Beefcakes Bike Blog

Alley oop oop. Oop. Oop. Oop!

2011-07-05T19:08:00.012-04:00

July 3, 2011 - First Annual (hopefuly) Brevard, NC Alley Cat Race.

What a blast! Thirty some odd people (i use odd loosely) including kids, adults, adults who are still kids and in-betweens. This was my first participation in an Alley Cat Race.

Typical alley cat format is basically no format at all. This race consisted of 10 or so check points, each worth a certain amount of points based upon their distance from the starting point. Also in the mix were a number of local landmarks, people and combinations of both that were each worth an additional 3 points each.

Who ever has the most points and returns to the designated finishing area by the cut-off time wins.

My buddy and official H8R, aka ZB, decided he just wanted to follow me for the race since he doesn't know Brevard all that well. Together we sped through Brevard and its outskirts, collected pictures, signed sign in sheets, danced, busted some rhymes, begged, consumed liquid refreshment, obeyed all and any traffic laws, improvised as necessary and hauled booty for an hour and a half and made it back to the Square Root (the official race end) within the designated time frame.

The race started from a very educational location and proceeded to a place of higher education where we received our official maps/passports. We had to race to the first checkpoint to get our maps. It was a dead sprint from the beginning. There was no direct route to the designated check point so i figured it would be best to stay off the main roads and enter through the back door. It seemed that half of the racers went for the main road route and i was part of the other half. We zoomed over to the side entrance of said place of higer education but i was uncertain where the building was that we had to go to. Up ahead of the pack was a recent graduate of said higher learning center so i knew it would be prudent to follow her lead. Sure enough, she led us right to the maps.

I grabbed our map, looked at the various spots we had to ride to and photograph, decided upon a route and busted off through the field. I decided upon a clock wise route that would enable us to hit every check point.

The obvious check points were mostly well known businesses in and around Brevard (Poppies, Red House Inn) but the extra credit points were as follows: catface, waving preacher man, running umbrella man, big roosters, iron elk, city limit sign, grazing yard cows, FL license plate, white squirell picture and a few others.

Since we are residents of the nearby towns and not Brevard "townies" like most of the competitors (i'd like to be a Brevard townie though) we didn't understand the signifcance of "waving preacher man" and "running umbrella man" but like i said, we improvised.

All of the navigation was made on the fly, with map in hand, trying not to soak it with sweat and some of the pictures were taken while still riding. Thanks to my former life as an Adventure Racer and my current life as a real estate appraiser, i'm fairly good at navigating, reading maps and taking pictures while still in motion.

If you look at the pictures, you'll see the fun embedded in our activity. We worked hard and i thought i was going to hurl several times. I'm not used to sprinting on my bike for that amount of time. Give me a six hour ride and i'll blow it out with much more ease than a dead on 1.5 hour sprint.

To my surprise, we ended up having the most points and I was awarded with the best trophy (other than my trophy fiance') that was hand crafted by Dan Ennis. This was hands down, the most fun i've had in a race in years! Oh, and my trophy fiance' tied for third!

Much thanks to Dan and Tristan for an awesome event!

TSE - Day 7, the final day

2011-06-04T15:42:00.002-04:00

TSE Day 7 – the final day

“I think we worked perty well together”, a quote straight from Cissy. Yeah. We finished. We’re bad. Oh yeah! 7 days! We made it. What an accomplishment. I feel great and I don’t want it to end. It was painful during the entire process but now I want it to continue. I want to have to wake early in the AM and hop on the bike on my sore arse and ride 40+ miles of difficult trails and spend 4 hours suffering. I want to do it again. What in my genetic make up makes me crave such suffering. Why do I enjoy punishing myself? What aspect of suffering gives me pleasure? Don’t know. Uncertain. I do know that I’m in Pennsylvania and they sell beer from the bar in 6 packs and 12 packs and I have a 12 pack of Pennsylvania brewed Yuengling sitting here beside me that probably won’t make it through the night (well at least 6 of them). I just returned from the bar (beer store) with said 12 pack which is extremely celebratory and now my wonderful woman is cooking macaroni and cheese from scratch in a camper after riding 7 days in a stage race and what could be better? You tell me and I’d say you are wrong. This is what I live my life for and I’m currently knee deep and enjoying it and here I am…. Smiling and happy and don’t want it to end. I see yoga poses out of the corner of my eyes, smell macaroni and cheese in my nostrils, hear rain on the camper roof, feel food and beer in my belly, feel pain in my quads, feel 7 days of racing just under my belt and I need nothing else.
All is good.

Peace.

DJC.

Official finisher of the 2011 Trans Sylvania Mountain Bike Stage Race co-ed duo team.
Word.

26.47 miles
30.5 max speed
2:46 time
9.5 avg

we're done

TSE Day 6

2011-06-03T20:52:00.000-04:00

TSE Day 6

It was actually cold this morning as opposed to the 93 degree heat on Monday. The race start began about 4 miles from the race headquarters base camp. All racers left the base camp and did a slow ride to the start.
The race director said “go” and we went. Cissy and I stayed on the wheels of our only competitors for the first hour and twenty minutes then they pulled away from us on a long downhill. We saw them at the end of the race. Only one of them had taken off their helmet, so we weren’t far behind. Actually, we were only 10 minutes behind…so not too shabby!

The trails today were mostly rocks and some rocks and then a few more rocks. After the first trail of rocks, there were more rocks. Oh yeah, did I forget to mention the rocks? The rocks were rideable though and it took fierce concentration to navigate the smoothest line.

We started on a gravel road and quickly entered a forest service road which evolved into double track then single track and finally hike a bike. The hike a bike was not too long and we were rewarded with a beautiful overgrown single track descent in which your front wheel had to part its way through the blueberry bushes covering the path. All you could see was a narrow strip of dirt so you just hoped that there was not a big rock or downed tree that the person in front of you just happened to miss and leave there for you to hit. After the narrow path through the blueberries, the trail turned into an old double track road that descended for about 3 miles. This part of the trail had a creek running through it for a while so by the end, we were wet and muddy. From here we pedaled gravel roads, hard pack and some more single track.

The day ended with a grunt up a wet, sloppy section of single track and a quick descent to the finish.

Overall, Cissy and I put forth a huge effort today. We were both “on” all day long. We worked it like we know how to do. When I was tiring, she’d pull up and take the lead, then I’d return the favor. We both agreed that the four hours plus in the saddle today seemed to go by quicker than any of the previous days. We put forth a huge team effort and were rewarded with knowing that we gave it our all, and worked well as a team. Cissy stepped it up through the last rock section and over a beautiful ridge on Tussey Mountain. Once again, she was riding with a new set of skills that she’s been keeping in her back pocket for a while. It hurt to stay with her on that ridge but I did, and we finished.

One more day.

39 miles
30.5 max
4:12
9.2 avg

TSE - Day 5

2011-06-02T22:20:00.002-04:00

TSE - Day 5

Today was four short xc style races formatted in a rolling ride. All racers rolled out of the staging area at a slow pace until we got to the start then each group raced a short race to the next finish. After all the racers finished, we rode together to the next start and did it all again. Four little races in one large rolling group. Total miles were only 28 or so. It was a very relaxed stage and most of the lead riders sorta took it easy. Since the individual races were so short, most leaders didn't have to worry about losing much time in the overall standings. It was a fun format.

Cissy and i did our best in the rocky terrain, passing a lot of people who obviously don't ride Pisgah or Pennsylvania often enough to scurry over the rocks quickly. Cissy saw a huge rattlesnake on the side of the gravel road in between two race stages. We started and finished at R. B. Winter State Park. It seemed like a nice place. Lake, beach, pavilions, camping sites etc.

Not much more to say other than our legs are tired and only 2 days remaining in the race. Tomorrow will be another long day in PA. We should see some good views as we will be riding a ridge line trail for quite a ways.

Peace.
DJC

28 ish miles.
top speed ?
avg ?
legs: tired
belly: bloated
eyes: heavy

TSE day 4

2011-06-01T21:44:00.002-04:00

TSE Hump Day – Day 4.

It was day 4 of 7 today so only 3 stages remaining. Once again, as predicted, we gained on our sole competitors. Our course today consisted of Tsali like trails mostly on contour following the edge of Raystown Lake. We had two twenty ish mile laps to complete. Today we gained 6500’ in 42 miles. Yesterday we gained less but it hurt more because the climbs were continuous. Today we had 42 miles of fun rolling-dip-grade, side hill bench cut, machine made trails much similar in fashion to the trails at Dupont State Forest and that worn out place known as Tsali. This course made us smile. We laughed and had a lot of fun.

The race started with a controlled start from a paved road at lakes edge. We had to pedal about ½ mile up an 8-10% grade then into the single track. Cissy and I started a little too hard and had to back up off of it for just a tad. We shortly got into a good rhythm and started to gain on who ever we saw ahead of us. There was only one aid station today and it was located at mile 9 of the course. On our second lap just as we were approaching the aid station, I noticed the leading team in our class just up ahead of us. I was psyched. I had been telling Cissy that we were gaining on them since the second day. Finally, what I had been whining about came to fruition – our competitors wearing thin and in our sites. The aid station had tape set up to guide our path into the open field that was now a bike race aid station. When our competitors saw us they switched out some empty water bottles for some full ones and kept on. We did the same. Now we were right on their tails with 13 miles of race remaining. I thought since we had caught up to them that they were worn out, but they were evidently discounting us. Needless to say they picked up the pace. We could see them in the opposite side of the coves on the trail, just a little ahead of us then their gap kept growing. Finally they were out of sight, but not out of mind. Cissy got up to my wheel and I told her we were going to have to grunt out every hill in order to catch them. “Just look at the ground and pedal. Don’t think about nothing else except pedaling as hard as you can”, I told her. We employed that specific idea and cranked as hard as we could. I was a little sad that our competitors had gotten out of sight but I did not give up. In a race this close anything could happen. If they had a wreck or any mechanical snafu, we would catch and pass them. Not that we would wish misfortune on any team, because we wouldn’t, but we just wanted to catch them.

We kept pedaling, madly. Cissy is a stronger climber than me and she would catch me on the climbs, so I was letting it go on the downhills. We kept at it and suddenly up through the woods I caught a slight glimpse of our competitor's orange kits. I told Cissy to stay on my wheel no matter how hard. We sneaked up behind them and caught our breaths just enough to make our move. They had not noticed that we had caught back up so when I passed the first guy he yelled to his partner “I’m not behind you any more Andy, you gotta pick it up”. There I was positioned between both riders with Cissy behind the first place team’s second rider. Now it was Adam, Me, Adam’s partner then Cissy. At this point we had about 1 mile of course remaining. The four of us were flying, cranking for all we were worth. I was hoping for one more really steep long climb but from here on out it was a pure power move to get to the finish line. Adam was hurting but we were determined. Our frantic foursome approached some stray riders who obviously heard us working hard and just moved out of the way to let this freight train roll by. It was like we were creating a breeze that surprised and made each person we passed lean back away from the trail with an expression showing amazement and excitement for a close race.

Cissy and I held with them as long as we could. In this race, there is a 30 second rule. As applied to the duo team category, it means that you can never be 30 seconds away from your partner. While I was cranking and keeping our competitors team split up, I was also yelling to Cissy to see if she could pass but the guy behind me was just too fresh and we had to let em go.
They beat us by 22 seconds.

We will be at the starting line again tomorrow and I will not give up.

I forgot to put my computer on the bike this am so these stats are from Cissy’s ride.
42 miles
31.5 max
4:04
6300’ climbing
Avg 10.1 ish

TSE - Day 3

2011-05-31T21:36:00.000-04:00

TSE Day 3 – Gravel, gravel, gravel.

We rode a lot of gravel if you didn’t infer that by the title of today’s review. Our plan was to start slow and maintain a good pace then go faster if we could. Again, I was the weak link, but not as bad as yesterday. The heat is beating me down. I poured every third bottle of water on my head and neck to try and keep my temperature down. It helped a bunch. Bla.

What we saw today came straight out of an issue of National Geographic. Green everywhere. Solitude in the forest is what we witnessed as we climbed for a total of 5300’ in 49 miles. It was hard to imagine how some of the climbs kept going. We’d round a turn and think we were at the top but the next turn revealed more up. It seemed to never stop. Most of the climbs were along mountain streams. We also had quite a bit of shade (thank God). Some of the streams were misting upwards towards the road bed and you would occasionally get a cool treat from the water. The route took us through Coburn, PA and almost to Woodward, PA as well. We hit a fair amount of the Wilderness 101 routes beginning and end and also passed through an old rail tunnel that felt like Mother Nature’s air conditioning. It was a sweet 20 seconds of cool air.

I’m beat and my imagination sweat out of me somewhere on the course today.

We gained a little bit of time on the male duo team who is winning our class and getting all the daily swag.

We have four more days and tomorrow is supposed to be fun rolling man made “for biking” trails.
Hopefully it won’t be hot enough to melt my helmet to my head.

Peace. DJC

4:28
10.7 Avg
47.9 miles
Max speed 40

Trans Sylvania Epic - Day 2

2011-05-30T17:24:00.001-04:00

TSE Day 2 - Welcome to PA’s finest.

Today hurt. 43 miles, aw shucks - that’s not so far! Well heck, I can ride that far at the drop of a hat... but not on rocky Pennsylvania single track. For those familiar with the rock garden near bottom of Pilot Rock Trail, Pisgah National Forest N.C., – take that and spread it out on 15-20 miles of single track. The rocks weren’t as big and loose as on Pilot, but they seemed constant. Most all of the trail was rideable but throw in the 90 degree heat, steep gravel climbs and 15 extra pounds around the midsection and you have a prime candidate for the sag wagon. Oh yeah, I’m teamed up with Cynthia T. Fowler. I didn’t realize that the “T” stands for tenacious and there was no pity party for me on the trail today. I wanted to stop several times but I was provoked by a cheerful voice that kept reminding me of earlier days, when I was actually in shape and actually prepared for a ride like this. She never let me stop. I am thankful for that. I went through almost 200 oz. of water. Did I mention it was hot? Near the end of the race I stopped in a stream, dropped to my knees and sunk my head in the crisp PA mountain water. That was awesome. The cool water seemed to block pain receptors and pity me thoughts for about five minutes. When I finally came to, we were winding on a sparsely rocked single track trail supposedly rolling us along to the last road section of the day. This last section was about 4 miles and it wound through a PA bog. What a beautiful sight. This trail is not very spectacular for a mountain bike trail but beautiful for walking, stopping and observing. The bog area was full of moss, downed trees and soft loamy soil. Water was rushing everywhere and out of its typical spillways due to the recent heavy rains. This part of the course was a pleasure to witness.
Overall, the day seems less evil the more time separates my memory from the pain. By tonight, I’ll have forgotten most of the pain and will be looking forward to tomorrows 40+ mile stage. Today was supposed to be the hardest day, so I look forward to not suffering as much tomorrow.

We did our best. The leaders had several hours on us but who cares. We finished and we’re still smiling and still planning on getting married eventually. All is well in our world.
Peace.

From my bike computer:
5:07
44.26 miles
8.6 average speed
30.5 max speed
Now I know what it feels like to be the weakest link.

Trans-Sylvania Mountain Bike Epic -day 1.

2011-05-29T22:07:00.002-04:00

Pre prologue. Tired. Heavy legs. Nervous. Why? Don’t know. What you scared of? Don’t know. Actually not much unless I’m nervous. Belly full of nerves. Here for fun. This isn’t fun. This is nerve racking. Soaking up all my energy. Instead of into the pedals it’s into my head. Want to be here until I’m here. Then it’s easy to be somewhere else in my mind, but not physically. I need to be here now. Physically. Mentally. Emotionally. For me. For Cissy. It’s dangerous not to be here. I’ve checked out. Gotta check back in by 2:30, when the race starts. Then we have 1:30 minutes before Cissy and I start our prologue. I’m racing against nobody but my head. Basket case. I’ve raced 100’s of times. Nothing on the line. This is supposed to be relaxed and easy. I’m so nervous I almost wish I was working. Gotta break through this nervous energy before it consumes all my good calories and mental energy for the prologue. This is what we do. Why? I guess it’s what we know. I’ve raced in this area twice. The wilderness 101 goes through this area. We rode the prologue yesterday so it’s not like I don’t know what to expect. Beastie Boys just rolled on my mp3 thing. That helps a little, “cause I am most ill and I’m rhyming and stealin”. Feel energy turning. Turning into leadership. Gotta lead Cissy through this race. She looks up to me. Why? Sometimes I’m uncertain. But I do believe this is where I shine…on the bike. It’s where our relationship also shines. We work well as a team, now an opportunity to test it on unfamiliar ground. Let us shine. T69 minutes till race start. Peace.
Warm it up Dave. I’m about to.
A billion butterflies later and I’m back. No…I’m back! Thanks to the prayers and faith in what I am and what I’ve done in this life. Cissy and I both stepped it up. About two seconds after the starter said “go”, I forgot every bit of jittery BS that had been in my mind. What fun. The beginning of the course was newly cut single track around the seven mountains boy scout camp (race venue). This stuff is similar to a wet day in the Pisgah woods; slick roots, twisty and some rocks. We circled around then went out of the camp on some gravel, then to awesome fern forest single track, crested a mountain, descended through about 10 brazillion blueberry plants, back down the mountain, through a Pennsylvania bog and back to the start/finish. There was some sweet rocky single track and some fun descents. The best part was watching Cissy kick it through some swoopy, loamy, rocky single track. She kicked it up about 150% and rode so smooth I just had to yell “woman, yes!” to which she later responded “I couldn’t talk because I thought I was going to throw up the whole time”. Awesome!
We finished with a strong, all out team effort. Tomorrow is billed as the toughest day. 42 miles and some very rocky schtuff.
There were only a handful of “duo” racers so the promoter lumped the "all-male" teams and "coed" teams together under one “duo” category. We finished second behind some dudes from Mass. A lot can happen in six 28-47 miles days of racing. We plan on giving it our best.

