May 16, 2008

I can smell the chemicals

Wow. An unproductive week at work led to a very productive week of blogging. When I let my brain start rolling it seems I turn into a bitter, hateful man. I wonder just how many folks I alienated or pissed off in a four day time frame. Let's see...

Monday I was off to a slow start. I just wrote about the stupid things I had done in the last 72 hours or so. That's nothing new for a Monday post. I usually rehash my weekend's stupidity right off the bat, so I was swimming in familiar waters that day.

Tuesday I got a little bit off track, and I may have offended some folks. Who might that be? I'm glad you asked. The list is long and distinguished, so here goes...

Gary Fisher: He might not have liked that I inferred that he was holding my pee in that cup. He never actually handles the pee samples as he has hired the recently jobless Greg Lemond to do it.

Keith Bontrager: I underestimated his ability to produce a valve cap that weighed less than nine thousandths of a gram. He has actually been getting samples back from the production facility in Taiwan that are closer to seven thousandths of a gram. The man is a genius.

Lance Armstrong: He would never call Keith a hack for producing heavy valve caps. He was a little upset though, as he wanted to brag about the fact that while he doesn't use valve caps he did have the lightest ones known to man at his disposal had he wanted to use them.

Will Black: I'm slightly worried that I pissed off this hardened Texas native, as we'll both be at the Fool's Gold 100 in August. If there's a lot of open road sections and ambiguous support rules I may have to look over my shoulder for a menacing green Element bearing down on my rear wheel. I'm not too worried as I plan on putting spare wheels in all of my drop bags (I heard that's okay).

Recumbent riders: Sorry, but everybody makes fun of them, but deep down we all know we want to ride one.

Pabst Blue Ribbon: Hopefully I haven't burned any bridges there. I've always wanted to be sponsored by PBR and sport a sleeveless skinsuit that looks like the PBR label from knee to neck. I do have small dreams...

Texans: This is the one I'm most worried about. They're angry enough already, but if you mess with one of them you'd better be ready to take them all on. Lynching is still considered an amatuer sport down there.

Wednesday I was able to reel in the nastiness a little bit. I did write something about chubby kids, but since juvenile diabetes is the new skateboarding I can't get in too much trouble there. I guess I made one enemy that day...

Cancer: I linked to the raffle that Elk and Sam are putting on in conjunction with the Escape from Granogue race. The money goes to the HERA Women's Cancer Foundation, so quit being cheap and give with the goods. Cancer is going down.

Thursday I went back to digging my own grave again. Who did I get all hot and bothered and sicking thier lawyers on me yesterday?

PUSH Industries: What can I say? They're smarter, more attractive, and just plain better than me in every way. I'm just a jealous little man trying to make some money riding the coat tails of their success. I hope this retraction is good enough to keep the civil suit in check.

Dave Harris: I can't help it. I don't get to see him very often, so this is one of the few ways I can pick on him with so much distance between us (I can't get close to him thanks to the restraining order). One of my fondest memories from all the races I have ever done was sitting with Dave for over an hour waiting on a shuttle bus after an awards ceremony at BC Bike Race. He was nursing some broken ribs, and I was doing my best to make him laugh in order to mess with his next day's performance. Unfortunately I did too good of a job, and he ended up going off the trail and shattering his foot less than 24 hours later. Sorry about that Dave.

Women: I mighta pissed off some female readers (all twelve of them) with my sexist comment requesting semi-nude photos in order to tune their rigid forks. No apologies there. I still want the photos (you can keep your forks).

Quality beer drinkers: The photo with the Coor's Light in the background might have offended a lot of people. Sorry. I'll start consuming better beer when you start paying my entry fees or buying my beer.

Bikesnob NYC: Although I never offended him personally I did enter his territory by ripping on the urban fixie hipsters. I do believe he has the US Patent on mocking the fixie phenomenon, so with all due respect I will be tranfering 53% of the proceeds I earned from yesterday's blog post to his offshore account.

Fox Racing Shocks: I made fun of them for not jumping on the 29'er bandwagon back when they shoulda. "We'll never make a 29'er fork" they said.... whatever. Need some socks for those cold feet??

Today? I guess I have one apology to make.

Twin Six: When I made fun of Fox (see above) and said "Need some socks for those cold feet??" I did not put a hyperlink on the word socks taking you to the sock section of the Twin Six website. It's in my contract that whenever I use the following words on my blog I have to link to their site:

socks
jersey
cool
donkey show
water bottle
awesome
Cinnabon
Liberace
boobies
promulgate

I'm getting the feeling that all these contracts I'm signing with sponsors aren't as typical as they tell me. I'd get a manager, but everything I've signed so far has said that the hiring of a manager is forboden and will make all terms of the contract null and void.

That's enough for now. I'm riding my bike this weekend. What are you gonna do??




Late edit: Damn. I forgot to link the word bike to Warwick. Now I have to do twenty push-ups and send a pack of contraband Oreos to Australia. Stupid contracts.

Posted by Dicky at 05:51:38 | Permanent Link | Comments (2) |

May 15, 2008

I'm going into business

So the other day I was reading Velosnooze,and I came across an interesting article. There is this company that is today's modern and very expensive suspension forks and rear shocks and tailoring their innards to meet the needs of the individual that is willing to ship their shit to Colorado and fork over a shit ton of dough. PUSH Industries was founded by Darren Murphy, and apparently he's making quite a living off of people who need to get more out of their high dollar squishy parts.



