Unneccesary Changes

I forgot to mention that we went on a group ride Tuesday night.  It was fun, but I didn’t really take any photos.  Well, except this blurry one of Good Guy Greg.

And, this one.

Yeah, that’s TK-421, my geared bike.  I’ll get to that in a little bit.

Anyway, with some kind of sickness catching up to me after our trip to FATS last Saturday, I decided to take it easy on Sunday.  I had originally planned to ride every day of my three day weekend, but honestly I didn’t feel like doing a damn thing.  After sleeping in a little bit I forced my way outside to the garage to work on bikes.  Well, one in particular anyway.

My single speed had a few issues from some shitty weather riding so I had to address them.  I cleaned out the bottom bracket and headset, replaced the chain, and put more sealant in my tires.  And that’s when it hit me…

I probably should change some shit that doesn’t need changing.

I love things to stay the same for the most part, but every once in a while I like to switch it up for no apparent reason.  In this case I took off my 32 tooth chainring and replaced it with a 34.

And the very next day I was feeling a little better and took it for a ride.

Running a 34X18 locally isn’t really a big deal I guess.  I liked it from what I could tell, but I was pretty tired from being sick so I couldn’t really make an honest assessment.  I felt like it was tougher to accelerate out of corners, but I had plenty of speed rolling down the trail.  I didn’t really have any problems climbing, and actually I felt like I had more power.  I’ll keep in on there for a while to see if I like it I guess.  You can’t tell a damn thing after one ride, you know.  A few more rides and I’ll make a decision.

So, back to the geared bike and why the hell I was riding it.  I like it.  Not the gears, but the actual bike.  With pretty much the same frame and exact components as my SS(other than the shifty bits and squishy fjork) it rides just the same.  After getting used to a little squish up front I enjoyed it, and I realized that I wouldn’t mind having suspension once in a while as long as I don’t have to swap out a fork. 

As for the gears, I couldn’t really get used to them after spending so much time on a single speed.  I know, I’m probably way too far gone to the Dark Side now to turn back.  I don’t want to believe that though, so that’s why I’m giving my gears one last chance.

For the next five rides (on trails), I will only ride my geared bike.  I will miss the simplicity of my single speed for sure, but I figured that five rides will be enough to decide whether or not I wanna keep them.  After all, that’s all it took for me to be convinced that I should be on a 29er full time.  If I like the gears (and can get used to shifting them), I will keep it and alternate between the two (depending on ride plans of course.)

If there’s no way in hell I can stand the gears, then they go the hell away.  As in, I’ll take the shifty shit off and convert it to a single speed.  Why two single speeds?  I dunno.  Maybe so I can be lazy and not have to swap out forks when I go to the mountains.

Five rides.

I’ll let you know soon.  

Just Like Us

With Sonya Looney in town, last night’s scheduled ride at Backyard Trail was sure to be an interesting one.  However, the rain we’ve been getting around here forced a change in plans.  Instead of riding in the dirt, we ended up on a group “urban ride” out of the shop (Bike Source in case I forget to mention it later.) 

I arrived plenty early, and while I was getting ready to ride the guest of honor rolled up.  We exchanged pleasantries (pro mountain bikers say “hello” just like the rest of us) and I seized the opportunity to let her know that I had to please Drunk Cyclist Headquarters and get a photo with her.

And just like us regular folks, she also poses for photos.

 Photo cred:  Eastwood

While I was at it, I got the raddest photo ever captured of Faster Mustache rider and Bike Source employee the Gentle Ginger.

And because he said I’ve never mentioned him on my blog before, here’s a random photo of another Bike Source employee, Daniel Lenis.

While I was slightly disappointed that we wouldn’t be riding on the trail, I was sorta looking forward to an urban ride.  Eastwood and I brought bikes that were not really suitable for fast, urban riding.

The Falcon and The Glow Worm.

Good Guy Greg rolled in on his single speed moments later, and the Niner crew (which we’ve been called as of late) took our place in the back of the pack with Sonya, who was riding at a “recovery pace.”

See, she rides bikes too, just like the rest of us.

She told us that single speeders are her favorite, probably because the longer the ride went on, the more we started complaining about the lack of beer.  Well, that and the fact that she’s a single speeder herself (in her spare time I guess.)

We rode through neighborhoods:

Through a cemetery:

Through the city:

And even sprinted down a hill trying to beat a speeding train:

And because local coaching phenom Chad Andrews was riding with us, we stopped in for a visit at Total Cyclist.

