Raystown Lake

So i missed the the funtabulous racing at Big Bear on Saturday. Meh. Oh well.

From Raystown lake 8-9-09

But I did go check out the brand new trail system at Raystown Lake. The 30ish miles trails were recently completed by IMBA and the friends of Raystown lake.

And its schweet.

From Raystown lake 8-9-09

Eric and I grumbled out to the trail head, which is about 2.5 hours from Pittsburgh, and had no trouble finding the place. Its surprisingly straight forward.

From Raystown lake 8-9-09

"hurrrm? what that shinny lens pointing at me?"

eric does a bike check and discovers chains squeak when they are not lubed

From Raystown lake 8-9-09

The trails are an absolute blast. They're fast and smooth with jumps and dips all over the place. Swooping turns and ripping descents abound. The system was designed for mountain bikes, and that's all its used for. There are no hikers to be cautious of, no footprints, and most awesomely, no horse shit.

From Raystown lake 8-9-09

I have to admit, when I first rolled onto the dirt I felt a little out of my element. Everywhere else I ride in PA and WV is covered in rocks, mud, leaves, and dead babies. Sidewalls are slashed, shins turned to burger meat, and souls crushed. Its generally slow going. But Raystown is totally smooth, and the dirt is actually dry enough to be loose. When I came to the first section of downhill jumps, I had a little trouble keeping my tires planted. I wanted to lift off, but I knew that if I did I would end up smashing into a tree and rolling down the side of the hill like a limp fish.

The place really is like a 30 mile long BMX pump track. Its great. We practically sprinted for the first hour of riding and didn't even realize it (or I just didn't realize it.)

From Raystown lake 8-9-09

From Raystown lake 8-9-09

From Raystown lake 8-9-09

As the day wore on, we became accustomed the new style of riding and were actually able to take advantage of all the jumps and whoops.

From Raystown lake 8-9-09

From Raystown lake 8-9-09

From Raystown lake 8-9-09

To top off the great riding, the place is also quite lovely

From Raystown lake 8-9-09

From Raystown lake 8-9-09

From Raystown lake 8-9-09

I can't wait to go back. It was worth every minute of the 2+ hour drive. We rode for four hours, and were grinning ear to ear the entire time. Everyone we met on the trail agreed, the place is a winner. Kudos to the guys who designed and built it.

From Raystown lake 8-9-09

From Raystown lake 8-9-09

From Raystown lake 8-9-09

101 approaches

Two more days of work until I leave for the 101. I can't wait.

The lady bear and I are heading to sunny Philadelphia on Wednesday to stay with some friends. We're going to a show Thursday night, after which I'm going to book it back to my gracious host's residence and try to get as much sleep as possible. We'll make the trip out to Coburn on Friday morning and set up camp, and I'll try to sleep some more.

The grumbler is staying home for this race, because the lady bear can't drive a stick (can a stick be driven? it can't in my opinion. she can't shift a manual transmission. that's what i really mean), and I'm anticipating that after racing 100 miles, I will not be capable of driving anything.

My goal for this race is to place in the top quarter overall. (of course in the land of gilled water bunnys and lumberjacking bovines my goal is to win. but we'll stick to reality) I think that a top 25% finish is an attainable goal as long as I keep eating. I definitely cannot let my self start to run out of fuel this time. The newman-O's and brown rice syrup are on the ready.

After some digging I think I found the correct elevation profile for the course:

From Drop Box

There's gona be some hills. I can feel it.

WV State Championships

After my pre-race tortellinis and bathroom runs, I lined up in the front row on the start line, next to another guy on a one9 with a "west virgina unit. vaginas are cool." sticker covering his toptube. Classy. where can i get one?

From Drop Box

start lines are exciting!

The start was a fast 100 meter section of dirt road that turned off into a little ditch and onto the trail. When the man with the mouth shouted "Go!" I instantaneously forgot how to clip into my pedals. I spent the first minutes of the race desperately trying to get my right foot to perform a simple motion that it had done roughly 5302 times previously.

But when we hit the trail, by some miracle, I was still in a good position. The beginning miles of the race were smooth and flowy, with one deep, black, fetid puddle. Even though the water in that thing was absolutely revolting, it felt rather refreshing to splash through it. I was still passing riders at this point in the race and before long I caught up to Benji Klimas, who was the first SS at that point.