He uses telemetric data acquisition equipment and a Roehhrig Dynamometer to dial in your crutch (sorry, I mean suspension) to suit your riding style, weight (on Earth, not Mars... unless you're intent is to ride on Mars at some point), and typical riding environment (once again, if you plan on riding on Mars you should really let them know). Anyways, once they analyze your data in a manner that only a truly anal number crunching rider would understand they use adavanced CAD, CAM, CNC, and some other things with neat acronyms to make your fork twice as good as before and also twice as expensive. Once your fork and/or squishy rear can of air/oil/garage door spring is done your shit is officially PUSH'ed, and they even give you a cool sticker to put on your fork to let people know that your Fox/Mantiou/Rock Shox fork is better than theirs.



Why PUSH?

From Velosnooze:

"When you're out riding, and you've got to grunt up some climb to get to the next level, you've just got to PUSH through it. And that's where it came from."---Darren Murphy

So my mind started whirling with ideas. How can I use my vast knowledge and collection of tools to start an empire in the bicycle industry? Of course, why didn't I think of this before...

As of today I am going to start offering a service which before now was unavailable to the average rider. Sure, maybe back in the day Tomes, Overend, Tilford, and the rest of the neon clad upper ecelon of MTB'ers might have had access to this kinda technology, but today it is out of reach to the common rider.

Riders of America (and any other countries that still have a semi-legitimate currency) I give you SHOVE Industries.

What can we (me) at SHOVE Industries do for you? Do you have a rigid fork and find yourself looking for a little more performance from it? Do you find youself wanting to invest more money into a fork you already own? Do you wish you had a cool sticker that let everybody know that you spent even more money on an already overpriced hunk of steel? Look no further.

The process is very easy. Send me a check for $115 along with your fork and a note with the following information:

Your weight (on Earth and on Mars... just in case)
Distance from the center of the earth to where you typically ride (for magnetic balancing purposes)
Your riding style (or lack thereof)
Unreasonable fears
Distance from my house
Preference between paper or plastic
Zodiac sign
If you are a female customer it can be very helpful if you could include a photo of yourself with as little clothing as you're comfortable wearing. Keep in mind that the less you wear the better your fork will perform. THIS PROCESS DOES NOT WORK FOR MEN SO PLEASE GENTLEMEN, DON'T SEND ME PHOTOS.

So anyways once I get the fork and information in hand I will get straight to work. First off I will place the fork in my fork holder device thingy and perform a few tests to see what I have to work with.



Honestly, I would tell you that I keep my work area clean and everything like the folks at PUSH, but since there's no small parts involved in the process it seems kinda pointless to have an organized work space.

I have several specialized tools which I use to analyze your fork, none of which you as a consumer can legally purchase on the open market. If the average Joe Spokewrench trained at UBI got a hold of these things we'd be talking armageddon. That's a fact.

Anyways....

After the testing process is complete I will break out my tools that I gave cool acronyms to in order to impress potential customers. People always feel warm and fuzzy about what you're doing when you're blinding them with science (do they still make music videos?).

HSD (Heavy Smashing Device)



I use this tool to create "flex zones" which will make you fork more compliant. If you're also a big fan of safety features I can add crumple zones to absorb truly big hits (once) at no extra cost.

LSD (Light Smashing Device)



This tool is great for the precision work that the HSD just can't do. I also use it to hang pictures and kill squirrels.

EHM (Electronic Hole Maker)



I really like this tool. Not only can I use it to make your fork lighter I can also place holes in the front and back of your fork legs for improved aerodynamics. As you can see in the background we have a wind tunnel to test the results.

SRT (Surface Reduction Tool)



This tool allows me to shave weight and at the same time externally butt your fork to provide more flex and a rough surface finish that will be all the rave at Manitou and Rock Shox for '09 (wait till Interbike and you'll see what I'm talking about). Fox won't be using the rough finish till '10 as they are always a little off the back when it comes to trendy shit (like 29'ers).

Of course once I'm finished I will ship your fork back to you when it's convenient for me to do so. Expedited service can be had for a few more dollars, but that just means I'll throw it in the trunk of my car, and if I'm passing by the post office I'll ship it back to you Priority Mail. All forks will be shipped with the SHOVE sticker already applied and a Krylon clear coat sprayed over it to ensure it stays there.

I think maybe once I get things rolling I might branch out and tune forks for the urban fixie hipster. I have just the tool for them, but I think I might have to come up with a brilliant acronym or it otherwise it just looks like a hacksaw.

Why SHOVE?

"When you're out riding and some mother f#*ker is in your way why bother PUSHing yourself to get by them when a good SHOVE will get them outta your f#*king way and give you the satisfaction of ruining someone else's day. And that's where that f#*kin' came from."---Dicky Dillen

Alright folks.
Who wants SHOVE'd first?


Posted by Dicky at 05:55:32 | Permanent Link | Comments (10) |

May 14, 2008

Pick me, pick me!!!!

