Singletrack Vid

This is me and some friends riding down a bit of fine Southern California singletrack. I hope to be enjoying lots o this during the "winter" season now that I'm back in the Golden State. Get out there and ride some yourself.

Cal State #6 - Rim Nordic

Amazingly enough, I got up to the venue on time, over 2 hours before the race! I got registered, saw Mandy (who's always got a smile on her face), the Volpinator, Vanessa, Rog and Brant hanging around, and watched James and Randy start. I headed back to the truck and found a great spot to set up my trainer under the shade of the Snow Valley resort building. Unfortunately my wonderful SigmaSport BC 1200 wireless comp had it's first battery failure at the wheel sensor (I've had it for 3 years now) so I didn't get any readings, but I had a great 40 min warm up and felt great and was very optimistic. Drank lots. Had my MP3 player cranking the tunes and drowning out the buzz of the trainer. Got to the start line and chatted everyone up and was ready to go. 10 minutes into the race, however, I was light-headed and seeing stars. I slowed down to recover and just tried to poke along, but I still felt like shit. The fire road at the top was less painful, but the climbs were hideous. I made a complete pit stop at the end of lap 2, trading in both water bottles for more H20 and Coke (for the caffeine). I hopped back on the pedals and was off for lap 3. I was demolished, though. I was barely able to turn the pedals up the first set of climbs. I got off the bike at the flat spot before the first descent and rested under a tree for about 10 min. I got back up and cautiously made my way through the descent. Once at the bottom, since I was staring up at another climb and only within rock-throwing distance of the start/finish line, I decided I had had enough.

As I stumbled by the announcing tent, I notified them of my demise. They thanked me, as they had put me down as the WINNER of my class! I was so far behind that they thought I was in front.

Apparently the elevation and heat were combining to try to kill me. Also someone said that the anti-inflams and muscle relaxers I was taking for my back spasms are dehydrators, so that was probably another factor. Plus the air conditioning had been out at work for 3 weeks prior, leaving us at 86 degrees 8 hrs a day, which I’m told can cause mild heat stroke by itself.

I was 7 pounds lighter than normal on Monday morning.

I don’t have any cathartic closing for this one, it just plain sucked. Thanks to Rog, the rest of the team, and everyone else for supporting me.

Tumblina

I crashed on Sunday and it was no fun. I didn't even get to the dirt before it happened. I was only on the bike a measley 7 minutes before I hit the concrete like a sack of concrete. Three of us were tooling along the sidewalk on the way to the trail when this concrete light pole jumped out in front of me. Then his buddy the fire hydrant jumped out of the bushes on the other side of the sidewalk. I was barely able to remove myself from the bike and dive inbetween them.

Yes, that is yellow paint from the hydrant on my derailleur.

So yeah, I tacoed my front wheel, scratched up one of my new SUNLINE bolt-on grips, and got a few bruises and this lovely gash, but I'm relatively ok.

Well, since there was still 1-1/2 hrs of light left and I have another bike, we bent my wheel back enough so I could wobble home and then I headed out again on my own for an hour or so.

Good times, good times.

FIRESTONE

I have to say that Firestone was incredible. Considering the torturous races I’ve had there for the last 2 years, having not only a good race but a GREAT one was far beyond my expectations.

The sweltering heat that greeted me when I arrived at the venue on Saturday didn’t make me very optimistic, though. Neither did the musical-chairs-like switching of the course length. 2 Laps? 1 ¾? 1 ½? Vineyard loop? Team Lame Bear again proved its near-worthlessness at putting on a smooth race weekend.

Waiting till later and leisurely pre-riding in the cool evening put me in a great night-before race mood, though. A mid-course phone call to Greg and directions from Matt was a huge help as well. Then I kicked back and ate dinner outdoors under the stars with James and Rod, and then we and Roger, Vanessa & Chris turned in for the night.

Race morning saw me up and running around trying to find out how many laps I was ACTUALLY supposed to race, but to no avail. The registration tent directed me to the start line, the start line was busy starting the Beginners and Sports, and when I finally found someone they told me to go back to the registration tent. Brilliant. None of the other racers were aware or seemed too concerned with my issue, and unfortunately it bit the Semi-Pros in the ass. Team Lame Bear didn’t have anyone up at the fork in the trail for the ¾ lap, and they went sailing by and had to come back and repass people they had already overtaken. Ouch. Luckily we were after them and it had been sorted out by the time we got there.

