Road raging!

The Mukluk was in full commuter duty this morning as I flew warp speed downhill on a snowmobile trail with overinflated Larrys. The trail started to turn and it felt like I was going way too fast. Went for brakes, but I guess swapping wheels and rotors this morning didn’t help the brakes efficiency. Getting a little worried I thought WWSvenNysD? First, images of a mud covered Belgian hopping over barriers danced through my head. That isn’t going to help…Maybe if I can’t get this thing turned before I hit that fence? Back to the immediate situation, I remember seeing those Belgians sliding around corners moto style with one leg out. That’s it! I rip foot out of the pedal and prepare for epic corner shredding. Oh…the corner is done…and I’m already at the bottom of the hill…now with one foot out…I guess I should pay more attention to what’s going on?

Productive?

 A quality product review is an essential part of any good biker’s blog. I have not done my part in providing useful feedback for the masses and I aim to resolve that.

The 1998 Kona Jake the Snake is a fine piece of engineering craftsmanship. Why, you might ask, should I spend my hard earned money on this exceptional machine? It is hard to capture the pure passion that is Jake the Snake in words, but I’ll do my best. Some may tell you that steel, titanium, or carbon fiber are the way to go, but really that is because those people are uninformed. The magical ride of 7005 aluminum is a secret that only a few well seasoned racers know. Can I say horizontally stiff yet vertically compliant? I won’t, but you may. It is a little known fact that 7005 aluminum got it’s name because it is 4993 better than any material currently available. Enough material science. The really fabulous things come from the fanatical attention to detail. When you look closely at what Jake has brought to the table you see things that other manufacturers have either forgotten or deemed too expensive. Things such as a 1” threadless headset and a color matched pump peg. You know you are going to get a flat with all the miles you are going to book on this hot rod and what would you do without that full length frame pump? I don’t think I even need to start on the rock solid feel that the 1” threadless fork can provide. If you can’t make the turn with this bike it is your fault, not the fork’s. Looking deeper at the fork I realized that Kona spared no expense in bringing you the finest exotic materials. It seems that they were able to take carbon and merge it with iron to create a super material known as steel. I don’t know how they did it, but it seems to be stronger than…well I don’t know, some sort of super material. My only grievance is the component spec. The shifting and crank parts seem to be some kind of chintzy black plastic with the word “Force” scribbled on them. I guess they were “Forced” to use them. (insert-time to compose yourself) Also the tires seem to be glued on. Really, how cheap are we going to go here? Thankfully the color scheme makes up for component deficiencies. Finally, in the rad air jump test the score came in at, “Like three feet of air!”

This is my review.

Why does this guy keep complaining?

I’m a big fan of junior programs in racing. Get new kids into the sport at a discounted rate. Make it accessible to kids that maybe aren’t from wealthy background. The kind of stuff that you used to like before you thought that you needed a newer bike. You know…the one that helped you win the big race…ok maybe it didn’t. Biking becomes an expensive sport because we make it an expensive sport. I was having a lot of fun before I realized that I needed carbon everything. Have you seen my bell?

This is my problem with the new High School League. A junior race runs around $15, High School races are $52.50. More kids in the sport is great, but setting up a system where the entry fees have to be this high seems a little wrong to me. I know they aren’t out gouging people for the fun of it. Setting up a race is an expensive thing. I just don’t see the value of running independent races when it seems that we could add these races to the already present series races. I don’t know, kind of like the junior races that are already there?

I think this elevated participation is an excellent thing. I however do regret that in it’s current state, the league is only being contested by the wealthiest schools in the area. My feeling is that this gives our sport, one that already has a reputation for being fairly extravagant, an elitist undertone that I am a little embarrassed by.

I’ve been learning more and more that my opinions on things like this are often wrong, so if you read this you should probably ignore it. However, my feelings on this league have been building to the point that I wanted to complain, so there it is.