Maybe it's a bit like getting picked last in gym class, but I got asked to be on a 5 person team for The Burn 24 Hour Challenge with about a week and a half to spare. One of their team members had medical issues, so I'm getting the nod to replace him... wait a minute. I realized that this is less like getting picked last in gym class and more like being the odd child out who doesn't even get picked. Then one of the chubby children has a breathing problem on the dodgeball court, and the skinny boy watching from the bleachers gets reluctantly called in. Either way, what do I care? I get to play with the other kids.

I'm joining up with Team Inertia, and I am looking forward to racing with (and meeting) Mark, Danny, Will, and Sharon. I can't wait to go out on the course at full speed with no consequences. The idea of only putting in one lap at a time... priceless. As I understand it there will be some sleeping. How 'bout that?

The last time I raced on a team I swore it would be the last time I raced on a team. I saddled up with Bill Nye, Big Worm, Stabby, and The Wonderboy at the Burn in 2004. We had no specific goals, and we quickly found out that a bad plan would have been better than no plan at all. Bill Nye was our leadout rider, and he was very unaware of the nuances of 24 hour racing. He had just gotten back into mountain biking, and he broke his chain about a mile or two in. He didn't have a chain tool, and he didn't know that he could come back to the pits so he RAN THE COURSE back to the pits. We started the day in dead last, and things never looked up after that. While Stabby (our anchorman) was out on the course the rest of us decided we wanted to drink beer until the sun went down and then go back out. Stabby was a bit incensed when he got wind of our brilliant plan, and when he finished his lap he did not threaten us with physical violence. Instead he stated that he was staying out there until one of our lazy asses got back out on the course. "This is a 24 hour race, isn't it?!?!?" he exclaimed.

Our race never really got any better. Big Worm took a night shift and came off a lap singing in the pits letting us know he intended to go out for ONE MORE so somebody needed to get up. I got up and started riding next as we had no semblance of a rotation at this point. I went out for two laps which turned into three laps when I saw that nobody was awake after my second pass. Meh. I seem to remember us forcing The Wonderboy to slog out one final lap in the sweltering heat before we called it quits that day. Captain Dick and the Throbbing Members ended up 17th out of 22 teams with 31 laps. Funny thing was I went back to the solo class in 2005 and ended up with the same lap count, although the team effort was 22 minutes faster.

So now I'm back on a team, doing something I said I'd never do again. Imagine that. They do have goals and expectations, so at least I'll ride motivated by the fact that I might let some people down if I don't go fast. I think the Throbbing Members would have been happy if I woulda went out for a lap around 1:00am and just slept out on the course till sunrise. Maybe.

I have not missed the Burn yet. I was there back in 2001 when it was called the Prolyte 24 Hour Challenge for my first solo win, I have dropped out of the solo class THREE times since for a multitude of reasons, and I've done the team thing once. The win was nice, but getting third place in the solo class on a rigid single speed in 2005 was one of those eye opening moments for me. I've got a lot of good memories from past Burns, but I have almost an equal number of bad ones. Here's to putting another check in the positive experience column.

I have not asked my team how they feel about pajama laps. Is that the kinda thing you ask about up front, or do you just spring it on them when the time comes?



Public Service Announcement:

Elk and his girlfriend Samantha have organized an Ovarian Cancer Fundraiser in conjunction with the Escape from Granouge MTB race on May 24. Part of the fundraiser is a raffle with the grand prize being a custom IF fork. They also have a lot of other cool stuff, including some Maxxis Ignitor 29er tyres and a White Industries ENO freewheel. They are selling raffle tickets in advance via BikeReg. You do not need to be present to win. Here’s the link to Bike Reg:

http://www.bikereg.com/events/register.asp?eventid=6529

This is America folks. You know that you are going to piss some money away on something pointless today, so why not skip that purchase that will most likely be in a landfill by the end of the year (like the other 99% of goods purchased in the US) and put your money towards a good cause? One ticket is less than five bucks, so do yourselves a favor and skip that McDonald's value meal #7 and give till your arteries say "Thank you". I've got an IF fork already, and I'm still tossing my money at the chance to get another one just to cuddle with at night. They are that beautiful.



Posted by Dicky at 06:17:52 | Permanent Link | Comments (6) |

May 13, 2008

Don't hate me just because I hate you...

It is with great pride (and a certain lack of knowledge as to all the details) that I would like to announce that as of today I will be a member of the Bare Knuckle Brigade. I am not sure exactly what all this entails, but inking a deal with the boys who know ink certainly has to be a step in the right direction careerwise. I can only imagine the endless possibilities that await me in the future.

Maybe Gary Fisher will find me a man of worth, and next year I'll be riding one of those "Cool guy only" edition single speed Superfly's. I kinda doubt that I'm of the caliber to deserve such bestowage, but one can dream. Maybe Gary could send me some stickers if he can't swing a sweet plastic flying machine. That would be nice too. I heard Gary's kinda particular when it comes to picking his riders, but he seems delighted to have my pee sample in hand so let's keep our fingers crossed.



Maybe Keith Bontrager will shower me with carbon parts and invite me to stay in a sweet chalet overlooking the course at the Tour de France next year. We could sit back and talk about how it must suck to be a bottom rung loser in the realm of the cycling industry. Oh.... good times, good times. Maybe Keith has some stickers he doesn't need or maybe a few carbon valves cap that were deemed "Lance-unworthy".