TSE 2011 prologue
2nd place duo
1:17
1400 ft climbing

Snake Creek Gap Time Trial #3_March_2011

2011-03-06T10:34:00.002-05:00

3/5/11
Snake Creek Gap #3
33.18 miles/Max speed 43/3.55 time/8.5 avg
Race review

*Big props to Austin Parsons for keeping my mountain bike in top notch shape! Not one occasion of chain suck in 34 miles of sticky, all encompassing, North Georgia chocolate. Thanks Austin!

My hopes and dreams of Pinhoti trail in pristine form washed away thanks to 12 hours of pre-race rain. Muddy was the trail but not soggy as one month prior. In February’s race the snow and ice melt had settled into the first few inches of soil creating a spongy type surface…much like wet sand. In yesterday’s race there was only an inch of slop atop a solid base of Northwest GA soil. The conditions, although undesirable, were not quite as miserable as a month ago.

My goal for this race was to knock 30 minutes off my previous time. That may seem like a lofty goal but considering my lack of training for the first race it was obtainable. With four semi-dedicated weeks between races, there was enough time to shed a few pounds off my “winter sofa”, gain more fitness and attend four more indoor trainer classes at Sycomore-Hendo. Also thrown into that mix is some coaching from a coach formerly associated with an organization not to be named that was affiliated with some dude who won a big race over the pond seven times. I have not completed much training under the newly hired “coach” but I am looking forward to it. So far he’s been more of a person to answer to and that alone has kept me more focused than usual.

Thirty minutes. An episode of Family Guy, a meal at Waffle House, an easy crossword puzzle, intimate interaction with a friendly TSA agent…the list goes on. I knew I could do it but only with focus and determination. I couldn’t joke around at the sag stops. I couldn’t chill behind people maintaining an easy pace. I’d have to push it with some reserve so I didn’t explode and lose all the effects of my coffee doping (they don’t test for that yet).

The Snake Creek Gap TT is divided into two 17 mile sections, each similar in terrain but with the second section having a little more climbing and enough rocks to make a person think they were riding an easy trail in West Virginia. The first half was basically a warm up for me. These over 40 quads need a L O N G time to warm up. Thanks to the recent indoor trainer classes, I’ve reconnected with spinning and spun the first 17 miles but noticed I was not that tired and not very winded at the mid-point rest stop. Emcee extraordinaire and friend Bruce Dickman laid his charm into the microphone and publicly ribbed me with threats of telling my woman how lazy I was and how slow I was and how I must beat a time of 4’06”. I thought about the time and wondered its significance then Bruce said “that’s my official best course time”. Beat Bruce’s time? Ha! I must! Instead of relishing in the pleasure of the warm coffee poured for me by the kind volunteer, I set the half drank cup down, grabbed my hefty pack and bolted up the trail. All the while, fading in the distance, was Bruce threating tales of slackness being told to my woman.

I had a goal of 30 minutes off my prior time, but now I had a goal to better Mr. Dickman’ s time. I re-focused and suddenly realized I hadn’t been breathing hard for most of the race. I shifted up to my middle ring and started laying on the power, rolling in a groove I’d been waiting for to show up. I put my head down and did what I love to do most. I entered a silent world of concentration, Zen you could say, where my only thought is to roll forward. It’s this state of mind that keeps me on the bike. It’s a certifiable drug. It’s my own personal Charlie Sheen, and like his, it is not FDA approved.

I found great pleasure in the middle ring. My quads rejoiced as the additional warmth generated fed the feel good engine of my Zen state of mind. The extra effort made me faster. The rocks came and over them I rolled. With years of Pisgah as my playground I found much pleasure navigating the technical sweetness of jagged granite. A fit looking skinny fellow passed me but i came back up on him some time later. He was pushing up a steep rocky section. I decided now was my time. I sucked it up and grunted up the granite laden hill filled with awesome pain and pleasure. The skinny dude cheered me on as I passed by and he even gave me a little push. This is my element. My peace. Where I love life the most. A simple 30 seconds of simultaneous pleasure and pain. At the top, I was spent but kept going because I couldn’t shake echoes of “4’06” in Bruce’s most recognizable voice in the forefront of my consciousness.

The next few miles seemed to go on for hours in my mind’s eye but it was only around 30 minutes. I wanted to clear the entire rock garden with no dabs but exhaustion set in and claimed the win. Finally the radio towers appeared in the fog and pure relief came over me since this indicated the end of the race. It was all downhill from this point. A super-fast descent to the finish. I looked at the time on my odometer and smiled. I’d beat Bruce’s time, and make my goal with a few minutes to spare.

As I write this, I think of the fun I had yesterday, the 10 hours of driving, money spent, pain endured and wonder “when do I get to do this again?”

Peace.

Snake Creek Gap time trial #2

2011-02-21T16:49:00.001-05:00

Snake Gap Creek time trial – race 2, Feb. 5, 2011
First race of the season, and I hurt. It’s been a long comfortatble winter……on the sofa. “On the sofa” can be used like “between the sheets” in fortune cookie lingo but it’s not a good phrase to describe your fitness.
This race made me feel as if I were “just off the sofa”. At least I’m headed in the right direction.
Snake Gap Creek is run on the PInhoti trail in Northwest Georgia. Being from GA I’ve ridden most of the trails, but not the Pinhoti. It opened up after I fled for WNC (Western North Carolina) in 2004.
The route was a 34 mile point to point race with about 4,000 feet of climbing, per some unknown rider on the bus who seemed to know what he was talking about with exception of the rocky section of trail near races end.
As a self designated “seasoned racer” I leave my mind open to all trail suggestions, hints, pointers, etc. however, I put those pointers in the back of my head until I get to the spot referenced then I make my own call on the particular spot. This occasion was no exception. On the bus ride to the start I heard so many descriptions of near death experiences on this “rocky section”. Also, it covers the last 6 or so miles of the course. I arrived at the rocky section and was thankful for my Pisgah home. Much gratitude went out to countess efforts on Pilot Rock Trail, Laurel Mountain Trail., Squirrel Gap and Farlow Gap Trail. The rocks were tricky but didn’t hold a candle to the Pisgah trails mentioned above. These trails prepared me well for this North Ga. Adventure.
I was uncertain how my legs would react to 34 miles of North Georgia trail. I’d only been on the mountain bike one time this year and that was a brief jaunt at Dupont State Forest. Thank heavens for the Tuesday/Thursday training classes at Sycamore in Hendersonville.
The race went well although it felt like I was towing my sofa. I guess in a way I was. It was just a smaller 15 pound version attached to my belly.
Hopefully I’ll make it to the March race, ten pounds lighter and with race ready legs.
The Pinhoti is a lot like 34 miles of Laurel Mountain Trail in Dupont State Forest. It was muddy and soggy on the day I raced but if it’s dry…hold on! The long drive is worth the effort and the race promoters do an excellent job.
Peace.

Day 5 - I think i saw a big white squirrel

2010-09-19T13:39:00.002-04:00

Day 5
It’s the day after day 5, so I’ve been sleeping, eating, celebrating, socializing and basically enjoying the company of other similarly weird masocylcists (a new word combining masochism and cycling used to describe a cycling endurance competitor). The last day. There’s a podium spot on the line for me (since the race directors podium has two more spots than most) so I have to give it my all. Day three was my rest and relaxation day. I’m not sure why it ended up like that but sometimes things don’t always work out like we planned, like a career path or a marriage. So now I have no excuses for slow pedaling with a self-defeating attitude. We had a 6 mile paved road start then some technical climbing, followed by gravel climbing, more technical climbing, a super technical downhill, gravel, more technical up and down then gravel up and one last hurrah of a technical down. Overall, today’s course was on par with the four prior days but slightly leaning towards the technical side of things. I consider myself a good technical rider. I can climb things that don’t look climbable and descend sloppy, loose rock piles, hop logs and scurry over roots. I’m not the best but I can keep the cranks spinning over tricky terrain. In my formative days of mountain bike racing I used to ride with people many years my senior, who were also “lifers” of the sport. One fellow stands out in my memory…a barbarian, he could be termed, who NEVER stopped pedaling. No matter what obstacle he had to cross, hop, navigate or slide through he never stopped pedaling. I’d follow this long haired cannabis fiend as closely as I could, in awe of how he seemed to “hover” over the trail, wanting to acquire this smoothness and agility on the bike. After six years of living next door to and riding in Pisgah my hovering skills must rate equal to an IQ of a mensa prospect. Every dog has their day and our great creator injects a dose of humility upon us with perfect timing. On day four, I realized that I was “hovering” at a pace I had rarely entertained. I was cranking over things that I usually walk around or over and wasn’t even giving them a second thought. It was see and conquer. My eyes were piecing lines on the trail like perfectly picking each new piece in a 3d puzzle of a never ending stair case that was drawn by some guy long dead who is probably pissed that his art ended up on countless mouse pads. Along I motored until bam! - I hit a rock with my right pedal when it was at the lowest point of the pedal circle. “No big deal” slipped through my mind until I realized that I was now pedaling sans right shoe. I chuckled mid trail, dropped the bike and crossed my fingers hoping that my shoe didn’t tumble down the hillside into the under growth and dead vegetation. My sloppy, dirty, stinky, BROWN shoe was somewhere twenty some odd feet behind me. I walked to it sock footed and gigged from inside. Not just a polite surface giggle to acknowledge a co-workers quip at the water cooler, but a deep down inside, true giggle – the kind of feeling that rips you off your cloud and grounds you to this unreal reality we call life. I needed grounding, as usual.
Day five gave me additional grounding in a more literal sense than the shoe incident. As mentioned earlier, my best skills are in technical areas. So in order to place well in day five, I had to ride the technical sections better than my competitors. Coming up Bradley Creek trail, I spotted the number two fellow in my class. I kept gaining on him at each creek crossing and I knew I’d be up on his wheel by the beginning of a thirty minute gravel climb up forest service road 5015. I also knew that he could drop me on the gravel climb – so I kept my distance. If he would have seen me, he may have increased his pace and put more time on me on the climb so I stayed just out of sight. I hit the climb at a good pace and as I rounded the last turn I saw him and the fourth place fellow in my class just leaving the rest stop. Good I thought because next was a seven mile technical climb followed by a 4 mile screaming technical descent on one of the best skill testing, hand numbing, bike and body breaking trails in Pisgah. Now was my chance. What am I made of? My buddy and often race partner Yuri was there and was “keeping it real” for me like in the Dave Chappelle skits. He asked me if I minded I he rode with me and I said “come on”. Yuri did just that. He was behind me keeping it real. “Come on Dave, pedal this faster – this section is flat”. “Drink now before the climb. Eat something so you can digest on the downhill” I kept hearing things like these direct to me. It took my mind off the pain and also made me realize I could go faster than I was going. I picked it up a notch and up in the distance saw the number four guy in my class. He had just finished walking over a large rock and I yelled “coming through”. He moved up the hillside as I hovered over the rock and never missed a pedal stroke. He complimented me on the move and said “keep it up” or some other encouraging words in a fashion similar to me when somebody has the ability to speed by me. Not long after that I came up on the number three guy in my class. It was on now. There was no way my ego was allowing this guy to beat me at my game. He heard my freight train of a bike rattling and pounding the trail and stepped up hillside to let me by. I said “thanks”, sped by and acted like I was in no pain. Oh yeah, Yuri was still behind me “keeping it real”. I made it to the top of the climb, quickly stopped to press the sweat out of the pads in my helmet, slipped my glasses on and hit the downhill known as Pilot Rock trail. I know this trail well. It holds claim to thousands of milligrams of ibuprofen, x-rays, broken bikes, dislocated shoulders, great stories and the beginning of wonderful friendships. I was on and descending like I had two competitors directly behind me. The sound of Yuri’s bike faded behind me and now it was nothing but rocky switchbacks, rutted downhill terrain and focus. I aced all the switchbacks with the exception of the second to last in which I had to lay the most pussy footed, ever so slight dab on the side of the trail. I cussed. Loudly. Mainly because I’ve never cleaned this trail from top to bottom and I was on course to accomplish that in this run, in day 5 of the Pisgah Mountain Bike Stage Race. I lost my cool, kept pedaling and hit the last right hand switchback before the rock garden. Bam. Stopped. Not moving. Pain. What’s broken? Me? Bike or both? I let out a yell equal to the suddenness of the stop. I was face down, tucked up under some large rocks to the upside of the trail and somehow managed to stop my forward progress with my hip lodged into a large chunk of granite with curves that somehow received the curves of my hip to inflict pain over the widest area possible. I wiggled this and that before I tried to get up. My first thought was “great. I’m out on day five of a five day race”. I took a breath, stood up, grabbed my bike and rode on through the rock garden with such vigor that I cleaned the last log like I’d done it a hundred times, when in fact I’d never done it prior. My handle bars were off center from the crash. I passed a huge white squirrel on the side of the trail and thought I must be delirious because it was uncomfortable large for a squirrel. Oh well – must move forward. I still didn’t hear Yuri so I must have made some time on the two guys behind me. I hit the next rest stop, got water, a quick adjustment on the handle bars and motored on. Yuri caught me and kept me going on the rest of the gravel. Thanks Yuri, you’re a true friend. I needed to keep a good pace because there was still a five to six mile gravel climb ahead. I made it to the end of the gravel climb, rode and hiked the last climb of the five day race, then against my better judgment, looked behind me down the trail to see if anybody was coming. I saw, nor heard no one. Excellent. With my side aching, body beat up, legs throbbing, sweat pouring and stomach churning, I dropped Black Mountain trail at a fast yet comfortable pace. I crossed the finish line in third place in my class for the day – I held off fourth and fifth in my class. Pain comes in many forms. In this five day mountain bike stage race in Pisgah National Forest, I believe I met most of them.
Peace. Congrats to all the competitors, volunteers, race director Todd, the Forest Service and the good ole U. S. of A. for having a National Forest system to use.

5th in class for the race.

4th place in class for the day. 42.31 miles. Max speed of 36. Race time of just under five hours. 8.8 avg speed for the day.

Day 4

2010-09-17T21:47:00.001-04:00

Ok. So I finally rode like I know I can. It took three days in a five day stage race to get some legs under me. Today’s route started from the Black Mountain Trailhead, otherwise known as “smokers cove”. The route included some of the second most technical trails in the forest I call home. We climbed up over Black Mountain via Thrift Cove then crossed Turkey Pen to Squirrel Gap. Lots of single track! Since I had my little vacation ride yesterday it was time to move. I started near the front of the pack and settled in around 15th or so. We had a rough climb up to Turkey Pen but I’ve completed that climb at race pace over eight times for other events, so I was ready for the ensuing pain for the next two hours. To my advantage, many of the other fellows in my class did not know what was before them and how to gage their effort. I finished the climb, crossed the 7 mile ridge and continued. Another twenty minutes of gear grinding went by and in the middle of the forest, I heard cowbells a whistle and loud obnoxious cheering. My friends were around the corner! Sure enough! Some of my friends had taken off work to come and cheer on the racers. Their cheering came at a perfect time. What a ruckus. What a wonderful ruckus. Sometimes chaos is beautiful for exactly what it is. Often in long races, I’ll find myself so focused on only the trail in front of me. It’s my euphoria. It’s where time disappears for me. Sometimes I couldn’t guess how long I’ve been at it, and those are the sweet moments. Simple. Nothing else in the world. Silence. Sweat. Pain. It’s a good day in the woods. Thanks to all that offered pep talks to help me bump the funk I was in. Times weren’t posted by this writing but I think I got third in the class and am uncertain about the overall ranking. We will know tomorrow.