On the way back, I knew we were getting tired from spinning our tiny little gears.  Because, you know, some random dude on a New Belgium Fat Tire bike blew past us like we were standing still.

After getting back to the bike shop, it was time for beer (finally.)  We walked down the plaza and ordered up some local tasty goodness in the form of Triple C Greenway IPA.  We also ordered food, but it took forever to get there.  Because of that I had plenty of time to harass local Internets celebrity Rich Dillen to see if he would come out to play with us.  He was busy, so the night went on without him.

See, she drinks beer after a ride just like us.

In all, it was a great ride even if it wasn’t in the dirt.  The pace was surprisingly quite social, even though we had a real live professional mountain biker in our midst. 

I guess she can ride slow too, just like us.

It Got Weird

But it was fun.

I don’t remember much about my fourth lap at the Rivers Edge Mountain Bike Marathon.  My mind just wasn’t there, although I was somehow able to hit the downhills at high speeds.  I even climbed a lot, with the exception of two long hills.  I kept telling myself that all I had to do was complete the fourth lap and go back out, and there would be no way I could DNF. 

That was my plan, and I tried my best to stick to it.

I mashed, I spun, and I hurt like hell.  My legs felt okay for the most part, and I hadn’t had any issues with cramping.  I was properly hydrated, so much that I had to stop once to relieve myself.  I don’t have any specifics from that fourth lap, except that I kept hearing voices when no one was there.  It wasn’t the gentle roar of Bigfoot either.  It was real, human voices having conversations.

But, there was no one around me at all.

My mind was playing tricks on me, but never once did it tell me to quit.  As I neared the last section of trail before the finish line, I looked down at my bottle cages and noticed that I had plenty of water left.  I made the decision to roll right through the start/finish line and bypass my pit when I got there.

And I did.

I headed out for my fifth and final lap, knowing that once I started I wouldn’t quit…even if I had to walk the whole damn thing.  As soon as I hit the singletrack, it started raining.  I smiled and told myself that it was good, because it would break of the monotony of riding the same course all day.  The rain came down harder and harder, and I used that as motivation to keep going.  I had to walk the same two climbs again, but the downhills were once again my strong point.  My Maxxis Ardent was providing plenty of traction up front, so I was able to go as fast as I wanted to go around the wet berms.  I owned that trail for that brief moment in time.

The rain was cold, but it seemed to help my legs.  I was pushing along at a steady pace and I would find out later that the final lap was one of my fastest.  On one of the last downhill sections though, I thought my arms were gonna fall off.  Holding on for dear life on a rigid fork all day over rocks and roots had taken its toll on me I guess, but since I was close to the end it didn’t matter.  With the finish line in sight, I started smiling a little bit.  I did what I had set out to do, which was ride my bike 55 miles in the Uwharrie National Forest (I actually ended up with just a hair under 58 miles.) 

Unfortunately I missed the podium.

That’s the MadSS on the top spot, and Big Crom in third. 

Hell, I missed the whole ceremony.  The super fast guys finished before I even went out for my last lap, but I bet I had more fun than they did.  While I heard some people saying that they were glad they finished before the rain came down, I was happy that I got a chance to ride in it.  It made my race a lot more fun and challenging which is the sole reason I was out there in the first place. 

It’s not like I had a shit performance though.  I ended up in 5^th place in the single speed class, which probably sounds good unless you take into account that there were only five single speeders in the whole race.

Shit.

Nah, it was a good thing.  I set out to see if I could even finish that race, and not only did I finish, I felt pretty good afterwards.  My back issues never returned, and I only had a small amount of muscle soreness the next day.  Besides, I probably drank more beer than anyone else out there that day. 

For that, I win.  

I Had A Race

And the only thing I got was this t-shirt.

That was the only photo taken that day too, so bear with me.

Yesterday morning, I got up early to head over to the Uwharrie National Forest for the Rivers Edge Mountain Bike Marathon.  It was really difficult to drag my ass outta bed, but I’ll get into that another time.  I ended up hitting the road solo, because Lunchbox was a little worn out from working the day before.  With rain in the forecast, I thought that it was pretty wise for him to stay home.  I know he’s there for every race I do, but who the hell would want to stand around all day in the rain watching someone attempt to race for 55 miles?

I probably wouldn’t.