"Are you kidding me Keith? Nine thousandths of a gram for a valve cap? You can't do better? What a freakin' hack."



Perhaps I will join up with Doug and Elk and we will super domestique for Jesse and Marko when they throw their hats into the very financially rewarding ring that is single speed endurance racing on a full time basis with factory level support like has never been seen before. You think bottle hand ups from non-neutral support personnel are controversial? Just wait till you see the quad runners following us up the singletrack loaded with spare bikes, team doctors with syringes loaded with questionable substances, and bikini clad beer girls.

Having your significant other and two screaming kids following you in a Honda Element full of water bottles ain't gonna cut it in '09.



There could be a plan in the works to join up with Squirrel in Iowa and totally dominate the stage race that some folks call RAGBRAI. I know it's not a race, but when we jump off the front it's gonna be go-time. Maybe Nat and I can be the lead out pain-train that propels Squirrel to the line in the pursuit of everlasting Iowa glory. We'll be moving up through the peleton so fast those guys won't even see it coming in their rear view mirrors.

 We'll crush those bearded pansies on their mobile lawn chairs.



 There's always a chance that the Bare Knuckle Brigade is just a Fight Club in disguise, and it's true purpose is to start a worldwide revolution financed by the sale of chamois butter made from liposuctioned human fat. Maybe Skip Cronin is Tyler Durden. Maybe War Axe is just a front for the whole operation, and instead of making bikes he's really fabricating war axes to arm the entire brigade. You should probably hide your loved ones in a safe place... just in case.

Since the BKB is the anti-team team maybe we'll have an anti-team anti-training camp. While the "real" teams spend their early springs going to exotic locales to get in a bunch of "base miles" on road bikes and experience local culture while sipping on Perrier we'll be heading to Minneapolis in the dead of winter to have fixed gear bike derbies on frozen lakes while tossing back PBR's and looking for things to shoot with BB guns.


Sorry. No smart comment here. I just love the fact that these were the kinda people PBR was trying to sell beer to back in the day. Tennis and polo shirts are a sign of the revolution.

I think the contract I signed is pretty good for where I'm at this stage in the game. It's a thirty-seven year commitment, but they're paying me $42,000,000. Of course, like any other professional sports contract, I don't get that money until I finish my commitment, and they have the right to cancel the contract at any point... oh, and they also have access to my bank account information... but yeah, just like any other pro contract (or so they told me). Pretty freakin' sweet, huh?

So as of today I'm a hater. Well, I was a hater before today, but now I'm a hater with a certain sense of style. Will I be "Stars and Hearts" for life? Well, I'll be seventy-six when my contract runs out, but I have the option to renew at the end of my contract ( I have to wrestle a bear or something, so much fine print I can't remember... more standard pro contract stuff), so we'll see.



Disclaimer: All comments regarding the Cohutta 100 SS conflict are in pure jest. If you are an angry Texan please refrain from posting vile retaliatory comments to this post. I only have marginal control of my bowel functions, and I might shit myself if I feel threatened by your heated words.

Posted by Dicky at 05:30:59 | Permanent Link | Comments (10) |

May 12, 2008

I need constant supervision

Friday morning after I got done with my semi-lame post it was only 6:20am. I guess I coulda headed out the door for some "training", but I looked around the room at all the stuff I was planning on doing over the weekend, and I decided to get a head start on my bike related chores. Since there were some family members sleeping in my house I could only do the quietest of my tasks. First up was trimming a little steer tube off the top of my IF fork. My new position seems to be working out rather well, so I have decided to stick with it. I felt good riding 100+ miles in Pisgah, so it must be good enough for government work.

So anyways, I took off the stem and got out the pipe cutter. I know the saying goes "Measure twice and cut once", but I prefer my method of "casually estimate once, cut once, and regret forever". I looked at the height of the spacer I wanted to remove and kinda/sorta put the pipe cutter in a place that looked good. I'm sure you know where this is going. I needed to remove about 2.5mm, and I ended up taking off about 5mm. Doh. I wasn't too worried since I've been running the stem upside down, so if I cut it way too short I'd still be okay if I flipped it. I feel alright 2.5mm's lower then I intended (I couldn't honestly tell the difference), so I'm calling this a success story.



Saturday morning I woke up at 5:00am to get cracking on my other projects. The Berserker Boredom Killer had to give up its wheels so I could build up the (yet to be named) Zion as a fixed gear machine. I still don't have my Industry Nine prototype fixie wheels, but I imagine the 600 people paying for their wheels might take some priority over my sick non-revenue producing needs. I went to mount up an old Ignitor to the Phil Wood/Arch rear wheel leaving the Stan's rubber rim strip in place (it's necessary for the silly little cyclocross tire that was on the Berserker). My first attempt was a no-go, and one CO2 was wasted in the process. I removed the strip and blew a second CO2 into the tire, and my efforts were rewarded with a plump hunk of inflated rubber. I needed to mount the Rampage up front with a tube as I don't have a high dollar front wheel, and of course I installed it backwards thus causing the loss of a few more brain cells and wasting more precious family-free moments. I took the pedals off the Berserker, and of course they were wobbly and in need of some re-build TLC. Nothing was going as well as planned for sure.