I was riding decently on the smooth stuff, but by the forth mile I could already tell that I was lacking the horse(pony?)power that I usually have. I was struggling when the trail turned uphill, loosing some ground on the flat, and staying in the saddle and bashing into every rock I could find. About 30 minutes in, we hit the only gravel climb on the course, and Benji stared to pull away from me. Then another SS blew by both of us like we were standing still. I hardly ever get passed on climbs. I knew I was in for a tough 2 more hours.

I stuck with Benji through the end of the first 6 mile lap, and for about 3/4 of the first of two 12 mile laps, we traded places back and forth. At one point I attempted to break away from him, but my glorious attack was halted when I hit a logging road and didn't know which way to turn. He went by and we turned down the road, towards some pink flagging. The next descent was ridiculously sloppy in comparison to the rest of the course, but it was nothing compared to what we would soon hit.

At the bottom of the grade, we started an accent to the craziest part of any course I've ever ridden. Moon rocks was nuts. In the most rotten, worm eaten, walnutty kind of way. I consider myself a good rider in slow rocky sections, but there was no way I was going to get through that thing. The slabs of rock were steep, deteriorating limestone, with huge rim swallowing rain ruts every few feet. Given a few hours to work and rework the section, I'm confident that I could have eventually cleared it, but in the race it was just faster to push. So push we did, and even then, the ruts were trying to eat my wheels and feet.

Benji got back on his bike a few seconds before me when we exited the rocks, and before I knew it, he was gone. Then all of a sudden I cracked. My legs felt like lead, and I could hardly make it up the little climbs. To make matters worse, the course after moon rocks was real technical and rocky. I was passed. Then passed again. I was friggin tired.

On the only big decent, I realized that I had made a big boo boo setting up my new fork. All day it felt super soft and power sucking on the uphills, but I just figured that was the name of the game for suspension. But the rocks reminded me that I did not have enough pressure in the damn thing. I was blowing through the travel so quickly that I could have sworn I was riding rigid again. Shite. Another SS passed me.

I rolled through the start area and grabbed a bottle from my friend then I headed out for the last lap. I was really feeling like a piece of dried meat. 2 miles into the lap I heard someone mutter "Ok time to go." Gunner shot by me. I think he was only the second geared guy to go by me. Conveniently, everyone else was a place displacing single speed.

From Drop Box

I was by myself when I walked across moon rocks. At this point my concentration was slipping and I was loosing the race state of mind. I climbed up an area that looked alot like Laural Mountain, and was passed by another SS'er who made sure to yell "later!" Thanks for that bro. I rolled down the big rocky downhill again, and I knew 100% for sure that I screwed up putting the pressure in my fork. Another SS went around.

I climbed up the loose gravel hill in 7th place, where 12 miles ago I had been tied for 2nd. It was a little bit disheartening. But the end was near. I saw a rider ahead and I gunned it to pass him. It turned out he was a rather portly sport guy, but I could not have cared less. Behind me I heard someone gaining ground, and I really gave what little I had left to hold him off. And I did. By 15 seconds. The last downhill to the finish had a great little jump, and I gave it a little push to get some massive air. (maybe a foot. or two.) And I was done. Results.

From Drop Box

woot.

7th SS, 18th out of 56 overall.

I felt like crap for the duration of the race. But I really shouldn't complain, because I was out doing what I love to do for 2 hours and 45 minutes on a fantastic course.

And hell, if I would have raced junior expert I would have won by 14 minutes. I wanted better than a 7th place, but as a guy reminded me while I was packing up the grumbler, at the ripe old age of 18, I'm at least 10 years out from my endurance peak. There's a lot more racing to be done. I'll get there.

From Drop Box

mountwood followup

I'm winning! Hurrah!

I must say that I am just pleased as a peach to be in the lead of my first series. Even if there have only been 2 out of 15 races run. 

On to the race follow up. (this is mostly for my benefit)

Fenders are a fantastic idea in the mud. I thank the flying spaghetti monster that I used one. Even though my body did get muddy during the race, my eyes stayed clean. Fenderless folks were not so lucky. There were quite a few people in the bike wash using the hose on their eye balls. Literally hosing out their eyes. Ouch.

I really thought about taking the fender off before the race. After all, most people didn't have one. I'm so glad that I didn't follow the crowd. I think that it was a case of form over function gone horribly horribly wrong. Fenders don't look cool, so many chose not to use them. I saw one guy riding a $3500 Jet9 with a cut up milk jug zip tied to his down tube. A good fender costs about $15. Figure that one out. I certainly couldn't. 