I dislike the High School Mountain Bike League.

cross

Cross...I've looked forward to cross all year. An escape from the normal racing scene is how I viewed it from the spring and summer. Last year it was just that. Exciting racing usually head to head, with all sorts of attacks. This year has been different. This year the race has started and I try to hang on for a while. Ultimately I lose contact and I race alone for 45 minutes. It's even starting to affect the way I see the world. Yesterday I was yelling at goose number five because he was letting a gap form between he and goose number four. "Dig deep goose! You're going to be flying south alone!" Nature has lost its innocence. In my mind the problem is with the depth of the 1-2 field. There are plenty of elite's, but I'm seeing a lot of the guys who wouldn't be winning, but would be right on the back of the lead group go to other fields. Single speed seems to be the biggest draw. In my world, I'd move that category into the sparse 1-2 field and out of the huge masters field. They could still race their own race to try and get sweet prizes, but at least the track would have the appearance of a race.

Chequamegon 12

It's Monday, cold and rainy. I should have started riding a few hours ago, but it's Monday, cold and rainy. So instead I'll write a word or two about last weekend in an effort to avoid the cold for a moment or two.

I left Minnesota with a stomach full of nerves. I've had a feeling since I finished last year's Chequamegon that I shouldn't have done as well as I did. I showed up this year fully prepared to be crushed by the pressure that I've been holding on to. The race certainly wasn't a huge victory, but I think I did alright.

The morning started cool. Our crew rolled out of bed bright and early for breakfast. Rolling the bikes down to the Norske Nook is always the best way to start a morning in Hayward. We ate awesome food and drank a lot of coffee. Got back to the hotel and drank more coffee. Needless to say, by race time, I was amped up and ready to go. Five minutes left and the butterflies in my stomach must have found that caffeine because their wings are about to bust out of my stomach. Telling myself I've done this before, it's just another day on the bike does nothing. Usually this works, but in a crowd approaching 2,000 there is no kidding myself. Today, this is a big deal. A couple of minutes to go and the four wheelers start to burble. The familiar smell of burned gasoline starts to waft through the crowd, and we are off! The start is always slow and twitchy. So many people elbow to elbow, trying to move forward. I can still see the front, but it's farther than I probably should have let it get. We roll along the pavement accompanied by the roar of mountain bike tires unaccustomed to the tarmac. Slow accelerations followed by violent braking is pretty standard at this point. Finally I can see the police car blocking the road. As we approach the police car the leaders fly off the road to the left into the field. This is where the race truly begins. The people that have just been hanging on basically stop on the grassy hill. The people that were overtaken try to squeak through. Usually it is a sort of chaos until the trail narrows back down. I made it through in alright position and should have calmed down. I tried but failed. I sat in for a bit, but saw a sweet tandem come down and figured it was time to move towards the break. The tandem fizzled on a hill and I was left alone in the front pulling towards the group ahead. Eventually I caught them, but was left in a shape that was not going to help me finish well. Every time we crested the hill it was a fight to get back on. Finally I started to feel a pain in my calves. My body was saying it's time to give up and I couldn't argue anymore. I let them go and kept chugging along. The worst part was seeing the group just ahead and knowing I couldn't reach them. That is where the story of me having a chance to win ended.

This is where the story of me finishing starts. I had fallen back and was ready to quit when I saw that a couple of guys were roaring up on me. They passed and told me that we need to get back in this thing! Figuring I didn't really have anything else going on until Kevin's party I might as well pedal my bike a bit. I hung on his wheel, he was flying! Recovered some, then put in a decent pull. We were moving along. My calves still hurt, a lot, but what can you do? I chugged along eventually hitting firetower. It was painful, but crested the top and saw a familiar mullet. He offered a coke and told me to get it in my big ring! Looking down I was a couple cogs away from there so I complied and pushed until the familiar hurt started again. I got caught by a guy and we caught a couple of others. We worked together pretty well until we got to three to go. Then I put in a pull that was not supposed to be friendly. Everyone was gone except for  the guy that had caught me. He was off my wheel, but hadn't given up. Eventually he caught me and we had what seemed like the slowest race ever up the last hill. I was thinking I could have walked up faster, but on reflection I think that I would have collapsed. I crested the hill and the legs could feel the doughnut holes that I wanted to dominate at the finish. Hammer, Hammer, Hammer!!! Down the hill I can almost grab you Erik's guy but you are just out of reach. Pedal Damn It! was not even close to the profanity that I was choking on. The pain was there in the volume that you can only handle a few times a year, but then with the finish line there was a satisfaction that is so worth it. The Erik's guy held on. I finished and saw Dave O and a few other people who had beaten me. It wasn't my best race there but I earned my 47th place this year. Frickin butterflies.

