Bike Peddler » night ride

24 Hours Of Moab

Joshua — Mon, 12 Oct 2009 23:21:00 +0000

After two last minute personnel changes, and a last minute impulse purchase of a new light, I packed up and headed for Moab with our newest team member Wes Friday morning.

Ryan had driven down Thursday night with his wife to secure a good campsite. Ryan did this race last year so he knew everything you needed to do for a good race. Glad he drove down a day early. We were closer to the start/finish line then almost 5 of the 400 or so teams there. But at least we were in tents, between two RV's with generators running 24/7. And without any tape or rope indicating our campsite, one of the RV's stole our campfire ring. Let's hear it for race experience.

After Wes and I pulled in, we unloaded and hustled to get a pre-ride in before it got dark. I had never ridden this "trail" before so it was a good thing we did. The course was pretty crowded with people doing the same thing. First impressions included, "This is going to suck." And "Wow, there's a LOT of sand." In between the sand, there were techy sections of slick rock. Not the smooth grippy slickrock you find on the other side of Moab that's fun to climb because it grabs your tires and lets you climb impossibly steep pitches. This slickrock is of the rough, broken loose variety that gives you a choice of the hard, rough line, or the "I guess I'll get off and walk line." Later in the race, I would choose the latter quite often. The first two miles were like that, and then it got a little better. But you still had these tricky, ledgy descents that a lot of racers walked, followed by sand pits, followed by steep ledgy climbs that a lot of racers walked. I did fine on the descents, and had planned to pass skinny guys carrying there bikes and make up some time. I'm no downhiller, but I can go down the rough stuff better than some of the cardio crowd. Once you hit about the 5 mile mark, the course turns into more of a road. There is an awesome, steep descent with berms you can get completely horizontal on. All the sand sluffs into the bottom, so it behooves you to carry speed into the corners and get as high on the berm as you can. This is followed by a brutal climb up a sandy hill. I would go on to walk this climb every single time.

The second half of the course is where you have to be able to spin big gears. At mile 7 you cruise on mostly roads. This takes you out and around this big rock formation. One ledgy descent and then you start the final major climb. Not granny gear steep, but long enough to have you looking pretty anxiously for the top. Crest the top and start the last three miles of the course. These are 30+ mph hardpack roads. (If you've got 30+ mph in your legs.) But you have to be careful, because when your going that fast, a deep pile of sand can send you ass over teakettle in a hurry.

Also on this final descent you start to catch glimpses of the tent city at the start/finish line. It's a pretty welcome sight day or night.

We finished the lap at dusk, and headed into town for dinner. Not sure if it was the lobster enchilada at La Hacienda, pre-race jitters, or the cacophony of generators,bagpipes, and keggers, but I wasn't able to log much sleep friday night. This would later come back to haunt me.

Parrish who had joined the team after Rone dropped out, was going to head down Friday as soon as he and Riley could get away from the shop. Surprisingly, when there is a Wednesday night group ride that no one in the shop goes to, they are able to completely vacate the shop at 4pm. But for an internationally known event three hours away that they have known about since April, they couldn't get away from the shop until after 9pm, and so, decided to leave early Saturday morning and get there before the race started. They decided to leave early, and then left at about 9:30 am. So, interestingly, when the start cannon sounded at noon Saturday, our five man team only had three members.

So here's where we talk about the start. A "Le Mans" style start. I don't know who Le Mans is, but I'd like to kick him in the "Le Balls" because I got conned into doing the first lap. Riders line up, in a crowd of 400+, by rows of bike racks where you've strategically staged your bike before the start. There were a lot of strange costumes, and pre-race rituals going on. I had my phone with me and snapped this picture of the guy in front of me. I don't know if he got carried away with the Chamois Butter, or what, but everbody behind him was quietly elbowing everybody else as white foam slowly oozed out of the back of his shorts and eventually began dripping on the ground. Who am I to judge? Turns out he is Ben Koenig. He took third in the Men's Solo Championship. Yeah, he rode 15 laps by himself with a total ride time of 12:45 minutes. I'll have to get me some of whatever that stuff is.

Cannon sounds, and everybody runs, 300 yards across the desert, around the designated tree, then back to the bikes. Grab your bike, jump on and go. Wes snapped this picture of the start. I'm in there somewhere choking on dust and trying not to get knocked down and trampled. Luckily, I've been in enough mosh pits to be able to stay standing in a violent, hostile crowd.

