creepyfriendly

Still wandering.

Or maybe I'm lost. It's hazy sometimes blurry. If you've been at the RACES you may have noticed that I've been pedaling my steel steed around the course. I'd love to imply that it's part of my master plan but you don't see it winning races though at times close. I'm getting dizzy just thinking about it however making a brake, burying yourself deep into the woods with a select group of riders brings a sense of enlightenment only to be woke by a slapping chain on its stay. I'm not sure where this is going... trying to be witty or describe the out of body race experience. During my most recent dirt bike race I experienced a moment of weakness while the group crumbled. It took one man with the right move and it wasn't me.

Lap by lap proof that I showed up.

Proof that I have less chest hair than Amanda implies.

Anyway, I guess what I'm getting at is the edge. Not sharp enough to cut yourself but just just enough to get me back into the action. Yes, a new bike. PFALTZGRAFFIC and I made the time to tighten up and decal the new bikes. Aesthetically wasn't an issue and post build proofed to be flawless. Details aren't important as this post's opening photo reveals enough. It's light depending on the setup (pedals, barends, cogs)... 16.1-16.6lbs. 

In closing I need to thank a few folks. The Peters family for their support and feeds at the last race. My mechanic GRIFF for unlimited tech support and the fine folks of Gary FISHER bikes. 

Wandering.

Somewhere in there I found the lull. It doesn't help that I fell off the wagon twice over the weekend and proceeded to mix high mileage with pleasure.... or is it business with pleasure? It's not that serious but in our small corner of cycling there is an implicit intensity that doesn't come naturally. 

We rewarded ourselves with a lazy ride to the cave and a few pit stops on the trails choice watering holes. It's hard to believe that we're saluting 2010 and welcoming 2011. It's a good life.

Smile not West Nile.

Photos: ©SUPERFLY.

Press: VELONEWS.

Super hero.

I can't help but sense an overwhelming invincibility every time I slide into my chamois. Unfortunately passing motorists don't share my feelings. Oh well, back to the sit-ups.

Dirt bike race #3.

Photo: ©EDGE

Midway through the opening lap we managed to break. MATTER, MARKO, myself with Eppen yo yoing. The single track was fast and the flats faster. Somewhere in the middle we fell asleep as the pace lulled before ram-ping it up on the final. I was sitting third wheel when Brian started the attacks mostly on the flats stretching my 36:16 to it's full capacity. I began to plot the final miles of the race when psssssst... sst... sst. The intermittent sound and sight of stan's showering the underside of my down tube was an anticlimactic end to a boiling battle. I rode it out while suggesting Marko's big air. When I realized he was about to sacrifice his race to get it to me I motioned for him to race on. My mini Co2 was drawn by the time I came to a stop but the puncture was still spitting venom. I quickly aired, remounted, and was back in the hunt. Every bump reopened the wound as I silently cursed my third wheel luck. Lapped riders fabricated as quickly as the air left my tire. Duuunk... duunk. Rim on rock, rim on root. My 1.9 XR1 appeared to seal at next to nothing (5psi) while my side wall caved around every turn. Thank you to the kind soul who lent me their air. Meanwhile up trail Matter was man handling the competition with his surges... it's great to have you back as Marko did what he could to hold onto second. It appeared that we had a large gap before the flat but I was still on the rivet trying to hold my third position or even catch the front again. Pssst.... sst. Damn, not my day as the wound reopened just two miles from the finish. As cursing turned to joking I relieved my weight from front to back in hopes of holding on. I did. THIRD on the day, just over three minutes back. The perma peev was setting in before I crossed the line but quickly reversed when I saw the smiles of the fam. Their unconditional support and encouragement is pure motivation to get it back next time...

Plastic...

in the AM, midday, and PM. Plastic staring me in the face for nearly two weeks. Perfectly molded and designed for speed our new frames await the new XXIX treatment. The hamster is present but the wheel is broken. Maybe next race...

Dirt bike race #2.

A premature AM forces the muscles to twitch. Clearing the sleep from my eyes I poor my second cup of coffee. It's still dark out as I apply an extra thumb of chamois creme for good measure. As I swing my leg over the 55:20 and head East I remind myself that second street isn't a terrible place to be.

The legendary Gooooooooooo! sounds and my 36:17 along with 50 of the midwest's finest are off. The long gravel lead out files into place as we jostle for the front group. I chose a tempo that felt right for our 30ish mile excursion before finding myself on the front. The deeper we got the narrower we grew. Four miles in and we were down to three including myself, BRIAN, and MARKO despite a few early race mishaps. Nearing the end of lap one our gap grew to over two minutes and would make it to five by the finish. 

Entering lap two we took the necessary feeds and sifted into recovery pace. I switched grooves on the double track while glancing back but they followed suit. No one seemed interested in sharing the work load so I went back at it for the remainder of the race. 

Entering lap three I was feeling comfortable as I let the upper body soak the undulating single track before hearing a duuuunk, "fuck" as Marko popped his balloon. For a brief moment I snapped out of the single track daze in order to help him before realizing Matter was on my wheel. Race on! As the rain started I was cautious in the turns and fast on the straights. My motive was absent as Brian stuck to my wheel like glue as our final lap came to a close. Exiting the series of bridges I stomped on it pretty hard before weaving through the final speedway towards the finish. My eye sight was blurry and my back numb when I heard the final click as Brian big ringed me in the final 15 meters of the course. Second place in as many try's for a grand total of 1 sec lost between both. That's racing as the old man's words still ring the short term, "you have to loose the little ones to win the big ones." Still not sure what that means so I'll be sticking to throw down or go down. In this case go down.

PS. still searching for a reason to take the day off.

Photos: ©BUBBA