39.83 miles. 31.5 max speed. Race time of 5 hours 31 minutes. 7.5 avg speed.

Day 3

2010-09-16T21:41:00.001-04:00

Day 3
All I can compare this feeling to is 2-a-day summer football practices. Although I definitely do not hate cycling. Today was billed as 9,000 feet elevation gain and 40 miles. My legs feel otherwise.
Since the first two days of this adventure were rough, I decided to chill today. Chill I did. We had a running start to the bikes then a quick downhill to the main trail. Often a race promoter will make the racers run to their bikes from a distance of up to ¼ mile +/- but in todays start we had to do a summersault of some sort in the middle of the run. With me, summersaults died out with the last days of park rides that go round and round. Needless to say, my start was slow. I predetermined starting at the back of the pack and keeping myself from the front line hoopla. Trying to maintain a pace I’m not used to kicked my butt the last two days. My theory is that if you start in the back the only way you can go is up. My plan worked and I took my sweet time. I lost two spots in the overall but no big deal. It just does not seem like my week on the bike. Technically, I’m on. Physically, I’m off. I’m thankful for all the other races where those two were partnered perfectly – so far, this race is not one of em. Life goes on. Work continues. A bunch of crazy people bike in the woods. We all do our stuff. This is mine.

6th in class. 44.68 miles. Max speed 31. Race time of 5 hours 41 minutes. 8.2 avg speed.

PMBSR - Day 2

2010-09-15T22:25:00.000-04:00

Day 2
Felt better this morning and actually got a good warm up under my belt. Thought it was going to be a better day then yesterday then cramps set in on the first third of squirrel gap. I passed a few fellows in my class and thought it was all coming together then crash - not into a tree, not like Dave Mathews but like I was going to barf or who knows what. I kept going, despite how horrible I felt. I guess I was dehydrated. Hammer Gel products in liquid form other than gels evidently disagree with my stomach. I can’t seem to absorb heed or any of that stuff. We’ll see if that was a contributing factor to my slow, slow, slow time today. I’m still in 4th due to some unfortunate mechanical problem to the fellow who was in first. I’ll try to bust a move tomorrow. Maybe the legs will cooperate. Off to bed.
4th in class. 40.31 miles. Max speed of 29.5. race time of 5 hours 12 minutes. 8.4 avg speed.

Pisgah Mountain Bike Stage Race Day 1

2010-09-14T20:56:00.001-04:00

PMBST –Day 1
“Look mummy , there’s an aero plane up in the sky” – this lyric from oh so long ago sums up my somber mood for the beginning of the first day of the Pisgah Mountain Bike Stage Race. Most was perfect: the sky, the temperature, trail conditions, bike…everything except for my somber, melancholy attitude. I felt peaceful, speculative, wondering, almost out of sorts with the world and just there. I should be happy. I mean another week off work, 5 days on the bike, the best trails I know, the trails I love most…my trails. Maybe I need a lift. Spirits low, non-existent, where are you spirits? This is my first stage race. How should I feel? What does the rule book say? Is there an emotional rule book? There’s a book on etiquette but that won’t suit the situation. No. I have my own rules. And my rules are fine. There’s no right or wrong, just be and enjoy. A somber start on day one is no big deal. There’s still day 2, 3, 4 and 5, God willing. Hopefully the caldera known as Yellowstone won’t blow up this week and mess up our breathing and oh yeah, kill a bunch of folks. I guess that’s what it takes to be a stage racer – focus on self and the task at hand. I focused on riding without judgment and succeeded. I didn’t dab but once all day (and of course it was while posing for a picture) and cleared some technical parts that I usually “almost” clear. About mid ride the chorus to “bring the boys back home” from the same album as the first song mentioned in this blurb of semi –conscious thought, popped into my head. This tune poses a request, which if answered would be a solution to a terrible mental dilemma the musician was obviously suffering while writing the song. Too me, it meant light at the end of the melancholy tunnel. I finally found my pace of “no pace” and rolled with it. Twas a beautiful day on the bike.

Today everything is a step toward tomorrow. “Back off a little you’re going too hard for day one, eat some pasta and bird, eat some pineapple, clean the bike, wash the clothes and line up mornings’ departure necessities.”
I’m tired and want to whip some ass tomorrow. So I’ll end my ramble and head for the pillow and hopefully to dream land full of bike jumps that flow like they can only in dreams.
Peace.

4th in class. 12.78 miles. Max speed of 43. Race time of 1 hour 15 minute(ish). 9.5 avg speed.

A day in PA

2010-08-03T09:11:00.003-04:00

“Where’s this David Cook guy?” ripped me out of a semi relaxed state of welcomed non-stimulus after 101 miles of rushing thoughts, focus, attentiveness and sweat. I was sitting on the grass, cross legged, eyes closed, with my back against the blow up Kenda banner at the race finish. Apparently another Clydesdale racer didn’t like seeing his name in second place on the results page because he was questioning the race director for David Cook and a scale. Much to this fellows surprise, “he’s right here” directed at him from my mouth with the same tone he addressed the race director, seemed to stop him in his tracks. I guess he heard me, but assumed someone would present them self to him. I didn’t. I knew what he wanted…my digits on a scale. The race director, went for the scale with said questioning racer in tow. The racer came back to where he heard me announce my presence from the comfort of my make shift Kenda pillow and was looking around. I looked up at him and said “I’m David Cook”. He looked at me and said “oh”. His expression showed that his hope of finding a sub 200 lb fellow disguised as a clydesdale was left somewhere back on one of the five mile climbs behind us. All he could say was “where did you come from?”. The curtness and courtesy extended to me was reflected back at him in my voice, stare and body language. I started to get up and he said “no, keep your seat” but I insisted. As I stood, he acknowledged, with a smile, an understanding of not having seen a number less than 200 on any working scale since early high school. After our brief encounter, all was good. We smiled and laughed and talked about the race. I didn’t really feel like standing anymore but it was fun talking to a fellow racer.

I dropped about an hour off my time compared to last year and evidently this fellow won last year and was surprised for some competition. My memory from last year was obviously wrong because I thought I’d have to get a sub 9 hour time to place. With this in mind, I checked the Clydesdale results from the bottom up, reading each name closely. My eyes could see the top name coming close and still I wasn’t on the list. Then I came to the top name. My eyes read it then read it again and it was my name! What a surprise! I had no idea I’d won or even came close. I just went hard and when it hurt I just kept going.

The course is similar to many of the east coast 100 milers, lots of gravel and little single track. The singletrack in PA was either butter smooth or lovely loamy soil embedded with 5”-10”bone jarring rocks. The rocky sections were just as fun as I remembered from last year. But this year, my 29er full suspension added (or removed) an entire dimension to my race. What was bumpy fun last year turned into smooth, fast rolling “on your left”, “can I pass” posh, silky smooth-built for my marathon epic FS ride. Earlier in the day, as people were passing me on the flat gravel, where I usually dominate, I was swearing my new ride…I was plotting sales pitches for ebay and had visions of a feathery carbon 29er hardtail in mind. After cleaning the first rocky section, where race vultures typically hang out, I knew the huge smile on my face was the result of how much easier a FS 29er rolls technical rocks. No dice. I’m keeping the tank. Hooked. I’ll make peace with the extra weigh, like I made peace with carrying a pack in Pisgah. I zoomed through some of the hardest technical trail segments on the course like they were an extension of the smooth gravel roads.

As with anything you do multiple times, efficiency increases. This years’ climbs, albeit familiar, didn’t hurt as much as last year. I knew what to expect. I remembered the long climbs and looked forward to the short but sweet sections of Pennsylvania single track that so closely resembles the trails of home. The long day in the saddle was complemented by beautiful PA lush forests of tall trees, deep green ferns, blueberry bushes and cool crisp mountain air.

We went in with expectations of fun and plans to do our best. Mission accomplished.

Woman – 6^th overall Female. 5 pro/elite finished ahead of her.

Man- 1^st Clydesdale.

WNDC in da house.

PMBAR. Nuff said.

2010-05-03T16:31:00.006-04:00

Pisgah Mountain Bike Adventure Race 2010.
I've finished last in this race and now I've finished 8th. Wide spread. So is Pisgah. So is the difference in my mind, body and soul compared to how it was when i arrived in Hendersonville in 2004. I knew it would be hard here, but not to the extent it is. Now i know why mountain people often emanate a quiet presence...with hard skin and a squint in their eyes. They know what hard living is but the beauty of the mountains and all the mountains give is worth the price we pay. That price is acknowledged by the silence. Yes it's hard here. We overcome. We realize lack and shed layers of glitter but end up with all we need, sometimes more.

Hard. Ever seen the winners? I have maybe once or twice. Spoke to a winner before. He didn't talk much and his skin looked hard, clothes worn and he carried an air of unspoken mountain confidence...the quiet kind that makes some people uncomfortable. Yeah, you know he could crank out 50 miles or 100 miles of Pisgah single track quicker than most people can do a road century with a tail wind but he doesn't speak of it, it's just known. Tough things are just things, no ranking of how tough or how easy, they just become things. Accepted tasks. Daily occurrences. Schtuff you just have to do. Like go to the bathroom or eat. Things you just do.

Just cross Turkey Pen. Just sprint up Black. Push up Pilot or ride up Laurel. Some things are expensive in dollars. Crossing Turkey Pen or sprinting up Black costs you soul points...challenges of inner strength. You may have the muscles and the lungs and a capable bike but do you have those items and the mental power to go forward one more step? Repeat? Then repeat again?

If you saw me after the race and my skin was hard, and my eyes squinted and i was mostly silent, don't mistake it for mountain confidence. I was just slap stupid worn out!

I'm working on it though. How cool would a first and a last in the same race be?
Lord willing, there will always be a PMBAR.

congrats to all who participated, volunteered and suffered.

thank you to Wes for letting me test the "demo" for one more weekend...
Props to Sycamore Cycles!!!!!! The best bike shop in the area!
Thanks to Yuri for not letting me nap all day on the side of Souf Mills.
Thanks to woman, well for womanly womaness.
Thanks to Clay for throwing out a huge challenge at the end of a long day. and so on and so on and so on.............

it's what i do.

2010-04-13T00:17:00.002-04:00

i don't have kids.
i don't have a real job.
iv'e non verbally dedicated my present life to self gratification via bicycle.
by nothing else do i measure my success, with exception of woman.
but woman seems to measure her successes in similar fashion.
am i wrong?
maybe.
am i correct?
maybe.
does it matter once i'm dead?
no.
so why should it matter now if i have successfully brought a company to a 50 billion IPO?
it shouldn't.
fuck it. i'm going to Dupont.
it's how i measure up.
if it's wrong on your ruler, use mine.
peace.
your rules rule...so do mine.

To Hill and Back

2010-03-27T18:26:00.002-04:00

This was supposed to be a 70-80 miler but as things went along i thought "ah, why not?". Started as the "Flat Rock Village Bakery" Saturday morning road ride at 9. We rolled down the water shed, cranked two laps around camp old indian, hit Hwy 11, Oak Grove, Lake Lanier, Tryon, Mill Spring, Green River Switch backs, Thompson, Fork Creek, Greenville St to Saluda, 176, roper, flat rock, little river, middleton, crail farm, old kanuga, 2 and 1/2 laps around Osceola then to the crib. tired as all get out. things went swell till mile 75 then i got tired. Joe and Cissy and David G. and Alexis came along as well but DG and Alexis split off after first lap of camp old indian casuse they had better stuff to do than suffer with Joe, Cissy and myself. Joe gets the spirit award for starting to feel great around mile 75 and puttin on the hurt. Cissy gets the "back to back" ribbon for mountain biking 7 hours in Pisgah till the wee hours of the evening on Friday then getting up in the AM an going "to hill and back". What really blows chunks is that this ride feels like 7 - 10,000 feet of climbing but according to mapmyride, it's only 4,700. I'd rather pimp my ride at this point. Ciao.

to Hill and back
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hilly from the hood

2010-03-08T22:38:00.004-05:00

I'll call this route "hilly from the hood" because i leave from my hood and travel through some of the more (put on your best Mr. Howell-speak down your nose voice) "well to do" neighborhoods of the area. Some wonderful climbing though.

03/08/2010 Route
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Feets aren't round

2010-01-19T20:54:00.004-05:00

What's a wheel? Isn't that cheese? or something you spin and hope your ticker doesn't designate bankrupt?

No biking since early December. I vaugely remember a mental note to "buy the chris king lubricating tool" for that fancy bottom bracket that's barely spun enough to substantiate it's super cost.

Stir Crazy I am. So run i must. It started with a run/walk jaunt along the beach in Isabella, Puerto Rico - where it is sunny and warm, not frozen and icy.

Here is my longest run for 2010 (and 2009 and 2008 and 2007 and 2006):

01/19/2010 Route auction day
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It was pain, in that good way.
Maybe doors are opening up that were once closed...like adventure racing????
mucho tacos amigos.

up and down and up and down and down

2010-01-03T11:37:00.002-05:00

Is it better to be calm and centered in your enviornment when it's 12 degrees and miserable or frustrated and pissed off in a warm place in the middle of winter. Yin and Yang prevails in my life...a constant reminder of the other side. Just remember, whatever you experience has an equal or opposite side that you will also encounter. If you are down in the dumps an opposite good time will be around the corner and vice-versa. Yin and Yang makes the world go round.

2009-10-11T21:55:00.003-04:00

New place, old friends, new friends, soon to be old place. Hot Springs was a great place to spend a weekend. Water, easy camping, great trails and a wonderful celebration of two people getting married and sharing their special day with a bunch of rowdy friends.

Yes, it rained, but it fit. It wasn't about the weather, the lack of sunshine, who had the best clothes, best food, best car or even best bike...it was about spending time, sharing words, laughs, knuckle slams, hugs, smiles and vows. Nothing would spoil the groups good intention for the newlyweds.

Twas a cool weekend. Congrats to the the Leroys. Congrats to the joining of two wonderful families.

As if Jonathon and Kristen didn't have enough to plan somehow an excellent ride lingered in the works. Housekeeping came early for cabin #5 on Sunday morning (Jonathon posing as a high voiced ESL maid) after dancing the night away and topping it off with an ice cream sandwich from the local 7-11 at what seemed like 4am in the morning. I visited the twilight zone as a husband & wife or boyfriend/girlfriend pulled up to the front of the store in a truck with "beer is good" in huge white letters across the windshield and they both were sporting (non-military) camo from head to toe. If you're skeered say you're skeered! There threatening appearance didn't stop me from my strawberry shortcake ice-cream sandwich. I ain't skeered, just hungry.

We wiped the foggy vision from our eyes, gathered bike schtuff and hit Paint Mountain and Paint Rock trails. What a loop. Don't have much energy remaining and wish all my time could be spent with excellent friends on excellent trails.

Jonathon & Kristen: best wishes to you both. C and I are thankful to be in your circle of friends. May your years be as wonderful as times we have spent together and may laughter dominate your days and nights.

peace out.
DJC

nick nack patty whack give a dog a bone-don't give em nuthin but a microphone...

2009-06-25T15:50:00.010-04:00

If you're old enough to recognize the above lyrics, you're old enough to share the pain in my joints.

*this is an outdated post from the Westside death march a few weekends back*

Me: tour guide, ride promoter, big ego

DK and ZB: smart for cutting it short

Goal: Big west side miles

Plan: fish hatchery> pilot mtn rd> backside Farlow> 215> Pinhook gap> Balsam Lodge>

281 south> Panther Town> Toxaway estates via cold mtn rd> 281 north> Tanasee Gap> 215>

back to Fish Hatchery.

Our ride started mostly on time. It was stunningly hot, even at our 9:30 am start. Up to Farlow from the fish hatchery in typical climb like hell from the get go fashion.

We hit farlow then dropped the backside down to 215. What a ride. I don't spend enough time on the back side of Farlow. It's a beautiful area and there are some waterfalls that need exploring but, the bike always seems to prevail with consumption of my time.

We grunted up 215, with the quiet and friendly Harley riders, kind people from Rosman and finally hit Pinhook gap.

My intention was to stay mostly on gravel and made the poor assumption that all the roads on the Nat. Geo. map to the West of 215 were gravel. Oh well. You know what happens with assumptions?

We found the creek where beverages were stashed the prior night. The drop from 215 was crazy fast but fun.

Enjoyed our refreshments then went on to Balsam Lake. What an unbelievably beautiful spot.

There is a small lake and a big lodge that is rent-able. Worth the drive or/ride.

We meandered through the back roads of the Nantahala Forest and wound up on 281.

