So No Dos ?

The forecast the night before predicted a balmy 92 degrees..  I hydrated thoroughly as I prepped a nice pre-race meal and then dressed the new Explosif to the nines.  6:30am rolls around fast and already it’s warm.  By 8:30 I’m at the parking lot, registered, changed into superhero/spandex with a butt pad garb, and listening in to the racers meeting.  Carlos Perez  gives us the downlow, i.e., “temps are high, this race is no joke, save some in the tank, don’t get stranded without supplies or leg power, godspeed…..”

9:00 or so … We’re off.  Solo racers turn a mellowish 2 laps on a steep paved climb to overgrown skinny descent loop to thin things out.  There I see the glove I lost during my warm up lap on the second round thru and roll right over it.  Picking it up is unwarranted as its partner is waiting in vain for its mate back at the car.  We dump out onto singletrack that will take us essentially around the perimeter of this larger than anticipated lake.  Quite fast, flowy, and undulating narrow stuff I’m happy to be invested in riding all day long.  The single speed gives a few sooner than expected heart in the throat moments with a couple of sustained ups in a single file line of riders, but nothing too bad to spin off.  I keep a good pace that doesn’t have people passing me and has me gradually picking off others.  Ride a solid 5 miles with a buddy Jon, who notes he’s happy to have chosen gears today.  That comment remained a constant with a half dozen or so others also commenting to me that they’re happy they left the single at the house in favor for the geared squisher.  The heat, the distance, the blah, blah, blah….

Whatever suits you, sir…..

Twenty miles or so into it I’m feeling a bit cooked, but am confident my pace is gonna work out.  I pop out into a parking lot with two others and the three of us eat some orange slices at the rest stop and refuel with new juice in the bottles.  It’s a steep 1/2 mile or so climb grind on blacktop that is radiating heat like a mo-fo.  We crest the top and head to another tent across the road.  I bang a left and start to descend on a fire road.  1/2 mile or so passes and a herd of riders, oh hey those are the leaders!!!, are climbing back up in the reverse direction.  BUZZKILL!!!!!  It’s noted they got to the lake and there were no further trail markings.  Riders tried a few options but to no avai.  Turns out someones idea of a funny joke came at the expense of botching our epic.  We amass back at the road and ask a volunteer, “WTF?”  It’s determined we should return via the road to the start and discuss things with Carlos.  Our pack, humbled at best, spins 2 or so miles back to the start and give word to Carlos that someone has removed markers and gotten us all screwed up.

At around the same time the two-way radio buzzes in to him and informs of a water/supply shortage at a few of the aid stations.  The heat has racers gulping down anything they can get their hands on.  Carlos, already stressed with the news we delivered, is now posed with a choice no promoter ever wants to be faced with.  Does he wing it, send out the racers for a second lap and try to sort out the altered course, risk shorting them supplies at rest stops, and gamble his integrity at this inaugural event?  Or does he call it quits in hopes of everyone making it back safe and sound?  He ponders, we wonder, time passes, and he chooses the latter.

Don’t get me wrong, I was one of many initially frustrated with the outcome of events, but I also understand the overall picture and realize that with small, grassroots events such as this things can’t ALWAYS work out.  The heat was atrocious anyway.  He was doing us a favor in a sense.  And there’s next year.  There’s always next year.  I’ll certainly be there.  Thanks for the effort Carlos.  The trails were incredible and the course/event is certainly going to be difficult to top…when it’s carried out in entirety – in 2010.

Betcha can’t

My lady’s mom, Susan, sent this video my way.  Danny’s got some solid tricks up his sleeves.  Truly in a league of his own.

A full plate

Ok…..So maybe it HAS been nearly 2 months since the last post.  Now I’m feeling the juices flow and can’t keep the fingers still.  Anyway, lots going on this week.  Mad Denizen play tomorrow night in SF, a crew will descend upon Beer By BART Friday night, and a “quick” pre-ride of the Sonomas 100 course will ensue on Saturday.