Rampage+ Crossmark is a surprisingly decent combo in the mud. They didn't pack up, and the grip was as good as I could hope for fast rolling tires.

I need to run lower gear in the mud. 32X18 was much to hard. I was not able to stand much because I lost to much traction, so I had to stay in the saddle and grind away. It hurt a bit. 32X19 or 32X20 would be perfect.

Mountwood Challenge Race Report

I just checked the website, and the official results are in. 2nd SS and 10th overall. Not to shabby I say.

Unfortunately, I must be very un-photogenic on the bike, because I again failed to make it into any of the event photos. At the risk of wounding my pride, I shall maintain that I am simply to fast to be photographed. Harrumph.

Sunday was rainy. And grey. And a bit nippy. Not my idea of ideal weather. But the race had to go on. 

After signing in at the signing in table in the signing in area, I was presented with a tee shirt, a map of West Virgina, and a sticker. The tee shirt was grey, small, and cotton. The sticker had an adhesive backing. The map was paper. None of the above (or beside depending on the width of your monitor) has any relevance. But I thought I should share anyway. 

After my mandatory quadruple pre-race water closet breaks, I rolled up to the start about a minute before the race began. I lined up in the back again. 

(I'm the handsome devil astride the orange and lime steed)

The course started with a mellow climb up a paved road. I did my best to stay with the geared riders, and to my surprise, I was fairly successful. By success I mean that I wasn't dropped and spit out by the pack, left wheezing on the road side. 

We made a turn onto gravel, and the trail narrowed down. I started working my way around a few riders. Before long, I spotted Gerry Pflug in all his black and orange stripped strippieness. I made some passes and tried to get up with him, assuming that if I could stay close to him I would have a good finish. He kept passing riders in the single track, and I tried to follow, but I just was not making my passes happen as quickly. After a few minutes he was gone.

I settled into a pace and tried to stay smooth. At this point, the trails were a little moist, and traction was sketchy in places, but nothing was unrideable. I was probably a bit to cautious on some turns, but I had qualifying for track and field states in the back of my mind the whole race. I did not want to crash and get hurt. (I have to admit that I am still primarily a distance runner. At least until May 22nd)

The pack thinned significantly, and my passing essentially came to an end. I kept pedaling away and making good turns. The course was almost all cut into the side of a hill, so it kept me on mi toes the whole time. The trail was starting to get a little muddy, and I was starting to get a little glad that I was running a fender. 

Before long, I hit a much dreaded section of downhill switchbacks. I sped down them, made the first turn, pedaled up to speed, braked for the second turn, and promptly shot off the trail. Two riders passed me. I'm not even sure where they came from. I shook it off, and the race was on again. 

I did hammered to try to stay with the two passing riders. I kept with them on the climbs and flats, but as usual, I lost a little ground on the descents. I hit another switchback section, and noticed this fine gentleman on my tail.

He passed me on a section similar to the one I was currently on last race. I was determined not to let it happen again. I weighted my front wheel and managed to keep my bike on the trail through the turns. I struck out and pedaled away from him.

At the bottom of the hill there were a series of wooden bridges. On the first one, about six feet in the air, I almost lost it. I yanked my bars back to the right and averted a disaster. "Ohh hoo whoo. That's a trixy one!" I shouted to the legions of on lookers. They were greatly impressed with my manly man speech.

I hammered up a hill (its a common theme on this course. I don't recollect much flat ground.) Pulled nails out (opposite of hammering.) on the way down, and was spit onto a section of road. The fine gentleman from Trek, we'll call him Stephen, (only because I think that's his name.) was still behind me. I put in a mighty effort on the road, and actually pulled away from him while catching up to another SSer. I grabbed a water at the aid station, almost knocking over one of the helpers (lo siento. and thanks for the agua) and climbed back into the woods. To my extreme surprise, Pflug appeared about 30 meters ahead of me. 

As I caught up with him, I noticed he was standing an awful lot. On closer inspection, I discovered that his seatpost was missing. I spent the next 10 minutes trying to think of something witty to say to him. 

"Rigid SS not hard enough for ya?" was the least lame thing I could muster in my anaerobic state.

His retort was nearly as clever: "Yeah. Right?"

I passed him, but he stayed right behind. The trail was getting extremely muddy now. We were covered in the greasy brown stuff, but I hardly noticed. We were routed back onto the trail for a second lap, and the real mud began.