Our route took us south down 281 to a R on a road that i thought was a loop on the west side of 281. Down to a dead end we went. This road ended at a lake and there were several homes overlooking the water. One of the residents informed us of an old trail under a bridge back up to 281.

What do you know? An incorrect Nat. Geo. map? No way! We climbed back up from the lake, under said bridge then up to 281 again.

A few more miles down then a right into Panther Town. It was here that my traveling companions said "syanora" and initiated an immediate equal response from my ego. I kept on route despite the extra hour or so we spent trying to complete the circle from the lake.

We said our goodbyes and off into the dense forest of Panther Town I went. There was one sign. No, i'm incorrect--there was half of a sign. Evidently someone thought that the top of the trail marker needed to be shotgunned off into oblivion. I double checked my location by passing the trail head until the road i was on T'd into another road. Sure enough, the shotgunned trail marker marked the trail i wanted.

The Nat. Geo. map seemed mighty fine with it's nice red and blue lines, topo marks, trail names, identifying features and such but if they aren't replicated on the actual trail, then your basically screwed. I had my compass. Used it a few times but there were so many cross trails and unidentifiable trails that i just went with instinct.

My instinct was correct. I missed my turn. Eventually I ran up on some young fellow (relative to my age) and asked him if he could tell me where we were on my map. He said "no". Then I asked him if he knew the name of the road he came in on. Again, he said "no". I asked him if he knew where he was and he said "not really". A prime example of stupid fricking 20year olds.

What an idiot.

About 20 minutes later, he passed me in his jeep, that he drove to the trail head. How in the hell did he get a license.

I finally came to a signed street and realized I was waaaaaaaay West of my destination. Instead of risking dark in Panther Town, I opted for the straight shot.....64 west.

The remainder of the story is pedal, pray, pedal, pray.

64 from Saphire to the Wendy's in Brevard is not a suggested route. Now who's more stupid, me or the idiot in the jeep? Wait, don't answer that.

Some of my soon to be relatives drive subarus so I scoped out each and every subaru driver until, finally, at mile 86 my ride was over. Subaru spelled backward spells out u r a bus. When you have 20 miles on 64, the brain tends to wander.

Props to the relatives to be.

Of course the phone calls to ZB and DK were not received because they were patiently awaiting my arrival at the fish hatchery, where there is no phone reception.

good day on the bike.

Breakin the roadie rules...

2009-05-31T23:36:00.003-04:00

Spent the weekend in Chuck town. Not a bad place. Friendly people, damn good food (http://www.joepasta.com/) and lots of sights to see. Try the fried grits with shrimp. Worth the trip to Chuck town.

Beautiful woman had a conference to attend and invited me along. I scoped out the ride scene and found http://www.coastalcyclists.org/. I emailed one of the ride organizers and he stated two options: 1 - 70 miles at 21-25 pace, 2 - 50 miles at 25-30 pace. I opted for the longer, slower leisurely ride.

I found the ride location on time and met several friendly local folks prepping for the hot coastal sun. We started out with about 20 folks. 18 guys/2 girls. Off we went. It was a 7am start so i was rather groggy. The first few miles were on a 4 lane SC coastal highway with pot holes that made some of the technical sections on Farlow (Pisgah Nat. Forest) seem laughable. I was a little concerned about taking my eyes off the road at all. Some of these pot holes would have swallowed a beefy 2.3 mtb tire let alone a cissy a*% road bike wheel.

We hit a pace line fast and soon left pot hole alley for some beautiful, flat barely traveled roads. It was damn hot and i was hoping not to cramp since this was constant big gear cranking, no rest, no hills, just flat constant cranking.

The day went fine. Half the group split off around 35 miles and we all continued to about 65. With 20 miles remaining, my bike felt odd and i realized my front wheel was flatting. i had just finished the down side of the pace line so i was at the rear about to start back up the fast side. I threw my hand up in the air and announced my dilemma. I thought i was prepared but my spare died, then my pump sucked so the fellows on the ride gave me a spare tube and a C02. It was mighty kind and the entire pack stopped to help me!

This was one of the kindest group of road riders I've ever hung with. It was like hanging with a bunch of mountain bikers, but on pavement.

All in all, it was a great weekend.

Cissy and i had lots of fun walking around downtown Charleston.

Glad to be able to go.

Exploring is essential to my soul.

Oh yeah, i got to see some Kick Ass boats and planes and offer tribute to those who gave their lives so i could putz around on my bike all day. Thanks to those in the armed forces.
http://www.patriotspoint.org/

SORBA down under

2009-05-17T11:03:00.002-04:00

Sumter Metric.
Yah trick Yah!

What a great day. WNDC in the house.

Spent Saturday in the Ho (Tahoe) and on Sumter, SC trails with DG, ZB and Mr. Tomato. Days like this help me realize how thankful i am for all my friends. It was swell to spend some time with them all.

The format of this Sorba benefit race was 20+- miles of rooty, hot sweaty, 100% humidity, low country single track and 40+- miles of gravel/shake n' bake pavement. I entered the Clydesdale class, against the nagging wishes of my friends, but it's a class i enjoy and am well qualified for.

Another lemans start. Blah. Uphill, in cycling shoes almost 1/3 mile. I put my bike at the end of the transition area in hope of a quick get away. I hit the single track in about 15th or 20th, after my extraordinarily slow uphill jog. I passed many people in the single track and was just settling in to a good pace when my chain broke. Dang it! Quickly fixed it and hit the trail. I guess i was in about 5-10th when the chain broke and now i was in probably 25th - 30th. Much ground to cover. We had 55 + miles ahead so there was plenty of time to get back into good position.

Until I flatted. Okay, no big deal. Get back in and go.

Another flat.

Okay. I'm out now for sure. I fixed it quickly and kept rolling. Second flat came with only 3 miles remaining. Oh well.

I rolled in to meet ZB with some excellent recovery beverages and some kick but burgers, cole slaw, beans and potato salad. Yay! I had arrived!

The trails were fun and reminiscent of my formative mountain biking years in Athens, GA and the ATL area: roots, tight single track, full on constant cranking, 100% humidity. I sweat gallons. Thankfully, an early afternoon rain cooled things down but didn't make the wooden bridges any less slippery.

Our crew represented well. a first, a second, a third and another huge milestone for DG also the DD for our Ho ride home.

Big props to SORBA and all who helped out. If you do not belong to SORBA, you best join. They do a lot for us mountain bikers.
Peace.

KOM - defeat

2009-05-17T10:18:00.002-04:00

Yuri, in my blog again!

Hats off to Yuri for what seemed like a very successful Camp Eckerd Fat Tire Festival. It was an excellent family day with sunshine, rain, food, laughs, a band, prizes, podium girls (not really), pin up girls (not really) and several members of the NUMBA from Camp Carolina - they know who they are and they are probably not any less hairy then in the early 90's.

To win King Of the Mountain (KOM), you must participate in 3 events: the 18 mile cross country race, trials and downhill.

XC review:
Crazy lemans start. Ouch. I loathe running, even 100 yards. I mustered enough gumption to run through the pain and make it to my well positioned bike. There was single track at the very beginning and i did not want to get behind a huge group and have to pass people continuously before getting my groove on. I figured hard effort at the start would allow me to sit in and groove quicker than if no hard initial effort.

I was up front with local pro/Sycamore/all around good guy Wes Dixon. I knew Wes could drop me like a hot potato but he sat back a little and let me follow for a while. Soon there were about 10 people in our group. Many fast dudes I'd seen before and some i hadn't. As in so many races, our group was BLINDLY jockeying for position and who ever was at the front missed a turn. We ended up two minutes off course. It was like we were re-creating the band scene in Animal House, but on bikes and outfits much gayer than worn by the aforementioned band. We corrected our direction and were once again in hot pursuit "coot coot coot" of the lead. Our group was passed by at least 15 people so there was a lot of time to make up.

As a direct result of my membership in WDNC, I am intimately familiar with Dupont trails. I found my groove, albeit slow, and sat in. I figured there were at least 10 people in front of me so i just kept my nose on the trail and pedaled as hard as i could.

I wanted the KOM award and knew i would have to be on to earn it. I'd have to beat Wes and all the other good riders. Heck, I'd have to be on, and they'd have to be off, and all the stars properly aligned, ducks in a row, etc. etc.

There was a Platypus about 4 spots back in my line of Ducks. Nuff said.

I didn't go for any treasures* and stayed focused on the prize. After much pain and a faster pace than usual, crossed the finish line in second! Wes beat me by 11 minutes. I was off and had to earn every mile. My legs felt like led and my breathing was off, but i stayed the course and was rewarded. I thought my place would be about 10th, because I did not pass too many riders after we were deep into the single track. Evidently many riders missed turns and/or went for the treasures. Thanks guys!
2nd place

Trials:
What a cool idea! Yuri the Fury set up a trials course on some uncomfortable large boulders on part of the downhill course. Rules allowed only 5 dabs of the foot. That means you could only touch the ground with your foot 5 times. If you exceed 5 dabs, you were disqualified and received 20th place for the trials event. Well, all but two people earned 20th in trials. Everyone demonstrated regal attempts, but only two prevailed. Both fellows who finished the course ooooed and awd the crowd by riding boulders and tight turns that normal folk dream of riding. The trials event was a good way to engage the crowd, or the vultures. Either way, it was fun. I cleaned (successfully maneuvered) some obstacles that pushed my upper limits and got to practice my superman over the bars dismount once. I was disqualified but continued the course just for fun.
20th place

Downhill:
Well, many participants had big hit bikes (bikes set up for downhill or free ride style) and my dainty STEVE POTTS was a nimble formula one machine among baja race trucks. My downhill skills are good and me and STEVE know how to bounce n hover (a technique honed by years of hard tail riding). The course was rooty. Oh yeah, the course was rooty. Did i say the course was rooty? I think we were in the everglades root system equivalent of Dupont State Forest. I was up. Chief David over the intercom system counted down my start "3", "2", "1-go". I hit the rooty trail and started my session of "bounce n hover". Thankfully, had a good clean run and earned 3rd place, four seconds behind Wes and two seconds behind 2nd.

Overall:
Didn't win KOM, but did have a damn fine day in the woods in my favorite venue...a race. My hat is off to all the participants, race staff, Camp Eckerd and all the young kids who tried something new in the form of mountain biking.

Hats off to Wes at Sycamore Cycles for bringing in his fleet of rental bikes and helmets for kids to use. We need more kids on bikes.

Peace.

Lucky # PMBAR

2009-05-17T10:14:00.002-04:00

this is a quick, little mind effort of a post, directed mainly for participants of PMBAR or those intimately familiar with it so called "soul crushing" ability

Seven – supposedly the American lucky numeral. For me, Seven totals over $300 in entry fees, $500+ repairing brake pads, new chains, shifter cables, chain rings, chiropractor visits, pepto bismal, beer and other unaccounted items resulting directly from PMBAR. Not included in this estimate is the cost of my time, shattered ego, blood loss, one week of sore arse (seven days/7 PMBARS), and effect on relationships w/PMBAR partners, effect on relationships with non PMBAR partners and energy spent.

I’m not a small person by cycling standards and the typical 2,000 calorie/day diet doesn’t apply. On average, the PMBAR routes I’ve chosen have ranged from 45 – 65 miles, with most coming in around 60 miles. So 60 miles x 7 PMBARS = 420 approximate miles pedaled for all 7 PMBARS. I can also conservatively estimate the elevation gain of each PMBAR at 9,000 vertical feet. 9 x 7 = 56,000. One mile = 5,xxx feet so I’ve PMBARed to the stratosphere. One mile of pedaling for a 210 pound fellow (some of those PMBARS I may have been 220+) equals upteen thousand calories.

The race went swell this year until…

Flat #1
Flat #2
Broken pump.

I raced with Yuri “the fury” Eliashevski. We seemed to be paired up well. Yuri was able to keep me focused in the check points and throughout the day. We picked a different route compared to most finishers.
First CP was the top of Cantrell.
2nd was Turkey Pen
3rd FS 5005
4th top of Laurel
Then 5th, end of FS 225

We never made it to the 5th CP.
While en route, we stopped at Pink Beds to get some water and I was flatting so I figured I’d go ahead and change it out. Well, my pump broke. No other riders around, only Saturday picnic people with stuffed picnic baskets and buckets of chicken. I tried to trade ol’ steve for a bucket but the picnickers wanted a full suspension bike, like the ones from wal mart. Yuri scouted the parking lot for a cyclist while I frantically waved down every passing car on 276 “do you have a bike pump?”

No. No. No. No. No. No.

I guess if some large guy in tights and a funny outfit waved me down on the highway I would be apprehensive as well, heck I wouldn’t have stopped.

A quick note on Karma:
At the top of Laurel, a fellow pulled up and questioned “does anyone have some chain lube?”. I had just solved the puzzle of re-inserting a small vial of chain lube back into Yuri’s saddle bag. It was like tetris x 6,000 trying to get that damn thing back in there. Well, I just sort of looked up at the sky and pretended we had no chain lube. We were ready to roll out when the fellow beckoned. Off we went. Now, I need a pump and there is none. To the fellow at the CP, I’m sorry I didn’t lend you some lube. I got what was coming to me. I will not be selfish from here on out.

Well, Karma let things pass and we waved down Fusco & Key. They had two pumps, threw us one and continued to the 225 CP. By the time we finally fixed my flat, 7 – 10 teams had passed us and we lost more time than we would gain by a 2 hour bonus for getting all 5 CP’s, so with heads low, we cruised on in.

Our effort was commendable and our mistakes (only 1 pump, carrying too much schtuff) are lessons learned to carry forward to the next adventure.

Word up.

it's been a long time

2009-04-15T11:09:00.003-04:00

"it's been a long time, i shouldn't have left you" words of wisdom from Eric B. easily applied here. it's been way too long since i've kept up with this blog. so many things have changed in my life, for the better. more changes are to come. right now, i'm fighting the age card vs. endurance riding. knees do not like 6-10 hours on the bike/1 time a week. i'll fight it till my ashes are scattered on the trails i love the most...probably all over Dupont and the side of Buckwheat closest to the top of Bennet.

i hope everyone's cycling endeavours are positive. soon, form will return to my aching body, and riding won't hurt anymore, right?

2008-11-04T08:06:00.005-05:00

2008 Double Dare - Day 2

I rarely sleep well except for after day 1 of the double dare. Sleep seems to be plentiful when you know you must wake in 4 hours. Oh well.

The morning came fast and with it a whirlwind of preparation. Where's the pump? Crap! I can't find my other sock! Do you have any Cliff Shots left? After a few minutes of morning delusion, the smoke in my eyes cleared and I realized what we were there to do. Eric of Pisgah Productions rode by our camper van Tahoe ringing a large boisterous cowbell at approximately 5:30 am. A cow bell seems to slice through the sanctuary of Pisgah morning silence like a hot knife through butter. I bet there were squirrels and raccoons kissing their loved ones goodbye because they thought judgement day had arrived, or maybe I solely owned those destructive actions.

Once I realized Eric's cow bell was not the doomsday tolling death bell, I shifted into high speed, gathered my things and joined Cissy who had been ready in at least 50% less time than me. She obviously finds my snail pace preparation humorous. I thought to myself "glad I can help" as we rode over to day 2 race start.

We knew what was ahead of us...another glorious day in the woods. We hurt. We were soar, tired, tight, droopy eyed etc. but we signed up for this fun and we were planning on finishing as best as possible.

The day started with a surprise (not) time trail up to the end of Pilot Mtn. Rd. @ Farlow Gap. We trotted up 276 at what felt like a sub day-1 pace and prodded our titanium steeds up 475 to Gloucster Gap. There we met a group of hooligans implementing obvious shenanigans. I needed a quick 5 so Cissy started her climb while I joined in the reindeer games. After what seemed like thousands of laughs from Mr. Tomato, I started the grind up to Farlow. I caught Cissy right at the top. We did our thing and pushed up the Art Loeb to the Parkway.

From the Parkway we hit Ivestor (Mandatory), Flat Laurel Creek, Sumney/215, Courthouse Falls, Farlow, Daniel/Farlow and Coontree. We had a good day but should have set out on foot for the John's rock hike. I'd never been up there before so was uncertain of the time necessary to grab the CP. We won't make that mistake again.

Day 2: 57 miles/+- and 10,400 +- climbing.

Much Fun.

2008 Double Dare - Day 1

2008-10-22T22:54:00.022-04:00

I could kiss my Double Dare partner this year without fear of

A: getting clobbered by my partner
B: getting clobbered by my partners partner
C: her waking up

All of the above reasons made for an excellent Pisgah Productions weekend in the woods, and oh yeah, it didn't rain.