The Dirt Gypsy reveals himself long enough to plant some thoughts and images in your head, including this strange lady and her kickball.

done

But back on track…  I have been busy as a mo-fo lately.  Spreadin’ myself a little thin with work, family, my lover, the pooch, riding, filmmaking, and straight livin’, yo!!!  To boot, I’m also undertaking the starting steps of revamping my career.  Good-bye biotech and hello physical therapy.  Actually, a much slower, tactical process than I ever imagined.  But back to school is the word, turd.

What my college degree from the past has brought to fruition however is a quaint little documentary that blends two of life’s greatest inventions, bike riding and beer a la Sixer @ Six.  It Premiere’s May 16th at the Access4Bikes film festival in Marin.  Hope to see you there…

For a good cause

Hotel Utah = Free Beer

Tomorrow night my boys are playing a show at the infamous Hotel Utah in SF.  They’re collectively known as MAD DENIZEN and if you’ve never heard of them, you should remedy that this evening.  So Hotel Utah isn’t giving out free beer, but now I have your attention.  I’ll buy you a beer, though – if that’s what it takes to peel you off your rocker.  I can’t guarantee the other three bands are worthy, but show up by 8pm to catch Mike, Mark, and Emil punish the strings and drums.

SoNoMas 100

The start of the season has been somewhat disrupted by a few race related mechanicals and most recently the annihilation of my Kona Explosif single speed.  The poor head tube decided to sacrifice it’s integrity.  Timing is everything, too, as it occurred on the uber-epic FourTwenty Ride in Nevada City.  See Stone’s report for spome more pics and beta on that adventure.  Anyway, a new frame should be hopefully here and in my posession by the end of next week.

And to catapult me into summer race shape is a biggie of an event I hope to inagurate the new ride on.  Carlos and the BikeMonkey crew have recently chosen to scale back the original layout of the SoNoMas 100 miler by removing a lap and making it the SoNoMas 100K.  Still looks like a painful day in the saddle with about 12,000 feet of climbing.  But hey, it beats 18,000 feet of climbing.  So I’m in.  Who’s coming with me?

Not so Cool

The alarm sounded at 5:45am and instantly negated sleeping in on this gloomy, dark, and wet Sunday morning. I sluggishly loaded up the single speed, cold weather race gear, and my already diminishing morale into the car and headed out to Walnut Creek. After arriving at Ian’s place, he and I shot the breeze and when Calvin finally arrived we were off to the Cool XC race in, well, Cool, CA. The 2 hour ride to the venue allowed me ample time to achieve a little more shut-eye, which only periodically was interrupted by stops for fuel (more importantly, coffee and donuts) and high decibel death metal. Ian’s sub-woofer in the trunk, nearly as large as R2D2 and similar in appearance, virtually served as a massage chair when the bass notes struck and had my lower back completely free of tension just miles shy of the Sierra foothills.

Arrived at the Fire Station in Cool and was surprised at the hordes of racers present. Collectively, there was surely enough spandex present to blanket the moon two times around. More importantly, there was an equal amount of high spirits and positive energy from the masses looking forward to a day of playing in the mud. So with not much time to spare, we parked, buttered chamois like slices of freshly toasted sourdough, and sat through a lengthy registration line that felt very much like a trip to the DMV. By the time I finally affixed my number plate to the trusty ‘ol steed, there was 15 minutes of warm up time remaining before we were herded like cattle into the starting corral.

Ian and Calvin were released in the first wave and for a minute I fantasized about reeling them in halfway through the first lap. My silent yet violent one-speed prowess creeping like a lion before it’s inevitable pouncing upon the evening’s prey. Then reality set in and I remembered they’re A.) faster than me and B.) also have those shifter-thingies that allow them to grab gears and hammer. Our simpleton, trinket-free wave of racers shot out of the gate and the tire buzzing, high cadence frenzy only mildly distracted my attention from the onset of lung burning and mild rain.

