energy exchange

Students are back and with them have gone the days of sleeping in and riding whenever I wanted. But there are better ways to spend my time. Working with them on projects, like rebuilding rock walls on campus during our two day community service, not only reminded me of how much I love that work, but also how great it is to work here.

"Oh. You want to teach some students about masonry and fix some of our crumbling retaining walls?....sure, we'll give you a crew for a day." Sweet.

The results were nothing spectacular. We didn't have stone cutting implements or mortar, but rocks were re-stacked and walls were rebuilt. We gave back to this community/school that gives plenty of leeway and opportunities to succeed.

Wrong tool, right job. 

And to experience the world around us. For instance this winter ecology I'm co-teaching that is split between classroom learning and telemark skiing in Rocky Mtn national park.

There's a reason Trail Ridge Rd is closed in the Winter. 

The snow is limited up there but the wind sure isn't. So night rides continue on rollers. In that bike shop in my basement. Also a nice touch of working here.

Luddite. 

Long days beginning with "morning exercise" (a requirement for our students), continuing with tele-skiing, class prep and meetings, then rollers, has forced me to break my coffee fast. Not the best timed diet restriction I'll admit. It was meant to get it out of my system so come March at the True Grit I'll pour myself a cup and feel turbo boosted. A month and a half might've been a tad excessive for getting it out of my system, so maybe mid-february I'll try this out again.

Black Hole - Black Gold

Philthadelphia

I'm about 75% sure that come August I'll be returning to the good ole Keystone state. There's just too much human capital there to not cash in on. That being said, my Fall racing schedule online wanderings have gone towards the Right coast.

Iron Cross came to mind first. Kuhn and Zach know how to throw a deathmarch together. I've done it several times and was never disappointed. Not even when I did it on a fixed gear....my taint had other thoughts of course.

Then I stumbled upon this juicy piece of news (albeit a month late). SSCXWC 2013 coming to Philly?! Take me to Independence Hall and sign me up! Ah, so many puns for that city, so little time.

I really have no idea how these three ring circuses happen, all I know is that the past several years sandbagging pro's have shown their alcohol tolerance and taken all the glory. I'm not sure how Philly PD would take to hundreds of whiskey shots gulped down in Fairmont Park.

As CX Mag rightfully asked, the east's uptightness is certainly a concern. Especially in a state that doesn't even sell beer in grocery stores.

I wish the promoters, mostly familiar characters, the best of luck putting it together. Costume brainstorming has already commenced.

SSCXWC 2012 Rccap. Valenti's beard not part of the costume. 

There once was a ride...

There was once a ride I used to ride

It was a lot of climbing and hard no matter how I tried

They called it Black Mo

Who's "Mo", I may never know

Now I have a new road to climb

Today I rode it and I took my time

Leaving Lyons I rolled along St Vrain

If I knew the elevation gain, I'd think it was insane

7,501 cumulative feet skyward

As the wind tried to blow me down, expletives could be heard

When I thought I was near the top

A sign reading "Estes Park 23miles" made me want to stop

Those last twenty rolled on forever

This was turning into quite the epic endeavor 

A stop for a smoothie in town left me stupid cold

I felt like a dumbass, but this story at least I told

this is brilliant

putting my money where my mouth is

One of the races on my dream list was the Dirty Kanza 200 and this Saturday I woke up early to get my name on the quickly filled list. As I write this there's 21 more spots. Go ahead, sign up! It'll be a good time. I hope. 

new year new rides

New years was good. Next door neighbors opened their house, fired up their smoker, got a couple kegs and shared their whiskey.

in good company 

Riding into the park was even better today. Took 36 up to 34 and down to Devil's Gulch. No death march, but a great climb. The roads in the park are super smooth. Thanks for paying your taxes everybody! The wind here is horrible though. Takes the fun out of any descent; have to ride the brakes out of fear that a gust will blow me off the roads, many of which don't have any guards, and lengthy drops beyond the pavement. One such gust this ride hit me and it felt like a dog ran into my front wheel.

climbing up 36

coming back on Devil's Gulch

leg warmers, bib shorts, bib tights, wool socks. still cold. 

What really got me excited, besides that sore feeling of getting in a solid winter ride, was my Stanley that came in today. Bomb proof and bad ass. It's the little things. Christened it with a mexican mocha at the local cafe. Two hours later what remained was still piping hot. Apparently, it insulates even longer than this. I look forward to testing this claim.

Stanley Nineteen13

quick 'cross ride

Laying fresh bike tracks on old foot tracks. H Bar G Ranch. 

Looking down at Eagle Rock

cold descents called for nose protection. hence pink(penn state's original color) bandana

snow covered, off camber, downhill gonna get ya.  not as catchy as "rhythm". 

cold temps=short rides. short rides = time on rollers afterwards

Seeing things

I'm up here mostly alone in the house for the break. It's quiet, clean, and I love it. But before I knew it, I was going stir-crazy. You see, I stepped out the front door one day to find this message in the snow. See it?