I teamed up with my s/o (significant other - not "surprisingly odd") for this years race. It was hard dropping my prior teammate of Jen Rinderle but about this time last year I got all googly eyed for the grocery girl and well...here I am throwing out an invitation to potential disaster. Racing with your girlfriend. Wow. That's a step in direction. To some, it would mean sure separation, but to me, and hopefully her, it was a step in the RIGHT direction.

When I started hinting to Bi-Lo mama that I may extend an invitation to her to race the 2xDare with me, I usually premised the conversation with "how do you feel about riding until your totally spent and freezing and asleep and hungry and in pain?" Her usual answer was "sounds like fun". Each affirmative answer reinforced my strong intuition that Ms. Bi-Lo was at least equally tilted as me.

We started training after returning from a glorious trip to Indonesia this summer (note the crazy bikes at the bottom of the blog and see grocery mama in native tote'n posture). Our training consisted of long rides in Pisgah re-familiarizing ourselves with coveted trails we long for. Within two months of race day, we had hit 85-95% of the checkpoints in the actual race. Not bad for a couple of crackers. Our weekends prior to the race were just as insanely glorious as the race itself.

Racing with your s/o requires synthesis and application of a different and often unspoken rule set that does not apply to your riding buddies, be them male or female. Simple comments like "come on let's go" or "we need to hurry" can wreak mental havoc on your on-trail relationship when delivered incorrectly. Not only was our training "bike training" but it was also communication training. We learned what to say and how to say it. We learned how to encourage in a non-threatening or finger pointing way.

Day 1 started unorganized. We left both our bike locks at the house. Being a piece of required gear, there was no option for an opt out. C mounted up the HO (tahoe) and boogied to Sycamore Cycles (the best shop in the world, located just outside Pisgah, and my only sponsor) for a bike lock. Not long after her return, leg one of the 2008 double dare was under way -- a time trial to the gauging station just East of Pink Beds. We left White Pines and kept a strong pace to the TT (time trial) end. We passed several teams along the way. I always wonder "is my chosen route the best?". After putting aside any doubt you must follow your instinct and roll so you don't lose any time or energy pondering a different route. Sometimes indecision takes longer than riding the 2nd or 3rd best route. Arrival at the gauging station seemed like part two of the mornings jovial atmosphere continued over from our White Pines starting point. Mater and Nancy, Clay and Toby, SMOKE bikes and several other teams had already arrived.

Race format this year was similar to prior 2XDare's. You get your race directions (passport) at the end of the morning time trial. Everyone was hovering over their 780 Nat. Geo. maps intently discussing pro's and con's of each route. We grabbed our passport and laid out a route for the next 11 hours of riding. Given the specific CP's, a Blue Ridge Parkway (BRP) crossing was inevitable. Our collective memories of frigid East to West crossings of the BRP, both at night and day swayed our decision to go for a West to East traverse during daylight hours. The gushing wind amplifies the cold and makes you wish for a big sail on your bike. We took off for the Pink Beds CP and ran into Mert, Brad Key and a few other riders heading East from the Pink Beds CP. My intention was to hit the Pink Beds CP and continue West then up 276, but why are all the other riders doing something else? No time for doubting my route choice. I dropped the uncertainty and headed towards 276. The climb was beautiful but it was peak leaf season and the road traffic felt like a late night bike ride down the strip at some redneck riviera beach vacation. Needless to say the dune buggies, motorcycles, FLoridians and constant flow of traffic made conversation w/Cissy impossible.

Once we hit the BRP our route took us East to Pisgah Inn then an out and back hike-a-bike to the Laurel/Pilot Connector Trail CP. During the off camber descent down the top of Laurel, we greeted many of the teams from the TT end. Wow! Those teams were making good time, but they had to push up Pilot Rock. We grabbed a photo to acknowledge being at the CP and rushed towards the Parkway.

Cissy and I trained a lot for this race. The previous 8 weekends included at least 1 full day of Pisgah exploring. I think we explored every trail on the 780 map but we never worked in a hike up Mt. Pisgah. "Hike to the top of Mount Pisgah" was a special test worth one CP. I decided to skip it since I was uncertain of how long it would take. Hindsight shows that we should have got the CP. Oh well. Now I know for next time.

The CP's flowed well after Bent Creek Gap. We hit the Hendersonville Reservoir, Middle Fork, Yellow Gap, Bradley Fields and then back across 1206 for White Pines.

Overall our route choice was average but our ride was excellent. Cissy and I gave it all we had and did the best we could. For Cissy's first endurance MTB race, she did great. We each suffered a par for the course mishap that unfortunately involved almost total submersion in a creek. But you have to love being soaking wet, freezing, sleepy, worn out, hungry and totally spent or this is not your race.

We communicated at a new level by the end of the day. Our ego's fell and our true needs easily shined through. Racing together was definitely the RIGHT decision. Our arrival at White Pines was wonderful. A quick check in and off to dream land in the back of the HO on the best futon mattress in the world. Glorious, glorious slumber! 4 1/2 hours of sleep then back to work on those saddle sores.

Props to Carlos for that excellent piece of steak at the Bradley CP.

81 miles, 10,800+- feet of climbing

Half full/Half empty?

2008-10-06T13:01:00.011-04:00

Another day in life completed.

Black Mtn > Turkey Pen > 22 jumps > Bradley Creek > Pea Gap > Bradley Creek > 1206 > Laurel Mtn. > Pilot Rock > 1206 > 276 > 475B > Seniard (now road) > 225 > 475B > 475 > 276 > Black Mtn.

44.57 miles/7750 feet elevation/8 or so hours

Loss or gain? Happy column? Sad column? Good? Bad? Half full? Half Empty?

Big fish, little fish swimming in the water............

Disgusted with my current profession, i sit and profess to you, electronic shiterature voyeur, about half full/half empty:

What a great day in the woods. That's a beautiful new subdivision.
A 9 hour journey in Pisgah is an appetizer. If we get the STARZ pack, we'll have 9 more HD options.
We climbed more hours than not. Is there an elevator to the mezzanine?
My empty stomach after four hours of riding made me feel lighter and faster. Yes. Up size combo 4 please.
My cell phone doesn't work. My cell phone doesn't work.
My girlfriend is so sweaty. My girlfriend is so sweaty.
I smell like a day in the woods. I smell like a day in the woods.
Did that huge tree witness Indians on this trail? Christopher Columbus discovered America.

Was this day a success? In which column does it fall? Is there an anti-me for every me--someone living the opposite side of my equation real-time?

It was an excellent day. Cissy and I started out from the Black Mountain trail head after a long conversation with Peter, the ultra-endurance event connoisseur. Congrats to Peter for completing so many 100's this year. Keep it up.

We grinded up Black Mountain in regular painful format. It's always a quick warm up when you go up black - like starting out a long track work out by doing 4 or 5 full effort 200's. Our goal was to keep moving all day. We set out for a "book em Dano" but missed the arrest. Even though we had a great day @ 44.57 miles, the deep, dark, doubt catalyst in the back of my mind was energized by not hitting 50.

The early fall splendor of Turkey Pen is amazing. Few leaves on the trail, crisp air cooling your skin via sweat soaked clothes, wind in the leaves harmonizing with subdued mental screams durring the chilling descents and the equally brutal hike-a-bikes. All of these items add up to one great day. After the normal grunts and groans we descended the stairs into the Mr. Kuntz driveway extension known as Turkey Pen road, much to the surprise of two horses who looked as if they've never seen two ripping mountain bikers bomb a set of stairs from sheltered woods into an open parking lot. Gosh? We made pleasantries with the horses (and their riders) then proceeded down 22 jumps, now much more cautionary than prior since a horse greeting was fresh in our mind.

We went right on Bradley Creek, missed the turn to Pea Gap, crossed the river 1 too many times and realized our mistake. We backtracked up Pea Gap then bombed the lush single track to continue up the Bradley Creek trail. The air was perfect. It felt like a high altitude Colorado day in the dark green depths of Pisgah. Our final Bradley Creek crossing rendered us in the lush feed plots towards the confluence of Bradley Creek, Laurel Creek and 5015 (the road of long conversation). I couldn't recall ever riding up Bradley Creek to 1206 so I jumped at the chance to see which route to Laurel Mtn. trail head was faster...5015 or Bradley Creek? Ms. Bi-Lo headed up 5015 and I hit Bradley Creek. The creek was beautiful and I added about 50 of those "i should come back here on foot" kind of notes. There were at least 4 or 5 good swimming holes and I was surprised there were no skinny dippers taking advantage of the crisp water and the warm rocks. As to which route was quicker, we now know the answer and you, the extremely bored reader, must offer pleasurable gifts to be in the know.

Ms. Bi-Lo was ready for more so up Laurel we proceeded. No bees, not many other riders, 1 bear (not beer), a few long pushes, 3 weary riders and 1 extremely bewildered lost dude on foot. We arrived at the cut through to Pilot Rock. It was a great place to catch a quick bite to eat and ingest some caffeinated gel to heighten my senses for the dragons back downhill immediately in our sights. As we ate, I casually inspected my bike and noticed two pencil size blobs protruding through the thread bearing design know as my rear tire sidewall. Much to my dismay, Park Tool sidewall sleeves loose their adhesive properties after 16 months of storage in a sweat stricken, crusty Camelbak pocket. How bout that? They still worked with a little coercion.

Off to the races. Grocery Mama went first. I followed her shiny cart right down the center aisle of Pilot. Watching her chosen line. Sometimes following it and sometimes busting my self on things she was gliding over. Enough of follow the leader. There's a sale on aisle nine and I gotta roll. Past Grocery Mama and off to the first of many gnarly switchbacks. I didn't quite have the finesse of a perfect day but it was close. Occasionally, I'd steal a peak of the great 1206 valley below thinking "we are way up here" and quickly focusing back on the trail so i didn't end up "way down there" quicker than i cared for. I stopped a few times to watch C take a few switchbacks. It's always crazy trying to judge an others comfort level. She rode most of the ones i thought she'd skip and dabbed one or two of the ones i thought she'd fly over. Superb balance and perty teeth too! What a package deal.

We re-grouped at the bottom near 1206, mixed some iodine cocktails and headed for 475B. 1206 always seems like a never ending road, especially when traveled west to east. Out to the pavement and south towards Taco Bell (yes i was hungry). A quick stop at the Pink Beds water fountain to replenish our iodine cocktails then on our way to the entrance of 475B from 276. I pray the transition from smooth downhill sailing onto the immediately slightly uphill gravel is the closest I'll ever come to experiencing a run away truck ramp. A little climb here, left turn, right turn then on to what is now Seniard Road. It had been quite a while since being on this trail. I remembered it as an easy flowing jaunt along the contour and now it's like a driveway to some disgustingly wealthy McCain flavoured corporation CEO's seldom visited mountain home. We pushed on, despite our political dilemmas. Although freshly cut trees and widened corridors seldom offer immediate satisfaction to riders, the new views of Looking Glass were phenomenal! I highly recommend checking them out.

The new road dropped us off on 225 and we mozied towards the fish hatchery on 475B to 475 proper then to 276 and back to the Ho, Tahoe that is.

8+ hours later, Peter's car was still there.

Biking with my special grocery gal is red velvet cake wrapped in a layer of chocolate hidden in the middle of an Oreo crusted cheesecake...but much less fattening.

bike.sofa.

Peace on earth

2008-09-15T18:11:00.002-04:00

Finally.
I feel re-inserted in the life i choose, amongst friends, desired family and my bike.
If two days in the woods can make me feel this good, then how about a month?
or the rest of my life?

Thanks to all who came out for the Pisgah "little" epic on Saturday.
I hope to repeat soon.

So few days, so many trails to ride.
I wish for all the time in the world to spend riding with my friends.
Twinkles is cool.

What about the constant pain of long days in the woods makes us return?
What is pleasurable about cramping thighs?
What point in our nurturing did we crumble and desire constant, repetitive punishment as the solution?
Or did we evolve with a hint of sadomasochism indulgence?

My bike is my mental colon blow.

2008-05-10T16:56:00.004-04:00

I'm off the bike now. Injured. Why?
Was there too much movement.

My quest for clarity, enlightenment, interrupted.

My sole refuge gone. Coffee nor beer offers similar solace. The internal judgement of me is unbalanced.

As I ride, movement reduces the abstract of my day.

"Did I respond to that client properly?" - out after the first mile.
"How much do I need to make to have a great retirement?" - second mile
"I'm not worth shit, to me or anybody" - second hour, thought gone
"My house is a living hell" 2 1/2 hours
"I'm breathing and pedaling" 3 hours

Clear mind - 4 hours

Euphoria found in repetitive movement.
My body is full of abstract right now.
My bike is my mental colon blow.
Have a bowl...won't you?

Sunday, 7/29/07

2008-04-03T00:44:00.000-04:00

Spent a good weekend down in the bellos, Campobello that is with friends ZB, Mater, Kristen N Meghan. Did some bike spa schtuff, cookin out, enjoying adult bevs so on and so on. Went to Croft State Park today and kicked down a quick 21. I dig the trails in NC but twisty single track takes me back to my roots of Yellow River, early 90's Athens, Chicopee, basic ATL tight n twisty...just like i like it. ZB n Mater were SS it so i was kicking the gears. Wow...do i miss the tight n twisty. Zoom zoom, not in Mazda style but in schwoopy, bumpy going so fast you hover kind of style. I was made for that kind of riding and it's nice to hit every once in a while. It makes me know i am alive, like nothing else can.
Peace.

Saturday, August 11, 2007

2008-04-03T00:43:00.000-04:00

Yeah. I like my bike. Had em longer than any girlfriend, longer than most friends, maybe that will change in the near future. People who don't ride don't understand it's a love affair; the spin, the wind, the breathing, consuption of adult beverage after the ride...it's a lifestyle. Did 65 miles today on the road bike. Went from Hendo to Saluda then down Holbert Cover and back up the 17 switchbacks and back to Saluda> Greenville Watershed then Hendo again. What a day. I thank God for my ability to ride and clear my mind of funk. I should tape record rides cause i come up with some great ideas but today all i could do was recite the chorus to Mojo Nixon's "are you drinkin wif me Jesus". I'ts not a blasphomous (sp) song but a kind and friendly way of perceiving Jesus. Jesus, he's my friend and Jesus is just allright with me and of course Jesus just left Chicago. Any way, this is me and the bike is what propells my life, keeps me looking forward to another day and if you don't understand that, don't want to accept that and think you can change that...well don't waste my time or yours. You may fool me for a while but not for the long haul...and i hope i have a long haul. If you break up U-Haul it can sound rather pleasant and Hawaiian U-ha-ul! My friend John Duval coined that one while helping him move to some hot sunny place where he forged his way into matrimony and thank god not alimony. I hope all who read this have exquisite peace in their day and get a smile from someone who really cares about them and knows them. Next time you're at the bar, smile and take another sip and say a little prayer and a thank you to Jesus, cause you know he's there with you.

DJC

Ping Ping Ping. Richochet Rabbit.

2008-04-02T22:41:00.002-04:00

Rabbits are cute and fluffy, but they still get fleas and disease and they die and get hit by cars and trucks and eaten by wolverines. Such is life, and I've been off the bike for almost a month now. "Shucks Wally, this sucks".
"So Beav, what've you been doin?"
"Hiking, listening to Purple Rain over and over and watching "The Whitest Kids U'know" on IFC.com. It's funny as all git out."

In all reality, if there is such a thing, time off the bike allows for other influences to re-enter your life, like finishing the three year kitchen re-model or writing the great Hendersonville novel. The novel will probably finish first.

No biking = too much crazy head space

Yikes.

Not sure what's what anymore. Looking for that thing called "sanity".
Sanity is relative I suppose. Those who seem to have it, often don't and those lacking can plead ignorance. So, if I never knew what sanity was in the first place would I know I lost it? Maybe ignorance is bliss. Maybe bliss is achievable.

Achieve bliss and ignorance will follow.
Sometimes, stupidity is great.

scooters, vacation, fall

2008-01-09T19:03:00.000-05:00

If you're not scared yet, you should be now!

Here I sit, still retarded, tried to type but only sharted. Well, not really. I've been away for a while...on purpose. Sometimes it's good to step away from the things that turn your screw, crank your shaft, butter your muffin, even if it's just for a few days. My last ride worthy of blogging (less a few that are unmentionable) was a jaunt in the woods with my pal ZB.

I've been crying "i want to go to FATS", "let's go ride FATS" since early summer when i first heard how wonderful FATS is. Finally someone in my posse stepped up and said "let's go" (yeah, I have a posse). ZB and I hopped in the car cause we was on a quest--50 miles of FATS, just a little test. Zoomin to James Brown Town at the speed of sound. Directtions were simple: 26 south twards James Brown Town, pass Gypsy town, go Right and the trail head is on the Left. Seemed simple enough until we started seeing weird sites.