Pace yourself, pace yourself, it’s not how you start, but how you finish. My typical mantra coursed its way through my being, and I slowly brought the engine up to speed. Mid pack starts are ideal for me. I thoroughly enjoy picking off the competition one by one as the race progresses. This event was no exception to the rule and ten minutes into it I found myself in viewing distance of the leader in about 5^th place. A nice “lane split” pass on the first sustained downhill got me to that point and then it happened. I felt the rear riding a little sluggish and noted the rim, not the tire nor tube, was all that was there for support. Dammit dooooode! I exhausted a few expletives and pulled off trail for a little switcheroo. Quick fix. Two minutes maybe, but it seemed an eternity getting passed by the masses.

Tube in, tire on, CO2 blast, wheel installed, body recovered, and I’m pinning it again down the trail. No worries, it’s all gravy. And then it hit again. Not even three minutes later. WTF, mate?!?! The intensity of the following expletives released through my mouth skyrocketed in tone and meaning. Again, off the bike, I examine in detail the true cause of the day’s upset. ***CUE FLASHBACK (to 3 weeks prior). Me in my garage, going through tire inventory, examining what stays and what gets kicked to the curb. I extract a 2006 Moto 2.4 from the stack along with a Ritchey WCS Z-Max (circa ’04). They’re in the garage and not on the bikes for a reason, but this day in age it’s all about thinking green (reduce, reuse, recycle), so I throw ‘em on the Explosif for what I then loosely term “15 minutes of fame” not aware of how literal that would prove to be..

***FAST FORWARD (trailside). The good ‘ol Z-Max is looking haggard. I swear there were knobs on it two rides ago. Along the sidewall was a 3 inch gash where the tube tried to escape the confines of the dark rubber encasing as I mercilessly rode the course. Hanging my head in shame, only having myself to point the blame to, I regained what composure was left and limped my bike off course and rode the rim back to the car.

The next 2+ hours I walked the course backward, snapping photos, and envied the pain on people’s faces. They looked horrible, cold, and SOOOOO dirty. I wanted that. nstead I settled for giving verbal instructions on the best line through the muddy swamp pit near the finish line.  My observant words of wisdom were received with a mixed bag of  “thanks buddy “and “fuck you”s. Hey, I was only trying to help.  …….And that my friend is racing. You wake up, tie your shoes, button your pants, and deal with what’s dealt.

Next time, folks. Next time. But with new tires. And certainly less death metal.

Nor-Cal Brah!

March is already here as time continues to fly by.  Winter’s on its way out, DST is back, and racing season is upon us.   Boggs IV is a month out.  …. GULP ….  and Cool is even closer.  DOUBLE GULP…  I’ve been riding and running, but not nearly as much as last season.  Gonna rely on that good ‘ol muscle memory to get me through 09 apparently.  But this past weekend certainly did assist with some fast-tracking to fitness.

Friday was spent at Northstar riding really, really good snow ALL day.  I know, I know, it’s Northstar.  But the ticket was free.  And I like that price in these tough times.  Many good tree runs and even got paid for it.  Shhhh.  Don’t tell.  Awoke Saturday with an arse so sore it hurt to even think about sitting on the toilet.  Guess those high speed diggers from Friday caught up to me quicker than expected.  Stretched for 20 minutes, grabbed a quick bite, and headed to Marin for a 20k trail run/race at China Camp.  Stretched for another 15, lined up at the start, and when I heard “GO”, proceeded to run harder than I ever have before.  Ended up nabbing 14th of 100+ with a time of 1:34:11.  Not bad – considering there was 1300 feet of climbing.  Wish I had some handlebars to hold on to while running.  The trails were SICK and I swear I could’ve knocked 3 more minutes off with a set of bars.  BRAAAPPP!!  Next time.  Chilled with the family that night at a little get together, recovered, and come Sunday rallied out to Annadel with my bud Dave for a 3 hour tour in the woods.  Rode some double secret trail off of Burma (that I will definitely ride again) and a bunch of other richter trails that were simply pleasant.  Most def.

