2008 Baja Epic - No Flak Jacket Required

With the recent unease in the area the field was a bit depleted with at least one pro team and a number of riders dropping out of the race in the final week. The reduced field (all 28 of us) dropped the usual prerace prepping and immediately gathered at the bar for the free margaritas being served up! The field favorite ended up being Ryan LaBar of BIKE magazine who was handing out swag as he posed with this awesome ride, BIKE magazines monthly feature bike, the SHIT Bike. This thing has been around Moab, used as a commuter bike and thrashed by Wade Simmons on the North Shore. While he suffered on the climbs due to the geometry Ryan crushed the monster descent off Mike’s Sky Ranch on stage 3.

Stage 1 would see a 65 mile leg and 7800’ of climbing, with Evan Plews being the only pro. Right from the start everyone was viewing this as a more intimate race with the chance to really get to know you competitors since there were so few to ride with each day. We rolled off with a seaside start right on the Pacific Ocean, with akido like reflexes I headed straight for the hard sand and sped off into the lead with mini Seagal siting the course. From there we headed inland along the back farm roads that challenged every rider with mangy dogs chasing you as each farmhouse rolled by. Within the first 5 miles the climbing began with steep rolling hills, the highlight being the steep climb up Tequila Hill were our group of 7 stopped at the summit for shots of Mexico’s finest before setting back out to the first rest stop. The wrist snapping began around mile 45 with a long road climb to the second aide station where I thinned the group down form 6 to 2. Right out of the aide station we were off on an 18 mile uphill grind into headwinds blowing 20+ mph - a kick to the jewels would have felt better. Managed to snap a couple of more wrists before rolling into Tecate to end day 1. In Masters I grabbed my first stage win and was able to take 6 minutes out of second. Stage 2, an 85 miles slog across the back country of Baja, on paper looked to be fairly easy with only 5500’ of climbing, until the prerace meeting revealed the presence of 13 -17 miles of deep sand that would be unrideable, and the fact that we would be sharing a section of the course with the Baja race vehicles that were prerunning the course for next week’s race. Race day dawned with temps in the low 40’s and the continuation of yesterday's menacing headwind, which stayed with us for the first 53 miles of the course. This was the first time I have had to walk flat section due to the deep sand. The other option being riding through the bush (with it’s thorns and rattlers) to stay in the hard pack – tried both and went for the walking. The stage ended with a fast descent down hardpack road with sections of deep sand and of course a pit bull that was all teeth and drool chasing you near the bottom. After the downhill we were treated to 6 miles of washboard road (some of the riders swore they would be sterile afterwards) with sections of deep sand before rolling into the finish that included young bmx riders throwing rocks at some of us! Again I nabbed another stage win, further padded my lead by 35 minutes and snapped a pair of wrists. This time would prove vital as the bronchitis I had been battling the past few weeks was coming back in a big way. Stage 3 kicked off with a 2.5 hour bus ride to the Valle Trinidad. The day's 53 miles and 6800’ of climbing opened with what was fast becoming the traditional 5 mile sand and washboard slog to the base of the climb to Mike’s Sky Ranch, which featured pitches in excess of 18 degrees. The descent was fast and rocky, serving up 2 flats before I finally pulled into the first rest stop. The ensuing hike a bike to the summit was followed with a descent that was better suited for the Red Bull Challenge then a stage race. Feeling like someone had me in a bear hug the entire stage I marked time against second in Master’s over the balance of the course. The final descent was another fast dirt road section made all the more tricky by the loss of my rear brakes, the sand having finally worn them to the point of no return. Of course to make us all suffer just a bit more, the final 5 miles were over (drumroll please) sandy washboard road. I struggled in second in Masters losing 8 minutes of my lead. Then back on the bus for 2.5 hours of beer drinking and countless piss breaks before getting to the hotel and dinner. Stage 4 was shortened to just under 40 miles and 2200’ of climbing after most everyone agreed that there had been enough sand and the 3 mile beach section near the finish should be dropped, which it was. By now the bronchitis was so bad I could hardly breath and knew I would be giving up time, the question was how much. It only got worse on the first descent when I hit a bone jarring ditch in the trail that even Stan’s couldn't save. This was really beginning to really suck ass and would suck even more ass when midway through the stage I suffered a third and fourth flat. With no tubes left I went begging from anyone and managed to score enough to get to the finish. The sight of the Pacific before the final descent had me dreaming of margaritas, shots and beer. I upheld the honor of Team Seagal and the NECS coming home 6th overall and first in Masters with an 8 minute lead. Now it’s Margarita time!