Often i felt like ZB and I had actually entered the twilight zone. I swear I saw a few wolf boys and a hot nurse with a pig head, maybe even two. We stopped at a store that was the muse for the writing of "The Texas Chainsaw Massacre". Poltergeist TV on the wall, truck parts, spare tires, 1 old cash register, campers in the front parking lot, dust on all the sugar filled fat kid treats and i swear i heard the buzz of a bug zapper in the distance. All this and a sober ZB??? WTF??? I would have felt safer allowing Woody cart me in the Bobcat across Triple Falls at Dupont. Bla bla bla.

We continued southbound and rolled into a town called Saluda. Now, don't confuse the South Cacka Saluda with the North Cacka Saluda. The SC Saluda makes the NC Saluda's Coon Dog Day Festival look like a f*c!&ng Mensa convention. Anyway, more on SC Saluda later.

ZB and I rode two complete loops totalling 50.25 miles. Yay. I was feeling slow due to a long year on the bike. I just wanted to stop and lay in the sun. ZB was in typical form and meeting every challenge I presented. FATS was worth the drive. We left the Mother Pisgah for a rolling terrain of only 25 miles? Yeah, it rocked. Hats off to Todd the trail master for laying these suckers out. We went counter clockwise the first loop and then hit it reversed the 2nd time. FATS was a blast. There were dips, berms, quiet pine forests, short hills, little grunter hills, fun schwoopy shit and fast blasts through twisty pines and hardewoods. We were having so much fun, i think i only took 7 or 8 pictures. Here they are:

It's all fun & games.

Protectors of the trail. You must give penance to these folks or be doomed.

Well, the ride photos summed it up. Excellent ride, cool trails, constant peddling instead of constant climbing.

We finished up our ride, packed the car, jawed with a couple locals who were amazed that we'd ditch Pisgah for FATS and headed back up the grade, to SC Saluda that is. I, as always needed some food, especially since my companion was wearing his sobriety hat (freak). As we approached Saluda, I spotted what i thought was a melon stand but turned out to be only apples and oranges and some pee cans. I talked ZB into posing with the lady with the melons, for sale that is. I can't post my picture with her, it might jeoparrdise my future seat in the senate.

We ate an apple or two and continued on to Saluda where the main road was closed for a Christmas parade so we had to navigate on the side streets of town, where we found the next photo opp.

I pray. I'm spiritual and i'm not baptist. I don't judge those of other religions, i don't even judge bapptists but if your just fricking ignorant I consider you fair game. I'll end this post with the following photo:

I swear it's real.

Peace to you all and I hope to see you all on the trails real soon.

DJC

A pair of dice by the dashboard light...SWANK 2007

2007-11-13T08:20:00.001-05:00

Props to Dave Chappelle for laying the humor ground work for my adult years. It used to be old school SNL. After Shrek's Donkey left, it has been sub-par in shaping deranged, yet highly creative humorous minds. Thanks be to Jon Belushi, Chevy Chase, Rossana Rossana Dana (Gilda), Jane Curtain, Dan Akroyd, Steve Martin and again Shrek's Donkey.

13th Baby!!!!!!!

Paradise by the dashboard light. We all relate curent nowledge to past experience. This blog entry follows suit. I once had a girlfriend from Nantucket. No. Stop! That's another story all together. I once had a girlfriend who would score poorly on Wayne Brady's sing the lyrics game show. We were listening to the radio or a cassette tape (remember those) and Meatloaf started wailing about mother nature and doing what you can and being barely 17 and being barely dressed (ah those moments!). Anyway, we were singing along and what i heard in her very non church-choir voice was just a few clicks to the left of ON. This girl could floor you with a soul wrenching version of STAND BY YOUR MAN, but Meatloaf, no. It was like Johnny Depp trying to sing King Tut or saying "I'm Gumby Damnit". It didn't work. I turned down the radio and kindly asked her what she was singing. "The words" she replied. Sweet Potato (i'll use this to protect her real name) knew of my ways and she hesiteted to repeat the lyrics she belted out at full blast. Finally, with expert provocation and probably a handful of jelly bellies I convinced her to regirgitate her original lyrics. She distinctly sang "a pair of dice by the dashboard light".

Right then and there I think I peed. I felt a tear trickle down Meatloaf's cheek, just like the Native American in that oh so great PSA for littering. She felt the song, it's gutteral representation of youth and love. She sang it loud and with pure heart but it was just a little off. Intent was there but it wasn't STAND BY YOUR MAN. That's how it was with my SWANK attempt.

Mile 16, cramps. Miles 17 - 40, cramps. Bad nutrution, probably. Prior Thursday night wheat beer fest at West 1st Pizza, probbably. What ever it was, I was a few clicks off of ON. I've raced a few of Todd's races and have been graced by his riding skills (as noted in prior blogs). It's all been rewarding but painful. This race fit the bill.

Earlier I spoke with Cissy about race strategy including the importance of not blowing up in the first 30minutes of a 4-5 hour race. She didn't need race strategy as evidenced by her 4th place finish. I should have taken my own advice. Needing to stay out of the mid-rear pack riff raff, I tried to stay towards the front. It felt great but I was not recovering very well. After an hour or so of back pain, breething hard and general pain, I stopped to leave my scent on the trail via recycled heed and H20. It's amazing what emptying your bladder will do for ya! After my two minute pitstop things improved.

A good groove finally found my legs and I pumped on. Coming back down FS 5003 to the 2nd rest stop, I found a cheering crowd in the name of the Kahne family! What a help that was - to have Shrimper, Bergan and Henry all yelling for me. I was revived and opted to not stop for fluids. I had a fair amount of water in my camelbak but paid dearly on the farlow descent. My bike decided it wasn't stoping until the first big log. We rolled, showed some style to a photographer and stopped for the first log. I dismounted and immediately did a double full-leg cramp. Calf, quad and hams-talk about standing at attention. Major "my bad" goes out to the team BMC rider. I couldn't move out of the way once the cramps hit. He was kind enough to share some of his Cliff Bar drink, which tasted like saltwater, but at that point in time it was exactly what i needed. My cramps stopped and I pointed the front wheel down and let er rip. Through most of the second rock garden we sped. Dismounted a few more times, not wanting additional permanent Farlow tatoos on my body. The too I have are enough - ones mental and the other is on my leg. I continued down and stayed with the fellow from BMC. He was obviously tired of my nervous, cramp induced chatter and sped through the harder sections like a pro. I caught him on a few of the medium hard sections and actually passed him while stepping over a log. Again I overstepped my boundaries and missed the log and stepped right on his pedal. I felt like a royal dork. I apoligized and sped on. Cramps returned full force and Mr. BMC passed me at the bottom of Daniel.

Finally FS 1206 was in sight. Only one climb remaining then a shot down Caney Bottom. I hit the turn to Caney with both legs slightly locking up. I'd gotten used to it. I hit the intersection on the FS road and remembered a great conversation i once had there. Pisgah has a way of holding memories like a picture album...you hit certain spots and the memories flood in.

After a few more agravating cramps and a fun blast to the bottom, i smelled Shrimpers monster burgers and smelled the finish. It was a good day.

No Call Bastards

2007-11-10T07:08:00.000-05:00

On my desk sits a home-made upright open file. It was one of the first things I made upon arrival of my first (and only) table saw. The top slot is labeled "no call bastards". Tenacious tele-marketers met their match. Each tele-marketer's call encountered a politely request to "remove me from your list, please" and i would promptly record the company name on my "no call bastards" list in anticipation of filing a complaint with the FCC. I never did file a complaint, but my intent came from a desire to fix a problem and improve my world. The past workday at Dupont had similar intent - desire to fix a problem and improve my world.

It wasn't just my world though. It is everybodys world...anyone with access to Dupont State Forest. I suppose that list is endless with exception of most people on the no fly list or on wanted posters in the almost defunct local snail mail hubs. Trail work is an excellent way to improve cycling friendships in a cycling yet "non-cycling" way. We get to know people on the bike when we ride. I learn bikes first, then names. I put a face with a helmet and a bike. "Oh, the dude on the Santa Cruz with the yellow helmet? or "Yeah, that girl on the huffy with the tassels...on her bars" - you get the point. With trail work, the helmets come off and an alternate side of each person illuminates in the dirt. Side by side we work, shoveling, lifting rocks, hoping Woody doesn't roll down the hill in his mini-dozer, but we add to our cycling relationships, build them stronger as we fix run-offs, erosion and bad design. We communicate using more than hand signals indicating a pile of gravel or yelling "low" to indicate a low hanging branch. Trail workers interact in a more human way than when biking.

It's always weird to see people out of the box you know them in. Like seeing your preacher at the strip club, it's awkward but usually has a good outcome. We all chipped in our time and did some more work on Cedar Rock. We rock armored, built a few jumps and re-routed part of the trail. In return, the state park powers who be allowed us to camp at the Barn.

I didn't arrive until Saturday around noon due to caring for a sick friend (i love playing doctor) and work was already in full force. I grabbed a pulaski and weaseled my way in to the digging groove and acted as if I'd been there all day. I was quickly noticed and put to real work laying out a line over a Volkswagen sized granite slab that was now part of the trail. We debated and stood around like DOT workers and finally picked a line. Clay Rockhound kept snooping for larger boulders and me a sucker for a challenge would help him move the 100+lb rocks from too far away and add to the turn on top of the granite slab. Each new rock caused a snowball of decisions. We moved that dab gone line at least 5 times. I politely slipped into the woods and walked up the hill for different shenanigans.

I found Z Andy working on a nice table top/log ride, Mr. George entertaining the troops with his crisp wit and cynical comments and some other folks I didn't know very well. We all worked a few more hours then left for camp.

Clay, Cissy and I decided to do a quick loop before nightfall. From the barn, we hit Airstrip, Cornholio, Laurel, Mine Mtn., then finished with a post dark/no light jaunt down Airstrip to cap off the night. That's living.

Camping was great. The stars by Bridal Veil were magnificent. It was a great time by the fire, slightly more mellow than hanging with my regular peeps, but relaxing and rewarding none the less. Needless to say, i woke up from a bike trip camping experience without the slightest hint of alcohol induced antibalance-ism-ish-ness. Sweet! We ate breakfast (a kick butt omelet, i must say) and decided our route. Bergan and Henry were ripping around the campsite on their bikes showing us old farts what youth used to be (it just happened to be my birthday so i was feeling it even more than usual). They were ready to roll so we rounded up the remaining posse and hit the trails.

We were representing with age 8 to the late 50's (i thought i heard someone say) and beginner to almost elite level riders. Who woulda thunk that we would all stay together and just have a "fun" ride. Well, it happened. As if my "no call bastards" list actually worked, and the telemarketers stopped calling, our ride was flawless and perfectly grouped and paced. Faster riders waited for slower ones, older faster riders waited for younger slower ones, slower older ones waited for...enough, you get the point. Bergan and Henry were a real inspiration to me. They attacked the trails with such vigor, such zest that it was a fricking blast just watching them enjoy the trail. This was my first ride with youngins and to my surprise it was great. It brought back memories of riding my bike with my Mom and Dad when I was there age. Rubber was just invented so the whole idea of smooth rolling tires was still a novelty, but to see these two kids attack any part of the trail was glorious. Of course when you are seed of two legendary local riders what would you expect?

Gracious was the group. We left the barn and went up cedar rock. The youngins opted for a tow line up the steeper section (i don't think they really needed them). Cissy towed Henry and Noelle towed Bergan. Note Bergan expressing his best compliment to the photographer.

To be a kid again. Oh, wait...I'm only 23! Yeah, that's what i was telling myself all day.

When we arrived up top, everyone was patiently waiting and sharing small talk, laughing, joking and just jiving well. The view rocked. Puns are cool.

After a brief pause, we flew down the new section of trail that we shaped up day prior.

Here is Mr. George and Beefcake pondering the table top jump:

This picture was taken by some girl. I was too flustered to get her name but thanks to Mr. George's calm and collective persuasiveness she seemed interested in talking with the cool mountain biker dudes that we are. We chatted and they talked me into hitting the nice soft, brand new table top jump, with work boots on. Yeah, beast ruffled my better judgement and up the hill i went. Better judgement somehow slid into my numb skull (i guess it comes with birthday #37-also see "skip out early part 2" for example of poor judgement amongst beuty vs. the log). My beter judgement was with me! Wow, a new day has dawned. I hit the jump at about 1/3 speed and per Mr. George "I could have put a bussiness card under your rear tire". My ego shrunk so much i had to re tighten my helmet. Enuf of this "business-card" hang time, I wanted some sky. To hell with better judgement, I just turned 37. I was 36 way longer than I'd been 37 at this point so back up the hill I rode. Work boots, carhart thick jeans and work gloves. I was gonna show this perty girl who the best table top jumper in these here parts was and by golly i was trying to win that perty . I hit the jump with good speed and soared to at least the height of a box of business cards. Man, I felt like da bomb. She had to fall for me now. I rolled back to my audience and they were both now star struck, no doubt. I was the rock star I always wanted to be. I finally got her name.

The entire group made it down to Cornholio/Burnt Mtn. intersecion and we parted ways. A little payoff time for being kind citizens. We hit Burnt Mtn. fast as fire on a So. Cal. beach and regrouped at the river crossing on Cornholio. I led the way across the creek and Clay, Cissy and oodles of others followed my line and made the crossing! A followed line is the utmost compliment a rider can get. So many people made the crossing, I lost count. We went up and did Laurel, Mine Mtn., Reasonover and once again the icing on the cake -Airstrip. Since I was now 37 and was utilizing my newly gained better judgement, I hit the top of Airstrip with zest and finally cleared the elusive table top jump for the first time! How fun. Our trip ended by breaking down camp saying goodbye. My tent was warm, was yours?

More weekend pics:

Skip out on work early, part 2

2007-11-05T06:38:00.000-05:00

Part 1 was this past Wednesdays Dupont ride which we started around 2:30. Ok, twice in one week is borderline excessive. Friday rolled around and it was way too nice to stay in. The plan was to meet around noon and hit Pisgah. Cissy and I hit the parking lot a little late but with just enough time to make a quick loop around davidson river trail/long branch/cat gap before we were to meet Noelle at the parking lot. We trucked it up the river trail and i quickly flatted. I changed the flat and proceeded to act like i was not suffering. I'd glance behind me and Cissy was always on my tail just a "grinning" and riding effortlessly. Note the smile and non-painful, relaxed poise on the bike. We hit the loop fast and blasted down cat gap to meet Noelle. The three of us took off for an extension of the first loop. Cissy and Noelle were moving at great speed and chatting as well. The three of us made good time up long branch back towards 475. There are a few fields/camping spots along longbranch that are absolutely beautiful. I spent several moments absorbing the beauty of the forest. It's a refreshing feeling to look up at the sky and see leaves dropping from the tip tops of magnificent poplars and other hardwoods of species that i can never remember. We hit 475 climbed up and dropped to butter gap. I always underestimate the climb to the top of butter gap from fs475. It's not a long climb but there's enough to flatten you out as you salivate in anticipation of the great drop down butter.

One of Pisgah's behind the scenes gurus/local legends (Todd - Mr. ORAMM/SWANK) led me down butter gap a few years ago. He told me that he'd show me the good lines if I'd stay on his wheel. 1st - i was way out of shape to ride with Todd, 2nd - logs scare me and 3rd - Todd is faster than a speeding bullet. I tucked in behind his wheel and stayed there till we dropped by the bridge @ cat gap. This was a descent I'll never forget. With the words of Scottie from the SS Enterprise floating in my rattling brain as I was trying to stay on his wheel, the scenery was zooming by at light speed. I didn't have time to think about falling off logs, broken bones, face vs. tree introductions - i had one thing in my frontal lobe and that was Todd's back wheel. I followed that wheel where ever it went, over every log, rock, drop, root etc. Heck if he would have hucked off the trail on a 30 ft drop, i would have been right there. Thinking never crossed my mind - just pedaling.