I finished the (yet to be named) Zion build with an assortment of parts I had laying around my bike room. I went out for a test spin, and once again the bike seemed plagued by a loose headset. I analyzed the shit outta the problem, and tried everything from replacing the star nut with an Azonic Headlock to stacking a shit ton of spacers on top in case the pre-load cap was bottomed out on the steerer. As I straddled the bike with the front brake locked I was rocking the bike back and forth while trying to get my brain wrapped around the lub-dub vibe the bike was shooting back at me. I hung my head over the bars in desperation, and when I looked up and back at my fork from that position I noticed something odd. I had a clear view of the sealed bearings in the lower headset cup. I had never installed the crown race when I first built the bike. My mind zoomed along trying to count the miles I had racked up on my poorly assembled machine...

Uwharrie



Wilson's Creek



Maybe a local ride too? I dunno, but the only way to determine if I had done any permanent damage was to install the race and find out. It was easy enough to find the shiny new race as it was still in the box. I put it on and everything felt, unhhhhh, how do you say.... like a headset?? Yeah, it feels like a headset.

So I decided to move on to making an adjustment to the Meatplow. Since going to 29" wheels I have never trusted anything up front smaller than a 2.3. I was washing out the front of my Zion for eight months with a 2.35 Rampage and a 2.3 Resolution, so I could never see going smaller if I wanted to be able to ride aggressively (alright, stupid). I never took into account that maybe it was a geometry thing and not a tire thing. Well anyways... with my next race being the Cowbell 12 Hour Challenge I decided to start getting my shit together. The venue has changed from the USNWC (where I've had good luck) to a much less technical and flatter venue where my skillset has no place to shine. In the quest for speed I needed to analyze my set-up to see if there wasn't something I could do to get faster (other than training). The 2.35 Rampage seemed like overkill so I swapped the front to a 2.1 Crossmark. Of course the first time I mounted the tire up I put it on backwards, so the installation cost me two more CO2's. Who's supposed to be watching over my shoulder?

Saturday afternoon I got to enjoy the fruits of all my labor. I headed to Anne Springs with Stabby and Eric Van Driver with both of my bikes to see how everything worked out. The (yet to be named) Zion felt really good set up as a fixed gear, and riding it WITH a crown race made a world of difference in the handling department. I have to admit that picking some various components from my parts bin without taking proper fit into consideration was not wise. The 50mm Thomson stem combined with the very swept back Titec ti bars made for a cramped front end that had my lower back screaming. Oh well, live/learn/repeat.

Best way to test out a new set-up? The backyard does the trick most times.
 


Riding the Meatplow with the Crossmark up front kinda made my head hurt. The bike was so much faster all I could think of was all the races I had done since August with a Rampage up front where a 2.3 tire was overkill for the course (too much weight and rolling resistance). Meh. Warwick really nailed the front end geometry on my Thylacine, and the reduction of trail from my original Zion set-up allows me to run a smaller/lighter tire that I can confidently push hard in the corners. I would still want a Rampage for mountain rides, but I'm gonna have to give the Crossmark the nod when it comes to hauling balls for podium positions. This does pretty much wipe out any possibilty of me swapping back to the carbon White Brothers fork in the quest for speed though, as it has a smaller rake and would increase my trail figure to the point that I would not be comfortable on the twisty tight stuff with a little tire. Oh well, I don't want to make my bike so fast that my competition is afraid to even show up, now do I?

I can smell the charred remains of fractured dreams and crushed souls from here. Smells so nice and flowery, doesn't it?





Posted by Dicky at 05:14:21 | Permanent Link | Comments (3) |

May 09, 2008

The Humane Race

This was one of those mornings where I grab a cup of coffee and stare at a blank screen. It's not like I don't have a lot on my mind, it's just more detailed than I can write about. I want to do the front end swap on the Meatplow, build the Zion into a fixed gear off-road machine (sans Industry Nine fixed wheels/running late), make some parts swaps on the beach cruisers so one of them will tow a trail-a-bike so The Pie can drag The Fajita to school without making the Arab nations richer, scratching my head as I'm still working out the feasability of the Moon Cheese Sandwich which theoretically has six different people possibly involved in the project, staring at a constantly growing pile of schwag that needs to go on eBay...

Lucky for me I have this little guy in my life right now to remind me to take it easy and relax once and awhile.



Wally is a very old Chihauhau from the Humane Society. He was found in a yard sale in a cage for the low price of $15. Apparently the former owners were "victims" of the current administrations role in encouraging unstable home loans. They were losing their house, and selling everything including Wally. Somebody was concerned enough to buy Wally and take him to the Humane Society of Charlotte fearing he might end up at the kill-em-all shelter if no one bought him. Once the HSC vets looked him over they found out he had a grade five heart murmur and a very short life span ahead of him. Instead of trying to adopt out this older/hard to place dog he became a long term foster. Well guess where he ended up.

Wally has been with us nearly two weeks, and even though he's what I would call a "chick dog" I love him all the same. He has been assimilated into our pack, and he sleeps at our feet under the covers at night. It's hard to think of stupid inconsequential things when a small dog with a wheezy bark is curled up on your chest with his head under your chin. There's a good chance he'll be staying with us until his condition gets the better of him, and although it will be tough to see him go that way we are doing what we can to give him a quality of life experience as long as he's around.