Anyway, I got there with plenty of time to spare, got myself registered, and setup my tent.  My pit would turn out to be a community effort, with Good Guy Greg, Big Crom, TomTom and Megan, and Irish Luke using it as a base of operations.  This would be my first attempt at this race, and doing it on a rigid single speed made me a little nervous.  I had no idea if I could even complete that distance at all.  At least it wasn't raining though.

We took off from the start, and I slowly rolled up the fire road to hit the trail.  When the singletrack started, I entered dead last.  That was because I was running a 32X21, but mostly it was my desire to take it easy so I could last the whole time.  Once we hit the first climb though, the “racer” in me took over and I started passing a few people.  It was your normal stop and go race traffic, but it didn’t annoy me this time.  The plan was to have a little fun while I was suffering, and I would try to stick to that no matter what.  It didn’t take too long to finish that first lap, and I crossed the start finish line in a decent amount of time.

I stopped for a few minutes to eat something small and refill my bottle, then I was back in the saddle.  I pushed the pace a little harder this time, because that first lap didn’t seem so bad.  About halfway through it though, my lower back started to hurt…bad.  It was locking up as I mashed my was up a long climb.  Good Guy Greg was right behind me, and near the top I heard him say, “Fuck it.”  He had decided to back off and walk instead of trying to keep up with me, which was unnecessary because I had to hop off my bike right after that.  I couldn’t even stand up straight, and I started to wonder if I could even finish that lap, let alone the whole enchilada.

My day had gone to shit already, it would seem.

I stretched for a few minutes, and I felt like I would be okay to get back on the bike.  I hit the downhills as fast as I could, and it didn’t take long before I started feeling a little better.  I could feel my back getting tight again though, but somehow I managed to finish the lap without walking.  It was at that point that I decided that I wouldn’t give up even if it took me all day.

I took some ibuprofen, stretched a little more, refilled my water bottles, and hit the trail again.  I took it easy on the climbs, and that proved to be a good idea.  I was faster than ever on the downhills, mostly because I knew with my large size I had an advantage there.  The rest of that lap was uneventful (pain-wise anyway), and I crossed the line once again and headed to my pit.

I had already passed the more than halfway point, so I knew there was no turning back.  I refilled my bottle again, grabbed a little bit of food, and after taking a short bathroom break I was ready to go.  However, I think I was there for a long time, because it seems like that stop took forever.  Mentally I was already drained, and I wandered back to my bike in a haze.

I was now on autopilot.

And this is where I leave you today.  With no photos, I won’t make you read more than you can handle.  Hell, I probably lost you already.

See y’all tomorrow.

Big, Green, And Juicy

I really enjoy building bikes.  So much, that when I found out Eastwood was ready to build up his new single speed I invited myself along.  He finally gathered all the pieces for his Kermit Green Niner One9, and Good Guy Greg offered to help him build it.

Mostly I just hung around and did nothing like Greg's cat.

Okay, maybe that’s not entirely true.  I mean, I pulled the Cane Creek headset apart and dropped it several times on the ground, and of course I took photos.

My favorite part was when Greg’s tubing cutter decided not to work when the fork steerer tube needed to be cut.  We had to resort to using the hacksaw, and we all took turns trying to hack that sumbitch off of there.

Eastwood worked the hardest, since it was his bike after all.

Once we got everything together to make it look like a bike, I stepped back to take another photo.

Then I watched as Eastwood put the chain on.  It was exciting.

It actually came out really nice, and it only took us like five hours or something like that (because we didn’t drink beer for some reason.)

And just like that, another single speeder was born.

I kinda feel like the Emperor.

Because another has joined the dark side…

Finally, No More Of This

So, I’ll be out riding my ass off this weekend.  The plan is to ride out at the Whitewater Center tomorrow morning with Good Guy Greg, TomTom, and maybe even some of those fancy Lowcountry folks that plan to make the drive up here to ride.  Good Guy Greg had the idea that we should do two laps of everything out there (around 20 miles per lap) on our single speeds as a form of “training.”  While training doesn’t sound like a whole helluva lotta fun, riding my bike until I almost die actually does.

While he’ll be switching to a more endurance-friendly 20 tooth cog on the rear, I plan to keep my 18 on there for some extra punishment.  I have another race next weekend so I have to kinda get ready I guess. More on that next week because I like to build shit up for no reason.  Anyway, since we’re not racing or having any other kind of competition, trying to survive and all-day ride might be a bit of a challenge. 