After the run, you ride a slightly modified first section of the course. Staying on the road and bypassing and single track from the start line to the jeep trail. The idea is to let the crowd funnel into a line. It almost works, but that nasty first two miles I told you about was like the return line at Wal-Mart on Dec 26. The tricky parts become hike-a-bikes because, if one person puts a foot down, everybody has to put a foot down. I managed to stay pretty mid-pack in the first few miles. Sure enough, I passed a lot of people on the rocky downhills. Unfortunately, most of them caught me again on the climbs and giggled as they rode past. I made the first lap in
1:32. Better than I expected, but not incredible.
Here is an impressive shot of my gut as I came into the start/finish.
Handoff the baton to Ryan and head back to camp. This is where I should have taken a nap, but didn't.
He turned in a slightly faster time, followed by Wes with a similar time, and when Riley was out, Wes pulled up the results on his blackberry. We were in 10th place.

I hadn't really hoped to do anything but keep from embarassing myself and my teammates, but it was looking like we were going to have a top ten finish in a field of 26.(5 person mens category).

So now it was serious. Riley and Parrish turned in good times and we moved as high as seventh place at one point. Parrish being the bottom of the batting order, finished his first lap in the dark and it was my turn for the first full night lap. Staying true to club tradition, I had laced glowsticks into my spokes which create a wheel of light when they spin. I actually was asked where I had bought my wheels. I think they were confused when I said, Macy's Sack and Save. There two for seven bucks.

And so began my toughest lap. With delusions of a high ranking finish in my head. I rode sloppy and aggressive. Bobbling on the climbs a lot, and having to put a foot down on stuff that I should have been able to ride. One crash caught me hard in the bad place, and I ended up with a constant urge to urinate for the rest of the lap(and most of the rest of the race). I actually stopped four times to take care of it with a disappointing result. In the dark though, you caught these surreal images of lights in the distance. The most incredible was from the top of that bermy downhill. A line of bobbing lights weaving it's way down one side and up the other. With others in the distance showing you both where you had been, and where you were going. For the first time you actually felt like part of a huge population of similarly minded individuals instead of one maggot squirming past another alone on a hillside. Sprititual enlightenment notwithstanding, I was still hurting.

The lights on my handlebars created some kind of interference with my wireless cyclocomputer causing the display to scramble so I had no idea what kind of time I was making. When I finally made it to the last technical downhill, I was trying to make up some time, and when I took the line I had chosen the day before, the rock I had been using to roll off the ledge and into the sand had moved out a couple feet. Creating a hole, followed by a rock. I manage a decent nose wheelie for about two milliseconds, and then piled over the bars and into the rocks and sand. adrenaline and gymnastic ability rolled me back up to my feet, and when the guy behind me asked if I was allright, I barked back "YES!" and jumped back on my bike. Actually I was crying on the inside. My whole left side was in agony. He wasn't so sure I was fine, and stayed with me until the road smoothed out and then blew past me and disappeared into the night. Shouting back "Nice Wheels!". I finally rolled back in to a 1:48 time.

I had decided that instead of sleeping between Riley and Parrish's cots in the tent, I would stretch out in my recliner style camp chair. I grabbed my sleeping bag and cinched the mummy hood down over my eyes. Tuned into a little Don Williams on the headphones and managed about two hours of sleep. Our night strategy was to have the incoming rider wake-up the on deck rider when he got back to camp. This worked out pretty good and we didn't miss any hand-offs in the night.

My next lap would begin around 4:30 am. Parrish had turned in a killer lap and he rolled in much earlier than I was expecting. To answer your question, yes, it does piss me off that a guy who rides a bike like three times a year, and shows up to the race late, not only turns in the fastest time of anyone else on the team overall, but only lost twelve minutes on his night lap.

At this point, I was feeling feeble. I resolved to just go as hard as I thought I could maintain for the whole lap. That wasn't very fast. I tumbled into the sand about a half mile in and when I picked up my bike, I realized I had forgotten to grab a water bottle. I had a semi-liquid food packet(Enervitene) in my pocket, and planned to drink it at the halfway point. With the cold temps water wasn't too huge of a priority so maybe I would be fine. By the four mile mark I was parched. Probably due to the fact that I knew I couldn't drink but still. I was diing. On the next rocky section I picked up one of the dozens of bottles that had been bounced out of other riders bottle cages and drank long and deep. Jammed the rest into my cage and moved on. I rode conservatively and relaxed. I thought for sure I was going to be turning in a two and a half hour lap, but actually managed a 1:54. I rolled in just as the horizon was turning purple. When I caught my breath I did the math and realized I was done. Unless Ryan, Wes, Riley, and Parrish all turned in times just over an hour(which was not possible, even for Parrish) I would be done. I have never been so relieved in my life. I bought a huge breakfast burrito and piled on the jalapenos and hot sauce. I took a shower, and got dressed. And waited for noon.