2008 Shenandoah 100

Well loyal fans (read that to mean Team Seagal), the final leg of the NUE Series is now in the books and it is time to sit back, read trashy magazines and get drunk on beer and mezcal, and boy did I earn it this year. Just as you experienced at the Mohican, pre race thunderstorms were the order of the night on Saturday, ensuring the the course would be muddy (not as bad as Mohican) and have it's fair share of greasy spots to take the unwitting to the mat faster then a blow from an master at the akido. Turns out this was not one to remember and for the better part of the day I felt like a stunt double that Master Steven had abused for kicks. The night before started with some jackass blasting the megaphone siren at all hours and babbling out unrecognizable phrases that made it seem like I was back on the boat with Chef going up that river in Apocalypse Now. The morning was humid with a capital H and despite the cool temps this was going to be a race that would take the wind out of your sails. Well your poor commentator suffered heavily in these conditions and never did get in the game for the entire race. The biggest positive was riding past the 22 and 43 mile marks and not bailing out of the race (each of these points was less then a 10 minute ride to the camp ground). The biggest negative was the 18 mile climb out of mile 54. In past years this has been a spot where I have snapped many a wrist and left grown men sobbing on the side of the road from the pain doled out. Well this year it was my turn to take the beating and it sure felt like a kick in the groin as the single speeders rode past me on the steeper pitches toward the summit. It was so bad that I considered going to the emergency room for wrist X rays! The push on continued (both literally and physically) as I rode and walked my way to the finish, pushed on by the powers of Steven, thoughts of Corona, limes and mezcal. The icing on the cake was the double puncture less then 2 miles from the finish. The leaks were slow enough that I could ride but barely steer and on the final single track the front end tucked and I came up dazed and sporting a new taco shaped wheel just for the Baja Epic. The final result, fourth in Masters, securing at worst 4th in the series and and podium finishes in all the races.

2008 Wilderness 101

Well sports fans it is that time of the year when the planets align, the clouds clear and the trails run fast in furious in Coburn, PA.....yes the Wilderness 101. In a masochistic way this is without a doubt my favorite race of the year. It mainly has to do with the fact that the W101 is the first mtb race I entered and somehow managed to finish. After swearing never to set foot again in Coburn here I am stepping up to the line for the 6th straight time.Again I was joined by a couple of proper English gentlemen, Wayne and Footie, both veterans of the race and always looking for a reason to tip a couple of beers. The antics didn't take long and leaving NYC at the optimal time of 4pm on a Friday ensured that Wayne & Footie wouldn't be here for the better part of 7 hours. The downside to all of this - when they did finally arrive at 11pm I was awaken from a solid sleep and eventually forced to run for the vial of Ambien so I could manage a paltry 4 hours of sleep before the race. Race day dawns with Chris Scott plying the campground with subtle ringing of the Race Gong. After a shortened night of sleep nothing is more satisfying then Footie's antics on race morning. Last year it was the attempt to convert to tubeless and this year there was nothing quite like watching Footie attempt to get a 29er tire to stay on a 26" rim, and all of this in the 15 minutes before the start! Race day showed early signs of ideal weather and a the crack of 7am we were off and riding behind the lead cycles with the pain train revving up to full speed. Wayne, Footie and I held together for the first climb with Footie showing signs of brilliance (and his skills at wrist snapping) as he shot ahead on the climbs and in true old school fashion stopped on the road side for a quick menthol. Once we crested the first climb it was goodbye Footie and hello pain train as the pace quickened and we took advantage of the rolling fire roads. A couple of dropped chains later and Wayne was off the back leaving each of us to suffer in our own world of delusion and pain. Grinding out mile after mile and focusing on the road ahead for mile after mile of climbing/wrist snapping, I made it to the 73 mile mark with only a few scrapes from going over the bars before I had the pleasure of meeting my potential maker - a coiled rattler ready to strike at my ankle. On the climb up Sand Mountain Road I held to the right and led the group up the packed track on that side. You can imagine what it was like to take a pedal stroke and hear the rattle of the snake, look down and see a coiled rattler have the option to a)strike at the nearest ankle and end my race (or life) or b) retreat to the woods. Lucky for me option b was the more appealing choice on this day. Needless to say the center of the trail offered the best path for the rest of the race. The final 20 miles saw a monumental battle between my legs and the demons in my head and you can be assured that the demons put up one hell of a fight before they finally ran out of hard riding and were suppressed for another year. Crossing the finish line I realized that this is the only thing that could hurt more then a session with a dominatrix and a cat-o-nine tails. Was it worth it - for second place in masters - hell yes and I will see you next year.The following morning, looking to combat the effects of burning 10,000+ calories, way too many beers and shots of mezcal it was off to the local diner for the "Delicious Dozen" or in our case the Delicious 36 after ordering 3 of these. Yes we did manage to finish almost everything on the table and without running to the bathroom to hurl! And one last positive note, I managed to raise a few thousand dollars for TDI. Amazing how much people will pay to see you suffer.