Anyway, the new course was great. The start thru the vineyard, although dusty, gave a nice warm-up before we hit that first nasty climb. The usually gnarly foot-deep creek run was bone dry and pitifully easy. I don’t know if it really was, or if I just felt great, but the normally bumpy cow trail course didn’t beat up on me like it usually does. They also carved some superfun new singletrack into the hillside. Well, as suprising to me as it was to the rest of the Backbone crew, I was able to speed around the course like a goat on amphetamines. 3 or 4 of us in my category kept fighting back and forth and passing and repassing each other on the ups and downs. I was finally able to put screws on those guys, though, and set my sites on The Bear Valley Bikes jersey I could see ahead of me who I knew was in my class. I inched slowly closer to him over the second half of the second lap. I finally caught up to him in the trees on the last leg of the course, but that’s when he started turning up the heat. I don’t know if he knew I was back there or not, but he was certainly making it tough. I lost a couple bike lengths on him and struggled to close the gap. I finally did, though, and was right on his rear tire as we rolled into the gravel gully near the finish. He hesitated halfway up the other side and I decided to make my move. I cranked up around him on his right, but I as I slowed down to dive into the last left-hand corner I half expected him to repass me on my right. As I righted myself I sprinted with everything I had left and came across ahead of him. SWEET. I took him by .47 seconds to come in 7th out of 21. What a rush.

I have to give props to my team and everyone who cheered me on for the motivation, it really helped.

Boonelli

Well, the first race of the season didn’t quite go how I would have liked. After waking up on time (don’t laugh) and spinning out my “before breakfast” 30 min warm-up, I proceeded to eat my oatmeal and prepare to leave. And that was about the extent of the “on-timeyness.” As so many of you know, and those of you who don’t have probably heard, I have an issue with arriving anywhere at a predetermined time. Making a long story short, after stopping at the ATM to get money for parking I got on the freeway at 9:23. Arriving at Bonelli at 10:05, I crammed down a banana and a bottle of Cytomax as I skirted through registration, said hi to everyone at Chris’s elaborate twin booths of death, and suited up for my 11:00 start.

That’s the end of the detailed version that I started, so here’s the recap from what I recall:
After the start it took less than 2 minutes before my category had left me in the dust. The exposed fireroad climb on the back side I remember being especially torturous, and I don’t know if it was good bad when Chrissie Bono’s smiling face went by me at high speed. How I beat anyone I don’t know, but I DID beat Brant and one of the Possibilities guys. Go figure.

Well, on Monday I woke up with a sore throat and ended up sick for another 3 weeks, so definitely the combo of just being sick with the extreme toll a race puts on me was bad. I ended up missing the Nova National race and Sea Otter recovering.

Why you so stupid???

=

Testing...testing...

Saturdy, Jay led Ara, Teri, some guy named Jesse and me on a bike shootout for Mountain Biking magazine. Five bikes, five people, five rides up and down the same trail. Tapia Canyon in Valencia was the spot Jay chose, pretty much cuz of its proximity to the heralded 661 offices. That, and it was actually a very diverse trail that allowed us to see how the bikes handled climbing and descending, on fireroad and singletrack, smooth hard pack, rocks, loose dirt, little whoops and even a couple drops.

Between the pedal changing, seat height adjustment, debate & discussion, paperwork and strong headwinds it turned into a longer day than we expected, but it was definitely fun getting to ride bikes that I never would have ridden otherwise.

You'll have to wait for the article to see what we came up with as I have been sworn to secrecy by Jay and several government agencies.

This may or may not be Jay.

This may or may not be one of the XC bikes we tested.

This one's for Jimbo...