Fostering is a mixed bag of poop, pee, fuzzy kittens, yappy puppies, smelly fur, and happiness. Big Worm has jumped in, and I'm sure he'd tell you it's been quite a great experience for his entire family. If you don't already do it and you're interested contact your local Humane Society and see what it's all about.

Wally says thank you on behalf of all the misft animals looking for a happy home.


Sorry for the bad pic.  Apparently even dogs don't like sun in their eyes, especially when they're big, buggy Chihuahua eyes.

I guess I did have something to talk about.

Posted by Dicky at 06:08:40 | Permanent Link | Comments (9) |

May 08, 2008

Now what?

I've fallen into a huge gaping hole in my "schedule".  To go from two 100 mile efforts in two weeks to nothing for over a month and a half is kind of a drag.  I've got nothing coming up till The Cowbell Challenge 12 Hour race on June 21st.  That's a long ways away.

Things have changed in the land of Cowbells.  The race has been held at the USNWC for the last six years (I think it's been six years).  Amazingly enough this race predates the construction of the USNWC by quite a few years and was held at the same trails that we lovingly called "Catawba" before someone figured out how to make money (not) with the land.  Due to some issues that go deeper than even I understand the USNWC is letting this race, which is part of the USACycling Endurance Series and the NC State 12 Hour Championships, slip through their fingers.  I can't imagine why they wouldn't want this race on "their" property so they can sell their $5 beer and $8 hamburgers to all the famished racers... whatever. 

So anyways, the race is moving to a new venue just north of town called Fisher Farm.  It's a really nice trail, but it's not the kinda trail that works in my favor.  The old course had lots of climbing and fast descents.  Fisher is tight and twisty, but it's much more about who can lay down the power for 12 hours.  Meh.  I've already proven that I don't do well on this type of course in the past, so I'm kinda thinking the odds are against me getting my Cowbell back (I missed last year due to the Hellride).

I was brainstorming on just how I can improve my odds at this year's event.  I considered (once again) replacing my IF steel fork with a much lighter (but slower handling) carbon fork.  That sounds like a lot of work, so I don't know about that.  I do think I'll take the time to remove the 2.3 Rampage up front and swap it out for a Crossmark.  That should buy me back some time and effort on the course.  Other than that I guess I could start training.  Start training???

Yeah, I've been slack.  I'm still up at 5:00am just like I always am this time of year.  I'm just finding it harder to get out the door.  I surf the web and piddle about the house, and most mornings I'm lucky if I get out the door before 7:00am.  I gotta do something about that.  I know it's semi-defeatist, but training for a race that has stacked the deck against me is a bit disheartening, especially a race that I love to do and have done well at for many years.



I wouldn't exactly say I need more Cowbell.  I've got two of them so far, and I've only got two hands to ring them.  A third might seem pointless to some, but in true American style I want more than I need.  What with the price of gas, the scary economic situation, and our hundred year war going on who wouldn't feel safer with an extra cowbell in their closet?

Sorry about the links to the USNWC.  It's an insider Charlotte joke.

Posted by Dicky at 06:23:00 | Permanent Link | Comments (8) |

May 07, 2008

Reflections and regurgitations

Thanks to Brado everybody gets some happy shots from the PMBAR. Here's the first bits of our race in a nutshell.

Here I am rolling up to the rider's meeting and practicing my Crouching Liger Hidden Nutsack.



"Where's that Kung Fu faggot with the pink wheels?"



"Hey Mike, I'm not sure making a windsail outta your map is gonna do you any good on the climbs."



"Errr.....I know this Taco Bell on 280 is out of bounds, but does it have any vegetarian options?"



Flying in formation.



Flying with no formation.



Elk rolling into CP 4, or as it should be known; Commitment Gap.



The guy with the beer told us this was the special test "Sodomy Checkpoint". Elk and I didn't stay here very long.



The Ergon packs are so sexy that they have a built-in condom dispenser so you don't have to fight the chicks back anymore. (they don't really have condom dispensers, but they should)



and that should be enough about PMBAR (unless something else comes up)




Posted by Dicky at 05:51:37 | Permanent Link | Comments (1) |

May 06, 2008

Re-hashed browns

Time to reflect on PMBAR...

72 teams of two toe the line
64 make the cut and are considered finishers
1 team gets second place and just happens to be the best looking

I would have to say that the night before the race went as smooth as possible. I switched up the pre-race beer choice and quantity since the Cohutta. I don't know if I should attribute that to our success, but I think I will say it helped. I did sleep like shit in the back of my Dirty Little Box. Dunno why... maybe it was to quiet.

Knowing that the goal was seven checkpoints from the get-go made it much easier to deal with mentally. Instead of wasting mental power making decisions about how far to push it there was a bit of sanity in knowing we were going to push it all the way. I can't say why, it just did.

Elk was a fantastic partner. We both had needs at one time or another that needed addressed, and the other guy would patiently wait till we were both ready to roll again. Mental collective and cool heads. Elk has been doing stupid things on a single speed a lot longer than I have, and he has a long list of impressive palmares to boot. When we made our way over to the west side of the forest I told Elk to let me know if at any point he wanted to turn back since every inch we traveled from that point on was an inch further from the finish. He never waivered in his commitment to see this thing out, and it helped me keep my head in the game. He also gave me cookies, and I really like cookies.