Its kind of hard to complain about life. I don't have much money. I don't win many races. Some things seem more important.

As far as racing goes. Cross has begun and is fun and hard as always. Chequamegon is in a couple of weeks. I'm a little worried about having a big disappointment there. I'll attend some other races, but don't expect much other than to drink a fair amount of beers after I cross the finish line.

My new road bike is still carbon and still fast.

I got a new bike and it's sweet. Carbon and stuff.

Feeling kind of green.

Today I finished the second road race that I've participated in. It was a pretty good time. The course was in Lester Prairie. It was a very flat 23 mile loop and the winds were blowing. We would be doing this two times. This is not the setup that I hope for. The only other road race I did was last year. It was the state championship. That was a 70 mile race that finished on a fairly large hill. I raced that one the way I figure a guy like me should race. Sit in, then attack on the hill at the end. It worked out alright that time. This time I thought I'd go in a different direction. With the winds blowing I was thinking that a good 3/4 of the race was ideal for a break to form. If that was going to happen I wanted to be in on it.

The race started with a roll out of majestic Lester Prairie. The moto pulled off to the side and we were off...to a slow start. Chit chat was high and the cranking was slow. Everyone seemed to be keenly aware that it was hot and there is going to be a heck of a headwind when we turn the corner. Everyone but Keith. He was off the front lopping along at a good pace. What's this? I guess we are going to race. The pace started to pick up and we pulled Keith back in. Then there were a few tries at breakaways. All were shut down pretty quickly. One group of six got a bit of a gap that looked like trouble until they turned into the wind. Then the train stopped. We rolled into the wind at Mukluk pace. No one wanted the pain. After what seemed like an eternity the turn out of the wind started to come into site and the pace picked back up. We turned right had a cross wind and I started to push the pedals a little harder. I looked back and to my surprise I had gotten a medium sized gap. I kept on trucking and saw Keith trying to pull me in alone. I didn't really know what to do so I just kept going. Sure enough Keith caught me and now we had two.  After a bit I saw Drew was on his way to join the party. He hooked on and I started to think this thing might work. Well I guess the peloton thought it might work too because all of a sudden they were on us. That must have been some kind of effort because that gap closed faster than...never mind. The three of us rejoined the group, turned and sailed downwind for a while. At the end of the downwind section they had a feed zone. For some reason everyone must have slowed down for it because I all of a sudden found myself out front again. Not really wanting to be out there by myself with 23 miles to go I figured I'd just ride like I was headed to work. I kept putting time on the field. Then I see a another GP guy on his way up. I figured it was Keith again. I kept my pace easy enough and hoped I'd get some company. To my surprise it was a gentleman named Shannon. He seemed to be in good spirits so I upped my pace a little and he continued on. We tried to work together and the group stayed a long way back. I thought things were going pretty well until he mentioned that he was a little tired. I guess I should have given him some more time to recoup after bridging up to me. Shannon pulled pretty hard the last few times, but I think he'd finally run out of steam. I said thanks and continued on alone. Ten miles to go but mostly down wind. Now or never. The moto pulled up and asked if I wanted splits. I nodded and hoped by splits he really meant, do you want to hold onto my motorcycle and I'll pull you in. He didn't. He disappeared and when he came back he said, "50 seconds 5-0 seconds." Not the five minutes I'd like, but maybe that would hold? We turned down wind and I tried to crank harder. Nope, not happening. I'm still moving pretty well, but not peloton on the final straight good. I start to get some chills. Feeling cold when it is 90 usually means you aren't going to win. The moto gets up to me again. He says, "30 seconds, if you can go faster now is the time!" I tried again. Yes, yes, yes....no. Looking back they are withing throwing distance. Maybe if I'd brought my James bond oil slick or tacks or something? Too bad the weight weenie in me made me dump that stuff. Bam! They are on me like...never mind. Maybe I should try and hook on and go for the sprint. Nope, not happening. Oh well, about a mile left, might as well take in the sights. Then up ahead there is trouble. People flying all about. Both guys that were on the ground pop straight up. One throws his helmet. Damn he's wearing all black. Must be Devin. I stop to gawk. He tore up his really nice jersey and got rid of some extra skin. Looks like all the important stuff is still there though. I ride off and finish the race.