I’m good with that.

Afterwards, there will most likely be beer.  That’s not a surprise, is it?  I didn’t think so.  If I’m not to dead/hungover, I’ll get out and ride some huge amount of mileage on Sunday too…if it doesn’t rain.  Currently, the weather forecast is showing shit conditions, so Saturday may be the only “trail” day.

That means I may end up on my (gasp) road bike on Sunday.

Whatever.  Who gives a shit.

I’ll Try To Keep It Simple

I don’t wanna be angry, but I do wanna ride my single speed more and more.  Many years ago when I was just a youngin’, I rode bikes with no gears or suspension.  BMX, old clunkers, or basically whatever my Grandaddy and I cobbled together out of spare parts.  It was fun to build bikes, and those homemade machines required little to no maintenance other than spraying some WD-40 on the chain (this was way before the days of ProGold mind you.) 

Many years later when I started riding mountain bikes, I made sure they had all the bells and whistles, i.e. gears and suspension.  Over the next few years, I decided I didn’t need rear suspension, so I went with a hardtail.  Then, I removed a couple of chainrings up front to have a 1X9 setup.  During that time I talked to/rode with many single speeders, and I swore up and down that I would never ride one.  However, watching guys like the MadSS get stronger and faster riding one I thought that maybe I should try it.

I tried a few different bikes setup as single speeds, and it was more of a novelty than anything else.  Like, “Yeah, I rode my single speed to the store to get beer” kind of stuff.  Eventually I ended up with a spare 29er frame almost identical to the geared bike I was riding, and made that my first “real” single speed.  Well the one that saw any trail time anyway.  I rode it here and there, mostly on the easier trails in the area.  Eventually I started getting brave and taking it to the tougher trails, and I even entered my first single speed race.  A few months later, I rode it in Vermont at Single Speed USA.  Being around all those folks on one gear made me think that I was heading in the right direction with my choice to shun gears.  However, I went right back to my geared bike when I got home.  I broke that frame in a race, and rode nothing but SS for several months while I looked for a new geared frame. 

The seed had been planted.

I got the new geared bike, and rode the shit out of for a while because it was all shiny and new.  However, I kept finding myself wanting to ride the SS more often than not.  Eventually I reached the point where I barely even ride the geared bike.  Early this year, I put a rigid fork on the SS to make it even more simplistic.  I thought for sure that I would hate it, but it turned out to be quite the opposite.  Now not only am I riding the SS more, I’m enjoying the lack of suspension when I do it.

Now, here comes the dumb part (as if the rest of this shit isn’t dumb enough.)

As the geared bike sits there getting no love, I came up with an idea of what to do with it.  Sometimes I may find the need to have some sort of suspension up front (like in the mountains or something), and to save myself the trouble of swapping out my fork before I ride I can just grab another bike.  I can remove the gears, throw on a chain tensioner, cog, and a couple of spacers and have myself another single speed with some squishy action.  If I ever think that I might need gears from some reason, the whole process can be easily undone.  Since I prefer to ride SS all the time now, the undoing probably wouldn’t happen very often (if at all.)

That sounds like a good plan to me, and it doesn’t make me angry even a little bit.

Now we’ll see if I actually follow through with it.  I’m pretty sure I’ll change my mind a few times.  

From The Hills To The Flatlands

Lunchbox and I left Charlotte at the crack of dark Saturday morning, heading down to the Bootleg Bangout 6 Hour Race down near Charleston, SC.  A little over three hours later, we were wandering around a local Navy base looking for the race.  I found it peculiar that I was lost in the middle of the woods on a military installation looking for a bunch of crazy endurance racers, but I was also starting to panic a little because time was running out.  I eventually called the MadSS to ask where he was, and he directed me to their location.  I found it, and I was already laughing about how “underground” this event seemed.  It wasn’t your typical cross country dirt roadie fest, so my mission to have fun was already heading in the right direction.

It didn’t take long to register, and Lunchbox helped me get our pit area setup.

In most endurance races, I like to have a seat after each lap in order to “pace myself.”  I would learn later on that I didn’t need my fancy Maxxis chair this time.

We lined up for the start, and I didn’t even feel like I was in a race.  There were only four of us on single speeds, with everyone else running a full compliment of gears.  Running a 32X17, I felt like I had brought a knife to a gunfight.