I'm going to assume that the sport and beginners also rode this section of trail, because it was completely torn apart. My speed slowed to a crawl. I couldn't get out of the saddle because the traction was so bad. I came off the bike at one point, causing Gerry and Steve (who had caught back up) to do the same. Gerry ran and did a cyclocross mount, swinging his leg perfectly across the saddle. Or so he thought. 

But he still had no saddle. I'm not sure how he avoided mashing his delicates, but he seemed ok. Steve decided that since he could spin a nice low gear and keep traction, he would pass. Then Gerry went. I was alone again.

I passed three people with clipboards and asked each one how many miles were left. I was getting tired, and I think my inexperience was showing. I kept slogging along in the mud, hoping the finish was near. 

I found Stephen on the trailside a few miles later with a flat. I raced by, and he DNF'ed for the day. After climbing a hill, I finally got a definite distance to the finish from someone. 

"1/2 mile to go!"

"That's it? really?" I shouted back. But I didn't wait for the reply. I gave all I had left.

Then I crashed. (it was really slippery. i can't be blamed.) 

I rolled in the last few meters without incidence. I was pleased, and figured that I at least had a decent finish. 

1st 2nd

2nd single speed at the Mountwood Challenge. The SS that beat me was Gerry Pflug, who rode almost 20 miles 

without a seat post (yes, he is that good.) The course 

looked like it was covered in a layer of shit 

laden chocolate pudding.

Race repor to follow.

did i mention the mug?

As you can see by the fine self portrait, this mug is roughly the size of my head. Which means that its capacity is similar to that of my brain, and that, good amigos, allows me to drink brain sized amounts of coffee every morning. 

But more importantly, the mug is inscribed with a large blue bear, the ancient deity of window shopping. 

 

In other news, slime tubes are just terrible. I’m not sure what the good people at Slime intended their green mess to do, but if it was coat an unsuspecting cyclists hands in florescent snot, they were successful. 

But honestly, I would rather fill my tires with feces. I mean they're really quite awful. I'll explain tomorrow. 

slue bkys

I'm still a little annoyed by last night's situation, but I'll get over it. I can't decide if I should write a letter to the local police department to tell them how their (my, our) officers treat citizens. Oh wells.

I did get out for an hour on the road today, and it was fantastic. 60 degrees, blue skys, and a slight breeze. It was the kind of day that let me shut out the Jeep that blared it's horn while passing, and the Porsche that felt the need to rev it's engine and shoot by at 70 mph. Ahhhhhh. Bliss.

In other news, I would give my left nostril (only the functional part. I wouldn't want my nose to look funny) to replace every road with single track. 

My bike setup, and more specifically, my method of carrying stuff on my bike setup, needs to get itself straightened out. But I'm not holding my breath on that one. So I guess I will have to straighten it out myself. 

I need to get a saddle bag that actually holds things, and a multi tool that isn't sitting on a trail somewhere in big bear lake. I do still technically own that muti tool, so purchasing a new one is going to hurt all the more. Its frustrating for me to own something, but not be allowed to use it just because I lost it.

Other than losing all my stuff, I think I finally have everything else worked out on my bike. The 50mm stem is the best thing that I've put on my steerer tube. It makes it so so much easier to float over rock gardens, and I can keep more traction on the back wheel when I stand and climb. Muy bueno it is. I've reverted to using broken Spanish to fill space. That's my brain's way of telling me it has nothing more to say. 

....really?

I was going to try to extend my big bear classic recollections tonight (although I've probably written about the race for longer than I raced the race.) But a very kind police man gave me a new topic. 

My commute home from work is about two miles long, and all down hill. In the two miles, there are five traffic lights. The lights are incredibly worthless at night, and do nothing except stop the flow of traffic and waste time. The lights really should just be turned off from 9pm to 6am.

On my way home tonight, I pedaled through one red light. I slowed to make sure no cars were coming, (there never are anyway), and went on through. I was under the assumption that cyclists were permitted to treat a red light as a stop sign. Apparently, I was mistaken.

Half a mile later, a police car turns on his lights and shoots in front of me, parking half way on the sidewalk. The officer gets out of his car and shouts "So what, you don't think you have to obey the rules of the road? Think you can just blow through red lights? Is it gona mess up you 'pace' to stop?" I explained to him that I had read it was permissible for a cyclist to use a traffic signal as a stop sign.

"Ohhh that's what ya read did you? Well were'd you read that?"

"I can't remember" I said

"Oh so you can't remember. So which one is it? You can't remember or you read it?"

"I read it somewhere."

"Well were did you read it?"