2008 Mohican 100

IF riders were well represented at the Mohican 100 with Harlan Price 5th overall, Alex Kopko 23rd, Trish Stevenson 5th in women's, Chris Wurster 3rd in Masters and Kerry Combs 6th in women's in the 100km. And now for the summary of the weekend's events and trust me it was something else. I thought I had seen the worst of it when first a deer ran across the highway 50 yards up the road. Then on the other side of the highway I saw a deer with it's head buried in a bag running in circles in the middle lane, the last sight being the smoking wheels of a semi. As I crossed into the heartland of America the body count kept rising, stopping at 32 by the time I arrived at Camp Nuhop. Certainly it could only get better from here, but it was not to be the case. Setting up camp next to me were Eddie & Greg from Team Seagal, a single speed team based out of St. Louis. Giving the cult-like status to such a great actor as Steven Seagal, the team finds it's inspirational guidance from the Steven Seagal heads carried on each handle bar, chanting the mantra "Superior Attitude, Superior State of Mind". They are fueled by PBR and were very clear they were about going out on the course to "snap some wrists" the following morning. And sure enough as we rolled out of town by the second climb Team Seagal had come along side and they had a look in their eyes that would make children run and orthopedic surgeons smile. The first 34-40 miles were on what I am sure is beautiful single track when it is dry but this is the morning after thunderstorms that sparked tornado warnings the night before (we were warned to grab Toto and head for the basement if the sirens came on) and now it was mud coupled with short steep climbs and no place to get a good pace going - just the kind of course I don't enjoy! Finally coming out of the woods I felt like it was long past the time to be back at the car having a beer and relaxing. But I was still in the running and there was that lingering fear of having a wrist or two snapped if I didn't catch Team Seagal. Shorty after getting on the roads the body count began to pile up again and in one stretch at the top of a climb there was a line of roadkill.only it was four in a row and smelled worse then the gloves on my hands. Will the carnage ever end? I continued with the mental tug-of-war about whether to bag it or keep going (amazing the games your mind can play when you put in a 40+ hour week in 3 days and don't sleep all that much), grinding away the miles riding with Rebecca from team Wake & Bake and then more single speeders until we were a group of 7 riding a pace line on the endless miles of rail trail, which was a nice place to get some additional recovery in! While in last in the pace line all of the sudden my chain breaks while I am coasting and before I know it the pack is gone and I am on my own trying to fix a chain with no reading glasses....the downside to being a Master! Few minutes later and it was back on the trail grinding away. At aid stations 4&5 my requests for EPO went unanswered so it was time to push on to the dam marking the final climb of the race. On the preride yesterday it was impressive looking from the top but the view from the bottom was like looking up Mt. Everest, and after 97 miles of riding with my trusty Sherpa no where in sight it was going to be quite a climb. Inspired by some beer swilling locals chanting at the top, I shouldered the bike and found the strength to make the climb and ride the ensuing climb to finally close out one of the more painful days of riding I can remember, coming home what at the time was recorded as second. The final kick in the teeth was finding out they missed Greg Turner, yes he is that fast and giving me that much of an ass kicking, and I found after all the drinking that I was not in second but had ended up in third....trust me I am not complaining about that either. As a thank you to the hosts, Camp Nuhop and on behalf of Independent Fabrication, I donated my prize money to the camp, one for the kids!Hard ride, great reward, good karma and oh yeah I managed to bring it home ahead of Eddie and Greg so no broken wrists! In fact it turned into a session of Del Maguay Mezcal and PBRs The night was beautiful and with a bit of arm twisting Team Seagal camped out. Nice surprise when at 2 am the thunder came roaring in and the rain came down in buckets. Sorry about that one guys.