At the beginning of the Butter Gap downhill, I always remember aforementioned event. Never will that smoothness be imitated by me again. It was a once in a lifetime ride that will be honored in tradition somewhere in my noggin, in a closet full of other noggin notes. Cissy, Noelle and I hit the downhill and I could hear them on my tail. It was time for a little payback. Sure they could keep my breathing above drool level on the climb but could they match my pucker level attack on this terrain? Noelle was right on my tail. I hit the off camber creek rock and had just enough time to snap a shot of Noelle checking out an alternate route over the rock. You can ask her how it was. On we went. Me feeling a little better about my riding abilities, approaching borderline "showoff level" wavered about riding one of the upper Butter Gap log crossings. My first mistake was wavering. "Obey the rules Luke" (in my best OB-1 inner voice) was going through my head as the log loomed in the distance. I hit the log slowly and sunk my back tire into an open split about 2/3 of the way across. My bike stopped ever so suddenly and i teetered to the left and gracefully exited landing upright on foot. Yay! All is well except for that little 45 degree bend in my rear wheel I noticed as i hopped off. The wheel bent back and with a little green spoke wrenching, it was good enough to ride out. Nothing like wasting a $90 rim on its inaugural voyage. It was my Mavic 317 Titanic. Bon voyage beotch! (it's since been replaced). Now I felt super cool. Two fine female riders, laughing their butts off at my inability to ride the entire log crossing. It's funny because I displayed my coolness and ballsy-ness just by riding the darn thing so it's not a question about ability but since i faltered in the easiest part of the log ride now it's a question of my humility. The ladies were graceful in their laughter and not too scolding. We finished this section of the ride, cat gap and back to the hatchery where Noelle parted ways and Cissy and I decided there was enough light remaining to climb 475 and drop Caney bottom. It was a spectacular fall day with perfect fall light and perfect fall crisp air . Trail and conversation could not have been better. An unending pause before we dropped Caney sealed the deal on the day. It was yet another perfect ride.

Wake up time for freedom baby.......

2007-11-01T07:22:00.000-04:00

Nov. 1. Scorpios will some day take over the earth. Nothing will get completed but we'll be satisfied and surrounded by creativity.

Wake up time for freedom - from "The Cult" sprang into my mind as i thought of yesterdays extended version of our weekly visit to Dupont. Xmater had the day off for religious purposes (arrival of his 1st washer/dryer set up) and we met earlier than usual. Syncronicity was in full force since i had appointments in the area and one other friend who's often on his knees (he is a hardwood floor man) called in saying he was local and wanted in on the fun. Freedom from work is good. 3:30 departure and off to Reasonover/Airstrip/Kornholio (as the locals spell it) Shoals Road, some logs and a few other trails my currently un-coffeed mind can't recall.

Freedom rings in my ears this AM, probably because i experienced it yesterday but have to sit in front of this computer and type all day. Interesting is Halloween with 4th of July emotion. It was liberating to be on leaf blanketed trails mid-day with friends who are usually working at 3 in the day. Freedom sounds crunchy with leaf blanked trails. Freedom cooled my lycra covered skin with crisp fall air. Freedom made me thirsty so we consumed beverages.

Others arrived. Mr. Surgery Makes me fast Dennis, Clay, Gravel Road Andretti and Valerie. We hit a good easy pace and wound up hitting Reasonover/Airstrip/Burnt Mtn./Big Rock and some others. Clay wins the butt stomp award for the evening. He was full force all night and riding smooth to boot.

Not much else to say.

Word up ROWDY DAWG

2007-10-26T16:03:00.000-04:00

I'm sitting in a shitty hotel at a convention in Char Latte, feeling juiced up on knowledg about concrete countertops, crappy convention food, beer, late night wings and more beer and just miss my bike and what it brings to my life. If you're reading this you are either another OCD bike fend, extremely bored or you have just entered into a beautiful relationship with me and want to know as much about me as you can find. Either way it's all good.
I'm sitting in the lobb]y and i think there's a quilting convention. Frick. Enough crap.

The Rowdy Dawg was a XXC race on a kick butt sliver of edible VA singletrak immersed in the mountains directly next to Blacksburg, VA. The race format that tickled my fancy was the XXC - a 39 mile race. I crave Mushin (pronounced Moo shin) and longer distances bring me to this beautiful state. The trail was a lollipop course with a ride up the stick, three laps around the lolli and a jaunt back down the stikc.

It was a typical race. At the start some fellows hauled ass, blew up and got passed. We had at least 3+ hours in the saddle and i had no intention of blowing the day on a silly start. I set my pace around 3rd-5th place and sat in the first hour. My buddy Jeremy was up ahead of me and I was unsure what kind of fitness he was carrying since he (Tabitha) just had another wonderful child. He's stomped me several times so I didn't discount his ability and assume anything. Ahead of Jeremy was his teammate Kevin (both from Vassago), one other unknown fellow and Matthew Lee from Bare Naked Cannondale. A few times in the first hour i reeled in the first three guys to get a feel for who was riding strong and gracful. Jeremy was pounding the trail in typical attack fashion, Kevin was just plain pumping it out on his SS and Matthew seemed to be in excellent form, fluid and quiet movement.

Jeremy dropped back after awhile and i would just catch a glimpse of Kevin and Matthew every few turns. Due to the opportunity to hang with Jeremy and drink beer the night before, my start was quite groggy. I figured the groggieness would dissipate after an hour or so but soon realized it was enjoying the race as much as me and it was in it for the long haul. Hesitantly, i accepted my racing partner (accompanied by his pals headache and poor balance) and decided good performance was going to hurt a little more than usual. A good friend of mine calls it "punishing his liver". I felt like the spokeperson for the club. I reeled up the remaining gumption in my dehydrated body and upped the pace ever so slightly. After a few miles I caught up to Kevin SS and passed him on some rocky uphill unkind to SS people. From there on out, i was alone with groggieness, the sound of my crappy Mavic hub body freaking out and the sound of my pounding head.

Evidently something is wrong with the freewheel meachanism because at 17mph or higher the drive body would hesitate to freewheel hence causing the gear cluster to match wheel speed and rotate my chain forward vs. my non pedaling front rings. The chain would slap at the tire making awful rubber vs. metal noises in addition to the foul noise emitting from the drive body. The only quick fix was to pedal the downhills, which is ok but sometimes a rest is nice. I figured it out and did what i had to.

This went on for the next few hours. I finally lost my phantom partners, groggieness, headache and poor balance. In turn I upped the pace again. Finally felt good. Just good, not grand. This is the point in a long race where unwanted race partners simply swap places. In creeped feelings of "damn, did i miss a turn" and "how close is the guy behind me"? I kept pushing it.

The trail offered excellent opportunity to hammer, recover and have fun. Some of the rock sections were tricky but never bad enough to not ride. I didn't clean every section every lap, but simply got off and walked when i didn't feel up to the mental challenge of navigating certain sections. Overall i cleaned the course with exception of one very rooted uphill section as you exited a creek, which i walked all three times. The outstanding sections of the trail included a great and beautiful climb up to a gravel road. The grade was conducive to my riding style (power it till your knees cry) so I always tried to win the race on that long climb.

I hit the hills hard, the flats harder and the downhills evenly. My strategy paid off. With 7 miles remaining, I came up on Matthew Lee. I figured he was feeling just as smooth as he seemed to earlier. I slowly caught up to him and stayed on his wheel for about a mile. We were testing each other to see what we each had in us. No problem with me, but I had to put on my poker face cause "crap" had decided to kick the butt of "damn, did i miss a turn" and "how close is the guy behind me"?. With "crap" as my new race partner, I decided to give my best poker bluff and pass Matthew and see what he had. Well, I suck at poker ((the card game)but i'm good at liquor). I passed and Matthew sat on my wheel like white on rice, which at this point i should have eaten instead of that third "just one more beer" beer.

My bluff lasted 1 long mile. That mile felt like the previous 34. I accepted my reality, sat up and Matthew passed in smooth controlled feeling good kind of style. I sat up, got in a decent pace and let the cards fall. I'd see him every few turns but just didn't have anything left. Matthew finished first we me trailing in with my tail between my legs 1 min and 10 seconds later for the silver. Not a bad day.

After the race I chatted with Matthew and learned that he's completed the Great Divide Race and the Colorado Trail Race. Impressive. I was pleased with my result.

Overall, i'd recommend the race, but not the amount of beer the night before.

Thanks to KENDA for allowing me to be a support rider. Nevegals rule!

A weekend called "milkshake".

2007-10-14T21:27:00.000-04:00

Friends, beverages, bike and nature, not all in that order but swirled together in a weekend called milkshake, and it tasted perty damn sweet. This past weekend was "milkshake". I reference my ex live-in sailor of girlfriend's one time description of a peanut butter milkshake we shared at a little soda shop in Brevard. We each had a few chewy sips out of the white styrfoam cup. The cup wall was spackeled with peanut butter and rich vanilla ice cream. We were quiet and quiet was a stranger to us...she looked at me inbetween bites and sincerly stated "this is the best GD F&^*^ing milkshake i've ever had." Not exactly speak you'd expect from a well educated woman but we were still sitting in the soda shop. It just came out of her mouth with force equivalent to blowing liquid out your nose when someone makes you laugh. It was a force so strong it had to blow. Milkshake.

We celebrated a season of riding. Old friends, new friends, happy dogs, new dogs, old bikes, old trails, new trails, new speak, stories and letting loose. We didn't care if you were a lawyer or bin lauden. As long as you were there to shed light on the common thread. Don't ask don't tell or something like that, just don't be a hater.

I'm grateful to be a part of a group that doesn't judge me, doesn't mock me, doesn't pour guilt on me but simply accepts me and allows, encourages and demands for me to be me. I sure didn't find it in any of the Churches I've been to but once again, here it was in the middle of the woods. I didn't want it to end but the yin and yang called so home i traveled, knowing that the mundane task of work must be executed with glee or i wouldn't be able to come back next time.

I just say thanks to all who participated, all who wanted to but couldn't and those that didn't even know because they make up the yin and the yang and without knowing how bad shit is you can't know the opposite.

Thanks to all for the great weekend.
By the way, bikes are cool.

2007 Double Dare - Race Review

2007-10-10T16:10:00.000-04:00

2007 Double Dare – A Synopsis
Team Rhymes with Bucket
Jen Rinderle/David J. Cook

Thursday/Friday
Without a doubt, the Double Dare is one of my favorite races. This year was no exception. Jen and I competed in the inaugural Double Dare in 2005 and placed 2nd, then she had to go off and get married during the 2nd running of the 2xdare so we showed up again in 2007 and gave it our all.

Pre-race
Jen was working in Hickory and drove into Asheville. Jennifer Drum picked her up at the airport where Jen was dropping of her rental car and they were both coming to my house for some chow. We prepared a good meal – chicken stir fry.

Jen, as usual, had all of her things prepared for the race. I on the other hand was having my pre-race anxiety attack. My repaired Steve Potts frame arrived earlier in the day and I started to build it up but realized there was no way my slow wrenching would allow for a proper build up. I took the frame to Sycamore Cycles and Wes & Crew slapped that beast together. As promised, Sycamore Cylces had the bike built by Friday at Noon, but Steve Potts had other plans.

The repaired seat tube required a 1 ½ seat post collar. Unknown to me, 1 ½ (38.1mm) is an extremely odd ball size and no local shops had one. We racked our brains and decided that a pipe fitting may be my only option, so we went to Grainger and bought a heavy solid steel 1 ½ pipe fitting to put on my re-finished, repaired Titanium Steve Potts frame. What a fiasco. Not being quitters, Jen & I scoured all Hendersonville and Asheville bike shops and were having little to no luck, when David at Youngblood bike shop on Merrimon, took the time to dig through an old parts bin and low and behold – there was the size I needed. It was old and used and he donated it to the cause! Props to Youngblood for not being greedy. There was another Asheville bike shop that found a close sized collar and charged me $10.00. The collar was super worn, scratched up and ragged. I have no problem paying for things, but the condition of this collar was questionable and the cashier/bike store guy was not overly kind. I inquired the price of a new collar and he quoted me “$16.95”…so the old ragged one with no bolt or no quick release was $10.00? Go figure. I hope they do well in their nice new shop, because I won’t walk in the door again (until I’m desperate of course).

Any way, Sycamore Cycles did a kick butt job building up my repaired ride, complete with a new Reba Race fork to replace the Huffy fork I had worn out. The bike was ready. Jen & I purchased our race food, laid out our gear, completed a gear check and started preparing for the weekend. Jen made sandwiches while I prepared the Tahoe (Ho) with our schtuff.

Our race food consisted of goos, various bars, salty chips, oatmeal pies, crackers, turkey/avocado/cheese wraps, pb&j on English muffins, oatmeal and egg & cheese sandwiches for breakfast and some starbucks frappachinos for the morning start. The best snack of each day was a diet Pepsi.

Valerie came over on Friday to pick up some parts she had delivered and helped out with the Friday night “pre-race” meal. We had spaghetti with some sauce, chicken and salad. It was a good meal and we all sat around and talked bikes & race stuff.

Day 1

We woke up, packed the Ho (Tahoe that is) ate a good breakfast then drove to Pisgah. We arrived with plenty of time. Jen & I figured, “we’re here to race, so let’s go ahead and get our bike clothes on and get ready”. We geared up, did final checks on gear, food & mechanicals and rolled over to North White Pines Group Campground for the mandatory 11:00am racer meeting. Eric of Pisgah Productions explained the usual stuff about the race: dos & don’ts, rules, regulations, etc. Jen & I checked out the competition. I was nervous but thank God Jen was cool as a clam. She kept re-assuring me that the race would be fine and we’d do great. I’m such a pre-race basket case.

Eric announced a new race format for 2007: a time trial start to Farlow Gap. We would receive our race instructions at Farlow Gap. Teams left the start at 3 minute intervals. We left in the 4th spot and arrived at Farlow in 2nd.

TT – White Pines Camp to Farlow Gap
477>276>475>Gloucester Gap>Pilot Mtn Rd>Farlow Gap

We kept our pace smooth and easy. Team “super cool purple I9 spokes” beat us there. We chatted with Gabe/Thad/Brado then reviewed our race instructions. 10 cp’s all over the forest with mostly west side travel. I know the west side well thanks to recent recon missions with Valerie. Jen & I picked our route and dropped Farlow Gap to CP 1, Intersection of Farlow Gap trail and Daniel Ridge.

CP1 – Intersection Farlow Gap & Daniel Ridge
Farlow Gap>Daniel Ridge

We dropped down Daniel Ridge to 475 and climbed back up to Gloucester Gap to CP 2:

CP2 – Intersection FS 5003/FS 140A
Farlow Gap>475>Gloucester Gap>5003>140A

Our only wrong turn in the entire race was at the Southern most point of 5003. I thought we were to the intersection of 140A but things didn’t look right. We took our CP proof picture and rolled down a 4-wheeler double track south from the intersection. The trail immediately dropped significantly and I realized we were in the wrong spot. Jen & I back tracked and rode to the correct intersection. Along the western part of 5003, we encountered some fast gravel double track descents and Jen got very familiar with some of the local gravel in two of the turns. At the CP Jen quickly cleaned out her cuts.

I snapped a pic or two and bolted for CP 3:

CP3 – Courthouse Falls
140A>140>Sumney Cove

Our ride to Courthouse Falls only took a short while. We hit the Sumney Cove trail head on 140 with ease and proceeded south on Sumney Cove. This part of Sumney Cove reminded me of riding along some spots of the Ocoee river in TN. Suddenly the terrain to the left turned into a massive drop. We found the trail to the waterfall, locked our bikes and raced down. Both of us were amazed at the beauty of the falls. Neither of us had been there before and as I’ve done in thousands of spots, I vowed to return and absorb the beauty and serenity. By this time we had drank our water so we refilled and dropped some iodine in the camelbaks. As usual, we got some strange looks from some of the visitors. We politely exchanged greetings, hauled butt up the hill, un-roped our trusty ti steeds and focused on CP 4:

CP4 – Intersection of Sumney Cove and NC 215
Sumney Cove>140>215>Sumney Cove

The 2005 Double Dare also had a CP at the 215/Sumney Cove intersection. Jen & I had hit it then but opted to continue from 140 all the way down Sumney Cove to 215. Along that route in 2005, Jen fell off the side of the trail into a huge briar bramble and could not get out. I heard her yelling, rode back to her spot, and asked if she was ok, she said “yes” then I almost peed my pants because she was stuck in the briars 5 feet below the trail. I extended my hand to help her up - only after I snapped a few pictures of her in the bushes. There is also a big hike a bike on Sumney and we decided the gravel/pavement route would be quicker. We snapped our proof picture and headed to CP 5:

CP5 – Flat Laurel Creek@Concrete Bridge/Waterfall
215>Flat Laurel Creek

Wow. That’s all I gots to say. The ride up 215 is tough. I’ve climbed this section on my road bike, and it was tough but with a full pack on a mountain bike, it approached painful. Jen & I set a smooth pace up the mountains. The grade gets steeper as you approach the top, but the view also improves. The smooth road was a good place to take some extra pictures as we rode along. Jen always smiled for the camera, well Jen just always smiles anyway. I tried to steal a few shots while she was upset or in a bad mood or frowning, but those emotions, if there, never showed through. We finally crested under the BRP and said hi to team Yazoo (a brewery from Nashville, TN). I think they were taking a safety break. Nice fellows. I want a beer sponsor too! We dropped 215 to the Flat Laurel Creek parking lot, hit the CP and continued to CP 6:

CP6 – Ivestor Gap@Shining Rock Wilderness sign
Flat Laurel Creek>Ivestor Gap

We hit the parking lot for Ivestor Gap and hit the CP with little incidence except the sudden darkness that came upon us. Jen and I both agreed that the Ivestor Gap trail was somehow slightly similar to Porcupine Rim Trail in Moab. By the time we left the Ivestor Gap parking lot for CP 7, it was fully dark and there was a beautiful orange harvest moon coming up over the horizon. It made me think of Charlie Brown and the Great Pumpkin. The star view from this point of the parkway was delicious! We stopped twice to gaze briefly upon the stars. Enough of that we decided and headed to CP 7:

CP7 – Wagon Road Gap@BRP
Ivestor Gap>BRP>Wagon Road Gap

The ride down the Blue Ridge Parkway was incredible! I’ve ridden the parkway at night several times but this evening the sky was incredibly clear and the stars numbered in the brazillions (a number created by our current brilliant president). I snapped a few pictures while riding in the dark but quickly realized a wreck on pavement with full pack while taking pictures traveling at 30+mph would not be good. I stopped trying to be like Brado (photographic/designer connoisseur) and put my camera away. At the CP, Jen & I bundled up for the ride down 276. We ate some food and started to pull out when team Yazoo rolled up. I had dropped a zip lock of chips at the sign and the Yazoo fellows were elated about their find. I told them to finish them off which was probably just what was needed after the earlier safety break and 3 PBR’s each from Dave Blalock (mandatory CP man) at Ivestor. Dave also gave Jen a coca-cola and I bummed a sip off coffee and a PBR as well. That PBR was just what I needed 8 hours into a race! Hooooyaa!