Too small for a mere human to urine-write. It must've been a small local canine with advanced, under-appreciated intelligence. I was sure it said something. But in in what language?

I had to get out of here. 

So out came the maps. Moab is nice this time of year, right? It's a desert; there'll be clear trails and warm temps. I'll have myself a weekend, riding getaway.

The further west I got, the less hope I had for those warm temps. Glenwood Canyon on I-70 was an hour long traffic jam. Car in park, engine off type of traffic jam. Icy roads led to a multi-car and tractor trailer pile up. Grand Junction: snow. Fruita: snow. A little farther, surely it'll all be gone...

Wait a minute...that's a lot of snow. This is Utah?

And then I crossed the border into Utah. I really should've checked if there'd be snow. Now, before you completely write off my western adventurer credentials, I did check the temperatures before I left. It wasn't much warmer than Estes Park, but 40 and sunny sounded doable. I just didn't expect as much of the white stuff as there was. I'm gonna consider this a learning experience. 

Cold enough for icicles  

After a long morning exploring my options and a parking lot breakfast of bacon n' egg croissant sandwiches, cooked up on a whisperlite, I settled on a route. I parked at the end of Willow Springs Rd and ventured into the trail network between 191 and Arches National Park. I had my Salsa El Mariachi and my All City Nature Boy with me. Unlike the guy who's route I was trying to re-create, I opted for skinnier tires. Glad I did. The gravel roads I stuck to had truck tracks to follow and I appreciated the taller gear and speed. Plus, cross riding in the snow is just a good time.

Slick rock enhanced with a thin layer of ice and snow

What was far more disturbing than driving 7hrs to ride in snow when I could've stayed home and done the same, was all the evidence of fracking. I'm fairly familiar with it's nasty environmental effects and knew exactly what all the pipes and pumping stations scattered throughout the relative wilderness were. Last year some time, back in State College, I went to a protest against this dirty energy extraction. Not necessarily because I thought it mattered that I was there; more for the experience. Maybe I could look cool one day in a hippie round of never-have-I-ever.  Not so sure what the point of standing around looking pissed-off is. Anyway, I learned even more about how the Mid-Atlantic is dealing with it, or more so how the gas industry was taking over. Out in Moab it's clear they're winning as well. 

I nearly gagged holding this pose @ a fracking site. Or was it the fumes??

polka dotted saddle compliments of mud on the way back

Before I tucked tail and drove back east to Testes Park, I dished out the ten dollars to do a quick drive through Arches. I could almost hear Edward Abbey rolling in his grave. I didn't feel too good about it myself. It was worth it, but was more like the protest: just for the experience. It seemed a strange thing to do to drive around incredible rock formations for less than an hour that took millions upon millions of years to form. It's all hard to grasp, and in my cold, tired, and bitter state of mind, I didn't really try to.

Oh yea. That's why I didn't like it

I mentioned earlier that I finished this book that took me a god-awful long time to get through. It finally struck me (an idea, not the book) why I couldn't get into it and why in the end, I really didn't enjoy it.

It's a novice British riders account of his Tour Divide ride, a Canada to Mexico haul across the Rockies.   (again, poor wording. He's a self-described novice rider, NOT novice Brit). He attempts pithy travel humor, a la Bill Bryson, but it often falls flat. The characters are one dimensional and the terrain is minimally described.

That's what I realized.

He speeds through describing all the "in between" riding and wastes much of his paragraphs on the towns. "There's nothing for 100 miles" he would write, blowing off the nuances of a long distance adventure like this. Most nights he spent in cheap motels, not outside, not on the trail, not in the terrain he was experiencing mile after mile.

Mind you, as a long time rider and AT thru-hiker, I'm a tough critic. But on both fronts, the long distance travel and the mountain biking, there isn't anything really revealing or entertaining. It sort of drags on.

A line floating around when I was on the AT was "you gotta hike your own hike". And the same goes here: you gotta ride your own ride. You just don't need to read about this one.

....and yes, I used an NYC parking ticket as a bookmark. Beats paying it.

Snow daze

I woke up today to a message on the outside of my bedroom door. 

The storm yesterday was bad enough to leave a few co-workers stranded here, unable to get into town or get to DIA for a flight out. That's what guest rooms are for. I suppose this message would take on a different meaning if found inside my bedroom door...

 After some shoveling, bacon n' egg breakfast, and the final pages of Eat, Sleep, Ride, I got out to check the road conditions. 

Sub freezing temps made it a short adventure up to the H Bar G Ranch gate and back. Smooth riding, minimal 'stache-cicle formation, and surprisingly warm extremities. It wasn't until I got back that the sun  broke out and blue skies took over. I should've picked up another book and waited. Or maybe stayed out longer.

the long awaited Winter arrives

All this blue on the screen is leaving a lot of white on the ground. I'd love to pack up and head to Moab for a few days to ride, but the roads are a mess and it's a haul from up here. Looks like I'll don the neoprene gloves, booties, and other winter accoutrements to leave fresh tracks tomorrow. I'm shacked up in what feels like a mountain villa for the next few weeks by myself. I might as well embrace the season!... Winter, that is.

