Fork Wrecker

The first time I ever ventured down to Council Bluffs to ride the epic 13 mile loop I met God out on the trail. At once point blasting around a corner, the sun filtering through lush green foliage, not another person in the world around, and all the concerns in the world far behind me everything seemed to make sense life just seemed right and I was certain heaven was around the next corner. Sunday I was back on the same trail this time I met the devil. I stared Lucifer in the face. He was in the form of saturated mud and driving rain. and he was intent on ripping my soul out of my legs and leaving me to die trail side. Lucifer came close but he underestimated the power of Snickers and I managed to ride up stream, over slick wheel throwing boulders, and through the icy bullets of rain. I completed 2 laps in about 2:50 min and posted up till the 3 hour cut off for the marathon class expired. Why didn't i try for the third lap that might have bumped me up onto the podium? Because the fork that Sram Corp. rebuilt and sent back to had blow out again. Oh and my brakes sized up. Such is racing.

Highlights:
Wes kicked some serial ass on his SS taking second to a fast dude by the name of Breslin
Jumping my toasted bike and muddy self in to the frigid lake from the small boat dock.

Road Trip

Flooding makes sense. I mean we have had a lot of precip this winter which has made riding extremely frustrating. So the fact that 141 sank beneath the murky watter of swollen rivers isn't out of place. What was out of place was the pure white snow that was falling in stark contrast to the grungy sewage water also known as the meramec. As sped my American made econo car across lake valley park by means of interstate 44 I swore I saw a horseman riding in from the north followed by a swarm of locusts. I pressed the accelerator harder for i was on a mission. I had a hockey ticket to a Blues Blackhawks game at the United Center. For those of you who are asking if the Scott Trade Center was renamed it was not. Easter morning for me headed to Chicago. The land of deep dish pizza, high winds, and horrible rude people who think they are New Yorkers. Well two stops for gas and 300 plus miles later I was parking my car wearing team colors. It is alwasy interesting watching a game as a visiting teams fan. I have found out that everyone thinks that they have the best venue for the sport. However, Chicago does have one of the best. It does have one major thing wrong with it. The Untied Center is in Chicago and the Hawks play there. Move it to the Lou have the blues call it home and it would undeniably be the best place to watch hockey. The game mirriored the saeson ; started out promising and ended as a let down (4-3 overtime loss). And so I made my way back home. I cut an hour off of my time and complete the up and back trip in 14 hours. Not a bad way to spend my day off. I just wish I had been able to ride.

Airin is back!

I bled the brakes today at work and they worked beautifully! I was a little uncertain of how to actually bleed them because the manager at TC always did took car of those repairs. After lost valley I know I had to delve into the would of preasurized fluid. The first attempt didnt to jack so we (Casey Ryback of Team Seagal and myself) force bled it and it worked like a hooker on Burbon street. The new XT cranks look pretty fly as well and felt uber good at the last race. However, that could very well be because averything else felt like crap.

Rim Wrecker is next weekend and I managed to work it into my schedual. I will be "racing" endurance class in order to get a long Ride in before the Ouachita Challenge. I am stoker for this event. 60 miles on a mountain bike is my definition of an awesome ride.
I plan on commuting on my mountain bike just to get used to the feel of it. Anyway this is getting boring so PE@CE~

Spring is here

I woke up late for work today. It was bound to happen and I kind of figured that i would over sleep last night when I went to bed. Oh well the bloodshot eyed, caffeine addicted zombies wielding their tumor inducing cellphones all received quality beverages with minimal wait times.

I haven't ridden a bike since Sunday. My eyes tickle like I am about to shed a tear as i pass the old school yellow squared commerce bank singe that saying the temp is 56 degrees and I am in a car. Yes producing smog, depleting oil reserves, not training, and munching on a Hersey's bar. What do I have to say for myself? nothing really I just shrug my shoulders. I'll be on the bike again soon most likely tomorrow.

Update: my fork is at Rockshox what they have accomplished I have no idea.