2008 Cohutta 100 - The Good, The Bad & The Muddy

IF was well represented at the Cohutta 100 with riders featuring in the results in Men's open (6th - Harlan Price), Women's (4th - Trish Stevenson) and Master's (3rd - Chris Wurster). The previous day's recon ride of the course proved to be all for naught as Friday night brought showers and the Saturday morning start still had a cold mist in the air. Despite checking the conditions of the soil at the starting area for moisture and determining things would be similar to home, I came up with the wrong call in a big way. With a lot of insight from Harlan I was anticipating a fast course with good hard packed conditions and the opportunity to post a fast time. Well if you ever watched My Cousin Vinny, there was no embellishing by the director in the scene where Joe Pesci sleeps in the Caddie only to be awakened by thunderstorms and mud that is like pudding on a linoleum floor. After the opening climb up Route 64 we turned onto the fast flowing single track section that would last for the next 15+ miles, only it was no longer a fast flowing pump track, now it was a survival course that felt like one was riding on ice. It didn't help that I had opted for Killer Bee 2.4s which when new have little tread, and this was a worn set, so it was a close to riding slicks as you can get. The result was that by the time we got out onto the fireroads I had ridden too hard, sliding everywhere, spinning the rear on every small climb and had failed to keep properly hydrated - this was going to be a long painful day if things didn't get better and fast! Early into the fireroad riding I learned that most of my competition in Master's were behind me which provided a bit of an uplift and let me focus on settling into good pace for the duration of the road section. Shortly after 40 miles I came on fellow IF team rider, Patrick Jones, who was suffering from stomach issues and not having a good day. We decided that working together as teammates was going to be the most beneficial to both, would keep Pat going and keep me focused on maintaining a good pace position. We worked together over the next 40+ miles, alternating taking the lead and were able to pull out solid distances over the riders around us. At the last aide station, in a selfless act, Patrick urged me to go off on my own, as the stomach issues were upon him again, to secure my position in class. The final pair of climbs took everything I had left. After 80+ miles on muddy, soft, freshly graded roads and being slightly dehydrated I began suffering from cramps and tightening hamstrings which slowed my pace and allowed a couple of riders to get by. The final insult came in the final mile when I lost all focus and caught the guardrail and went down hard on the only paved section of the course! Managed to get is all back together, get on the bike and bring it home in 3rd place in the Masters with a personal best of 9:20, shaving 1:17:00 off of my previous best 100 time and making the podium for IF - there wasn't a better feeling then climbing onto the box flying the colors of Team Green!

2007 Looking Back/2008 Looking Ahead

The past - a great year of racing old school, keeping it rigid, single and simple. Not always the best results but regardless there is one thing that I always had....fun. The high point - Conquering the Klien Karoo of South Africa and putting IF in the record books as the first single speed to finish the Cape Epic, and that was only in March! The rest of the season was icing on the cake and I was able to approach each race with the aim of having a good time and, if the planets aligned, perhaps getting a good result as well. The low point - taking my first ever DNF at the Dark Horse 40, which is my home course and training ground - simply worn out. The future - Break out the Centrum Silver, in just a scant 6 weeks I hit the big 5-0 and get to step up to the Masters Class. Sadly I will be saying goodbye to the single speed for the NUE Series, adding 26 extra gears and 3 inches per wheel and leveling the playing field with the other Masters. Once the series over it will be back to basics, single speed, and off to Mexico for my reward.....the Baja Epic where I will be racing for fun, not results, followed by 4 days on the beach and a lot of beer and mezcal.

2007 Rosendale Crossfest - Blame It On Rio

Okay, let's face reality - 6 days in Rio on business working up to 17 hours a day, eating a lot of meat and consuming more alcohol then recommended - all in the name of business - is not a recipe for success. Add to that an overnight flight and 2 days prepping and painting the second floor of the house and you can expect to get your ass kicked on the race course. So, bored of the usual training rides and having just taken delivery of a new IF Planet X, I set out to see what the whole Cyclocross scene is all about. What I discovered is that the format was designed by Richard Jarvic solely with the intention of having racers blow up their hearts so he could sell more of those fabulous mechanical devices. Needless to say I didn't have all that much fun, chalked it up as experience and will no doubt do it again. End of the race standing....sort of, it was more like slumped over the handle bars knowing how seals feel just as the great white is about to eat them!

