Discovery Road

After a nice twelve mile jaunt from our hotel to Saint Simons Island, our adventure was just beginning.  After lunch (with alcohol of course) we started exploring the island a little more.  There were neat little bike paths everywhere, and even if we did have to ride on the road it wasn't too bad (traffic out there is light this time of year.)  Riding along and heading north, we spotted a bike shop.

It drew us in like a tractor beam.

I don't remember the name of it, but they were pretty nice folks.  We didn't stay long, but long enough for the little lady to buy a cool t-shirt.  We hit the bike path some more and we were having a blast.  I kept scanning the area for fun tings to do when suddenly I spotted a path off into the woods.

So we took it...

It wasn't too long, but the scenery was nice.

And the little lady didn't seem to mind one bit, even taking the phrase "dirt roadie" to a new level:

Back on the bike path heading north, we noticed some construction.  Instead of closing it off and forcing bikes onto the road, they did a temporary bypass with some sort of roll-out bike mat thingy.

It wasn't easy to ride on, but it was better than riding on straight grass I guess.

We made it all the way to Fort Frederica National Monument, which was the end of the path.  They were about to close (and it was getting late) so we turned around and headed back towards our hotel.

I was dragging ass at this point.  Although the mileage wasn't terrible, we'd been out for over six hours and I was tired.  I quick stop for caffeine at a local grocery store did the trick, and soon we were racing back across the causeway.

We made it just before the sun went down.  We were beat, even though it was only thirty miles.  Just being out all day took it out of me and I wanted to die.  But instead of ded, we needed foodz.  We cleaned up and headed to a local restaurant to fill our bellies with food and alcohol.

And suddenly we felt better.  And Little Miss Sunshine felt moar better because..

What, you've never ridden a mechanical pig?  Neither have I.  I talked her into it and sat back to enjoy the show.

Much fun was had on our trip, and that was only the first day there.  We crammed so much into one day but we had more time left.

Good for me because I can go on and on about it.  See y'all tomorrow.

Cheering Section

Sorry, I kinda had to talk about it...

Week two of the short track races and our party is in full swing.  Eastwood was out of town, but we ended up with a pretty decent crowd at the “rock garden” to cheer, heckle, and party for the race participants.

We rocked… 

As far as the heckling goes, it’s par for the course out there.  Back when I raced in the series, I appreciated everyone at the rocks (and jumps) cheering and giving me a whole lotta shit.  That race is all about suffering, and having people yelling at you is a great motivator.  When I decided to stop racing it to focus on other events, we inherited the party in the woods and ran with it.

Once upon a time it was a little less tame...

Photo cred: A.H.

People still love it.  In fact, most people heckle us for not heckling them enough.  It’s all friendly, except that we give extra shit to our near and dear friends.  When they finish their respective races, they join us to continue the fun.  We’ve never had any issues, until this past weekend…

When some douchebag got butt hurt.

I’m not gonna name names (because he’s a little piece of shit and doesn’t deserve any recognition), but one particular individual had an issue with our cheering.  We were actually quite encouraging to him, but after a few laps he started yelling back at us.  A few people went at him with more heckling, and at one point he said he’d be back. 

Awesome. 

By that time, the party had dwindled down to only a few of us.  We were packing up to go watch “the big game” when he returned.  He hopped off of his bike and immediately started lecturing me.  Not sure why I became his target.  Maybe because the rest of the crew had split.  I dunno.  Anyway, I didn’t want to hear it.  I stepped over the tape, got in his face, but restrained myself from doing anything stupid.* 

He started hurling some insults (and I gave it back at that point), but he wasn’t about to do anything else.  It was actually quite funny, especially knowing that I could have shut him up immediately if I wanted.

Some highlights:

“YOU DON’T RACE.”

“NO ONE KNOWS WHO YOU ARE!”

“YOU’RE FAT.  YOU’RE OBESE”

And my favorite…

“YOU'RE WHAT’S WRONG WITH THIS SPORT.”

He finally wised up and got back his bike, but still kept running his mouth as he rode away.  I "honored his achievements" one more time, and he was gone.  He was obviously suffering from extreme hurt feelz. 