Ride Ride Race Wait

So after St. Joes I had a pretty mild week (mild meaning I just work 70hrs and did not get to train). So I decided since I had Sunday off i should get a ride going. 62 mile covered bridge ride with a 17.2 mph average. It felt good! daylight saving gave me opportunities to ride after work so I snagged a quick 27 mile road ride. I demoed a Cannondale Caffeine 1 F29 Thanks to Sparky and the good folks at Ghisallo. It was a pretty sweet ride. The Lefty Carbon fork (is it really a fork if it only has one leg of should I call it a suspension rod?) was nice and stiff. The bike itself was very nimble and handled very well. I took it to lost valley for some pre-race night laps and almost made it through one but broke the chain. I was able to get a tri-fecta commute (38miles w/ a 17.6mph average) in before the race with a short trip to Cwood Saturday night to blow the legs out. 62+27+38+whatever, carry the one bring that down....a little over 130 miles in a week.

Sunday came and it found me at the mound prepping my bike for the second expert race of my career. The new XT cranks looked fast and I hoped they performed the same. However, it was at this time I began to notice that my fork didn't feel right. I checked the pressure and set off for a practice loop with the other DrJs. After about 2 miles the fork was toast I must have blown a seal and was leaking pressure causing it to bottom out from just my weight (no fat jokes please). I was pressed for time and just decided to race it and see how far I could get. The pace started out hot with the cyclocross bikes leading us down the hamberg trail at 20+mph. I bombed down the first downhill and could tell the lack of compressed air was going to be a huge factor. I felt good thought and ripped up the long grinding clime passing riders like I knew what I was doing. I knew Chris was wearing his helmet cam so I pushed hard to get around everyone and get some air time. The one problem was he was riding too fast for the camera to record anything. I did eventually get passed about 10 seconds later with Dave Breslin giving me some props. As we carver the corner and began descending my rear brake began to go soft. Hurling though the world without suspension and about 20% breaking power was not only wreaking havoc on my arms but also on my front wheel. I flatted. So within the first two miles I had three mechanicals (blown fork, no rear brakes, and a flat). I watched as the expert field passed me by then as the sport riders began to pass me with giant question marks on their faces.

Tube in, Chamois to saddle, throttle open and balls to the wall.

I began to work back through the giant sport class and back toward the experts. I managed to catch a few experts before my three laps ended. I had a good performance considering. Still disappointing. Now I wait for Rockshox to work their magic on my fork and for a bleed kit to come into the shop. The good news is that Chris took first again, BLM came out and raced endurance, Dwayne looks stronger, and we partied like rock stars at Brewskies afterward.

My name is MUD!