In the end, we came in a respectable 9th of 26 teams in our category. And 142 out of 400-some-odd teams overall.
The sick thing is, since I woke up this morning,I've been thinking, "I think next year I'll......"

Trike-urious

Joshua — Thu, 27 Aug 2009 04:42:00 +0000

If you haven't seen this video,......watch it first.

Okay, now that your interested. You can be jealous of me.
I got an email from Ryan Thompson the other day telling me they were doing one of their Big Wheel Shuttles on Squaw Peak. He offered to let me borrow his rig for a couple of runs. I have heard about these for quite awhile and I had commented on Ryan's Blog that I was really interested in them.
The Big Wheel/Trike/Mario-Kart is actually a Trek Mod. A production big-wheel that's souped up with a pneumatic front wheel, and sealed cartridge bearings in the back. That's where you start. Then most of these guys add high rise BMX handlebars, and since Trek no longer makes the spoked wheel with the freewheel hub, you either have to scavenge a 16" front hub and mount foot pegs, or do a really complicated conversion that involves some machining and patience. Neither of which are on my list of skills/qualities. Since the six inch cranks become completely worthless once you break five miles per hour, I'm thinking pegs are the way to go.
But on to the ride.
I was told to bring a light, it didn't occur to me that this was actually going to end up being a night ride until I was driving there and it was getting dark. This isn't just for fun, it's actually strategic because it makes it easier to see cars coming when their headlights come around the corner up ahead. After dark, the only people driving up Squaw Peak Road are Zoobie's going up there to give each other something to tell the Bishop about. So they're minds aren't exactly on the road.
As Ryan was running a little late, I met up with Randy from Mad Dog Cycles. He had a 15 passenger van pulling a trailer to run people up the road. Since somebody had to drive the shuttle he offered to let me ride his while we waited for Ryan. So off we went.
From the top, the only advice was to lean into the corners. Once I picked up my feet, I was instantly doing like 30 miles an hour. This is not an exaggeration. You accelerate so fast it's scary. The first thousand feet or so heading into a ninety degree turn, were frankly terrifying. And I immediately spun out into the bushes on the first turn. After that I fell back trying to get a feel for it. The best way to corner is to pull a Tokyo Drift, sliding your hind-parts out while leaning hard to the inside. When they brake traction you have to immediately turn into the skid to avoid spinning out. Just like Doc Hudson in Cars. The first run was a little slow, but I made it. The regulars were looking at me like I was an idiot for wearing shorts and a t-shirt. In hindsight, they were right. I know I broke 45 mph with nothing between me and the asphalt but some Old Navy Khaki and a DKM tour t-shirt. At least I was wearing a helmet.
The second run was better. I began to get a feel for the turns, but still nowhere near keeping up with Ryan and the boys.
On my third and final run, I got cocky and actually spun out several times. Oh well. Somebody has to suck to make the other people look good.
The best part of all is the looks you get from oncoming traffic. A mix of surprise, interest, and anger.(Apparantly there was a bit of a run-in with a mini-van refusing to let them pass at the front of the pack).
Now, when Ryan sent that email, I thought I was getting special, preferential treatment, for being pretty much world famous with this blog. After all, I get like 0-10 hits a week. But it turns out, Ryan is trying to raise some money for the LiveStrong Foundation by letting people take a spin on his Big Wheel for a donation on his LiveStrong page. Make an appropriate donation and you too can tempt death on two plastic wheels, three inches off the ground.
I highly recommend it.