I told him again that I couldn't remember. The conversation continued like this for at least one more 'where?' 'cant remember.' cycle. He then proceeded to tell me that if I did it again I would be fined $110 and get points on my drivers licence.

That's $110 AND points on my drivers licence. For riding a bike. He then said "And if you want to doubt me, I'll give you the fine and ticket right now." I said I didn't doubt him.

But here's the PA bike code.

Section 3502. Penalty for violation of subchapter.

Any person violating any provision of this subchapter is guilty of a summary offense and shall, upon conviction, be sentenced to pay a fine of $10.

$10 is a little weee bit less severe. But I was also wrong. A bike is subject to the same rules as a car in PA. Which I think is ridiculous, but I guess I'll have to follow the law until its changed. I just do not think the police man had to be such a dick about it. 

top o' the pile

I won't say that I neglected to go some where that I should have gone yesterday, but I did go somewhere that I wanted to be, even though I should not have been there. But that's neither here nor there.
I drove (yes drove I say. new transportation has been acquired. more on that latter.) out to Ohiopyle for a ride in the multiple mountains. I say multiple because there is more than one mountain. Mind blowing, I know.

From Worthless Garbage

Pretty eh? Photo credit goes to someone who has never met me, and certainly is not me

For those of you out of the know, the pile is next to this place:

From Worthless Garbage

Though I can't say I've ever been there (this picture also pirated)

But anyway. The ride. The ride was good.

From Worthless Garbage

(Clicky make more biggy. My route is outlined by the multicolored lines. I changed colors every time I changed direction. Just to keep it interesting. Ya know. And no, I did not ride the magical pink arrows.)

Every trail in Ohiopile either goes up a mountain, or comes down a mountain. That of course excludes the (im)famous rail trail. I started in town and worked my way over to Great Gorge. GG is just full of rootles and rocks, and I must admit I had to walk a large portion of it. At the top I turned left and headed over to the scenic Kentuck overlook. The overlook more than lives up to its name (scenic, not kentuck. I don't know what a kentuck is.) It would have been a perfect spot for a picture had I brought a camera.
I headed back down Kentuck, then really down, all the way to the bottom of the other side of the mountain. After a quick roll down to the rail trail, I headed up sugar run.
Sugar Run is pretty uneventful in the upward direction, and at the top I rolled to the bottom of that mountain. And then back up (That's three mountains we've climbed so far boys and girls) On climb back I ate an uncrustable, which was quite yummy.
Coming back down Sugar Run was a little more hectic. The geography of Ohiopyle is really strange. There are a lot of rocks, just like Laural mountain, but unlike Laural, all the rocks are loose, and about the size of baseballs. On a steep, loose part of one decent, my front wheel hit one of the aforementioned baseballs, and bounced off. Since I was indirectly attached to said wheel, I nearly bounced off of my cycle. I ended up straddling the bike with one leg on a log and the other on one of the rolly rocks. I'm not sure how I manged not to leave part of my face on those rocks.
At the base of the hill I turned onto the rail trail, and pedaled it back into town. The three or so miles I spent on it were more than enough to remind me of my immense disdain for crushed limestone paths.
My final ascent of the day was up Sugar Loaf. The loaf is steep, long, and just filled with loose rocks. Near the top I turned around and coasted (after a bone jarring descent) back to the parking lot. Total ride time was 4:01. Hurray!

winters end review

I meant to do this ten days ago. And I really meant to blog more than once in the month of March. But I did not. So I'll write this post with much goodly goodly quality.
The winter was so so long. But I rode more than I would have ever dreamed I could. I commuted to school an average of four days a week, with another ride or two on the weekend. I learned a lot about riding in the cold through trial and error (by a lot, I mean I learned everything that I now know.) I put in great base for the upcoming race seasons, both mountain bike and running, and I learned to be tough on the bike.

January was bitter. As I look back through my ride journal, numbers like 2:05 hrs at 2*F, and 1:58 at -3* stand out at me. Here in my warm house, I can hardly believe I rode through crap like that. For added craziness, I recorded all my temperatures without the windchill. I can only imagine how cold it really was moving at 15mph through -3*F. If memory serves, for about 25 days of 2009's opening month, the mercury did not break 15*F. I logged 197 miles and 15 hours from 1-13 to 1-31. Brr.