6 am i shut the alarm off for the last time. I complain all week about having to be up so early and not being able to work out due to when i have to vacate my bed in the morning. Yet on a Sunday morning I am getting up at six to go ride bikes.
Today is not going to be a normal ride for today is race day. More importantly the first NORBA mountain bike race of the season. We have to meet at Bob's suburban castle at 6:45 so that we can make it to St.Joe's state park in the lovely Farmington Missouri. The best weather of the year was promised by the by the blonde trophy the news station pays to point a a green scree. Well she was right. However, the she had a sick sense of humor because she also use her million dollar smile to deliver horrible weather since November.
This day marked a milestone in my cycling Career (okay so I don't get paid but I pretend). I worked hard all of last season to make it on one team: DRJ Racing and this was my first Mountain bike race proudly displaying the blue, gold, and black. Since i had managed to finish in the top 5 four time last season I also moved from sport class to expert class so no i was racing against Icons such as Tim Kakouris, Dave Breslin, Anthony Thrower, and Eric Pirtle (a no show at St.Joes). The expert class is also stacked with the A-team from DRJ: Chris, Bob, and Wes. All of these ingredients resulted in cocktail of ravaged nerves and unrealistic hopes.
DRJ had a strong showing of six riders, One single speeder and five experts. We pre-road part of the coarse to judge the condition. The verdict: catastrophy. I took a place near the back at the starting line next to the only chick racing the open expert class (don't judge me you would have to). We started off every one trying to gain position before the casualties began to happen. I traded places with a few riders including before getting the nod to pass by my teammate Scott. I was chasing a young rider from Mesa Cycles who seemed to be laying it down. I was fighting off the soul sucking mud that was similar to the parasite from that turned spiderman into venom. I caught time before the end of the first lap and past him before the start of the second. I road pretty much alone passing a few riders from other classes in the process and catching glimpses of Paul Krewet. His ghost taunted me until he broke on the third lap and let me catch and pass him. I was severely starting to feel the pain then i felt something else. There was a wobble in the bike. I inspected my drive train the best I could at 10mph. the problem was not hard to spot. the non drive side crank was working its way off o the bottom bracket spindle (translation for those of you who just said "what??" in your heads: The sun was rising on doomsday). I stopped and realized i had sheared off the plastic tension bolt. I pulled the crank off, cleaned it as best I could, smashed it all back together in a controlled panic, tightened back down and set off again. While I feverishly worked i was passed by 5 other riders and began to cramp. I started out slamming the cranks hoping to catch the last rider who had passed me. I realized that it was hopeless and resorted to soft pedaling in order to save my components. As I neared the end of the coarse the crank fell off and I pedaled the paved path back to the start finish using only my right leg. I finished 11th out of the 12 that completed the 24 mile death march, of the 19 that started. Yes the Chick finished ahead of me she was 7th and was the first to pass me when I stopped.
I learned when i got back to the DRJ party bus A.K.A. Bob's Nissan Armada that Chris placed first followed by Bob and then Wes. Chris finished 38 minuets ahead of me. Can I complain about how I raced and the conditions? Yes I could, but I wont because that my friends is mother f*ckin' mountain bike racing.

What am I doing?!?!?!??1/

the 24th seems like such a long time ago. A lot can happen in twelve days; upgrade components, ride everyday, learn to speak Spanish (for when I go pro), break a collar bone, meet the girl of my dreams. I managed not to do any of those things.
The 24th of February was, as most of you know, the first race of the season. The week prior delivered typical Missouri freeze thaw freeze thaw roller coaster winter. We were lucky enough to get 40 degree temperatures for our high noon start. For a road race in late winter sounds like a dream come true, and would have been if it were not for the half inch of snow that hit us with a sneak attack the night before.
So there I was bundled up and standing in pack of lycra clad warriors preparing to do battle on a 31 mile loop. Each with there own goals, strategies, skills, and support. I was calm. I was racing my first race as a member of DRJ Racing. I knew the three other riders that I was sharing colors with were strong and wouldn't let me down. Our plan was for Bob and Wes to do all the work while Scott and I sat in conserving our strength for the final sprint to glory. Since Scott and I are both Cat 4 riders we need points so that we could move up in categories and race Pro/1/2/3 races. Everything was going to plan (except for Scott's early misfortune of flatting). I was feeling good and Bob was setting a killer pace. As we neared the finish I threw a chain and nearly embedded my face in the asphalt. I managed to get the bike back together and with the help of a giant adrenaline spike, that can only come from narrowly missing the opportunity f leaving half of my skin/clothing along a 100 foot strip of road, i moved back to the front and got in position for the sprint. The pack was tense. One rider form Ghisallo had already gone and Wes did a nice job of bringing him back. Everyone was waiting for the second rider to go for that would be the start to the final sprint. shoulders were rubbing, chains chattering, and if you held your breath you could hear the blood of 40 riders pounding like a stampede of long horns across the wide open land. Then it happen to my right. Bright colors where flying past me. But the rider in front did not react. Twenty-five or so riders later I was able to get out and go. To late. I was now sprinting just to sprint and it felt good. Suddenly I was not sprinting after a uniform mass of cyclists but into a writhing knot of humans and metal. A knot that sounded like pain. I cut left and avoided the carnage to finish 11th.
Goal One: prove you can hang with the cat 3s in a race.
Goal two: Win
Goa Three: If goal two is not achieved be happy with what you did accomplish.
Two out of three is not bad and neither is 11th our of 75.