I guess that is the other way to do a bike race. Much harder. Much less successful. Still pretty fun.

Rowdy in Burnsville.

Three days of the aggressive switch being on and I can finally switch it off again. Buck is over completing my midweek run. It starts with losing a crit at Opus, continues with a fun really hard road ride on Wednesday, and completes with Buck Hill. Buck was fun tonight. I started a little bit better and hammered with everything I had on the hills. Owen will be mad he missed it because they featured the elusive bonus grass climb. I managed to find a pretty good groove and push my way up past Jeff, then Dave. Dave was easily holding my wheel in his stealth new kit when I slid my front wheel out in a fairly easy corner. Dave capitalized and dropped me like I was standing still. I guess I was on the ground? Thanks for not riding over me, I was in the race line. Jeff was just catching me as I regrouped and I figured I'd pull ahead and drop him. He stuck to me like glue for the duration of the race. Hill at 195 bpm, no problem for Jeff. Good job friend. Finally the two of us caught Dave again and I made a full gas pass on the hill before we dove into the singletrack. It stuck and he stayed behind the rest of the race with Jeff just behind on his wheel. In all honesty I'm pretty sure they were both going faster through the singletrack and had they pulled a pass where it might have been precarious to do so, either of them could have beaten me. I'll take my first fourth though and be happy. Jon ended third pretty far up the road and Jesse and B. Moore were nowhere to be seen from my vantage point. Now back to my normal slow rides through the country for a couple of days. Afton is Sunday, my back already hurts thinking about it.

Buck again.

Mountain bike update! Owen and his friend Jon rode each other into the ground to get third and fourth. B. Moore and Jesse both beat them as expected. Looking at the times Owen was actually pretty close to catching Jesse. That would have been pretty crazy! It sounded like Freewheel Kevin tried to hang with them, but couldn't handle the brutal pace that their single cogs were rocking. I played in the sand for a second at the start and that was all it took to push me back to the middle of the pack. I ram jammed my way through a bunch of people and ended up sixth. It was a distant sixth with the group ahead going as fast as they were. Tim started fast. Then he started making throw up sorts of noises when I came around him. In team form he was prepping his stomach for the load of beer he was going to have to drink. Cole did the competitive two lapper for the first time. He was doing great until he got in a gnarly crash and took his bar end to his leg. It looked like he was frustrated and excited to get back out there next week. It shouldn't be very long before he's crushing people's dreams.

My mind is broken as usual.

Funny thing. I ended up running into the younger me tonight at about nine. He told me that I need to HTFU. He said that I knew the thunderheads to the south were going to stay clear of us. He told me that my legs have been this tired before and I've still moved forward. He told me that I shouldn't have bothered the love of my life who would rather be sleeping. I'm sorry I disappointed you me. I won't do that again. Thank you Amy.

9 something in lydia.

It's six o'clock. I've been up since a little before five eating breakfast and doing dog business. Last night I raced Opus crits and this morning I'm a little worn down. I'm getting ready for a long day. I have to ride in to work. After work ride to Eagan for a hard group ride. Then ride home, maybe in a thunderstorm. I just wonder what I would have thought about my current life when I was younger.

Flying on wings of wax.

Wednesday Night Worlds started tonight and went off in exciting fashion. Paul went down when the Sasquatch dropped some sand on a corner. Tim managed to dominate the final sprint that we won't count. On the first couple of rides we say we don't do sprints or KOMs, but I didn't see anyone not going for that last one. Way to go Timmy! If only I could get you to race on the road. All in all it was a fun night of riding followed by some beer and cookies. The meal of the gods.

Fish Cup.

Sunday was the Final Catfish Cup. So far all three of these have been fun events. Good people and a laid back attitude are both good things for an event this time of the year. I however haven’t done the best at them. The first one went well. There was some snow so I said to myself, “Self. Yes? What would Jaglo do?” The answer that came back was lower my pressure until I thought it was too low, then let out another few pounds. That worked well and I got second. The next week ice was the theme. Not really knowing what to do without my studly friends I went with the ehh…lets leave the air out philosophy. There was a wave of people that flooded by me. Maybe not the best strategy, maybe I’m just bad on ice, probably both. The third came and we were on the lake, through sand, and up a steep hill. Ben couldn’t have written out a better course for my lack of finesse. By the time I made it through the short icy section of single-track Jeff was already about to yell ramp and ride over me. Then the lake came and I was able to pull a gap back. I think the drool that was shooting out of my mouth propelled me ahead like a jet boat. I’ll have to try that one again in the future. Anyway that’s two race wins in a row. I’m ready to retire.