Defeated By Single Speeds

Joshua — Sun, 16 Aug 2009 16:40:00 +0000

There are few things in this world quite as humbling as being passed on a climb. So much more so when the ones passing you are on fully rigid singlespeeds.
I've never fully understood the singlespeed impulse. I have set out to build a singlespeed before. But as with most of my "I'm gonna build one up" projects, the frame ends up hanging in the rafters without any parts on it. Then as I'm chugging up a particularly painful climb, I often think "Why, in the name of Zeus's butthole, would anybody want to do this without the benefit of multiple gears." I get simplicity. I get lightweight. But honestly, who among us has never been trudging up a steep climb and kept looking down to see if there wasn't one more gear you could grab.
Last night we rode South Fork counterclockwise in the dark. It was a "Stars of UMB" event, with Oilcan, Cobes, TacoTim, and newcomer Noobyu along with Retro Bill and I. After an already long day, I was slightly less than enthusiastic when I pulled up to the trailhead. Without any thermometer, I would gauge the summit at a frosty 45 degrees. It was colder than a stepmother's heart. I kept a t-shirt on over my jersey and pulled on some arm and legwarmers. And we dropped down the two miles Cascade Springs road. I was running my crappiest light on my helmet which was a mistake in hindsight.
Cobes had some kind of oxyacetylene/plasma job on his head and hadn't quite perfected the nuances of looking just below the face of the person your talking to. Which resulted in a searing headache for me. I officially bestow the Light and Motion Arc as the brightest light that has ever shown up for one of our night rides.
Then came the climb up South Fork. I'm cruising along, minding my own business. When the bobbing solar spot behind me gets so close I can hear his lycra. Vwip,vwip,vwip.
Now anytime you hear me say, "Just let me know if you need to get by." There are two possible, acceptable reactions. Say, "Now" and pull around. Or sit up and fall back. My delicate ego can't handle somebody right on my rear wheel, and like dog forced to race, I feel compelled to try to go faster. This is how Riley usually makes me puke. Eventually, Cobes did pull past, followed shortly thereafter by Oilcan. Both on singlespeeds. Then Retro Bill. Then I uhhhh stopped to check my bike, and soon I was at the back of the pack. With minor variations, this was the way we rode up to the four-way.
At this point Retro Bill was looking for any takers to drop down Tibble and then climb back up Mud Springs back to the Ridge. Like riding a single speed, I'm not sure why anybody would voluntarily want to ride up Mud Springs. But Nate, aka Noobyu, jumped like an excited puppy and they both disappeared into the night. Leaving four of us to pick our way back across the ridge and eventually back to the truck.
It did my heart good to hear Cobes complain about the disproportionate amount of climbing to descending. Even though he did it after kicking my trash all the way up the mountain. On a singlespeed. Noticeably absent was any complaining from Tim who had expressed concern about being able to keep up prior to the ride. He just quietly ground away like a good soldier.
At the trailhead, we shot the shit for a good half hour or so. And with no sign of Retro Bill or Nate. I felt like I should be concerned. Normally, I try to make sure everybody makes it back. But since they took an alternate route, of their own volition, and I was freezing. I left them to the bears.
Bill or Nate, if your still alive let me know.
No pictures of this ride. After all the crashes my camera has survived, it was finally destroyed after being dropped on the concrete while taking pictures of a frame I was posting for sale online.

Lions, And Tigers, And Bears,…Oh My

Joshua — Sun, 19 Jul 2009 16:03:00 +0000

Slight logistical error on my part. When I said to meet at the shop for last night's ride, I failed to realize that Main Street was closed for the Classic Car Cruise. Hopefully no one gave up because of that.So although nobody showed at the shop, we met at Timpanooeke Campground and there were seven of us. Me, three shop guys, and three civilians,...Tyler, His girlfriend, and Mark. When we got to the first intersection Ryan and Mark bailed because Ryan had a curphew. They took off at the Salamander Flat turnoff and then there were five. I soon found out that Kyle and Brady, are like a couple of Girl Scouts in the woods. They are petrified of lions, and tigers, and bears. As we made our way up to the Ridge Trail, this became apparent and so once I had a chance to get up ahead of them. I turned off all my lights and hid in the bushes. I did my best Grizzly Bear impression and they both screamed like little girls. I think Brady peed a little.
When we finally made it to Ridge Trail. Two things happened. Tyler and his girlfriend turned around(I think they said something about going to watch some submarine races), and we met up with Curtis and his friend Whatshisname(I think it's indian or something). After chatting a bit, Curtis and Whatshisname joined us for the rest of the ride. Curtis was battling some intestinal distress and kept threatening to puke, but never sealed the deal. Once over the top, I failed to warn them that South Fork has several sharp switchbacks. This oversight manifest itself when Whatshisname overshot one and piled up in the corner. I left Brady and Kyle, and went to offer assistance. No harm, no foul, and just as we were getting ready to saddle up and head back down to Kyle and Brady, we heard girl screams and there were bouncing lights charging up the trail to us. Apparently, the two of them had heard something in the bushes. And they swear they saw eyes. From here out I was elected lead rider. Secretly in the back of my mind I was flashing back to another night ride in this area.
We bottomed out at Cascade Road and ground out the climb back to the summit. It was surprisingly hot for a night ride and I was sweating like a pig by this time.
We began the last descent back to Timpanooeke and hadn't gone 300 yards when I heard a ruckus and looked back at a pile of lights and dust. Brady had apparently out run his lights and went down. Everybody was concerned for his well being.
I was just happy that the crash-mojo had finally moved on to somebody else.