2007 Dark Horse 40 - Revenge of the Killer Bees

Simply put, at this stage in the season I was burnt out mentally and physically but being that this race is in my home court I wanted to come out in support the local bike shop sponsoring the race. In true sandbag fashion I rode to have fun and entered in the sport single speed class. For most of the first lap I swapped places with the lead single speed until I burped a tire and had to pull off on a fast section to make repairs. Due to the tight racing I had to stand and watch as countless riders went by before there was a space to pull back onto the course and get going again. A bit further along the course I rounded a bend to find a swarm of pissed off yellow jackets clouding the trail. Surviving the "ride of death" through the cloud I realized that it was time to pack it in and go home to a cooler full of beer and call it a season. Sadly after 4 seasons of racing I finally had to put a DNF in the books.

2007 Wilderness 101

The Wilderness 101 has a soft spot in my heart as it is the first mountain bike race I ever rode and for reasons unknown to me I use it as my annual fund raising ride. This year the charity of choice was the Fresh Air Fund. To help out I recruited 2 coworkers to come down and join the fun, one of them having never been on a mountain bike before. Once again the gods had turned up the heat and humidity for the race (conditions I detest) and it was shaping up to be no fun, that was until one of my mates got a bit bold on a descent, flatted and went over the bars into the deep weeds. Unhurt and unable to muster the knowledge to change a flat meant it was time to get going or bail out as I was feeling the effects of too much training and racing over the winter. Despite bending a rotor at 75 miles and having to remove the rear brake, I managed to come home 24th in single speed with a new PR and along with my coworkers raised over $7000 for the kids to go out and have fun in the country......all in all a successful race!

2007 12 Hours of Roundtop

It was time to change the game and give the race against the clock another shot. It had been several years since trying one and the time seemed right to give it a go. The weekend weather turned out to be down right cold for June with the evening temps dipping to the low 40s and start line temps not much higher. The course was a mix of fire roads (30%) and fast single track (70%) that had a real nice flow. The only downside was the laps were just a shade over 5 miles so there was going to be a lot of them by the time it was over. By the time the dust had settled it was a good enough effort for 3rd overall in the 45+ solo category and 1st in the single speed (a no brainer as no one else dared to make the effort).

2007 Greenbrier Marathon

South of the Mason-Dixon line the definition of "fast flowing single track" is significantly different then up North. Down here it means sections of single track mixed with rock gardens, roots and mud. Never-the-less it was an opportunity to go out and  get in a 4 hour race, have some fun and drink a few beers. Still feeling the effects of the Cape Epic I rode at a conservative pace, running most of the race in mid pack. My finishing position looked secure until a flat less then a half mile from the finish along with a terrible job at changing the tire let 5 riders get by. The result - a beer immediately upon crossing the line, 20th out of 35 and 3rd in single speed. Not what I was hoping for but  not a total loss either, at least I brought a suspension fork and made life a bit more plush!

Took My Beating And Enjoyed Every Minute Of It

The taste of the dust from the Klein Karoo might never leave my mouth (and for that matter I really don't want it to) and the feeling of crossing the finish line in Lourensford, as with a good wine, will only get better over time. To say I had a great time is an understatement and will never do justice to the race and all of the work that went into it. I can not praise the organization and staff of the event enough for all of the hard work that went into making such a good time for all of us riders. And of course over all the days of riding the friendships that arise are plentiful and helped us all get through the day. To the entire peleton I want to say thanks for all of the support (pulls on the flats, etc.) that you provided to the insane single speed team. Knowing that the pack was pulling for us to make the finish was one of the best motivators one could have as we struggled through some of the tough sections of the course. Stephen and Jeff, I never did get to buy you that beer at the finish but thanks for the fun when I rode my "Harley" along side that beast of a bike called a tandem.<br />Jasper and Natalie, you guys are the best and make it a relaxing time after the races.

Unleash The Animal Within

Well the time is at hand. Shaun has purged his knees of the gnomes and it seems I have finally rid myself of the cretins that have taken up residence in my sinus cavities.