Weekends like this shouldn’t be so few and far between.  Busy, yes.  But worth it,  HELL YEAH!  Three days spent that make me feel lucky to live in Northern California.  Luckier than the guy below – tht’s for sure…

done

Soggy Bottoms

Looks like a gang of rain this week.  So much for riding trails.  I mean you can, but it really forks up the trails and your gear.  Sick days have been cashed like welfare checks and trying to bank the vacation days so the snowboarding isn’t looking hot either.  Soooo, looks like indoor riding (boo!) or cross training are the best bets.  I’m feeling it today for sure.  Ran 13.5 miles yeserday in a rain storm from Nob Hill over the Golden Gate and back to the girl’s place.  Feeling good about this upcoming weekend’s Marin Trails 20K.  1,500 feet of elevation gain and a bunch of mud will certainly make for a stellar day.

6er @ 6

Get ready

done

Rain Men

The annoying chirp of the alarm rang incessantly at 4:30am.  I awoke and in a daze brewed some Peets Blend 101 java, brushed the teeth, and loaded up the wagon.  Swooped by Dan’s place and by 5:15am there was a car of 4 eager snowsporters en route to Alpine Meadows for a delightful day trip.

Held a solid 75-80mph the whole way and had mixed feelings about the warm storm front that was resulting in rain showers and not snow.  5,000 ft.  Rain.  6,000 ft.  More rain.  It’s 7:40am and I’m cresting Donner Summit even more apprehensive that I’m about 7,000 ft and it’s only BARELY snowing.  It’s SNRAIN.  Damn that dreaded SNRAIN!!!

Arrive in the Alpine Meadows parking lot around 8:15am and it’s a ghost town.  I’ve never seen it this empty on a weekend in the winter.  People are most likely hitting the snooze button repeatedly after looking outdoors.  Maybe it’s what we all should have done 4 hours earlier.  But too late for regrets.

 

Dan, Dylan, Emil, and I don the gear that brought us here and begrudgingly submit our lift ticket vouchers.  The lady tells us (in essence), “You guys are NOT getting your money back.  You are all idiots for being here right now.  What the hell are you doing here in a rainstorm?  You must be from the Bay.  Enjoy your time at Alpine Meadows USA!”  Okay, well not exactly, but pretty much that was the jist.

And so there we were at 8:49am, awaiting in line at Summit Six.  First chair.  SICK!!!!!  I love getting fresh tracks on rain-laden powder.  And for the remainder of the day, that’s what we did.  Grinned and bared it.  The best line on the mountain was off of the Peril cat track.  Three turns of semi-powder bliss each run  followed up by momentum robbing, inconsistencies on the groomers and off piste.  Neat.

By 2:30 we’re bellied-up at the bar.  Personally, I’m surprised it didn’t happen sooner.  I had to lure the troops back out into the pineapple express of a storm after lunch with the promise that it would almost be over and we could then tuck our manhoods away, dry off,  and resort to drinking.  After tossing a few back, we loaded up our gear and selves and hit the road.  The storm had increased in intensity by mid afternoon and snow was now trying to one-up the rain.

Bad timing for us, however.  What started with a 3 hour trip TO Alpine resulted in a 6 hour return trip home.  Idiot drivers.  I’ll leave it at that.  But don’t get me wrong.  Any day I can escape the stresses of city life and bomb down runs with the bestest of homies in the poorest of conditions is a GOOD DAY.  Just wish it was 3 degrees colder all day and that I wouldn’t have dropped my phone in Dan’s raging river of a gutter when we returned to his place that night.  Definitely ruined.  Defintiely.