Our small group chatted about it for a minute, and we actually got a good laugh out of the whole thing.  He’s a nobody that maybe was once a somebody, and clearly doesn’t get it.  Or maybe I don’t get it, since I’m really what’s wrong with this sport.  Still though, I didn’t insult him until he came back and started shit with me, and he turned some friendly cheering (yes, everyone was nice to him at first) into a big deal.  All because he thinks he’s so awesome and no one should be able to talk about him. 

He’s so bitter that he probably pisses pure lemon juice.   

Really, I think he’s just mad because he finished his race behind this guy:

That’s an All-American right there, and everything that’s RIGHT with this sport.

I’m not bitter though.  I’m just gonna keep getting fatter and try my best to ruin everything.

Who gives a shit.

I took one for the team, and now the team is getting ready for our own "big game."

Stay tuned.

*Dicky was over my shoulder like a guardian angel.  I didn’t want to resort to violence in front of him, which would have made him uncomfortable.

Pick Up Where I Left Off

Lap two started out great. I was climbing well and riding at a swift, yet easy pace.  It felt really awesome. With the group really spread out, I hit every single trail feature.  Some were difficult, and some were just plain fun.

Photo Cred:  Joan Bernat

I did have a few issues though. My left foot kept slipping out of the pedal, causing me to almost pee a little every time I rode over some rocky shit.  “No worries” I thought, “I'll just check it after this lap.”  I knew I would have to stop anyway since my bottle would need refilling by then.  I kept pushing through the first technical section, and then it was on to the flat, twisty stuff.

“Not this shit again” I said to myself.

That's right.  I was bored already.  I didn't know how much spinning I could take, so I tried to keep it interesting.  Since I was on single speed and didn't want to wear myself out with a high cadence, I kept a sensible pace.  Every once in a while some of those fancy “pro” guys would come flying by (some polite and some not) and I would resist the urge to keep up.

Until this one time...

I saw a pack of four guys behind me, all of them yelling shit like “Rider back!” and “Coming in hot!” so I would let them by.  When it was safe I did, but since I this time I took off after them.  Mere seconds later I was part of their dirt roadie train, and I politely announced to them that I was there.

“Hey y'all.  So, this is what it's like to be one of those super pro fast riders, huh?”

I kept up for a while (it was actually kinda easy), but decided that I had better slow it down so I can survive the rest of the day.  They pulled away, and I had a feeling that I would see them again soon.  I was right, because after the flat stuff is a “qualifier” for the next difficult section of trail, and I had a hunch that they would have trouble getting over the large rock. 

As I rolled up, I saw one guy had already crossed it (he was still off his bike), and the other three were in the process of dismounting to walk over it.  In my best dirt roadie voice I yelled, “Rider back!” and rolled right over the nasty, jagged rock.  When I cleared it I asked, “First time riding mountain bikes?”

No response.  I'm an asshole.

They passed me a few minutes later, and I was bored again. I finished the last technical section and made my grand exit.

Photo cred:  Christie Burnett 

I stopped in my pit to grab something to eat and refill my water bottles.  Just then, Tom F. showed up and we chatted a bit.  What was supposed to be a short pit stop turned into a very long time.  I just didn't feel like going back out there even though my body felt great.  I had a beer, shot the shit with Tom for a while, and decided that I would get off my ass and go back out there.  Luckily, he offered to make a photographic image of me.

Photo credit:  Tom Fraser

This lap didn't start off well.  My foot slipped off the pedal more than it stayed on (I forgot to check it), and for some reason I was really sleepy.  I doubt it was from that one beer I had, so I chalked it up to being bored (and not sleeping well the night before.)  I made the climbs and rode all the features again (which were still fun), but my heart just wasn't in it.  When I came out in to a clearing to start the flat section again, I spotted Tom standing there with his bike.  He was about to ride some more so I stopped, summoned him over, and asked if he wanted to ride along with me. 

He did, which kept me going for a while.

We had fun laughing at the technically challenged dirt roadies, and even tried to instruct them how to pass with politeness.  Only a few of them were dicks, which was pretty good considering how many people were out there that day. Once guy though, needed to go back to the beginner class.  He came up, announced he was back there, tried to pass, and smacked right into Tom.  He looked like a fool, mostly because he wasn't paying attention.  Tom wasn't hurt, but I think that guy's Strava time might have taken a hit.