I wake up in the morning and my legs are a little more wooden than usual. My biceps are painfully bruised and my shoulders unnaturally sore. My neck is aching; every blind spot check as I drive to work is a chore. I have another bruise, a dent in my back, between my shoulder blade and my spine, that's in just the wrong spot, that I feel and don't feel. Maybe it's just the right spot. The skin stretches tightly across my left cheekbone from the elbow that landed there. I turn down the stereo. My ear is still ringing and I recall the sharp whack from my skull connecting with someone else's. I have a skinned knee. And a purple elbow on the same side from falling to the concrete. I'm more aware of every small movement of my hands on the steering wheel, the meat of my fingers has thickened and the joints have become inelastic from hundreds of pushes and pulls and bracings and balances. I am clean and fresh and dry and new now. I was wet and dirty and sweaty and stinky and we were wet and dirty and sweaty and stinky. And angry and joyful and raging and elated and intoxicated. And drunk and sober. And Old and new. And we were different and we were the same. At the same time. Spinning and twisting. And churning.

And I did then and I do now

feel

so

alive.

Long Overdue

Well, the Second Annual New Year's Rockin Eve Rocky Peak Ride was so warm, bright and sunny that I thought I would post pics of the innaugural inundation for a jolly juxtaposition.



First, we have fellow South OC contingent (The "Tailbone" of Backbone!) member Betsy overseeing the boys changing her tube. How many 'Boners does it take to change a flat???









Next we have Chewy making his helpful contribution to the process!!!




Ter-Ter came decked out in her Penn State garb for the East Coast weather that quickly descended on us.











Dawn came equally well-dressed for the wet, but wasn't always sporting her usually sunny disposition!




The Cap'n checkin to see if The Colonel is coming up the trail with a fresh bucket of Original Recipe for him.











Jimbo, Jaybo and A-bo leadin the way.

Heck Ride Pics

Looking up Hwy 38


Christie, Suzanne, Trevor and me on the moon


Joy negotiating the water crossing

Helloooo!

My computer has taken a brain drain and is in the shop, so I haven't been able to update like I've wanted. Hopefully work doesn't fire me for improper use of company property!



Brian Head was great! Great weather. Great friends. Great race. I felt wonderful for the whole course. Of course I WAS gasping for air the entire time (10,000 ft up will do that), but I never got dizzy or had blurry vision or even thought about calling a cab back to the room (the very opposite of last year).

Although I only took 10 min. off of last year's time (unlike the 40 min. off of Sagebrush) it was still an awesome ride and at least seemed to go by very very quickly (even for people watching me!). It might have been that half the race I was pursuing or pursued by a couple of Joy's Expert women cohorts (who are hella fast!) (oh, and hella cute!). It may have been the new Kenda Kharismas that I strapped onto the Litespeed. It may have been Fuzzball's professional quality water bottle hand-off skills. Whatever it was, it was great. The first downhill singletrack section is so unbelievable twisty and fast it can't help but bring a smile to my face. And the descent through Dark Hollow still makes me ponder whether I'm actually doing a NORBA race. Sick is the only word to even half-way adequately describe it. And actually having the strength to consistently pedal (and smile) on the fire road toward the finish makes for a happy ending (not THAT kinda happy ending, smart-ass!).

Well, I gotta run before they kick me outta here. I've been super-sick since Saturday and am only now beginning to feel normal, so I'm still debating doing Rim Nordic on Sunday. We'll see.

LAter,
Vegas

Kids, Don't Try This at Home

Taking photos at 90 mph on the freeway between Vegas and Cali, or at 40 mph on a twisty mountain road in Big Bear should be reserved for trained professionals such as myself. You have been warned.

Ah, the Rim Nordic. I did all my pre-race stuff right and in a more-than-timely manner. Thanks to Dana Point Clint and his Uber-Trailer for the oatmeal. You rock, dude. I had the best start I've had in a long time. I wasn't dropped by everyone in the first 30 seconds! It took 10 minutes this time! My first lap went well and I felt good, though. The second lap the altitude began to kick my ass as I climbed toward the fire road, and I slowed down a lot. And the third lap reverted back to the hell that has been my racing career for the last 2 years. At least the downhill was fun with my new fork (when I ignored the searing pain in the bottom of my feet) (oh, and the searing of my pasty white flesh by the emerging afternoon sun - guess my perfect pre-race ritual did have one flaw: sunblock)

Thanks to Christie's friend Jess (from the Camp N Rizzle crew) who was kind enough to take on water bottle duty for me, AND for some reason cheering duty. Which isn't easy considering I'm out on the course longer than anyone else on the mountain (I think Rim Nordic is considering banning me just so their volunteers can go home an hour earlier!).

I did take home a Jose Ole prize package from the raffle drawing, so I managed to pull something good out of it all.

