Bringing dishonour to the Outlaw name.
Ok, well I still have a couple of stories left to tell, but right now I feel the need to confess. Today I sandbagged. Worse still, I sandbagged and didn't win. I was really kind of relieved not to win. My seatpost clamp slipped half way through the race letting my saddle point towards the sky like it wanted to be taken to the nearest BMX park. Stopping and fixing it may have cost me a place or two, but certainly not the four minutes between me and first place. Still I was fourth and I had lots of fun holding off the guy in fifth. Perhaps the most fun I have ever had in a race... Perhaps I have found a new niche?
It is only the second time I have ever got to go and stand on a bike podium and the first time I have ever gotten a bike medal. I only did it to go and hang out with my friend and his race started at the same time as sport single-speed. I could have done comp single-speed (the WORS equivalent of expert), but that would have meant him hanging out for two hours waiting for me. I do need to work on my Cher pose.
Bike to Work Day 2008 in Washington DC
Bike to Work Day 2008
FREEDOM PLAZA-WASHINGTON DC
keep on keeping on
Well it has been a long time since an update from me. A combination of being busy and also wanting to keep a few things quiet. It is nice to keep a surprise in-hand and besides I didn't want to go blabbing my mouth off just in case something went wrong at the last minute, a personal speciality.
So I have three stories to tell, the first of which is the new bike. Going back about 3 months or so I got an email from the Single Speed Outlaw letting me know that there might be a trip going down. This had me scrambling for fitness and a new bike. It is tough enough chasing the Outlaw at the best of times and I didn't feel like the tank-bike Redline was the best tool for the job. It is a great handling bike and it cemented my move to 29ers, but it was never a bike I felt like racing on. So what to get? I initially started looking for another horizontal dropout, rim-braked 29er, but none of the few remaining options really appealled to me. So then I started to look at the hand-made in America options, with no time to get a custom there were not a lot of options. What I ended up with is hand made in TREK land, less than a 100 miles away from where I live.
I didn't want an eccentric bottom bracket or disc-brakes. I guess I am a retro grouch. Now I have them and I don't see going back. This is the first time really using disc brakes. I had ridden other peoples bike briefly and felt the discs to be "grabby" and lacking in modulation. So I was pretty surprised how much I enjoyed the avid BB7s. Grabbing a handful of front brake is great, all the stopping power I ever want without ever feeling like it might be too much and catapult me over the bars.
As for the rest of the bike, well only the calipers survived from the original equipment. The wheels got bumped up to the bontrager race-x-lites and they are still nice and true despite no attention during the the last months beating. Surly cog and spacers. Ancient Middleburn cranks, Sram PC1 chain and blackspire ring completing the drivetrain. Bontrager carbon seatpost and fork. Thomson stem, flipped Mary bars, XTR levers and oury grips to finish it off. Oh and an aliante saddle that is the most expensive and comfortable saddle I have ever sat on.
I have ridden so many bikes and I seem to adjust to new ones imperceptibly, so it is difficult for me to give much of a review. It is certainly lighter than the Redline and is not as much effort to get up to speed. It maybe the best handling bike I have ever ridden. I certainly have plenty of confidence in it, riding a few things in the last month that would normally have me wearing out my sidis.
The Redline has moved on to a new home. I think the Ferrous is going to be with me for a while!
Get Your Brew On...
The
Third Annual Bootlegger's Bliss is tentatively scheduled for Satyrday, November 1, 2008.
Mark your calendars...
(Photo credit: Butch Ramsey)
Labels: Bootlegger's Bliss
Wonder if its a fixie?
Be sure you check out the
creator's page for video of it in action before you decide to ride it for next year's Lodi.
Well...No Shit...
Check out
this article about the lifestyle of a man who lived to the ripe age of 114 on Menorca, one of the Balearic Islands "belonging" to Spain. Pay particular attention to the last line in the last paragraph, reprinted below (italics mine).
