An ode to my Igloo Playmate cooler

My playmate’s walls doth shield things from the sun,
Kansas is far more flat, than her lid flat,
If snow be white, why then her inside’s dun:
Her lid peaked high, is nowhere that I’ve sat:
But ice therein melts not on sunny days,
Cold bottles she doth keep to cool my cheeks,
To give most sweet of all post-race solace,
That first cold drink, which cares not that one reeks.
And though she doth not speak, yet well I know,
That music hath no more a pleasing sound:
Than the clicking ere lid tips open so,
Presenting thus thirst quenchers all around.
And yet by heaven I feel such deep despair,
If her contents pre-race I don’t prepare.

My stomach is full of…sand?

Saturday morning, I woke up—an hour late—feeling like my stomach was full of lava. Or magma. Or maybe just hot pumice. Not making excuses for my poor result in the race, just trying to set up a video.

One of the guys I work had some Naga jolokia, also known as ghost chilis. They are the spiciest chilis in the world—401.5 times hotter than tabasco sauce (not a misprint—four hundred one point five times). Or roughly half as hot as Mad Alchemy medium cold weather embrocation. In conjunction with our Halloween chili cookoff at work, this colleague brought some of these chilis in case anyone was game to eat one straight up.

After coaxing some people to open their wallets ever so slightly (they’re nowhere near as generous as the guys at Adobe, but this was also nowhere near as hard as downing two 10-patty cheeseburgers and a gallon of milk), two of us each ate one. Here’s the footage.

As a result, I had a bit of indigestion. Going to a Halloween party Friday night and chasing it with party food and drink and then dancing with the wife (in my Paul Stanley platform boots) for several hours probably didn’t help. But it was all fun. And fun is what cross racing is about, even if I never really felt good racing.

Then again, I never feel good while I’m racing. I hate cyclocross racing while I’m actually racing. But the rest of the time I love it. The course at Wheeler Farm was awesome, too. If by awesome, you mean “insanely hard with no place to recover.”

Speaking of places to recover, during the B race on Sunday, I had just drilled it through the tight, twisty trail trying to bridge up to the leaders. When we got onto the wide open dirt road, a fine young gentleman in UVU kit who’s drafting behind me starts yelling at me to go faster. Seriously? WTF? Yell at me if you want to pass, yell at me for not pulling through. But when you’re sucking my wheel, don’t yell at me to go faster—come to the front and take a pull. He’s very lucky I’m not the kind of racer to close the door on him coming around a corner and put him in the trees.

That effort chasing the leaders was all for naught, unfortunately. Steve and I were together and in pretty good position coming around a 180 off camber turn. Steve was looking to take a pull on the front, so I went wide to let him through then turned the wheel sharp to get back on line. I should have used a lot more finesse because I rolled my tire. It was my second race of the day and third of the weekend, so I thought real hard about abandoning. But I couldn’t bring myself to quit. I ran back to the pit and got another wheel. Then proceeded to flatten it in almost the same spot two laps later. I ran back and got a neutral spare. It was a file tread. On a muddy course. Not the best combination.

Not that it would have mattered. Steve and I working together with no flats would have never caught Nate Drozd (Salt Cycling) who won convincingly. The announcers said that the lap times for the top five B racers would have put them in the middle of the A field. This was Nate’s third win in five races, and it wasn’t even close. He’s finished second a couple other times, never worse than that. Perhaps he’s in the wrong category?

In the 35B field, it’s even worse. As we approached the barriers on the first lap Sunday morning, Art O’Connor said from the announcer’s booth “this does not look like the front of a B race.” Denny Kalar (Cole Sport) has won three times and finished on the podium two more. John Uibel (3B Yoga-Parks) has lined up for three races. He’s won two and finished second in the third. Travis Mickelson (Contender) has won one and finished on the podium four other times, which wouldn’t be so bad, except that he was top 5 for the season in 35B last year. Kevin Gardner and Cortlan Brown are similarly dominating the C flight.

I get that winning is fun. I love to win. You owe it to yourself to race to win (even if you have no chance of crossing the line first) every time you put on a number. But if you’re racing for nothing more than a number, what are you going to do when the inevitable happens and someone faster comes along? You owe it to yourself to truly compete. And since we’re not sanctioned and people don’t face mandatory upgrades after two wins like they would in a sanctioned race, it’s up to racers to self-select (and up to fellow competitors and organizers to apply pressure if they don’t, natch).