Like a dumbass, I lined up towards the front with the MadSS and Chris W (from Total Cyclist MTB.)  When we took off, I spun my ass off to keep up with the lead group.

Photo cred:  Stolen from the Facebook page

A couple of guys took off way ahead on the super flat trail, and I did my best to keep up.  A few people here and there passed me because I thought I couldn’t spin any harder, but instead of slowing down I cranked it up even more.  The trail came out on a short road section, and I passed three or four people.  I planned to go out in a blaze of glory…all in the name of fun.

The trail was really flat, but I settled in and enjoyed it.  There were a few slight ups and downs, but for the most part I was pedaling the whole time.  There weren’t many opportunities to coast at all.  Could I keep up this horrible pace for six hours?  I didn’t give a shit.  I was having fun.

Lap one ended, and I was still somewhere near the front of the group.  My trusty cameraman/sidekick/son was there waiting to capture the action

I didn’t really get tired at all, and the only time I was breathing hard was at the very beginning.  I stopped real quick after that first lap to grab my iPod and remove my GoPro from my helmet (video to follow at a later date), and I headed back out for lap number two.

I was feeling great, and I couldn’t believe I was “racing.”  I drove down to the Lowcountry to have a fun time, and I certainly was so far.  Towards the end of the lap though, my chain popped off.  I got in back on in a hurry, and realized that my EBB was loose (from my failure to properly tighten it when I changed the cog a few days before.)  I got back to the start/finish line without another issue at least.

I had forgotten my Tülbag back in the truck, so when I got back I made sure to grab it.  I took a few minutes to make sure my chain tension was good and the EBB was tight this time, and headed back out.  I didn’t need a break at all, so I was a little upset that I had to stop.  Lap three went off without a hitch, and I didn’t loose ground to anyone…not even a geared rider.  I was still feeling good, but I realized that I hadn’t been drinking anything.  With the course being so flat, it’s not like I didn’t have a chance to grab my bottle.  If thought that if I was gonna last the whole six hours, I had better get to drinking.  My legs felt fine, but I knew for sure I would have problems later.  This lap went by pretty quick I guess, and in no time I was coming back up to the start.

Lap four is when things got really interesting.  Since I’ve blabbed too much today, I’ll save the rest for tomorrow.  I mean, it was an endurance race, so this should be an endurance blog post.

See y’all tomorrow.

The Transformation

Good Guy Greg and I enjoyed some fine beverages after our first race of the day.

Sometime after Lunchbox’s race and the beginning of my single speed race, I turned into an asshole.  I was in quite the foul mood during his race, even though he was making me laugh in his banana suit.  You see, I noticed some shitty race tactics being emplyed by the fast racer children in his class and it pissed me off.  They were cutting the course in several spots (which we had to keep blocking off), yelling at the smaller junior racers, and even running into them when they wouldn’t get out of the way.

Couple that with the fact that I was not looking forward to riding slowly through the woods and getting my ass handed to me on the fire road climb again made me angry all of a sudden.  I ran out of the woods and quickly changed back into my dirty clothes, and I showed up a little late to the line.  I squeezed in just before the ladies and took my spot at the back of the pack with the rest of the single speeders. 

As I stood there waiting to go, the anger started growing.  I decided that I wasn’t about to get mixed up with everyone pussyfooting through the sloppy trail and I was gonna do something about it.  When they said go, I took off as fast as I could, spinning the shit outta my 32X18 gear.  I kept pushing, and passed people left and right.  When we got to the entrance of the singletrack, I pushed it even harder and made a move that put me in front of a few more riders.  I still had to slow down a bit when we first got in, but I was up in the lead group for a change.  Anger was my friend, it seemed.

Wow, I was actually “racing.”  I rode as fast as I could (with people still riding brakes), and when we came out on the fire road I kept up the pace.  Only one guy passed me this time (as opposed to most of the field like usual), and I kept plugging away to the start finish line.  Lap one was in the books, and I headed around the parking lot to hit the woods again.

One guy passed me right before the single track, and he started riding his brakes when we got in the woods.  Suddenly, I was getting way more pissed.  This time, I decided to say something.  The conversation went sorta like this:

Me:  “Come on, I know you’re faster than this in the woods!”

Him:  “The trail is too slippery!”