Well, I'll keep fighting the fight and we'll see...

Remember kids, I'm an expert, and any attempt to replicate these results could be fatal.

Lost Wages

Besty travelled to the scorched homeland of Vegas Bob this weekend for some serious R&R (riding and reveling). Braving the oven-hot weather (topping at 107 later that day), the thin air (at, oh, 4800'), and on an unfamiliar ride ("Susan" the Litespeed), she still managed to easily truck her way up thru Badger Pass to Red Valley. She even dodged the most moronic rider I've ever seen coming down the trail, that tried his hardest to run the both of us over rather than yield the right-of-way. But nothing would stop Betsy from enjoying the ride, even the fact that she realized (way too late, I might add) that there would be barely anything even remotely resembling a tree anywhere near the trail (What part of desert she didn't understand beforehand beats me).

We soon got to the end of the climb, though, and after enjoying a view of the strip that most people never ever see (look through the dust in the back of the pic), she told me "Let's go. I'm going to tear up that downhill like a vulture rips apart carrion!"

Yeah. It scared me, too. So quickly we were back on the pedals and flowing our way over twisty, dry white singletrack back toward the "3 Mile Smile." I led the way on "Sky" the Kona (cuz she obviously has more travel) but was more than happy (and kind-of frightened) to see Betsy none-too-far behind, easily negotiating the rock-laden descent. I couldn't tell if her ear-to-ear grin was elation or bloodlust, but we got to the bottom and she told me "Susan and I are getting along a lot better now!" and I felt at ease.

We crabbled up the tricky switchbacks back to Badger Pass and crossed paths with some other riders that were super courteous. It redeemed our faith in the Rules of the Trail and our belief that the asshole we encountered earlier was the exception that proved the rule. More and more descending over fast-curvy-whiterock-dry-creekbed-singletrack and we were back to the truck. Mission accomplished. Betsy thanked me for the great ride, but thanked me more when I started the engine and the air conditioner spewed out frosty coolness.

An hour later we joined the Timster at the Flamingo for some serious poolside lounging under the misters and consumption of icy alcoholic beverages (and I may have ogled a bikini-clad ass or two!). And all was good.

Later that evening we decided we should take some money from the casinos, so while Tim mastered the Pai Gow dragon and raked in the dough, Besty and I joined her friend Lindsay at the Blackjack table and proceeded to clean up there as well.

And thus ended a perfect day in Vegas. My stay here in Sin City is soon (VERY soon) coming to an end, and spending one of my last weekends here Livin Large is just how I roll. I will sincerely miss some of the friends and places I have come to know here. It helps, though, knowing that I am starting out on the next phase in my life with great times ahead of me and even more great friends to share them with. And the neon in the desert will always be here, not far away.

"I've led a charmed life." -Mike Ness.

FIRESTONE WALKER

Well, I got two in the chest from the place known for it's "Double Barrel" brew. While Ara was busy downing some of the namesake liquid during his 5 turns of the course, I was barely able to hobble around 2.

After my well-fought-for 12th place at Bonelli (in my inaugural run there) I was eager to continue the fight in Santa Barbara. Fate had other plans, though. After saying hi to everyone at the start line including listening to Papo's usual pre-race self-degradation (even though he wipes the trail with us), I joked with his teammate Mick. Mick said he wasn't feeling great and I probably wouldn't see him much after the start (cuz he would be so far behind). I laughingly said that maybe I wouldn't see him cuz I might be so far behind. Ha Ha! It wouldn't be that funny in a few minutes.

The initial run off the line and up the first climb went great. After rubbing tires with and repassing a guy who thought he would cut me off to get around me and then drift two bike lengths off the rest of the pack, I settled right into the middle. Not expending too much energy, but not lagging behind, either. I followed Bert's limey cycloX friend down the first descent even though he went a bit slower than I wanted because I couldn't pass him before we got to it, and I knew he would just pass me again on the next up anyway.