Finally after 2 weeks of being sick I am able to focus on the final days of training and realizing that the time is at hand, take the bike apart and pack it for the coming adventure. Given that I have made it this far I can only wonder what the odds are of the baggage handlers managing to reroute my bike to the likes of Mongolia where it will do neither myself nor the lucky recipient much good (imagine Genghis Khan and the hordes attacking on bikes)!

Of course there is the Mrs, truly in line for sainthood for having put up with the slow transition to SA time which sees me getting up at 1:30am so that I will be in sync when I get to the race. At least the white noise generator (read that to be the indoor trainer) lulls her back to sleep and we manage to get a couple of minutes together in the morning before I head to the office and another couple after I walk into the apartment and head right off to bed. All work and no play makes jack a dull boy (but hopefully enables him to ride the single speed to the end).

With visions of the race dancing through my head I can hardly wait to board the plane and get the adventure under way. I am sure by the fifth day I will be cursing the hardship and pain that the race holds in store. Somehow up to how I have managed to avoid thinking about this aspect of it.

Good luck to all and see you in Knysna. IF SINGLESPEEDS RULE!

War Of The Noses Or Sinus Of The Times Part Deux

Turns out the nasty sinus infection has a bit of military training and must have spent countless hours practicing on the parade grounds. As one would expect with so much practice this infection is marching along, first left and now right....without missing a step. Now it is deeply imbedded into the right side of my face and leaves it pounding every time I so much as bend over. Well the hell with the Geneva Convention, this is all out war and it's time to bring in the chemical weapons. A quick ride to the doctor and I am ready to launch the mother of all wars on this infection. Fully equipped with vials of antibiotics and decongestants I am off to subdue the lousy bastard that is haunting me. There is room for only one teammate at the start and number plate 23-1 is reserved for Mr. Shaun Weber, not this nasty yellow beast!

Sinus Of The Times Or As The Nose Runs, Blow It

First it's the never ending cold that has we staring at walls while I train all week and weekend. Then just as everything is coming together and the final couple of weeks of preparation/training/taper are all set to occur.....WHAM it is the mother of all viruses that has a firm grip on the blood cells and just won't let go. After a few sessions of sleeping with as much clothing on and blankets, I finally club the little bastard into submission and dispose of him in the washing machine with all of the sweaty clothes. Guess again, now it's time for a visit from his long lost cousin.....Sinus Infection! The right side of my face is pounding and I am filling Kleenex with disgusting mixes of yellow mucus and blood! Isn't there a break for the weary, isn't it enough that I will be killing myself over the passes each day with only one gear to choose from (actually make that 2 gears, the other being my feet when the hill stands up and the pedals stop turning). Stop the sniffles, the never ending nose blowing and the raw skin around my nose, yeah I am getting "color" in my face but it's not from the sun! Bring on race day and let the true pain begin.

Survivor Of The Plague

Phew, it seems the worst might have passed and after several nights of cooking under the blankets and soaking several sets of sheets in sweat it seems the fever has finally broken (or is it I have finally broken the fever?). Either way after missing 5 days of training I was able to plop my arse back down on the bike (on an indoor trainer  as usual) and get a bit of a ride under my belt and let the legs know what lay in store. I am sure Shaun will be please as I will no longer have to request that he be allowed to tow me for the entire length of the course. Perhaps it is true......that does not kill me only makes me stronger!

Better Now Then Later

The Gods seem to have their own cruel idea of fun every once in a while and this is one of those occasions. About this time we are all in the final stages of oiling that well tuned machine called our bodies, hitting peak fitness just in time for the start a scant 3 weeks away. Well leave it to the close working conditions of the office and the superior ventilation systems that are employed in the skyscrapers of Manhattan to breed just the proper environment for your friendly virus to make a visit to yours truly. And this is not the typical chest heaving cold but rather some nasty thing that has planned a stay of a 7 to 10 days, making it's presence know 24 hours a day and leaving your throat feeling like you are an unemployed fire swallower from the circus. Just walking to the loo takes all the strength in the world, how the hell am I going to climb 15,000 meters in 3 weeks! To try and find the positives in all of this I guess you could say that had it hit 2 weeks from now I might have considered jumping out of the plane over the Atlantic to end the misery. Instead I get to watch the clock ticking down and the dust gathering on the bike as it sits idle against the wall. Perhaps this is all designed to make sure that I have not overtrained and am properly rested....who knows but time will tell.