Wow.  Did I really just hear that stupid shit?  If I wasn’t in such a bad mood, I would’ve laughed my ass off.  Instead, I decided to take matters into my own hands and make a move.  I passed him (in a safe spot) and did my best to get away.  When we got to the fire road, it took him a little while to catch back up.

“See, that’s how you ride through the woods.”

I got a little satisfaction from that, but I knew there was no way I could keep up that pace on the climbs for the rest of the race.  When I got back in the woods, the same stuff kept happening again (with different people this time.)  My anger was growing, so I pushed it whenever I could.  It was really obvious that I was frustrated though.   

Just past the start/finish line again, someone shot in front of me in the parking lot and beat me to the single track.  They slowed way down, and I said, “Wow!  Aren’t you glad you got in front of me?”  Damn.  I was out of control and I knew it.  If I kept racing, something bad was gonna happen.  I didn’t want to make an ass out of myself, but I sure as hell wasn’t gonna quit racing.  It was at that point I decided that a change was necessary.

When I approached the start/finish line, I spotted my truck next to the pit area.  I pulled over, got off my bike, and headed for it.  One of the local team guys asked me if I needed anything (he seemed really concerned.)  I said, “Yeah, I need a beer.”  I grabbed an IPA out of my cooler, put it in my 29nSNGL coozie, and hopped back on my bike. 

All of a sudden everything was better.

I took a few sips, and realized that I was gonna have a hard time drinking that shit in the woods.  I wasn’t about to throw it out, so I pushed my luck riding one-handed on the sloppy course while drinking my happy juice.  I was still pretty fast, and I was having way more fun.  I managed to make it out of the woods and back to the fire road without losing any of my precious brew.

My anger was gone and I was feeling mighty fine.  I rolled through the start/finish line and yelled, “Cheers!” and kept on going.  When I finished that beer, I stuffed the empty can in my jersey pocket.  Every lap after that was pretty damn awesome, and I didn’t give a shit whether I was going fast or not.  I managed to get eight laps out there (after only “racing” two), and I was no longer angry.  Shit, I didn’t even come in last. 

Why didn’t I do this earlier in the series?

Being a Drunk Cyclist is pretty damn fun.

Beer and bicycles are the best medicine for whatever ails you.     

Rough And Rugged

I did learn something during the last Winter Short Track Race…

Riding a bike in its simplest form is pretty damn rad.

Super awesome photo credit today goes to CherylAnnePhotography

The second race of the day for me would be the debut of my fully rigid single speed bike, and it was fun as hell.  I was a little worried at first, but as it turns out I didn’t need to be.  I setup my Maxxis Ardent with a guestimated “ideal” tire pressure, and took off in the woods with the rest of the one-geared folks.  The first lap was a little interesting, since I had to get used to a little bouncing around in the corners due to a lack of front suspension.

It didn’t take long to forget about that squishy front end I used to have.

I felt faster and in much more control, and as you can see above I had no problems catching air either.  The smaller jump after the one pictured above was full of hecklers as usual, so I made sure to jump that one too.

I was having a shitload of fun.

My legs were tired from racing earlier, but I was having so much fun riding a rigid bike that I forgot about that for a while.  Plus, Good Guy Greg decided to join in on the fun and “race” with me, also on a rigid single speed.

Hopefully he doesn’t hate me for talking him into it.

I did okay out there, and I have to say that I enjoyed my second race much more than the first.  Towards the end though, I did have a small issue with my right hand falling asleep.  I’ll chalk that up to the death grip I had on the handlebars.  I know, I know, I shouldn’t do that, but I was still getting used to the small amount of bouncing around.

That will get better with time I suppose.

For now, I think I may have found a new way to torture myself.

I mean, a new way to have fun.

Does A Bike…

Shit in the woods?

Well, no.  It uses the toilet like the rest of us.

Just to clarify, I took that the other night when we went for a night ride at one of our local trails.  I didn’t want anyone to steal my bike when I was changing in the nice warm bathroom, so I brought it inside with me.  I have no idea how it got in the stall though.  Maybe it did take a shit, but was kind enough to give a courtesy flush.

Anyway, I finally got a little bike upgrading done.

Shit, I can’t figure out why random beer photos keep popping up.  Sorry. 

What I meant to post was this:

I finally decided to get a little blingy with the single speed.  I like red…a lot.  So, I put on the red SS chainring I was saving for my (not yet) polished cranks and decided to break it in.  Since I’m a firm believer in the more the merrier, I needed some more shiny red bits to go with the new chainring.