"The results of the research do not rule out the possibility that other genetic mutations could positively influence longevity. However, researchers do point out the fact that the excellent health of this family, and of the 113-year-old man in particular, is probably due to a Mediterranean diet, the temperate climate of the island, a lack of stress and regular physical activity. The article underlines the fact that until the age of 102, the man
cycled every day and looked after the family orchard."
Ride your bike.
Labels: Longevity, Menorca, Ride a Bike, Spain
Fixie candidate....
.... so to be the ultimate hipster, I built up this beast. Initial build is SS, but will soon be running a fixie rear thanks to Tomi. Also will be getting a set of drop bars that I've got laying around. So that make's it a 96'er fixie scorcher? Weird....
12 Hours of Lodi: 2008
My hands are hamburger. My legs are toast. The rest of me? A quivering bowl of Jell-O.
This go around - my 5th time (and
Fred Event's 10th) -
I done good (as did they). Front brake only, in direct drive mode, I ended up completing 9 laps of the ~8-mile course within the 12 hour period. The countless roots and dizzying twists beat something awful out of me, but it was worth it. I won the solo fixie category.
I don't want to do another 12-hour long endurance race on a shockless fixie... not for another 364 days, at least ;)
Thanks Jo, the
Bike Escape, and all the other
SSOFT sponsors for the great gear that got me through the race flawlessly.
Pic above by buddy Gary Ryan. Check out more in his gallery for the 2008 12 Hours of Lodi.
Greenbrier Challenge
So there I was, second lap, solidly in fifth place, roaring down the first downhill at eye-watering speed, feeling good, feeling solid. My first lap had gone well. I crushed the downhills on the previous lap, passing a couple handfuls of other racers through the slop and slime that made Greenbrier a unique venue of late. Here - because of its terrain, layout, lack of crowds most of the year, and trailwork volunteers - the ground healed well and the race continued on even though it rained heavily the day(s) prior.
On some trails you were riding up shallow streams since there was so much water coming down. Then there were the deep, runny, muddy sections that were - thankfully - soupy enough that you could splash through instead of slogging. I think a few more hours of drying would have transformed them into a sticky, peanut-buttery, mucky quagmire. The thin mud was working its way into everything. Good thing I had a front fender.
I was feeling the flow the second time around, getting a little cocky, bumping, jumping, and catching whatever little air I could on the first downhill. On one not particularly big jump, I heard it upon landing: "
CLUNG!!! Hisssssssss..." That's right, you guessed it, in the process of showing off, ass-monkey here hit a proper sized rock just wrong, and earned himself a little karmic snakebite.
The air didn't rush out all at once, and I knew there was a tiny water crossing coming up that might help clean the mud off the tire that would make a change easier, so I stayed on and rode until I went through it, clunking of the rim getting louder as more air escaped. Hopped off my bike in quick fashion, undid and pulled out my front wheel, and went to my seatpack to get the tube. I tugged on the zipper, and it didn't budge. Tugged again, nothing. Again, again, and again - increasing in strength each time to the point I thought I was going to break off the zipper pull - nada. The fine mud worked its way into and between the teeth and effectively locked it.
"M#@($!#&$*%$!!!" I undid the strap that held it to the seatrails so I could grab the zipper pull with all my might, jamming a small stick into the zipper hole and using it for leverage, and that did the trick. All the while, a few other singlespeeders were passing by, and I was losing more positions.
Next up, tire bead undone, grab CO2 cartridge, attach old head, twist to puncture seal, and "HISSSSSSSS!!!" The freezing cold CO2 was shooting out furiously from the bottom, middle, and top of the three-piece head. I frantically tried to twist everything closed but the CO2 ended up freezing three fingers from both hands onto it. Great. My heart sunk. Any attempt at a quick flat change just contributed to the greenhouse gas effect. I had to resort to my super-emergency rinky-dink short-stroke hand pump. 500 strokes would get me a rideable tire and two useless arms.