With most days above 10*F, February felt mild. By the middle of the month, I started getting my clothing right. The recipe for success was toe covers with thick wool socks, wool tights under knee warmers with polypoo tights over top, all covered by windbreaking pants. On top a wool shirt squeezed under a wool jersey was comfortable down to 25 degrees. I put a soft shell on for really cold days. Ski gloves, hat and turtle fur neck warmer kept the extremities comfy. I only needed ski goggles in driving snow or hail (didn't ever have them in those conditions. of course.) The majority of the time, I was fine with regular sunglasses.

All most all of my winter miles were on the fixed gear. Until the day I had to chop off a canti stud because of a frozen brake, I was running a mountain tire in the front and a cross tire in the rear. I used a clip on rear fender and a homemade licence plate fender for the front. I stayed reasonably dry, and never had a problem with slipping in car snot.

Commuting every morning in the dark manages to somehow suck while being cool at the same time. I had to leave at 6:30 to make it to school by 7:20. On the especially dark, snowy mornings, I could hardly tell I was moving (except for the tingle my slowly freezing cheeks (the facial variety of course)) It was sort of like being in a deprivation tank. Very cool experience.

I did not get to ride many trails. On the rare days that a could hitch a ride with the lady bear up to hidden valley, I found myself wishing for a fat bike. On one particular ride, my front tire was punching through the snow about ever ten feet. I would just drop through and stop. Not fall over or crash, just stop. It got annoying. But the snow did make it easy to get the heart rate up. And toe covers are not good for hike a bikes.

This winter had its good moments, but overall it was rough. I'm so ready for hot and humid weather.

grinding the tracks

Trails in the immediate vicinity of my house are non existent. But I do live about 500 feet to the left of some railroad tracks, and there was no way I could blow a beautiful day on a road ride. So I decided to grind the tracks.

From Tracks

(almost there)

Riding along the track's fist sized gravel is wonderfully painful. There is no good way to pedal on the stuff. Its to continuous to stay out of the saddle, but to rough to stay in the saddle. So it beats the hell out of the body.

From Tracks

(does it ever end?)

I had read on mtbr that there were a system of trails connecting my home town to a neighboring one about 11 miles away. My plan was to find the trails, and possibly use them to commute some mornings. The review said "...turn right, pick a trail, and welcome to Latrobe!" This was, as Id soon discover, grossly simplified.
The first step of the journey was to ride along the tracks for about four miles to Twin Lakes Park, where I would find the supposed trails.

From Tracks

(it freaks me out when a train goes by. they're really big.)

Eventually I found a side trail and took it. And suddenly I was covered in mud. The soil stuck like wet cat litter to my wheels, shoes, and back.

From Tracks

(i had to hike up this one. its a wee bit steep)

The trails I had turned on to were all of the ATV variety. It seems like an ATV trail should make a good MTB trial, but it doesn't. Quad riders live to spin they're tires as much as possible, and climb straight up the steepest hills they can. And why wouldn't they? Its no more work for them to go up than it is to go down. But all they're spinning translates as digging on the the "trail" which becomes more of a loose, muddy, trench than a path.
On the first big down hill I came to, I crashed. Hard. I hit a big rock on the way down, and bounced right into another big rock, then was deflected off of that rock into the ground.

From Tracks

I made sure to take a picture of the bike right after the crash. I have my priorities straight. Notice the direction of the stem. My hands were still attached when it twisted like that. I think I landed on the saddle with my quad, because it started throbbing. I proceeded to ride for three more hours on it.
The next climb was hard because my leg was hurting. But eventually the trails turned into some nice single track that ran back down to the rail line. After a few wrong turns I hit the summit of this hill.

From Tracks

Once a developer knocks down all those pesky trees that is going to be a lovely view.
I rode back down the trail, made some more wrong turns, then found another set of atv tracks. The PRIVATE PROPERTY, STAY OUT, and BEWARE OF DOG signs on the sides of the trail were starting to bother me a bit, but I know for a fact that I was not on private property. People in western PA are strangely protective of their land. And well armed.
I exited the woods in a Christmas tree farm and sat down to have some pb n' j.

From Tracks

(break time for the steed.)

The next section of trail was a blast.

From Tracks

Wee!

Then at 2 1/2 hours I hit my destination. I turned back, and making all the right turns it only took me an hour to get home. In all it was a great ride.
30 minutes later I was off to work.