Eventually it was time to finish the lap.  I crossed the start/finish line and rolled back to my pit.  I checked out my pedal and noticed that I had broken the spring.  I had a spare set in my truck, but didn't really feel like changing them.  I was done.  My body wanted to keep going, but my mind didn't.  Usually it's the other way around, so I was confused.  I sat there for a while and thought about it, but I just couldn't bring myself to go back out. 

No more racing for me.

I grabbed a beer and headed towards the scoring tent to pull the plug on my race.  On the way there, I say\w the Jacksonville crew (fresh off the six hour race) doing a little heckling. 

They made a sign, and while they camped out on the jump line they judged everyone’s ability to catch air.  The sign was awesome.

I sat there for quite sometime heckling right along with them, thinking that was where I belonged instead of racing.  Honestly though, even though I was having fun I didn't know what was going through my head.  I packed up my stuff and went out to eat some alligator with Tom at a local shit hole.  He offered up his camp cabin (with hot showers), so I stayed there for the night.  It was quite cozy.

The next morning, I made the drive back to Charlotte in almost complete silence.  I had a lot of thinking to do, and some decisions to make as far as racing goes.  It was not a pleasant journey (in my head or on the road.)

I'll get into that tomorrow I guess.

“Off Road”

I can’t ride on the trail just yet.  I really want to, and the fact that my shoulder is healing makes me want to push it.  I’m keeping myself off the trail even though my doctor said I could “get back when I feel like I’m up to it.”  Honestly, I think I’m ready but I know I shouldn’t.

So the next best thing has been “road riding”

I grabbed my beater bike over the weekend (with trailer), and Little Miss Sunshine and I hit the road.  We had no plan.  We just started riding out of our neighborhood and up the road a bit.  I started getting antsy though, feeling the need to get my bike in the dirt.  With no trails nearby (luckily) I started looking for alternate routes.  We took a “dead end” road and ended up at a construction site.

The construction is actually part of an interstate loop around the city here, and since it was a weekend we decided to poach a little of it.

Trailer in tow, I rode on some dirt highway.

One side was paved, so we rode that part on the way back.

It wasn’t mountain biking, but for me it was the next best thing.  We weren’t there for long but it was pretty fun.  Since I had the trailer attached to my bike, we decided to head over to a local market to get some fresh fruits and vegetables.

With my trailer loaded down with produce (and riding a 34X16), I felt like I was actually getting a good workout.  We kept going up the road, and since it was lunchtime we found a spot for some food and a cold beer.

That beer was so good.  Probably because I had to ride so far to get it.

Next door was a beer mega store, and I used the remaining space in the trailer for fine, hoppy beverages.  Loaded down with tons of extra weight, we made the long trek home so I could enjoy the items we acquired from our shopping spree.

It’s the only kind of riding I can do right now.  Good enough I guess.

Barring any setbacks in my recovery, I may be back on the trail for an easy ride next weekend.  If not, I’ll probably go batshit crazy being off the mountain bike.

This sucks, but at least I haven’t had to ride an actual road bike yet.

I feel like that’s inevitable though.

Learned My Lesson?

Sort of.

In my first race of the day, I was just as frustrated as ever.  You know, because people in the woods wouldn’t get the hell out of my way.

I let it get to me a lot during this particular race, and it put me in a foul mood.  It happened way more than usual for some reason too.  You see, being a big fella I get all my speed in the woods.  Gravity is my friend, and coupled with my awesome technical skills (ha) it’s where I can gain the most time out on the race course. 

It doesn’t really work though, because people blow by me on the fire road climbs and through the parking lot, and then they ride their brakes in the woods.  It kinda bugs me I guess.

Somewhere during the course of the race though, things changed.  I started having some sort of change of heart...feelings, if you will.  I figured that not everyone excels in the woods riding the fast berms and jumps, and just because I do doesn’t mean that they are bad people (or that I'm better than they are.)  They weren’t trying to hold me up on purpose I thought, so maybe I should take it easy on them.

I mean, it’s my own damn fault, right?

My weakness is obviously climbing, so maybe if I worked on that a little bit I wouldn’t have such a shitty race every week.  All it would take is a little hard work, and I would be so far ahead of everyone by the time we got to the woods that it wouldn’t matter.

That sounds like some serious shit.  Maybe I’ll just keep having fun.

Photo cred:  Lunchbox

One thing is for sure, I really need to stop complaining and do something about it. 

But, isn't that people have blogs?