Monday Reece had off school and Owen was busy so Reece and I did a bit of a hike up to my favorite bike shop. We met up with Grant half way. Really fun stuff until Reece started flatting every couple of minutes. I had to leave him for sasquatch so I could get home through the wind to the old lady. Word is he was able to fend off the hairy beast and make it home.

The usual junk. At least it's illustrated!

It’s taken a few days to sink in, but I think I’m ready to talk about the  major happening in my life. You may have already heard as it is pretty big news. Yes yes…I am the new indoor grass criterium world champion. Wow, it feels weird just to say it. I know the big money and fame will be rolling in, but I promise that I’ll try to keep my head on straight.


In other news I suck at racing my Mukluk on the ice. The silver lining is that I learned sooner than I normally would have that I’m good at eating fire roasted hotdogs. This day of learning was provided by Rich’s Elk River race series. It is always a good time, even when you aren’t having a good time. I don’t know how that works, but it does, so go.

Last week was a tough one for commuting. I think I’m starting to be ready for summer. Recovery week was the theme that ran through my tiny melon every morning that I saw single digits. Thankfully this week we are seeing a bit more warmth so I can pretend to be hard core again.

Tim, Grant and I did find time to rework an old form of biking to suit the weather during my bike drought. Touring. It rocks in the winter. We may have used different rules than the touring that you'd think of, but this is what the touring gods had in mind. Here are some pictures.

Win or loose, bikes are fun. Go ride them.

Probably spending too much time in the dark.

Last week I ran into a catalyst that precipitated a lot of thoughts that had been swirling around in my little mind. The catalyst was a driver who was stopped on the side of the gravel road waiting for me. As I approached I wondered what I had in store. Having just watched some Dexter with Amy I knew that only good could come out of this meeting. I rolled up and stopped. My friend Paul says that you always have to stop. They may need spare tubes, a granola bar, some gels, the usual things that a stranded motorist would be craving. It was a woman that was waiting for me to see where it is that I’m riding off to every morning. I told her that I work in Burnsville and that is where I am going. The woman congratulated me on my accomplishment and drove off. It was a pretty benign meeting where I was given acclaim for something that to me seemed really unimportant. Then things started to roll around in my head. I noticed that most of the cars that passed me now gave me room on the road. Less people were honking and yelling encouraging things with fun hand signals. Maybe the dumb thing that I do does make a little bit of a difference. Visions of other weirdos riding around on bikes started making me really happy. All this rattling shot out one conclusion that I couldn’t ignore. If we use the roads they will open up to us. Then some guy in a crappy truck honked at me and gave me the finger. I guess there are still some strides to be taken.

 

Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger.

I guess I should do a race summary for the year. It is that time of year and it would be a waste if I didn’t use this as an opportunity to find ways to improve. Lets start with the improving to get it out of the way.

Ways to win more:

1. Go faster.
2. Fall down less.
3. Pedal harder.

I think that about covers the self improvement.

On to the race recap!

Winter felt good with the fat bike racing and grass crits turning out well until I caught a nasty cold that dragged into spring. My lungs slowly started to work again just in time to race at Buck Hill and Opus a few times. Then it was off to Park City to watch my little sister graduate and sneak into the mountains on my Focus. That was fun and different. The mountains just keep going and you are always either boiling hot on the ascent or numb to your bones on the decent. After we returned to reality I had a few more Opus races that worked out alright. The most fun ones being the ones that I broke off the front with too many laps to go. I’ve failed and I’ve succeeded and I wouldn’t give either one back. Buck continued to go pretty well. I attended more races than most of my competitors so I ended up on the podium for the second half of the season. Heath and I joked that we got attendance awards. The difference was that he deserved his.

