After: 
The Yang is that I have to work a lot of weekend days and miss the good rides and races. Today, Liz and I were able to head up with the Richmond MORE group to meet the DC MORE group at Fountainhead Park. Normally, I'm not big on traveling to get in a short ride, but really, this was a great time. I think, at it's heart, mountain biking is about standing around the bikes bullshitting with friends. The group broke up by friendships and ability, everyone did one loop of the park, then stood around, picniced, and chatted. Scott Scudmore showed up with his mobile kitchen, cooked up 25 lbs of fries for about 25 people, along with burgers, hotdogs, and a nice selection of sides provided by the riders. Good Times!
First off, I know that things outside one's control greatly effect a person's intelligence and level of education. But please, if your job involves dealing with the public and weighing things, basic math and conversions should be within your grasp. If your job is in the meat dept of a major (or minor) food store, please don't let the following conversation happen:
Me: Could I get 12 oz of salmon cut into two pieces.
Kroger Fish Guy: Sorry, but this scale only measures in pounds.
M: Ok, make that three quarters pound of salmon.
KFG: It actually only does decimals, not fractions, really, I'm sorry.
M: (blank stare) uh, how about .75?
KFG: (weigh precut slice) .72, just a sec while I cut a bigger piece.
M: That one's ok, I'll take it.
KFG: ok. (starts wrapping fish)
M: Can I get that cut in two?
KFG: Oh... sorry... long-ways?
M: (Thinking but not saying: "yeah, I'm going to make two extra large salmon sticks out of it.") Thanks, but the other way would be better.
KFG: Here you go...
Last thursday night was a free Black Crowes concert down at Brown's Island as part of the Nascar weekend. Not sure how it works, but I think there's a show before each race weekend, which they call the Rock and Roll Tour or something like that.
Of course, I'd heard of the Black Crowes, but probably couldn't have named any of their songs. It turns out, I'm quite the fan... Somehow I never picked up any of their CDs, but knew a bunch of their music once I heard it. Songs like Thorn In My Pride, She Talks To Angels, and Hard To Handle. Mix in some hippies and rednecks, and you have quite a show. Actually, the best concert I've seen on the island.
Now that it's almost fall, you know what that means! Marathon Season. I was rereading and re-researching marathoning last night and I've come to the conclusion that long distance runners are inherently boring. The message board for Richmond is less than exciting, because there's not the much to say about running. As for being a runner, it's about simplicity (despite all the technical stuff they try to fill the bore-void with), and endurance. Which is why I'm gearing up for my 2nd one.
When I didn't get selected for admission to the New York Marathon, my plan was to do Chicago. That would've been cool, since Liz and I could've stayed with my sister and it would've been a great reason to visit. With a limit of 40,000, you think I'd had some time to register. I believe it filled up in about 3 weeks. Getting shut out of those two, I just started concentrating on the bike and ORTs and kinda forgot about doing a marathon this year. Since my ankle wouldn't decide if it was healed or not, I didn't run much over the summer also.
Since I'm now getting a late start, I've decided that if I can go 20 miles by the first week in October, I'll do it. I had the same goal last year and it worked out. Painfully... but it worked out.
After much consideration, I think it's best to hold off going to nationals this year. Just getting invited is beyond what I imagined. I started swimming last winter just so I could race well in Richmond. Really, just to get out of the water without feeling like I had to fight for my life. I was still last in the swim, but tore it up on the bike, and held my own on the run for a 6th place finish. I was satisfied with that and that should've been the end of it until someone pointed out how well that put in in the points standings. I didn't even know I was going to get points. The EX2 ORT, where I got 5th, put me at 5th in the points standings. Now, I was getting excited.
Things outside my control slowed this unexpected momentum from there. I gave up a spot on a good team for the 18 hour race, since I was planning on doing the C-Ville ORT. Unfortunately, that fell through due to work, and I only got two races done. A racer's best 3 races count toward their total points, and even though I only had 2 races, I still ended up 6th in the standings. Now, the regular season's over, but the top ten get invited to Nationals in Tahoe.
Flights, hotel (word on the street is condos are the way to go), bike shipping, etc....? Once in a lifetime opportunity...? What do I do?
I fold. I decline the invitation. I turn down the chance to participate in the biggest athletic event (or any event, for that matter) I've had a chance to do.
Why? Because, next year... Next year, I'm going to come back stronger and faster. I'm going to race more, place higher, score more points, and, in general, tear more shit up. Then, I'll take Liz with me to nationals. ...but only if we're having fun. Remember, I'm a casual, laid-back mountain biker, not one of those serious triathlete types.
FYI: Approx Tahoe bike course... Doesn't suit me at all, right?
Brutal, painful, long, and disappointing. Only one thing to do: Go back next year.
Because of Ernesto, Liz and I went up Saturday instead of Friday. Besides the somewhat soft ground in the fields by the pavillion and the observatory at the Stokesville Campground, you could hardly tell that it had rained out there. We had no way of knowing that though since on friday morning our power went out and were unable to do anything but run errands and play games and drink wine by candlelight. We were guessing that it was going to be a pretty wet and miserable weeekend based on how things were looking near the homefront, though.