2012: The year of TSE -- mustaches and manifest destiny

Yea... That's right. I said "manifest destiny". Westwards the wagons. I lived in four states this year and now I'm back in Colorado. The pull of the West remains. 

This marks my first year with Faster Mustache, an outfit out of Georgia, one of the four this year. They were super supportive while I was down there, even though I wasn't in ATL. Sweet kits, sweet sponsorships, and an excellent collection of characters. 

My primary focus this year was seven days of familiar PA riding: the Trans-Sylvania Epic. 

Here's a much delayed quick recap with pictures compliments of Mid-Atlantic mtb photographer extraordinaire Abe Landes. 

Family and friends were on hand. 

 Stage one got the butterflies out of the system with a ridiculously fast time trial. It locked me in third place, where I stayed all week.

Stillhouse Rd took some of my skin on Stage 2.

 Stage two gave me a scare. Nasty crash early on had me riding safe the rest of the week.

Future FMer Dicky and I got comfortable standing here.

The start of a lot of road riding. 

 I let third place ride away on the third day. It was hot, I was beat up, and I raced conservatively. Plenty of grueling climbs had me cooling off in streams at the bottom to prevent over heating. Strauber helped by pouring a bottle over me at the aid station too.  It all worked, but I was off the podium.

Don't let him fool you, he's slow on the rocks.

What's great about NoTubes other than their wheels? Rich. 

A re-accuring character out there was Paul; dressed as Dracula. He was race support, morale support, and beer support. His post below, on the other side of an old rail tunnel we rode through, was not only appropriate, but needed. Here's to more Paul's in mountain bike racing.

Hand-up Dracula @ his cave.  

We got bored up there. 

Then came the Raystown Stage. I was fed certain information from some local friends that I could beat Dicky on the smooth grade reversals. He's tiny and apparently doesn't carry momentum well. I showed up early, warmed up until I was sweating, and prepared myself for a fast start. I put the hammer down, took an opportunity to pass on an uphill and kept pushing. At one point, Dejay was in striking distance on the unexpected hike-a-bike. It pushed me even harder.

Gaining some time. Just a little.

Sweet sweet 2nd.

Speaking of Dejay no-longer-with-Niner Birch. He was the only single speeder with suspension. The rest of us chose beefy tires and low psi to smooth out the ride.

All rigid.

We were treated to many Rothrock gems throughout the week, including Tussey Ridge. It came late in the stage, after I held onto second place for a little while. Even led Dejay through the rocks of John Wert trail. Him and his cushy fork. I knew full well that Dicky was in hot pursuit. All it took was a tire puncture on Longberger (aka Magic Carpet ride for them State College old timers) and he came ripping pass me. Oh well, another 3rd for the day.

All ridge.

Maybe too bored?

Then came our last day together, a rolling party that exemplified our true ideals as single speeders. Probably not. When our supplies were running low just before the half way point, the only aid station on course, we had a surprise. A fully stocked bar/trailer with colorful women welcoming us with open arms and full dixie cups, like a mirage in a blurry desert.  Minutes, maybe hours passed, the sweepers for the day gave up on us and went ahead, there was dancing on the aforementioned bar....you get the idea. Somehow, someway we saddled up and moved on. Barely. What followed was a mess, with some time for a nap thrown in for good measure.

Before it got blurry. 

The beer derby gave me my second introduction to the ground for the week. Note: you can't ram through traffic cones like a rock garden. The physics just aren't the same. 

Definitely after it got blurry. 

After TSE, work took the front seat, putting me in Cape May, NJ for a month, PA a bit, then here. Riding was inconsistent and racing wasn't happening. I improved my time and place at the Stoopid 50, but still just didn't enjoy that race. There's something about it. I don't know. Maybe it's too much of a good thing. The rocks and the route. Fast forward a few months and two lackluster, but not lacking lactic acid, cross races finished out my year.

5 race requirement has me re-thinking my re-thinking

The good people over at the news have announced the updated NUE series, including a peculiar new addition to the rules:

"Organizers also changed the rules for winning the series. To claim the title in any of the four divisions - men, women, singlespeed, masters -  next season will require a minimum of five races, up one from four in previous years. However, all racers who complete four races will receive a national ranking and series awards."

Wait! Now I have to do five races to place in the series?

No, no. read again.

So only if I was planning to win the series would I have to race 5? Interesting. So basically they're making the top five in each division, because that's usually all who are competing for the title, pay an extra couple hundred dollars (entry fee...unless it's waived...I  suppose it sometimes is for these folks..., travel, food, etc.) to race a fifth and compete for the series win.

Luckily for PA single-speeder's like Pflug and Ferrari, consistently on the podium, there are at least 5 east coast options for them to choose from. Makes it a hell of a lot easier to compete in it than out here in the west. You know what...? There's a lot of Pennsyl-tuckian podium takers in the NUE (Cheryl, Vicki, so on and so forth).  Maybe they should make a ruling that if you hail from the keystone state you only have to do four. You know, a little kickback for supporting the series for so long.