I know I was doing fine, my post-race heart rate check recorded a max of 204 at some point (which is normal BTW), but by the third climb I start slipping. I looked down and was running at 167 (i usually race right around 190) and I was giving all I could. I cruised around the back of the course thinking I would recover and fight back in the second lap. I figured I had drank too much and waterlogged myself or something. When I passed King James' cheering me on at the campgrounds and headed into the vineyards, I popped a Sonic Strawberry Clif Shot hoping the caffein would give me a boost. It didn't seem to make much of a difference but I was still able to middle-ring all the little climbs on the way to the start/finish so I kept on. Ryan (AKA "Little Bert") handed me my water bottle as I started my second lap, and my recovery drink with protein, potassium and sodium totally hit the spot. As I wound my way up the initial climb, though, I felt pretty bad. But there were still other riders around me and I kept going. I even caught and passed Chewy (AKA "Fuzzy") on his 10th (or something?!*) lap.

The guy in front of me on the traverse almost ran headfirst into one of the 2-ton bulls that were roaming the course that day, but luckily he actually frightened the walking steak more than it did him (maybe it was the A-1 in his CamelBak?) and it went stubbling hysterically down the hill at breakneck speed! The rider was visibly shaken, though, and let me pass as he fumbled his way back onto the trail.

At the third climb again, I felt the horribleness setting in again. Single-speeders were chugging by me on all sides now, and lots of 3 and 4-man packs from the older categories, too. I looked at my wrist again and it read 127! That's near comatose for me. I was now on the fast track to Hurtville. I was sweating more than Chris Farley at a bacon convention, and the bottom of my feet were burning like I had sulfur insoles. I turned the suspension up on my fork from 2 to 4 inches, praying it would help, but the lumpy cow-tracked backside of the course was unrelenting. I rode slower and slower. And slower.

The granny ring became my friend as I resolved to just finish the race. "I feel no pain" became my mantra.

It only half worked, but half was enough.

The Pro women started passing me, which is always a morale booster (no really, it is), even when one thought I was in Ara's Marathon race because I was riding so slowly! They are always in a great mood and it's awesome to cheer them on as they fight it out at the end of their race. Another concernedly asked if I was OK. "Yes," I lied and rolled on.

I finished. I lay down on the cool, tall grass under the E-Z up and thanked heaven it was over.

I wish I had some cathartic ending that tied everything all together, but I don't. It was a severely painful race for me. Three others from my category DNF'd, so I'll concede to a DFL. This time.

I know, I know...

...I need to put a new post on here. I'm backdated 2 races already. I just haven't had the motivation as of yet.

Until then, I'll share a little brightness. This is from today's ride which featured crazy 30+ mph winds.

Tailwinds shooting me up rocky climbs at unnaturally high speeds, headwinds making other climbs painfully demeaning and slow, and crosswinds blowing me right off the side of the trail.


My little red friend was one of a very very few that graced the side of the trail.


TTFN

The wheels on the bike go round and round...

YEEEHA!

Guess what was on my doorstep waiting for me this evening? A package from my homies at SPINERGY! A shiny new hub and cassette body relaced to my rim. How do like them apples??? You don't, unless you're on my team, cuz I'm gonna be ridin by you on em!!! Ha HA!

Talk about speedy service, too: I sent the broked one in on Wednesday, it got there on Friday, and now it's already back in my sweaty little hands. Plus it's a new-and-improved beefed-up version of the hub.

Guess what's gonna be on the Litespeed tomorrow? =)

Broked

I know it's been tooo long since a post, and this isn't exactly the topic I would pick, but here I am anyway.

I finally got around to hooking some Egg Beaters up to my race bike on Saturday after a messy ordeal removing the old Shimano cleats. A bolt didn't want to leave it's warm cozy spot on the bottom of my Sidi. After my attempts with power tools failed, I was forced to take it to the shop where there were bigger better power tools and men with much more elbow grease than I have at my disposal! It had actually rusted in (see previous posts about Monsoon and Monsoon II) but was thankfully removed.

On Sunday, with the new pedals and cleats now installed, it was time to hit the trail! I found the 'Beaters to work very well. Tons of float (so much that you wonder if you're clipped in sometimes) and very light. It made the transition very easy. It made the first mile of trail superb. Which was great, because that's as far as I got. I was spinning up the first part of "The Hurl", where you've just come out of a dry creek bed and started negotiating up some rocky switchbacks, but nowhere near the steep, gnarly rocky section that comes later, when my rear rim started rubbing somewhat awfully on the brake and the chain began to jump wildly. I figured my quick release had somehow come undone. After untightening and retightening the QR and still not fixing the problem, I was pretty mystified, until I noticed the following:


Yes, that's the rear hub coming almost completely apart at the seams! No, you aren't supposed to see the innards spinning around in there (like I did)! Well, I wasn't even able to ride back down the hill, so I had a nice hike back to the truck (cross-training is good, though, right?).