Saturday, we got up early, packed up in the dark, and were about 5 minutes from leaving when a heavenly glow came from above... a higher calling? beings from another world? even better, electricity! Ironically, the power-outage had caused me to use my helmet light to find a lighter for the candles. Had I not used my helmet light, I wouldn't have placed it outside of the realm of the rest of our bike stuff, causing me to leave it on the table. This realization hit me about the time we pulled into the campground and would haunt and pressure me for the next 30 hours. With no regard to how many bars my phone said I had, it refused to let me call Sean to see if he could stop by the house before he left town.
Sean had recommended getting a spot away from the pavillion since that's where the party's at, which ran pretty late both nights. He recommended the field by the observatory, where we had a beautiful spot overlooking the Shenandoah Valley.
Liz and I then went for a ride along a no-longer-used fireroad that is now singletrack. It had some great overlooks, some moderate climbing (after the steep climb to get out of the campground), some fast downhill sections, a very lush crevice between the mountains were the creeks run. I've heard that this is the last section of the race course, which I cannot confirm or deny.
We spent the rest of the day hanging out, where I ate, met a cool guy Reinout from Marty's Reliable Cycle in Northern NJ, and I ate, chatted with Sean, Woody, and Carter and his wife Helen, and we went to dinner where Scott Scudmore was doing a great job of running the kitchen as always, hung out by the keg, then ate a snack before hitting the sack. Chris Scott (race organizer) had also contacted an area amateur astrologist to open the observatory, so we got a close up of the moon and Jupiter and 4 moons. Quite stunning.
Heading to bed early made it pretty easy to get up sunday morning. The woman in the next tent over yelling at her kid made it easier to wake up also. (She also made it easy to get up for a midnight snack talking loudly on the phone in the middle of the night. Why her phone worked and mine didn't seem to be outside Karma's control.) I didn't eat a large breakfast, just a bagel on the starting line, thinking this would help keep a more maintained energy supply. It may have worked since my energy stayed pretty constant most of the day. . 
The race start, after the announcements like "follow the arrows", was pretty chaotic. I'm guessing that all the super-fast guys were in front because no one seemed to be bolting on the gun. 400 riders in a mass start is something to see and would probably give anyone a good laugh. A mile or two of road before hitting an undulating fireroad climb that was pretty forgiving except that no one, at least not those around me, could take a corner. Maybe because it was still a little crowded or a little damp, but the whole time I'm thinking these uphills would be much easier if they carried speed through them. The only time all day I saw anyone I knew was about mile 5 where I passed Sean who was stuck in such a group of non-momentum carriers. We wished each other a good race and said we'd see each other later.
10-11 fairly casual miles later, I hit the top of the first climb. Within a 1/4 mile of singletrack, I wiped out in a rock garden with my leg landing squarely on a pointy rock scraping my calf and knee pretty good. "Nice way to start off the day," which is a funny thing to say after about a dozen miles of climbing.
All the descents kinda had the same pattern, starting with a really steep rocky section that tested your finger endurance and steering more than anything else. That pretty quickly turned into some super fast, narrow, straight singletrack that kept going. This was the kind of stuff that tested your courage more than anything else. Really, you could probably top 30mph here if you had the balls. I had a good idea of what I was willing to do after doing the Southern Traverse with Jay last month, though I was probably in the 20-25mph range. It was enough to pass anyone that would let me.
The second climb was Lynn Trail, which may be bikable, but not sure by who. The first part is steep but straight and I rode more than most around me, but still that was only about a quarter of it. The rest is comparable to the switchbacks at Sherando. A racer near me said it heart rate was 175 pushing the bike up the mountain. I just noticed that when I odometer read anything, it was 2mph. Took a break at the top, ate, flew down the mountain to take the road to Aid Station 2 (1 was just a bottle fill up, which most people skipped).
Saturday, I suggested to Liz that she try to volunteer at station 3, since that would give her more time in the morning and could get back to the campground before I finished. I was surprised to see her at #2 (also #6) jotting race numbers down. The racers were still pretty packed at this point, so she was busy and we couldn't chat much. I refilled my bottle, camelbak, stomach, lubed the chain, and tightened my crankbolt with a 10mm allen out of the back of some guy's Xterra (which had come loose for the first time ever, great timing!).
The next fireroad climb was pretty painful. My idea was to just find a comfortable gear and keep pedaling. Yeah, that didn't work. I think a lot of it was psychological. Somehow, it's perfectly ok to do 4-5 mph on singletrack, but roads are supposed to be faster. When you have that kind of pace, you start thinking bad thoughts. "I just need to kick it up a notch, and keep pedaling." "I just need to drop another gear and..." "I just need to keep it here and..." "I just need to point downhill and...." I didn't want to, but I had to walk some of this. At one point, I was getting back on the bike and said to a guy passing me "I can only walk so far before I start hating myself!" Still, at the top of the road, more hiking, then more hiking, then.... yeah, it sucked! A couple of false-tops later, another super-technical downhill followed by a super-fast downhill to Aid Station 3.