CP8 – Club Gap
BRP>276>477>Club Gap

Jen and I hit 477 fast. Coming down 276 from the parkway is always a blast, even if you do freeze your butt off! We traveled up the gravel on 477 until I heard the familiar eerie buzz of the power station. I am usually good in the woods at night until something like that buzz takes my mind to the land of Steven King. Jen and I rode as much of Club Gap as possible then hiked it up to the intersection. We took our picture and hiked up the Black Mtn. Trail towards Buckhorn Shelter.

CP9 – Buckhorn Gap Shelter
Club Gap>Black Mountain Trail>Shelter

Our ride over this section of Black Mountain was uneventful. There were some good clear views of Brevard off of the overlooks but we were trying to keep our speed up because we were considering continuing to the Black Mountain CP after Buckhorn Gap – if we got to Buckhorn with enough time to spare. I pushed my bike over Black Mountain from Buckhorn Gap to Presley Gap one time. I believe it was my introductory ride in Pisgah in the early 1990’s. I remember it took a long, long, long, long time and it hurt. Granted, I am in much better shape now than then, but a DQ at this point in time would make me cry. Jen and I estimated that it may take an hour to hike a bike that section and if we got to Buckhorn by 10:30, we would go for it. We arrived at Buckhorn and 10:45 and stuck with our plan.

Day 1 Finish
Buckhorn Gap>Clawhammer>477>North White Pines

We arrived at race finish around 11:30pm. Did we have enough time to get the CP at Black Mountain? We won’t know – until I go check it out. Tired and sore, we said our hello’s, reviewed our CP’s with Eric, prepared the futon in the Hoe and went to sleep. A good day of racing. 9 check points/70 miles…one more day.
Day 2

Woke up, got out of bed, dragged a comb across my head, went downstairs and had a cup.[1] Somebody spoke and I went in to a dream……..ARG!!! The alarm is going off at 4:30 am why why why why???? Then I realized I was not in my uncomfortable bed at home but laying on a futon in the back of my Hoe alongside FS 477, stinky, sticky from the previous day, but somehow rested and ready for round two. Jen’s alarm went off about the same time. “Down in the south Texas town of El Paso, I fell in love with a Mexican Girl[2]” was what my phone alarm was saying to me. How pleasant is waking to a Love Ballad from Marty Robbins? Agreed, it doesn’t work for everyone, but it does for me. After 15 precious minutes of allowing my eyes to adjust to the total darkness of Pisgah, I slid into awaiting bike clothes I laid out in anticipation the night before. My Hoe looked like aftermath of a hurricane. Food, bike parts, water, camping items, more food, clean clothes, dirty clothes were everywhere but somehow Jen and I found organization in the first appearance of chaos and got ready for day two. Jen made some oatmeal and I took a few bites of the leftover Westfirst Goat cheese pizza we had for dinner the night before. I also ate an egg and cheese sandwich that we made Saturday morning. Our spirits were good. We weren’t exactly lively but there was a solid undercurrent emitting from both of us that we knew a huge task was eminent and we were ready to take it on full force.

We strolled over to the race venue about ¼ till 6. The race was to start promptly at 6 am so we wanted to be ready for Eric’s instructions. No surprise to us, Eric was starting the race with another time trial. Today’s TT was to Yellow Gap. Nice. Jen and I looked at the map and decided the best route was 276>1206, simple enough. Turkey Pen trail loomed on our map as if saying “you know you want me”, but Jen & I laughed and said “whoever cut’s across Turkey Pen to get to Yellow Gap is insane”. We were certain that Eric would make us travel Turkey Pen at some time in the race, as in all his prior races, but it looked like Turkey Pen would not harvest our tears this time! Yay! We realized later that some poor souls did cross Turkey Pen to get to Yellow Gap…more on that later.

Anyway, a gas station we passed, we got gas, and went on to get grub.[3] Eric staggered the starts at three minute intervals. We left in about the 4th or 5th slot, I don’t recall, but it was still dark. “Go”, yelled Eric. We zoomed to South White Pines, hit 477 and started our quest for Yellow Gap.

Since it was still dark and cold, we were overdressed. As we approached Looking Glass Falls, I saw a red blinky round the corner above the falls and thought to myself “victim #1”. Few things are more satisfying then overcoming someone in a race, even if it is a great friend. Jen & I shed a layer or two at the parking lot then continued up the hill. We planned to set a slightly more than moderate pace. The time trial would suit us both as an excellent warm up for the rough and tumble riding that awaited us on Pisgah’s East side. We came upon Erinna and Valerie and exchanged 2nd day race pleasantries with them. We passed them, they passed us and again and again. Finally, Jen & I got our groove on and turned it on. We arrived at Yellow Gap and Thad greeted us with a smile. We were not sure how we did on the TT so we asked Thad how many people were there before us – he said we were the first to arrive! Jen & I were stoked. We grabbed our day 2 instructions and began to plot our course.

As I figured, Eric’s placement of CP’s didn’t elicit joy in my mind or my saddle sores, but we were on a mission and here to do the job. Initially, our plan was to go for as many CP’s as possible, because we knew it would be hard to win without getting them all. Mills River Trail/Mullinax was day two’s mandatory CP and everything else was scattered to the North. We decided that an out and back was in order for the mandatory CP. Jen & I ate a kicking turkey/avocado/cheese sandwich and dropped 5015 (always makes me think of 5150/Van Hagar – Helllllo Baaaybee!) towards our first CP of Day 2:

CP1 – Field on South Mills River near bottom of Mullinax
Yellow Gap>5015>Bradley Creek>Laurel Creek>Squirrel Gap>
Mullinax>South Mills River

The ride down 5015 is always longer than I remember. We hit the bottom, I changed a strange flat on my front wheel then we crossed Bradley Creek and started up Laurel Creek trail. We did some pushing but kept a good pace. We hit squirrel gap trail and zoomed on down to Mullinax without any problems. We hit the intersection with Mullinax quicker than I anticipated. That field at the Mullinax/Squirrel Gap intersection has an interesting energy to it, like it pre dates history – it’s not a bad energy, but it seems different than other parts of the forest. We passed through the field, hit the trail re-route then dropped to S. Mills River and the CP where Dave Blalock waited patiently for the teams to arrive. He checked our passport and set us up for the special test: shooting a small target with a BB gun. Dave set up the gun, I lined up the target and bam – one shot. Dave gave us a bag of kick butt chips for hitting the target on the first shot. We knew our speed had to beat yesterdays effort so off we went to CP 2.

CP2 – Bear Branch Trail head@FS 5001
South Mills River>Mullinax>Squirrel Gap>Laurel Creek>Bradley Creek>
FS5015>FS1206>FS5000>FS5001>Bear Branch Trail Head

Jen & I rolled down Laurel Creek and were crossing the creek when I noticed Extreme tomato’s bike! I was in a slight daze and before even looking up from his bike laying next to Bradley Creek, I said “Johnathan”. Team Tomato was taking an obviously necessary safety break. Jen & I exchanged our usual race pleasantries with Team Tomato and inquired about their route. THEY HAD CROSSED TURKEY PEN! I looked at Johnothan with dismay. “Wow” was all I could muster out. We refilled out bladders and hit 5015 right after Team Tomato. We caught up to Jonathan’s partner but never caught Jonathan. He hauled butt up 5015. When we arrived at Yellow Gap, Jonathan was a little bummed that they rode right by the only mandatory CP of the day and had to backtrack to where they just came from. Ouch.

The ride down off of Yellow Gap towards Mills River is always fun. We started off down the hill. About halfway down, I noticed my rear tire was rubbing my frame…another broken flat bladed fancy pants spoke. What a pain in the butt those expensive spokes have turned out to be. I pulled over, analyzed the situation and wrapped that sucker around the opposing spokes tight enough to pull the wheel back into “almost true” so the tire would quit rubbing my newly fixed frame. Jen checked if I was ok as she sped by. I caught back up to her and we headed up to Bear Branch. We hit Bear Branch with no problems and started off for CP 3.

CP3 – Trace Ridge Trail@Spencer Gap Trail
Bear Branch trail head>FS5001>FS5000 (Wash Creek Rd)>Spencer Gap

Up, up and away, more up, more gravel, my sore arse and eating a big plate of Mexican Food was all I could think about. My spirits suddenly dipped low, in conjunction with my blood sugar. We pedaled up Wash Creek Rd. for what seemed like an eternity. I thought I knew Spencer Gap Trail fairly well but realized it was longer to the Trace Ridge intersection than I thought. We finally arrived. I was brain dead and Jen suggested that we take 5 and eat. Times like that are where an experienced adventure racer/friend/smart woman/excellent endurance athlete as a partner come in handy. I took Jen’s advice. We sat quietly eating Whoppers, chips from Dave at the mandatory CP, a couple sips of diet Pepsi, an oatmeal crème pie and probably more chips. We shot our CP proof photos and pushed up to the parkway.

CP – 4 Laurel Mountain@ NF/BRP Boundary
Trace Ridge>BRP>Laurel Mtn.

I was glad to see the pavement but forgot the 5 miles ahead of us was almost all uphill. I don’t know why I expected to not climb for a while, but I think my mind was still off in Mexican Food dream land. Jen could tell and suggested I stop again for a minute or two. I did as instructed and felt better. Ten minutes later, I was returning to normal race mode. My mission to finish, and finish well re-centered in my main thoughts again. On we went. We eventually hit the Laurel Mountain trail head off of the BRP. The traffic was terrible. Idiots, obviously. You know they were thinking the same about us. We were passed by a mid-size SUV twice. It had a Litespeed road bike on the roof rack and I thought to myself that it would be so much easier to be on a road bike now. Oh well, no such luck. There was an overlook at the trailhead and Marvin, Karen & new baby Mason were there having a picnic. It was great to see them. Karen is a local riding hero of mine. She kicks everyone’s butt with grace, kindness and class. Marvin does the same. There child will probably be an endurance machine! Thanks to Marvin for giving us a water bottle full of H2O. We started pushing down the trail and looking for the boundary marker. Eventually, we hit the switchbacks that were definitely beyond the NF boundary. Jen & I turned around to search for the marker thinking that maybe it was on the upside of a tree and we just didn’t notice it as we traveled down the trail. Nope. Thirty minutes later, I decided we spent enough time scouring the trail and took about ten pictures of trail identifiers that would prove to Eric we were there. Those pictures included some downfall, an “X” carved into a tree, a metal tag, rock piles and a few other things. Frustrated and anxious, we sought CP 5:

CP5 – Pilot Rock@Thompson Creek Trail Intersection
Laurel Mountain>Laurel Mtn. Connector>Pilot rock

Jen took over navigating. I was mentally spent after searching to no avail for the NF boundary which was CP 4. Jen led us up the connector trail and in no time we hit the CP at the Pilot Rock/Thompson Creek intersection. I ate more food and was looking forward to the kicking descent down Pilot Rock.

CP6 – Buckhorn Gap Shelter
Pilot Rock>FS1206>FS476>South Mills River Trail>Buckhorn Gap Trail

Jen’s husband (Ed Rinderle) and I had told Jen stories of pushing up Pilot Rock in a PMBAR race. All she could do was laugh and comment on how bad it had to hurt. We challenged ourselves in the wicked switchbacks and array of oddly shaped and oddly placed rocks. Jen rode most of the trail but kept laughing at the thought of the expression on Ed’s face while we pushed up in the PMBAR so long ago. It was about 4:15 and I was starting to worry about finishing on time. At Trace Ridge I told Jen that we needed to be at the bottom of Pilot Rock Trail by 4:00 PM in order to hit the two more checkpoints that were along our chosen route. We hit FS 1206 (Yellow Gap) road at 4:25ish. I was nervous.

To win, I knew we would need at least two more CP’s. It was just something I felt inside, but on the other hand, if we were late that would mean disqualification – and that would suck worse than not winning. We had a long way to go and a short time to get there…and we were out of water with no time to spare. During the morning TT up to Yellow Gap, I noticed a jug of water sitting on the big rocks at the intersection of FS1206 and FS476. Hopefully it was still there and Jen & I could refill our bottles. Luckily it was and it was unopened! We filled our bottles and accepted our gift of water gracefully.

Time to get serious. I was uncertain of how long it would take us to ride up the Buckhorn Gap Trail. I’ve ridden it a few times but my only memory of that trail was a winter day two years prior with the Goat himself – Jeremy Arnold/Heddrick.

Jeremy had hosted a few fellows from St. Louis and invited me along. We did about thirty miles in the wet snow that day and ended the loop with a climb up buckhorn from the South Mills River Trail. Quickly into the ride, we knew the St. Louis guys were bored with our slow pace so Jeremy explained the route and sent them on their way. Jeremy and I were pooped. Our spirits slowly sank into the mud and snow replicating the action of our knobby tires as our conversation spiraled down to grunts, then snorts then nothing at all. We both hit rock bottom and when we finally crested the trail to Buckhorn Gap we laid in the sun for about 20 minutes before we could even move or speak. It’s funny to recall, but it hurt like hell at the time…

With that as my prominent memory of Buckhorn Gap Trail, I was scared Jen & I would be pressing our luck to even make it back by the 6PM cut off. I stopped Jen and told her that we would have to ride faster and harder than we have all weekend to finish the race on time. Jen acknowledged and confirmed what I already knew…she was here to race and race hard. We kicked it down 476 and South Mills River Trail. As South Mills River started to climb, I kept telling Jen that we had to keep pushing on and on she went. I let her lead and kept telling her that our race was boiling down to this single climb. We stopped to cross a log and I asked for her pack. She didn’t hesitate. She threw me her pack and was off before I could even throw it over my back! It was cool to see Jen step up to another level of riding. She was out of the saddle and cranking up the trail faster and smoother than I had seen her ride all weekend! I knew she had it in her, but more importantly, she now realized that she had it in her as well! We hit a familiar spot on Buckhorn and I knew we were close to the top. Jen kept cranking and I kept shouting out encouragement and necessity of haste. We hit Buckhorn Gap in record speed and were both elated. We shot our CP proof picture of the Shelter and discussed our options.

I had never been to the Twin Falls CP and was uncertain how long it would take to get there and back, then down Clawhammer to the finish line. It was now 5:15. Although the entire route was downhill and the additional CP was just a mile or so off of Clawhammer, we opted for the safety of going straight back to the finish. What if we had a flat or other mechanical and didn’t make the cut off? We chose well and headed to the finish line.

Finish Line – North White Pines Campground
Buckhorn Gap>Clawhammer>FS477

We arrived to various cheers and Mike Brown madly ringing a cow bell. We had about thirty minutes to spare if you added time from the mornings staggered start. Our race was completed, the task accomplished.

Two days in Pisgah, 138 miles, 22 some odd hours, 24,000 + feet climbing, saddle sores, scrapes, bruises, broken bike parts, tired eyes and smiles from ear to ear. Nothing in the world beats the feeling of finishing a race like the Double Dare…nothing.
[1] The Beatles – Day in the Life
[2] Marty Robbins – El Paso
[3] A tribe called quest – I left my wallet in El Segundo