I carried 100oz of water in a Camelback, and two 22oz water bottles with a weak Gatorade mix. I did take a quick swallow of water out of a pump at a campsite, but I pretty much relied on what I carried. When I got home on Sunday I pulled the bladder out of my Camelbak and found it half full. I figure that means I drank just over 100oz in twelve hours. Hmmmmm.... there's just something about getting lost in time out there in the woods and I forget to take care of myself as I focus on routes, maps, beer, weather, rocks, roots, mud, and everybody else out on the course. I gotta work on that.

The top two teams were all on 29'ers. Sam was on his pretty new Gary Fisher squishy, Brad was on a Salsa DosNiner, and Elk was on a rigid ti Independent Fabrication. Of course I was on the Meatplow. It was an interesting difference in rig choice taking the two top spots.

I think it's obvious I have bounced back from Cohutta. After a race like Cohutta I get kinda down on myself, and I really came down with a case of "I sucks" that plagued me for the last two weeks. Having a good race and coming through with a decent result will certainly help the mental bruises heal, and pretty soon my brain will go into it's default setting of "I don't suck so bad". Too bad the "I'm pretty good at this" feeling only lasts for about twelve hours after an event. At least with a second place at the PMBAR I can finish out the year with some ho-hum results and not mind so much. A top three finish there has been on my list of long term life goals (Dr Phil says I need those).

We finished 1hr 24min behind first. Of course I'm wondering where we lost it. I have a good feeling Sam and Brad never pulled out a map. I know we pulled ours out probably twenty to thirty times (seriously). We chose our route poorly twice, and at one point had to go past an intersection looking for a landmark to verify that it was the correct intersection (that sucked). Then again I don't know if they were slowed down with a mechanical or if they delivered a baby on top of Farlow. Pushing up Farlow was dumb, dumb, dumb. It was easily the most painful thing we did all day. I feel like we coulda shaved at least 45 minutes off our time if I had only had a better idea of what we were doing out there, which leads me to my next thought...

There was a point out there after we nailed the last check point when I started wondering if I would do PMBAR anymore now that I was finally doing it all the way. Now that the pain is gone (except when I move) I'm already thinking about things I could do differently. My knowledge base of the Pisgah National Forest increases every time I do PMBAR. I hate to waste all this potential smart brain stuff on nothing. I'm really thinking this might be the year I prioritize the Double Dare.... maybe.


Posted by Dicky at 06:05:22 | Permanent Link | Comments (9) |

May 05, 2008

PMBAR (formerly know as the Death March)

For people who do not understand what the Pisgah Mountain Bike Adventure Race is let me explain. The main objective at PMBAR is for you and your teammate to ride to at least four check points (of seven possible) in the Pisgah National Forest. Every checkpoint you get beyond the minimum of four is worth a whopping five hour bonus (each), but you have to cross the finish line before the fourteen hour cut-off. Eric (PMBAR Honcho) Wever also makes the call on determining some roads and trails off-limits for reasons of safety, poach-proofing, and genuine, painful, inconvenience. You are required to carry everything you need for the entire day, whether you're going four-and-out or all the way.

In the past I've been on the party train. My partner and I would go for the minimal number of checkpoints so we could get back as fast as possible in order to drink a maximal amount of free beer. This year I decided I wanted more. Mark "Elk" Elsasser had hit me up in 2007 to be my partner, but I was already in a committed relationship with The Wonderboy. I decided to team up with Elk this year, and we also decided that we were going for all seven checkpoints up front. There was going to be no pussy-footing around. We were going to carry an assload of food and water, plenty of gear, and REAL lights (not silly lightweight commuter LED's) in case we were out after dark.

It never seems to matter how ready I think I am before the start. I'm either re-checking the out of bounds map, deciding what to carry and what to put back in the car, or trying to un-Loctite my partner's brake. This year was no different, but when Eric announced the start at 8:00am and we were free to open our passports I was prepared as I've ever been.

Some folks who know Pisgah pretty well take off right at the start. I always glance at all the checkpoints and come up with a plan before I leave. For the first time ever I identified (sorta) all the CP's, came up with a general route, and had us turning the pedals over in just a few minutes. Elk set a fast pace up the intial climb that had me slightly concerned, but I went with it anyways. PMBAR is a race of attrition that rarely rewards haste or speed. I figured within the first couple hours he would see how everybody starts fanning out, and it just becomes you, your partner, and the sound of your heart beating in your head for hours on end.

We chose the typical route down into the Turkey Pen area (east side of the forest) first. Over the last two years I saved this for last to increase the suffering, but this year we had an agenda. As always the first checkpoint takes a long time to get to from the start, but after two hours effort I could smell the stamp ink getting closer. As we were coming in some folks were already coming out, but trying to ascertain if they would finish in front of you is already pointless. They might do less checkpoints, get horribly lost, have a race ending mechanical, or just simply quit. You usually never know how you're really doing until a few hours after you finish and all the bonuses have been tallied.

On our way to the second checkpoint it was more of the same. We saw people coming back from where we were going, and this time I saw a few folks that I woulda guessed were behind us?? Our second CP was unmanned, so I stamped the passport, jotted down our next destination, and described our condition as "better than everybody else". I also took note of where the other teams were headed, and it seemed like we were going along with the other contenders, yet some others were going God knows where and coming from BFE for whatever reason. Sweet PMBAR befuddlement.