From Tracks

(maybe my butt was itchy)
And I still can't bend my leg. But it was worth it :D

marshmallow fields forever

The feeling of a tire almost rolling off a rim is a curious thing. It feels like the back of the bike turns into a trailer and swings out to the side. Or like the rear wheel just ran into a pit of marshmallows and lost traction.
I felt that twice today. Then I flatted. Again. I am soooo damn sick of tubes.
I rode most of the way to the lady bears house on about 5psi in a 26c tire. That says great things for Soma Everwears. They hold their shape really well without air (much better than say, a larson mimo). And the blue stripe on mine makes them extra fast. (when they do have air, of course.) The whole way I was riding gingerly, hoping that I wouldn't pull the rubber off my rim.
3/4 of the way to her house I remembered carry a Co2 inflator in my bag o' shit. Oi. I hate my forgetfulness sometimes.
After I gassed up the tire I was off again without and problemos. And it was a rather pleasant day.

cruising to victory: parte uno

I wrote once last week. I just didn't feel like it. So shoot me.
But now I feel like it, mostly because of the latest acquisition of the meaty meaty knob corporation.

From Worthless Garbage

Schweet!
Its a cruiser! and it has rust! everywhere! yay!
Did I mention its rusty? Because it is. I say it twice because I don't think the picture does the oxidization justice. But it was free, so I'll stop whining.
I'm actually really excited about this frame. Along with the above cruiser, the meaty meaty knob corp. also received a shipment of old and heavy parts. So everything I need to make this a smooth cruisin bike is ready to go.
The plan is to strip the frame down and repaint it, repack the bearings, and make everything nice and shinny (birds will try to steal it for nest material.)

From Worthless Garbage

Life after fenders.

Since I was so majorly excited, and lonely and bored, I did a preliminary build.

From Worthless Garbage

From Worthless Garbage

and its schweet. Almost every part of the bike is steel. It weighs close to 35 pounds. No brakes, no gears, and 35 pounds! Oi! Cheap steel is real, real heavy. But it cruises just fine. So I am pleased. Once I get it all finished it will be given away to a sibling of the lady bear for a birthday present.

Hail to the cycle who coastith not

From Worthless Garbage

+

From knobby meats

=

Crazy good climbing!!
Huzzah!

Today's ride made me a believer in the benefits of riding a fixed gear with a 30lb bag o' shit everyday.
The temperatures were great today in Western PA, so after some running scaffalaca and I went out for about 20 miles at a moderate pace. Scaffalaca is a good road racer and rides a carbon fiber Colnago. I ride a heavy ass steel, fixed, skinny tired mountain bike. And I was smoking him like a stoggie on every climb we hit.

At the bottom of every hill I heard a 'click' 'click' 'clicking' down the of his gears. He slowed down. Obviously, on the fixed gear I do not have that option. I have to stand and hammer and pray my knees don't explode. I sped up. And kept it up.

I won't discuss what happened on the downhills. (coasting is cheating.)

Riding fixed has definitely made me a great climber. It's really good stuff.

the world at large

It amazes me how things work themselves out. I'm beginning to find that if I'm patient, everything just falls into place.
I recently sold the dirtmobilis. The padre was convinced that we would be lucky if we could get someone to come drag it away, but I put it on craigslist and am now $1000 richer. If I would have been hasty and taken it to the scrap yard, I would be sitting on a whole lot of nothing.
We are in the process of trying to get rid of our B.A Van which is currently located at my old residence in the middle of no where. At my old residence, I had the pleasure of having one old jazzersizing, Subaru driving, lady as my neighbor. She has since died, and a new couple has moved into her house. As we pulled the battery out of the B.A Van, the new resident of the casa down the way trudged up the hill in deep snow to, as he so eloquently put it, "shoot the shit." We shot the shit until we were absolutely sure that it was dead, and it turns out he has a buddy who is in the market for a B.A Van. I'll have to go shit shooting with him real soon.
The lady bear and I have been on the lookout for an old beach cruiser to fix up for some time. I've been combing ebay and craigslist and finding some crazy prices. Today at work, a customer saw my bike sitting outside the coffee shop. He asked who's it was, I told him it was mine, and we started talking bike. He just so happens to have massive amounts of old frames and parts he wants to get rid of. One frame is a beach cruiser. Huzzah! Free bikes all around!
I'm excited. And right now, I'm feeling like the worlds a pretty lovely place.

ice cold dressing: commuting part 1

The cranial area:

From Worthless Garbage

The head region does more to regulate body temperature than any other area of the body. Getting the hat situation figured out is more important than a jacket, as important as a morning bowl of cereal.
On chilly days 40-20F I were the black hat of the right. Its a loosely knit viking cap that breathes nicely and works great on days I have to go pillaging. The sunglasses (natives) are enough to keep my eyeballs happy down to about 10F. However, they don't do a damn thing when the snow starts falling.
The red hat is a pollypoo blend of some sort. It does not let nearly as much wind in as the viking cap, and is much tighter. It keeps my head toasty enough in the negative Fahrenheit temperatures (-5F has been the coldest we've had this year in lovely Picksburgh.) I feel a little self conscious about wearing a red hat under a lime green helmet, but I really don't want to buy another hat. When the sky starts falling, there is no substitute for ski goggles. I really don't like to wear them because they're a pain with my helmet, but sometimes there is just no choice.
On the subject of helmets, I've had my Giro for something like 6 years and its sooo nice. I just love it to death. I don't have to much trouble getting a hat under it.
The final piece of head gear I swathe myself in in the cold is a neck warmer. It makes a huge difference in holding in body heat. At this point in the winter, when I'm used to the temperature, I can wear the warmer instead of a jacket. It makes that much difference.

Yogoga

Holly shite. Yoga is good.

The lady bear has been asking me to go with her to yoga class for a while. But since we are both very busy and important people, we haven't had the time. Until tonight.

We went to a little place called moonglow and took a beginners class. The building is nice, there's a cat, and, well the cat is nice. The actual yoga room is hot as the inside of a pizza oven. I felt like peperoni. It was really really hot. I think the room was something like 85F. Being used to 10F, I felt like passing out for the first part of the session. Next time I'm bringing water, and something to keep my damn hair out of my eyes. I was expecting the yoga to be easy, but I was wrong.

The instructor goes non stop for an hour. There was tons of stretching, some balance, and some challenging (for me! i know right? that's crazy!) core work. At the end of the class my legs felt fantastic. They were really sore and tight before hand, but that hour defiantly fixed them. Yoga is going to have to become part of my weekly routine.

Stumping for parts

After 30 minutes of hell on the trainer, I found a neato sponsorship application on the Raceface website. After circumnavigating all the flash shit that they use to deter, I filled it out.



Current Sponsors?
Tenderfoot, my squeaky chew toy turkey.
So none.

Bikes?
Rigid Niner One9
1980 BCA fixed gear

Riding in the past two years?
I commute 23 miles everyday in snow, sleet, and rain. I’m dedicated. I raced my fist XC series last fall and finished 9th in the Expert Singlespeed division, with absolutely no training time because of the cross country running season. Currently, I commute, workout after my commute, and head to the mountains for training rides on the weekend.

Events you may be attending?
Wilderness 101
Big Bear Classic
24 hrs of Big Bear
High Cascades 100
Subaru 24hr Champion Challenge
With a little support, I'm up for anything

What movies/ mags/ websites do you expect to be featured in?
That depends entirely on my results. Which depends on my ability to race. Which in turn depends on my level of sponsorship support. With a little luck, someone will make a movie about me. (Ha! I lies good)

Why should Raceface sponsor you?
Raceface needs a new face. Being a young, aspiring endurance single speeder, I could provide that face. (by that I meant that they need to sponsor somebody who doesn’t look like a douchey skate boarder. not that all boarders are douchey, just most.) I would give raceface free advertising by sewing a large raceface banner onto my messenger bag, which is seen by dozens of good ol’ boys in pickups everyday. I could also fly a small raceface flag on the back of my cycle. I am even willing to tattoo that neat little eye thing on some part of my body, but only if I am guaranteed free chaining bolts for life.



I fully expect to be getting a nice fat check from the good forging canucks by the end of the week.

Minoats

I need more saddle time. I just started logging my rides, and I'm only coming up with about 5.5 hours a week. That's really not enough for the amount of racing I want to do this summer. But oval season (track) is coming up and I know that once I start running I'm not going to have the time, or energy/ desire, to put in more hours. So do I ride more now and hope that my cycling fitness will carry through the running season? Or just not worry about it and get on the bike once track is over? What a dilemma I have.
It really is hard to get in long rides in the cold. My body is starting to get used to the temps, but my water bottle is not. It freezes after about a half an hour in the cold. Turning it upside down in the bottle cage works to an extent, but still it freezes. I've looked into getting a miniature dragon to blow on the bottles, but then I would need to buy miniature goats to feed it. Minoats, as they're called in dragon breeding circles, are notoriously salty. If I fed my dragon with nothing but minoats, he would get thirsty and likely drink my water after he thawed it. And I would still be waterless.