Every time someone talks about this race, they always rave about the volunteers. I believed them at 2, but at 3 they really came out. It was a pretty small area and the field was spreading out, but people still coming in regularly. As soon as you hop off the bike, they ask if you need any maintenance or lube, then tell you they're moving the bike to the end of the area. Then they took the drink mix out of by drop-bag, refilled my bottle with mix and water. They refilled my camelbak. They kept offering me any food I wanted. Really, just a touch of how pros must feel, without all the sponsor pressure. (No 10mm allen, though.)
On Hwy 250 after leaving #3 (the only road section with traffic), my crank started feeling loose again. I stopped before heading up the trail to check out the situation, and was able to tighten it a little using a 6mm and 4mm together. Not tight, but it'll have to work.
Heading up the next section on the southeast side of Ramsey's draft was another hike-a-bike section. Honestly, it was probably ridable on fresh legs, but I had about 50 miles under my tires at this point and was feeling it. Riding only a couple sections made for a long walk, but it was another sweet downhill after some refueling at the top. I did like this top since you could tell when you were there very clearly. It even had a log to sit on! Brilliant! At the bottom there was flat section with several creek crossings. I walked a couple just because my fatigue was taking a toll on my steering, but did hit most of them. Here the cramps starting coming on, and they came on fast. Before I knew it, I was laying on the side of the trail, bike still in the trail, clinching my calf, which was in full-involuntary-locked-up-mode. A few minutes later, I was ready to go again, but I could feel it there for the rest of the day.
Before starting the race, I was looking forward to this next section. Leaving Aid Station 4, it was 10 miles of gradual climb, then 8 miles of harder climbing. I was thinking that those Sherando trips this summer were going to pay off here, just keep eating and drinking, and keep it in a comfortable gear. After 60 miles, I could drink, but I had to force myself to eat since I felt like I was going to throw up, and there' s no such thing as a comfortable gear. I checked my clock and saw I had 2 hours to get to checkpoint 5 before 4:30. Since I left my lights at home, I had to make it since they don't let anyone pass after that. 18 miles to go... I got it.
The first part was nice since it was just uphill enough make the pedals work, but I was feeling the crank-issue again. I stopped to look at it and saw it was the bottom bracket which was good. Knowing my crank wasn't going to fall off was encouraging since my 6mm+4mm trick now just seemed to be stripping the bolt. I made it to the turn were it started getting steep in pretty good time. Starting up this road, I realized this is the same one that I did some walking on before, and started to get worried. It didn't take long for me to get into my smallest gear and the cramps were really getting to me now. I kept trying to eat, but mostly felt nauseous. I was down to about 50% walking, 50% grannying, when I checked the time. 3 miles and 20 minutes before the lights cutoff. I'm not the type to really get demoralized, but I will lie to myself. I knew I wasn't going to make it. I knew I had 3 miles of painfully steep fireroads left before a course marshall forced me to stop. I knew I didn't have much left in me when I laid on the road cramped up in pain again. But I swore I could find a way to finish because I had just too much put into it. I walked and I pedaled when I could, but I make it to the top of that mountain. When I got there at 5:10, I ignored the fact I didn't have a drop-bag or lights, I let them refill my camelbak and bottle and lube the chain again. I asked about the next section of course. ...and I was told I had to stop, several times, and rather insistently. Not really knowing what to do, I weakly stumbled up a hill to a grassy section, laid on my back, covered my eyes, and tried to ignore the pain in my legs.
After about 10 minutes of that when I was getting cold and my calves stopped pulsating, I asked how they got people down that didn't make it, still not admitting that I was one of them. They said at 6:30, the volunteers could leave and shuttle me down. A couple of racers that knew each other (one who didn't make the cutoff, and another who did but didn't think his injured arm could handle another descent) were going to take the roads back. One even had a map, Brilliant! Another hour of being cold didn't appeal to me, so I asked to join them, but said I was going to be pretty slow. They took me on, and we started heading down the road from Reddish Knob.
Still dealing emotionally with not finishing as we headed down that steep road, a van with one of the volunteers pulled us over and said she probably had room for us if we wanted a ride to the campground. I looked at my odometer, which read 85 miles for the day. I told the guys they could take the ride, but I wanted to ride back. I think they knew what I was getting at.
By the time we go to the iron bridge outside the campground, my computer said 96 miles. I wished my new friends from the State College, PA area fairwell, and started to head back on Tillman Rd away from the campground. I figured about 1.5 miles out and 2.5 miles back would put me at 100 for the day. Sure, the day may not have been perfect. Had I not left my lights at home, I believe I would have finished. Had my bottom bracket not have come loose or if I hadn't cramped, I may have been able to cut off 30 minutes to make the cutoff. But sometimes strange things happen that are truly wonderful in their own respect. After I turned away from the bridge heading away from the finish, Liz was riding her bike back to the campground from the checkpoint she'd been working all day. We finished up those last 4 miles together and stopped to snap this picture, just before I finished my own SM100.