Smashing Your Head Against A Wall Is Less Painful

The cold is never ending and the heat of the plains seems to far away. What did this weekend entail.......4 hours on the trainer Saturday followed by another 2 hours on Sunday. Yes if you see me at the start and I am randomly babbling sentences that make no sense you will now understand. As for my teammate Mr Shaun Weber, well he will be the one with the dog bites all over his calves and the vulture circling his head.

Global Warming

The buzz word today is Global Warming......could be, most likely is (especially when I go out for a ride in January in New York and it is 70F) but then a couple of weeks later and the temps have swung around and the mercury is hovering at 6F and the wind chills are -10F. Still I plod on with the training, in front of the tele grinding out the mind numbing miles on the trainer, my mind being entertained with visions of the Klein Karoo and the entire series of Jackass (wonder if all of this training qualifies me for the show). Well what to do.......go south, like in heading to the Caribbean for a long weekend to start on the tan for the race and try to get used to the warm weather that lies ahead. Well Al Gore what the hell is going on? Drum roll please.......... and the weather in Turks and Caicos is a balmy 70F and with the windchill it is in the low 60s (brrrrrrrrrrr). The only thing to do is run to the bar and fill my belly with rum and hope for the best. Could it be that the cool weather is to follow me? Come prepared for anything because the way this is going I wouldn't be surprised to see snow during this race and lions and giraffes hanging out together!

Loose Fillings/Bruised Ass - Real Men Ride Rigid

So the training conditions have been less then optimal over the past several weeks but that does not preclude me from thoughts of the journey ahead and what lay in store on the course from Kynsna to Lourensford. Why one may ask would any sane individual (or team for that matter) even consider riding the Cape Epic 1) on a single speed and 2) on a full rigid bike? Well as a pair of creaky middle aged men we constantly find ourselves reminiscing on the "good old times" of our youth and looking for ways to recapture these warm and fuzzy feelings. Thus we find ourselves staring off into the abyss dreaming of the glory days of the repack races down the slopes of Mt. Tam in California when the likes of Gary Fisher were bringing mountain biking out of it's infancy and into the main stream of cycling. So to those that are the forefathers of our sport, our hats are off to you and to capture the retro feeling we will mount our steel or Ti horses in full rigid set up and attack the mountains and roads of South Africa. To take in the action up close look for the riders sporting the Independent Fabrication or Shell V-Power team uniforms.

Icicles From My Nose

And just when you thought it couldn't get any colder.......weekend temps were hovering near 10F (-12C) with windchill at -17F (-27C), just what one would view as ideal training conditions. I actually contemplated going out for a ride but the previous days snow, followed by rain, then snow and finally plummeting temps left a wonderful layer of snow on top of ice. Visions of crashes and broken collarbones kept me in the house on the trainer for the riding but I did venture out to practice the hike a bike sections by wandering around in the woods climbing hills and following trails until the cold won out and I went inside for a warm 18 year old (Single Malt) and a nice hot shower. The next week doesn't seem to hold anything better so it should prove to be a mind numbing week of trainers and rollers!

The Big Chill

The start of the weekend saw temps that will rival South Africa in terms of the extremes. Friday I awoke to temps with windchill of -26 F so it was another day on the trainer. Saturday did not fair much better but by the time Sunday rolled around it was a blazing 5 C so the mountain bike came out of the garage and I was off for a 25 mile ride. The highlight of the day was the sections of frozen waterfalls and rivers along with the snow covered trails. All conditions that I am not so sure will be of much use at the race. A warm shower and a cold beer and everything was back to normal.

Going to South Africa

Finally after a rather warm start to the year with temps touching 70F and a few great mtb rides it is back to the grind of the rollers and trainers in the apartment in the city. Nothing quite like the beauty of riding along and hearing the sirens blaring and the lights flashing......and all of this at 5am while I am trying to get my ride in before work. The only thing driving this insanity is the idea of mounting my Independent Fabrication singlespeed and rolling up to the starting line in Kynsna and the visions of rolling across the finish line in Lourensford for that big glass of wine. These days it is all consuming....get up early, ride, work, come home and sleep. I think I still have a wife but I am sure that she sometimes wonders if she has a husband that is sane!