Sure, this is coming off as sour grapes. I’ll freely admit there’s an element of that. I expected at the start of the season to race a few B races just to get the hang of cross and then move up to A. I was self-conscious about racing B at all and told myself as soon as I won a race, I was moving up. It’s a short season, so it’s not very sporting to drag your feet about moving up. Obviously I vastly overestimated my own abilities, but perhaps I underestimated the propensity for sandbagging as well.

If you haven’t moved up but should, what are you afraid of? AnneMarie White won the first two races in Women C, moved up to B, and was on the podium within a couple weeks. Tim Az (Church of the Big Ring) and Peter Archambault (RMCC) duked it out for supremacy in the 35B field last year (until Peter moved to A, that is). This year, Tim has been on the podium in 35A, while Peter has been throwing down in the elite field and finishing top 10. Cody Haroldson never finished better than sixth racing B last year and is racing elite this year. Talk about sacking up.

In road racing, I moved from four to three this year right before the state championship races. I failed miserably in the state crit championship where I thought I could win as a four, but I applied what I learned to come within half a wheel of the state road race podium. Next year, I’ll enter those races in the Pro/1/2 field. I raced with the elites in the Raleigh cross series, even though I finished DFL.

My hat is off to guys like Todd Neumarker (Biker’s Edge), who had never raced cross before this season, and lined up in the elite race his very first time. Todd is an outstanding bike racer and wanted a fair fight. Single speed is an open category, Rick is new to cross, but he’s still willing to throw down with the likes of Rico (Kuhl-Specialized), Matt Ohran (Cannondale), and Bo Pitkin (Church of the Big Ring), all guys who are experienced cross racers and make it the focus of their season.

Even my little JunkieBoy at age six, in his second cross race ever, wasn’t content to fill his bag with sand. He rides a 16 inch kids’ bike that weighs more than my cross bike. It has one gear and a coaster brake in the rear only. We lined up for the kids race, which is divided into A for older kids (two laps) and B for young ones (one lap). He was up front with the A kids, and I started moving us back but paused to ask him if he wanted to ride one lap or two. “Two,” he said. If he wasn’t last, he was close, but I don’t think any of the other six-year-olds did two (if they did, kudos to them, too).

Even in the elite category, where Bart has dominated nearly every week (rumor has it his bike handling skills were had by making a deal with the devil), he’s not content to just win. After Sunday’s race, he told me that this was the kind of course where he could have sat in and then made a late move. “But it doesn’t feel like a bike race if I don’t have to suffer.” So he went early and soloed to the win. Daren, who finally lost Sunday to John McCone (Cole Sport) in the open Masters 45 category, had shifted his focus from just racing to racing the first lap and a half as hard as possible, even if it means blowing up and losing, in order to better prepare himself for nationals. In both cases, even though they’re racing open categories, they’re taking risks rather than getting a win however they can.

As for me, well I’m in no way a dominant B flight racer, yet I still feel like I should be racing with the big boys. It’s just that if I should be in the A’s, so should a lot of other guys. I’m thinking about moving up even if it means getting lapped by Bart and half a dozen others. If I’m going to get my ass kicked anyway, I’d rather have it be by the best than by a JV superstar.

A little Halloween KISS

A little Halloween KISS for my readers. Fake Paul Stanley showed up at the office this morning. He was too busy putting on makeup to ski all morning long, but he still plans to Internet fight every day.

Atonement

Someone who chose poorly was interested in atoning for his sin this morning. We enjoyed a nice sunrise.

And some nice turns. Not as nice as yesterday’s since Rustler was effectively tracked out (at least by October standards), but still worth getting up for.

Touring is as much about the up as the down. I love the up. A nice hike and good conversation with a friend is a reward in and of itself. Skiing down is a bonus.

As much stoke as I get from skiing powder in October, Kikkert’s comments from yesterday did a good job killing it. As Bob put it, “You thought you left those guys behind once the road season was over didn't you?”