Yum.  This came via Pony Express straight from Endless Bike Co. in nearby Asheville, NC.  They anodize their cogs now, so you can find one that tickles your fancy.  I happen to love red of course, so I didn’t pay attention to the other colors they may or may not have.

Are they good?  Why yes, they are.  I ran one of these cogs (non-anodized of course) back at Single Speed USA, and I thought it was the shiznit.  I also ran one for every other endurance race I’ve done since then.  It was a 20 tooth cog though, which is really not enough for everything else I ride around here.  I kept forgetting to pickup an 18 from Endless, even though I knew I should’ve.  “Oh, I’ll get around to replacing that other brand of cog”, I kept saying, but when they started with the whole “pick your own color thing” I just had to get in. 

Now I can roll around in style.

Huge thanks to Endless Bike Co. for making my bike look sexy.

Now, if you will excuse me, I suddenly have to go use the bathroom.

Single Hurts Worse Sometimes

Two races in one day:  one with gears and one without.  

My second Winter Short Track race was in the single speed class, and after getting my ass handed to me earlier in the day I had to go back for more.  Since I had a little energy left, I figured I should grab the Falcon (my SS bike in case you forgot) and ride with the super fast single guys.  I kept telling people all day about my plan, and no one tried to talk me out of it.  They all said I was crazy, but I think deep down they all wanted to watch me suffer.  I could’ve backed out, but I didn’t.

I make dumb decisions sometimes, like trying to catch air when everyone is waiting for racers to crash.

Photo credit:  TomTom

When I lined up at the start, I was up front.  I saw my boy Marcus under the tent, and when I yelled at him he ran over and tried to make out with me.  It was all in good fun, I think.  Or maybe it was because he had crashed earlier in the day.

Since I was all creeped out, I wasn’t really nervous about lining up against a stacked field of experienced single speeders.  We took off, and I pedaled my ass off to get in the woods somewhere in the middle.  There are dirt roadies in the SS class too, so I knew I would be riding all up on people that were squeezing the shit outta their brakes.

Photo cred (from here on out unless otherwise noted): Eastwood

I hung in there in the woods, and when we hit the fire road I stood up to mash.  A couple of faster guys went by, but I was going all out and stayed with them.  I knew I didn’t have much energy, so the plan was to leave whatever I had out on the trail.  Lap two was a little more of the same, but I managed to get into a group that didn’t use the brakes as much (but it was still too much.)

My legs were starting to hurt a little, but it wasn’t too bad to fight through.  The climb up to the rock garden wasn’t easy (after racing earlier), but I was at least having fun.

After crossing the start/finish line the second time, I couldn’t keep track of what I was doing.  I do remember cheers from random spots along the trail, including a group of hecklers at the Dicky Jump (named that because he built it I guess.)  The Evil Ginger, Dicky (of course), and a bunch of other folks were yelling every time I hit the jump, and it was all I could do to keep from crashing.  I guess they didn’t cheer loud enough.

When I got to the rock garden again, the crowd was even bigger.  They were chugging beers, and cheered even louder when they saw my Drunk Cyclist jersey.

That was sofa king rad, and it kept me going.

Every time I finished the fire road climb and rounded the corner for the start finish line, Good Guy Greg and TomTom were there yelling too.  By the looks on their faces, they knew I was crazy for getting out there a second time.  I just laughed (to hide my suffering.)  The climb out was killing me at that point (about thirty minutes in), but I wasn’t about to quit.  I was having way too much fun in the woods.

When the announcer yelled “Two to go!” all I could think was, “Shit.”  I was hurting, and I didn’t know if I had two left in me.  That lap was a blur until I crossed the start/finish line again, when I finally heard, “One to go!”  I sped up a little, but I felt like I was slowing down.  I looked behind me and some fucking dirt roadie was trying to draft off of me.  I swerved to the right and said, “Hell no you don’t”, and he backed off.  I gunned it into the woods one last time.

The final climb wasn’t so bad, even though it still hurt.  I knew the race was almost over, and part two of my “Race your way into shape” training plan was complete.  I didn’t feel like I wanted to pass out at the end, although if I had stopped right away I surely would have.  It was a helluva lot of fun though.

I never did find anyone to give me a beer hand up during that race though.

I ended up sharing a little and drinking the rest after the race.

Maybe next week someone will toss me a beer, if I can find someone I can trust not to drink it all.