Initially, I tried to keep a mental tally of how many singlespeeders passed me on the side of the trail, but lost count. In fact, after not seeing any for after several minutes of my fumbling, I figured the remainder of the singlespeed field had gone and left me. Thoughts creeped into my head: should I quit? I was so far behind that not even going at full effort would allow me to catch the front pack. Thinking back from the night before in a conversation with JoeP, I talked smack about a few of the locals that would quit in the middle of races just because they weren't winning. Attention turned back to the loose-fitting 29er tire I was mounting - slipping on and off the rim, beads not hooking, and me just sitting there laughing - and I told myself I wouldn't be one of them.
After what seemed like ages, I was ready to roll, but the fire was squelched. I was now just in for the ride. If I could catch others, good, but I doubted it at this point. I didn't pass any others until the last part of the lap, but they weren't even in my group. Before the final downhill, I saw it: a naked right rear dropout - Singlespeeder - cha-ching! I stood up and blew by him, and remained standing and pushed it for 10 seconds more to give me a little breathing room. Phew! Not DFL. Maybe I am back in the game?
Nahhh, third and final lap, pushing it a little, but nowhere near hard enough to cramp, I latched onto a few expert rider friends to hold their wheel until they decided that I was anchoring them with my conversation. Friendly breakoffs, I encouraged them to go.
So there you have it. Showing off, crappy CO2 pump, and a non-cooperating tire and rim lead to my lackluster performance at my first race of the season. Nineteenth out of twenty. The legs were fine, but without a rabbit to chase, my heart wasn't in it. Bad race, good ride. Respect karma. :)
More excellent pics (including the one above) from my buddy Jay Divinigracia.
Stupidest Bike Lanes
The search for the stupidest bike lanes in the US yields fruit in Silver Spring, MD.
Devil's Country...
When biking through the District, it's a good idea to remember to bring your talisman. No telling what kind of evil might befall you while riding the
roads to Hell, good intentions notwithstanding.
(Bunny ears = Satan?...WTF?)
Perhaps the 14th Street Bridge should be renamed in honor of Phlegyas...
Labels: 666, Angel of Darkness, Antichrist, Beelzebub, Dark Lord, DC, Devil, Evil One, Hell, Lost Soul, Lucifer, Mephistopheles, Old Nick, Phlegyas, Prince of Darkness, Satan, Underworld
Feel it on my fingertips, hear it on my window pane.
The trails here are closed over Winter, which makes no-sense. How are the trails getting damaged when they are frozen solid? So I have massive anticipation for April 1st and the re-opening of the trails. Except this year our trails are under water. I thought they might be ready to open this weekend, but another big storm rolling through has probably pushed that off another week.
I guess there is nothing for it, but to keep up the daily commute. Not Fun.
Chi-Ti
I've had the new ride for two weeks now, sadly hasn't seen as much dirt as I'd like. I'm still working out details on fit. I think I'm about 80% which is better than most things I do in life ;^)
The ride is smooth, takes the tight twisties nice even with the "wet feline" geo. Climbs well, even better after replacing the Paragon's stock M5 shallow sockets with some heavy hardware store M6 deep socket bolts. All in all I dig it, although surprisingly the ride quality isn't as drastic I would have hoped for over my SIR9. Oh well, at least with it being raw i don't have to worry about how ugly the paint gets or about rust.
Happy trails
Mary Wood
Rain got me down, so as I waited for it to subside, I surfed.
Flickr ->
Contacts ->
Faster Panda Kill Kill ->
Wood Bars! ->
fastboycycles.com ->
fast boy cycles flickr ->
Close Up:
Goin' riding now...
Stop Quiz...
I gotta believe if the Predator creature rode a bike, this would be its choice in brakes. Can anyone out there who ain't got a date for the night (most of you) identify this brake by manufacturer and model name/number? (FYI: you're looking at the guts of the brake; normally these are concealed by a shiny carapace.)
First one to answer correctly gets a month's worth of free access to my blog and two empty beer bottles (no caps, so don't even ask).
Labels: Empty Beer Bottles, Mystery Brake, Predator
Fixin' Gambrill
Five off-road fixxers and I hit a lil' ol' rocky park named Gambrill
on Saturday. Weather was crisp, skies gray, energy up. No rain, sleet, or snow like weather.com predicted. Nyah!
We had a blast.