Kikkerts said “The ‘rush to the barn’ syndrome is often when accidents occur (also having broken trail is never an excuse to drop in on people...especially in the Wasatch...where every skin track is going to be re-used).”

I know you “worked for many years as an avalanche forecaster” and already have all the answers, but let’s take this to its logical conclusion just for fun. Are you saying that if we put in the booter up the Y couloir, where the way up is also the way down, and you decided to follow us up, starting an hour or two later, that we would need to wait for you to get to the top before descending? That’s nonsense. Get up early and hike fast. If you don’t, go someplace someone hasn’t been or accept that there’s some additional risk in the route you’ve chosen.

Andy put it nicely in a comment on Dug’s blog: “Uh, maybe someone shouldn’t complain about people skiing above them when they didn’t put in the skin track. I’m just saying.”

Choosing wisely

Yesterday’s trainer session was motivated in large part by my desire to get a decent bike workout in order to free today up for skiing. Yes, it’s October 27th. But I was still hopeful that conditions would be good for skiing. Dug, Rick, Ben, Jonnie J, Nate, and I met at the usual place at the usual time.

Without the benefit of daylight savings being over, we had to pretend to be still making progress up the ridgeline above Greeley as if we were seeking an actual objective. In reality we were just waiting for it to be light enough to ski. Which, incidentally, is not the same thing as light enough to take quality photos. But you still get the point. And the point is, the skiing was good. Really good.

Nate.

Jon.

Dug.

Looking upon the powder I am about to harvest.

Harvesting.

Do you like my new green jacket? Turns out Dug has a new green jacket almost the exact same color. And he also wears black pants. Which is convenient, because now I can just take pictures of him and say they are me, and he can just take pictures of me and say they are him. Not sure who gets the better bargain, but it keeps things simple.

What wasn’t so simple was the exit, which included some bushwhacking and a stream crossing. But it was a small price to pay.

Anyone who opted not to come so he could ride his bike instead chose poorly. But anyone who may have made such a decision would have already been aware of that without me pointing it out.

It’s still snowing today. My alarm clock is set for tomorrow. I’ve been informed that someone who didn’t choose wisely today has already cleared his calendar.

Pep talk

It’s October, there are 10cm of snow in my yard, so I did my first ride on the trainer this morning. I should have ridden hot laps at the park tonight. Chasing a bunch of fast guys would have been a good workout and probably would have given me more of what I needed than riding the trainer in the garage.

But my cross bike still isn’t clean from Saturday. It doesn’t look like the photo below anymore, but even though I spent over an hour last night removing dirt, leaves, grass, and twigs with a scrub brush, some of the moving parts still aren’t moving. I don’t have a B bike, so riding the B bike to train while keeping the A bike clean for racing isn’t an option.

Since I probably have between four and five more months when riding the trainer will be necessary at least some of the time, I decided to make a list of things I like about riding the trainer to keep me motivated for the rest of the winter.

1. I can ride at 6:30 a.m. before it’s light outside and not have to worry about squeezing in a ride for the rest of the day.
2. My bike stays clean.

You can see from the extensive nature of this list that I have a great deal of passion for riding indoors. I should have no trouble staying lean and fit this winter.

Fall Moab and first storm of the year

Friday and Saturday (and I guess Sunday too, but I didn't stay for that part) were Fall Moab. We left Friday morning and rode Slickrock in the rain that afternoon. Since it was raining, I didn't take my camera. So I didn't get any pictures. Also since it was raining, we opted not to camp and found a cheap but fairly nice motel to stay in. That ended up being a good thing. Though it did mean eating dinner at the brewpub rather than grilling brats.

The downside to all the rain was that it was snow above 2,100 meters. And our plan for Friday was to ride the Whole Enchilada. Which starts at about 3,300 meters. We considered just riding UPS and LPS and Porcupine rim, but the shuttles weren't even running there. So we rode Gold Bar Rim instead.

Problem is that I had borrowed Mike M.'s freeride bike specifically for the Whole Enchilada. It weighs about 22 kilos. I suffered up all the climbs on Slickrock thinking about the joy of riding that thing on a big shuttle run the next day. The shuttle run didn't happen, but it was still a blast on Gold Bar Rim. What a great trail. Here are some photos.

Dug is a master of climbing ledges.