Spinergy is on the case now, and tomorrow the broked wheel goes via FedEx to it's final resting place, and hopefully it's replacement is soon to return to me for wielding against my racing foes. Warranties are good things, my friends, but whilst making sure you are in shape for the season, be sure all your stuff is in shape, too. Dust it off and look for cracks and such where they shouldn't be (the one on your backside is supposed to be there!).

Just a little safety reminder as we ready ourselves for a seasonfull of careening speedily down rocky mountainsides in large adrenaline amped masses.

TTFN
(ta ta for now)
VB

Chill

I'm riding with my new winter gloves because it is, in fact, winter. And here in the desert it gets cold. And windy. Besides being very warm, the gloves are also fuzzy inside and slightly bulky. My connection to the bike isn't what it should be. Steering has a little mush. Reaching for the brake levers is just a little bit harder. The dulling feeling they give me mimmicks all too closely the feeling I, myself, am already exuding. Too many drinks last night. And the night before. Good times beckon, especially here in sinful city. Great friends all around, and the beer flows like wine. And the hope of making new friends. More liquor. Last Call? What's that? Strip Club? Right next door to the bar. Live music? Six blocks from home.

My nose aches from the elbow I took in the scraggly mosh pit last night. My neck is stiff and doesn't want to look down the trail far enough. Do I still taste the lime from that last Corona? No, not possible. But the muddled feeling remains nonetheless. Loose rocks slide underneath the tires. Swithbacks come up too fast. But it's not the bike that's moving quickly, it's the brain that's moving slowly. Up now. My lungs sting from the chilly air, in that bad but good way. I know the fresh winter air is trying to bite through and push out the smokey bar exhaust and fuel the muscles that are riggored from too many days not riding. Climb. Climb. It's the only way to purge it all out. Then more rocks. Hard and cold and solid. One dab. Two dabs. After five I stop counting. I just want to keep the momentum going and these damn rocks keep taunting me. Any other day and they would have no power over me. Now they relish in their chance to even the score. I fight on. Now loose ones, again. The rear tire spins and I teeter toward the downhill side of the trail. Toward my bad knee. My eyes suddenly become eagle-sharp as I focus on the rocks, the weeds, the dirt, and find one spot where I can plant my toe spikes and avoid injury. There it is, that's it. But as I continue to hurtle downward I still wonder if it's enough. I fold into the hillside with my body as much as I can and take the bike down with me. And it's over. I'm fine. Get up. Back on the bike. Keep climbing. Keep purging. Once at the top again I have what I wanted. What I needed.

The sun is gone and only the fading twilight left. No time to lose. Seat in the downright position. Move. Calf muscles twinge and fingers ache. Don't slow down, though. The branches are getting harder to see. The deviations in the trail are blending together. One small climb and then the final stretch of down. Floating over and around. And it's over.

For now.

Muscles relax and the brain lilts on its natural high. Breathe.


Get out and ride.

Monsoon II: Rocky Peak

I'm blogging, sheesh! I'm sorry it's been like a month!

Chris's Blog was woefully void of pics, so I figured I had to step up to the plate. What a fricken ride!!! Although I had to ditch my glasses AGAIN (this pic was minutes before they had to go bye bye) the Rocky Peak ride was MUCH better than Monsoon I: Rim Nordic #3. I had Jay and Fuzzy and Jim to follow down the trail which made it much easier without my glasses. And I had my brand-new 5" travel DAWG to soak up all the bumps (cuz I was busy soaking up the water along with everyone else). Dawn with her Inoperative Intense and Betsy on the hardtail both slugged it out, too.

It was a wacky wet time. Thanks for rolling out the Old Year with a bang, guys. Can't wait for the New One to fulfill all our riding desires.

BC

This would be Boulder City (home of Boulder Dam) on who's trails you can see: The Strip from the other side, Lake Mead from atop a mountain of volcanic rock, and if you're quick with the camera, a bighorn sheep's ass!
Ride On.