2009 Dark Horse 40 - La Ruta of the North

Memories of the suffering endured at La Ruta came rushing back like a hot kiss at the end of a wet fist this weekend. The 7th annual Dark Horse Cycles 40 presented not only the organizers, but also the racers with some of the harshest conditions remembered for race day. Humidity and temps were both in the mid 90s before the 9 am start and with all of the rain that has fallen this year the course was changed from a 2x20 mile to a 4x10 mile format. On top of this the only way to avoid the heavy mud was stay on the high ground which meant sending the course up and over every climb available in Stewart. In past years the course usually had 2000+ feet of climbing for the race, this year it was 1000+ feet per lap!

Right from the start the pain and misery began for all and never let up until one either dropped out or made the four laps. Throughout the race the course was strewn with bodies of riders that had gone out too fast, not hydrated properly or succumbed to the tortuous heat. Conditions proved to be so tough that even the pros were pulling the plug by the end of the second lap. The one saving grace was knowing that the Mayor's Super Secret Rest Stop at the 8 mile mark, was being manned by the Sirens of Stewart and these ladies knew just how to make a dehydrated racer feel good - rock & roll music blaring, ice cold PBRs in the coolers and fresh blended frozen margaritas to bring down your core temperature.Along with the cold adult beverages the Sirens were handing out leis for each PBR consumed (redeemable for prizes at the finish) and hiding cash preems worth hundreds of dollars for those that still had enough mental stamina to look at anything but the trail ahead.

When the course finally closed it was a stellar day for Dark Horse racing, taking to the podiums in Sport Singlespeed, Open Mens Team, Expert and Sport Masters, everyone did their best to make the Mayor proud. No sooner did I cross the line then off to the Super Secret stop where the first order of business was to drain a PBRchange into some fresh clothes and wait for my good friend 3 Beer Rossi to come through. It was the perfect excuse to have another PBR with 3 Beer(note the rider coming in behind 3 Beer with multiple leis around his neck) and get ready for the ensuing party at the finish area.

Now for those of you that haven't experienced a Dark Horse race the reality is the race is really just a great excuse to have a party, and boy do the Mayor and Hawaiian Mike know how to throw one. On the menu was fresh grilled chicken, all of the sides your depleted body could desire, a freezer full of popsicles (yes in the middle of the woods we had a freezer FULL of popsicles) and of course beer, lots of beer, in fact lots of really good beer.....Harpoon! Any misery on the course quickly vanish in a sea of hops and barley. To sum it up it was a real challenge on the race course but it was one hell of a party once you finished. Bravo Dark Horse Cycles!!!!!

2009 Wilderness 101

It has been a week since the complete sufferfest know as the Wilderness 101 took place and after a week of nonstop drinking, to drown the pain, I have finally sobered up enough to recount the horrors that were inflicted on those of us that made the finish but had less then optimal races.

The year’s weather patterns continued unabated as the drive down to Coburn was all rain all the time. Along with softening up the course the rain ensured that campsite setups would be an exercise in frustration as shelters were erected and cars unloaded in the downpour. After sitting around for a couple of hours waiting to get a preride in I surrendered and went out in the rain for a brief ride. Preparation and training for the race had been right on schedule with the exception of heat and humidity which had been nonexistent this summer…..until the days leading up to the race when it suddenly changed from spring like conditions to full on summer in a matter of days. Based on the forecast for race day, heat and high humidity, I knew there was a possibility it would be a long day on the race course so just to get ready for the suffering I unleashed the dominatrix and requested a good whipping to get used to the pain.

A combination of injuries and the economic downturn had trimmed the ranks of the Independent Fabrication team to just 3 participants – Jeff Whittingham in open, Mike Ramponi in singlespeed and Chris Wurster in masters, with Harlan Price nursing a broken wrist and providing moral support to the rest of us. About half way up the first 3 mile climb with the sweat already pouring off of me I knew that the high humidity (90%+) was going to make this a long race, if I survived to the finish. It was my good friends the demons and they had decided to come out and play a bit earlier then usual, oh brother is this going to be a long day of suffering! By the 20 mile aid station I had managed to stay with my primary competition and kept my head down, ground out the miles and consumed as much fluid as possible to try and stay hydrated. Despite feeling like crap I managed to pull out time on the next climb only to flat on the ensuing descent, giving back all of the hard earned time plus some extra. Lady luck was not with me and I managed to flat a second time at the summit of the next climb and finally limped into the 40 mile station with yet another flat! Still not feeling great I resigned myself to being off the podium and turned my focus on making the finish.

The early cloud cover managed to give way to bright hot sunshine right as the big climbs began. The timing was perfect for getting the heat/humidity combo going at worst possible time. Despite this I continued to pound out the miles and fighting dehydration, I actually started to feel better as the race went on, taking back places over the final 45 miles of the race. My spirits were buoyed by the knowledge that short of a mechanical or a crash I was going to make it 7 straight W 101s completed. By the time I managed to get to the finish (a disappointing 7th in Masters) I was so spent and dehydrated that I couldn’t stand and my calf muscles looked like a bag full of worms squirming around. Countless beers and goji tea insured an altered state of mind that would make me forget the pain and repeated promises to myself that I would never come back again if I made the finish. Funny thing is I have made the same promise 7 times now and have broken every time the entry comes up.

One of the highlights of the weekend was the last minute participation of Mrs. C-Dubs, standing in for Marci de Sade. While she only made it to the first check point before dropping she had a great time, racked up the same finishing record as the Mayor and swore to come back next year and go for the 40 mile checkpoint.

2009 Stoopid 50

The Independent Fabrication team showed up in force at the Stoopid 50 with six riders (Harlan, Elk, Greg "the leg", Buck, Vt. Jeff and Wurster) representing the spectrum of classes and putting in some solid and some not so solid rides - Harlan 3rd overall, Elk 7th in singlespeed and the rest of the crew coming in all over the place but with smiles on their faces.During a preride of the course on Saturday some of the scenery suddenly started to look very familiar (in a painful kind of way) and at the top of several different climbs I realized I was on the Wilderness 101 course. Further riding brought back more memories, this time of the 2005 Singlespeed Worlds, turns out the course was a combo of the two and if memory held true it was going to be one of the more painful rides on record.

After weeks of never ending cool rainy conditions race day dawned with clear skies and warming temps making this the hottest ride of the season. The start was a controlled role out from Tussey Mountain ski area with a 2+ mile climb up the fireroad before spilling onto some beautiful singletrack and ridge riding (that is if you had time to take the scenery in). The first 4 miles of singletrack had more trees across the trails and rock gardens then I ride in a full season back home. I now realize just how spoiled we are with singletrack as smooth as glass, this was rough and raw with sections that would put a smile on your face and a half mile later have you shaking your head and commenting on how stoopid this course was.

The next 25 miles of the race saw a mix of fireroads and even more singletrack with even more logs and rock gardens. At least the race ended with 12+ miles of fireroad climbing before being dumped onto a 2 mile descent that was loaded with, yes more rock gardens. With the Masters class age cut at 45 the results were painful to look at - 12th in class and a sore back from a misadjusted seat.

My memory of the race is log crossings as numerous as these

and rock gardens that seemed like these

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.