Kenny isn't bad, either.

Bob also has good technical skills, but his greatest asset is a short memory. His interval between being doubled over in pain and being the first to try a scary move is shockingly brief.

If you can get over the fact that he's devastatingly handsome, you'll notice Ricky making some tough moves as well.

The big bike wasn't great for going up. Geometry isn't designed for that. But it was fun to go down, even when the line required a mandatory air.

Aaron can do it all and make it look easy.

John putting his foot to the floor.

The second half of the ride had a number of challenging descents.

And some ominous clouds that threatened but didn't rain.

Bob nailed this tricky staircase.

I rolled the hard part no problem...

...then went ass over teakettle when I hit a rock on the rollout.

The views on this ride did not suck. Some guy named Mike showed up and took these photos. None of us knew him, but he claimed to be a friend of Kenny's.

After the ride Saturday, Jon, Steve W., and I were heading home, but only after taking advantage of the barbecue grill at the hotel to cook some brats and enjoy them on Kenny's delicious bread. No better way to end a ride.

I wanted to be home Sunday since Rachel and the kids had been out of town the previous week visiting her family in Indiana. Sunday was our first non-school day to hang out together. And being the lucky guy that I am, our family likes to hang out at bike races when we get the chance. So Sunday afternoon, we headed over to the final Raleigh Cross race of the season.

Last week, my goal was to line up with the A flight and not finish last. This week, I had no goal. I'd spent nine hours the previous two days pedaling around on a very heavy bike. Between the exertion and the spill, I woke up feeling like I'd been hit by a truck. But I raced anyway. And rain in Moab also meant rain in Salt Lake (and snow in the mountains!), so we had our first race with typical cross racing conditions.

The first lap is usually my best, but this time it was terrible. The first turn was scary, so I didn't contest the hole shot. The second turn I got off line and hit the sidewalk hard. I thought I blew out my tire, so I soft pedaled to make sure it was still holding air. It was, but I couldn't tell how much or if it was likely to roll. In the sand trap, I was caught behind a pileup and lost more ground.

I spent the next few laps trying to catch the group in front of me. I thought I was making progress until I had more difficulty in the sand trap. Then I lost them for good. From that point on I was focused on practicing my handling in tight, muddy conditions. This stretch of repeated 180's in the trees gave me trouble every lap.

There were several dismounts in this race, the first pass in the sand required a 180 that was faster to run than ride. Then there was a barrier before a runup that Rico bunny hopped and pedaled (he lapped me on this section on his way to the win--I felt very slow). Then some concrete steps down through a pavilion and back up. And finally two barriers after a hard right hander at the bottom of a hill. Very technical course, very challenging for someone still trying to figure this technical stuff out. Here I am remounting after the double barriers at the bottom of the hill.

I had the best cheerleaders in the world, though. Seriously, hearing them encourage me every lap, no matter how far off the back I was, kept me motivated to keep chasing.

Coming into the last lap, I had one of the Glenn brothers in my sights. He looked to be fading, and I was still feeling like I had something left. I thought I could catch him and avoid the lanterne rouge.


He was a couple bike lengths ahead going into the trees. I thought I'd make my move on the straight before the runup. Then my front tire washed out in the mud, and I was on my side trying to get unclipped, trying to get back up, trying to get back on. That was it. I rolled in with Cody right behind me, mercifully not trying to add one more to the tally of riders who had lapped me.

This is hard racing. Harder than I ever imagined it would be. The weather made it harder still. Yet at the same time it's amazingly appealing. The season is short. The races are short. The community is great. It's never boring. Every course presents its own challenge. It's spectator friendly and family friendly and a great way to spend a day.

After the race, I asked Steve whether he thought my result was because spending nine hours riding trails the previous two days is a bad way to taper or just because I suck at cross. He said "I am going to say a combination of bad tapering and a lot of bad ass cross racers in Utah." That list of bad ass cross racers has to include Daren, who won yet again on Saturday. That's four for four. He's the only one to do that since Jason Sager finally got one on Bart on Saturday.

My ineptitude notwithstanding, I'm already looking forward to double cross weekend next weekend with the big halloween race, in costume, on Saturday. Assuming I can get my bike clean between now and then, that is.