I told Elk we were in good company. Several past PMBAR success stories were on the same path including Sam Koerber (local haunch and 2007 PMBAR champ) and Brad Kee (local psycho and winner of The Most Horrible Thing Ever). I was pretty chuffed to know I had selected a route that folks who don't need a map to get around would take, but at the third checkpoint I messed us up with a poor route selection. I saw a way to the fourth checkpoint that was longer, but maybe easier. When we came back to the proper route we pulled in behind Captain Morgan's team, and they had been behind us till now. Doh.

At least we had a chance now to strategize with some other folks and brainstorm the possible routes. Once we hit the fourth checkpoint we discovered we were not on the same page as to how to hit the three western checkpoints. Elk and I were once again on our own, and things were now getting chilly and moist. We stopped to put on our GoreTex, and as we did Capt Morgan's squad blasted by. A little while later we rolled by them as they were trying to decide between a longer road route and a shorter trail route to the next CP. I knew the trail well enough to know it was best for us, so we continued on to Cove Creek.

When Elk and I rolled onto the Daniel's Ridge Loop to head out to our fifth check point we stopped for a picnic and to peel off the Gore. As we spread out the contents of our packs along came Capt Morgan's platoon, and eventually we all made our way to the next CP together. Upon leaving the fifth CP I was convinced the only way to get to the top of Farlow Gap was to push up it. Eric had deemed the only route to the top (known to me) off limits, so we we're going to do the thing that no one ever wants to really do, push up about 1,200 feet in three technical miles. At the base of the climb Captain Morgan asked me if I was riding all the way to the top. "Of course" I said. "No dabs" I added right before I fell over trying to get clipped in. Sweet PMBAR irony.

As we were pushing up we came across some folks who seemed to be the kinda riders we shoulda been in front of. For the life of me I couldn't figure out how they were headed down Farlow, unless they went outta bounds. They assured me they had gotten there legally, and my brain started to reel. Was there a way to the top without pushing? If there was surely the smarter teams were going that way, and we were losing time and expending huge amounts of energy pushing up.

My fears were validated as I saw Sam and Brad descending down Farlow. Sam asked me "Why are you always pushing up the good downhills?" as he passed, and I knew we had been beat. We arrived at the top of Farlow with Capt Morgan's brigade, and then the maps came out and more strategy was discussed. The seventh CP was going to put us as far from the finish as possible. Elk and I were okay with that, but Capt Morgan's regiment only had commuter lights, and a push to a seventh CP could very well push them into a dark descent off Black Mountain which is a predicament that no one would ever want to be in. They headed back with their heads down regretting thier lack of illumination that would have allowed them to forge on.

Elk and I decided that we would hit the seventh CP and then take the route the smarter teams used in reverse. Whether or not it made sense didn't matter, as neither one of us felt like descending off the back of Farlow to have to push back up to the top and then face the nastiest descent in Pisgah. We reached the seventh checkpoint in a very anticlimactic manner. It felt good to have them all under our belt, but it felt awful knowing that we were at the furthest point from the finish possible. I was very unfamiliar with this part of the forest, so stopping to navigate our way out from time to time was mandatory.

I know topo lines are put on a map for a reason, but I tend to ignore them. Sometimes it bites me in the ass, and sometimes I am pleasantly surprised. Our new route was more of the latter, and less of the former. I thought we would be slowly ascending to Gloucester Gap, but amazingly enough it was mostly a descent. From there it was another road descent to the Cove Creek campground where we would hit our second to last trail of the day. It was just before 6:00pm when we headed up Cove Creek, and we were looking like we just might make it in before dark.

Gravel to pavement to gravel. Climbing and descending with no intermediate goals between us and the finish to spur us on. Occasionally we would pass another team, and I would scratch my head wondering where they were going and what they were doing now. We forged on at a moderate pace on the most logical, albeit still painful, route to the finish, and came to our final turn just before 8:00pm. It was looking like we would make it in before dark, as we only had a hike-a-bike climb and a tasty descent between us and the finish.

As we rolled down the final trail it was just getting to the point where we had to squint to keep our focus in the dwindling light that filtered through the forest canopy. We tumbled outta the woods like two sacks of potatos, and rolled into the finish at 8:14pm. We were told we took second place, and I was overwhelmed with joy (enough so that the fact that the kegs were floating already didn't make me cry). I never expected to do that well at this event ever. Being beaten by Brad and Sam was like being beaten by Lance at the Tour. You expect it, so second place felt oh so good. I thanked Elk over and over for being the guy who helped me get to a place I never thought I'd be in at an event that I hold near and dear to my heart.

Looking at the results this morning I see that Brad and Sam clocked over a hundred miles. Since Elk and I chose (poorly) a different route I guess we went over a hundred plus three more for good measure. A hundred miles plus in Pisgah is no joke. Elk said to me after the race "I knew it was going to be hard, but I didn't think it would be this hard."

PMBAR. Harder than you think, give or take a couple miles.

(of course tomorrow I will rehash my rehashing)


Posted by Dicky at 06:31:18 | Permanent Link | Comments (4) |