MNSCS racing was a mixed bag. I continue my tradition of sucking at Laddies Loppet and the Border Battle, and am starting a new tradition of sucking at Mont Du Lac. The rest of it went pretty well. The Freewheel Frolic was a mud fest that I was prepared for with mud tires and a good amount of early season fitness. Afton and Buck races are climbing races that I always feel at home doing. Particularly Buck because of our weekly series. All the other ones are fun and are kind of hit or miss. Except St. Cloud. I don’t like St. Cloud. Stay away from St. Cloud. Eh, maybe next year?

Chequamegon. I don’t know what there is to say about Chequamegon except that I got ridiculously lucky and did way better than I should have. That race was fun and I’ll remember it forever.

Cross loved me this year. It gave me my first real win of the year, even if the race was sparsely attended. Then I had my ups and downs even landing squarely on my head in an over the bars attack. Not a well thought out attack, but had to give it a go. My hat is off to Charlie, Mitch, and Fred. Three guys that were head and shoulders faster than me the whole cross season. Thanks for letting me hook onto your wheels on occasion.

Through all of this Amy managed to not strangle me to death while I slept. Thanks honey. You have the hardest job of all.

Plan B:

Sitting at work I think of bike after bike that I need to build. Trouble when you are rapidly approaching N+1. Plan B occurred to me suddenly as I lusted for a sweet Karate Monkey with shiny White Industries stuff. Really? My lust is for a steel bike with no gears? Yes, I needed it. Deep in my desire is when it occurred to me that I have these perverse feelings while I have dead time at work. The solution...quilt...or quit depending on how my right ring finger feels about typing. The plan is to spend work time on the bike thus eliminating bike porn time and halting the spew of money into bikes. Sounds like a good solution, now all I need are enablers and yes men to tell me how smart of an idea this is. Also I encourage this for others. I am your yes man.

I wrote something for a bike company.

I could tell the rain was coming by the sheets hanging from the sky to the west, but was hoping we would make it closer to home before we were rained on. With about 35 miles to go I felt the tickle on my eyelash and knew we were about to get wet. A crack of lightning seemed closer than I wanted and signaled that it was time to up the pace. I looked over at Reece and started pushing harder. My breathing started to get heavy and the rain started to come down with a thickness. I could feel my legs starting to protest, but in the rain that doesn’t matter. Faster and faster we went always within a wheel of each other. By now we were flying over the crushed lime stone that makes up the Southwest LRT trail. I couldn’t help but start laughing. I looked over with a smile I couldn’t hide and said one of my favorite quotes, ”Hey Reece! I don’t think the heavy stuff is going to come down for quite some time!”

Biking is funny. We don’t just do stuff that everyone else tries their hardest to avoid. We obsess over it. We fall in love with it. Biking becomes our lives. I remember a quote from when I was younger that said that a person who can speak two languages can see the world with two souls. I think that being a cyclist gives a person a window to the world that is closed to everyone else. At times that is a good thing. I’ll take every sunset that rips open the horizon and pours its fire across the sky. I’ll put up with the deer that doesn’t hear me coming and storms across the trail two feet off my wheel. I can handle the family of bald eagles feeding in the tree above me screeching to ward me off. What I have trouble handling is the time that cycling hoards from family and loved ones. That I think is the price that has been paid before by everyone who has followed their passion to a depth that borders on obsession.

Obsession in the summer is racing. Most evenings and weekends are full with crits, mountain bike races and “friendly” group rides. Usually the free day is Monday. That I spend doing what other than mountain biking with my friend Owen. The summer is easy to hammer everyday. If it seems too hot or rainy I remember February. I remember the battle to keep my eyelids from freezing shut. I remember my fingers starting to ache from the cold knowing eventually they’ll stop if I can handle the pain. Summer is freedom through work.

Obsession in the winter is nature. I ride everyday in the winter for myself. The winter reminds me of why I got into biking. The colors are fantastic until they fade. Then everything becomes dark until the full moon shows a snow covered landscape that goes off for an eternity into the dark. The stars fill the sky and Van Gogh comes alive. It is a time to investigate the beaver dams and gawk at the size of the birds. The cold is cold. It is hard. The chill will stay with me all year, but it is worth the effort. Winter is beauty through work.

Cycling to me is all of those things. Love, passion, obsession, and failure. Expensive in every way, but worthwhile in so many more ways.