Pantani cometh. Oh shit it's only a week out.

Dave sent me a message last week that began with "Humor the media, podium contender..."

Either Dave is on the really good stuff, or he's talking about the Smelly Armpit of podiums, the podium for which the award is a very ill-fitting though quite soft and warm pair of Pink Socks, which smell faintly of cigars and the crushing reality of an optimistic gearing.

The Calzini Rosa are a noble tradition, dating back I'm not sure how long, but probably before I was born. Seen here, they adorn handlebars like vestigial grip warmers, from the previous generations when we didn't have inventions like the bar mitt. I wanted to make a pogie joke, but couldn't figure one out.

Those with very big monitors or the highly specialized skill of "zooming in" will notice a few things about this picture. Number one is what our friend Quadsworth McHusband calls a drooper, and what I prefer to call my office chair, though that's quite hyperbolic concerning the money I make riding my bike. Number two is that I am very very bad at making a bike look good. All black bike with a white saddle? Nope. Blue top cap, gold bolt, and purple seat clamp? Grimace. Pink AND Purple on the same bike? Call Stacy and Clinton from that horrible TV show, How Not To Be Pro.

Speaking of pros, I'm going to stir the media pot by posting never-before-seen photos of B-slow (where did that name even come from?) racing a 'cross race on a mountain bike. He decided that he would be like every other cocky mountain biker in the 'cross scene and stick to his flat bars and fat tires in America's Must-Not-Be-Muddy-Or-Endanger-Trees Pastime. Seriously though, it seems like the vast majority of mountain bikers that enter the highly regulated and often mocked world of cyclocross racing just give a giant middle finger to all the committed and totally serious cross racers on skinnier tires. "Hey, let's not train and gain bike handling skills on skinny tires, lets just give ourselves a giant handicap and who cares about real cross racers.

Let's be clear though. The writer of this blog rides his mountain bike in cross races on a regular basis. However, this writer/rider needs the handicap, as evidenced by the way he attacks off the gun, mixes it up at the front for a half lap, then promptly gets dropped harder than Wrong Turn Charlie at Pantani IX/X. After getting dropped thusly, the mountain bike allows him to do dumb/radical things like hop barriers one-handed while wearing the Calzini Rosa on his face.

When we toe the line in approximately 5 days and 17 hours, we'll all be looking at each other's ridiculously tall gearing and be shaking in our Calzini Rosas with the fear of Simmon's in us. Oh wait, I'll be the only idiotic asshole (courageous hardman?) on a singlespeed, so I'll just be looking at everyone's shifty bits and shaking because I just peed a little.

At least I'll end up with some dirty smelly pink socks to hang from my mantle next Christmas.

A parting picture of Gordon's Butt and my Big Unit right next to each other.

"Braking" the rules and Quadsworth Glitter Horses

Road bike races man, they can be so fun, but they're always so hard.
Monstercross too, that's another hard-but-fun race.

Another post 2 weeks after the fact. I'm lucky that I can say 'work is busy,' but got-dang work is busy. I'm a pooped trooper. Not as pooped as two weeks ago on Sunday night.

The WiMa road race was another good one. It puts to shame all those road races out there that need a $10k budget just to get off the ground. WiMa barely spends $1k, and still gets huge turnouts and rave reviews year after year.
This year the race was a great shakedown for me. Racing the Cat3, getting frisky elbows with fellow friskers, general hooliganism. I hadn't been doing much on the road bike, and the winter has been tough for training, so I had pretty low expectations. Had a mid-pack finish, which I strategically procured to hide from the chief ruth ref to avoid a DQ that would cost me... a mid-pack finish.  Road bike racers' #2 most important skill: Valid pre-race excuses.

the road pedals mean its a road bike, really

So the long and short of it is that I didn't get yelled at for using disc brakes in a road race. Wooo. Judging by the size of USACycling's 'cahones' I'll be having this excuse for a while.
On the flip side, having a new and fun bike to ride was really refreshing. I haven't enjoyed road bikes for a while, but having a road bike that takes a 29x2.0 really makes it hard to hate.

On the muddy side of this cultural phenomenon, we have Monstercross. Mark Junkermann is one of the chillest dudes around (to the full extent of chill) and he pulls off one hell of an event every year. An event so good, I make faces like this:    


When confronted by a camera with the full knowledge that there is a pissed and raging Quadsworth about to "pass" me from the rear. He's just jealous of the size of my butt...

I soiled myself in fear

 He came by me shouting "ONE HUNDRED AND EIGHTY EIGHT" meaning the souls he had crushed with his glittery fun horse, which now numbered 189 as my meager second wind turned into a merely flatulent wind.

After continuing to pummel my own -- now haggard -- resolve to keep the pedals turning, the coup d'etat was performed by one Honorable Sir Adam "hey wilson!" Croft. He's always so cheerful, and my minds eye always sees the gap toothed kid that just finished his third SM100 handily. My inner dialogue about my self-worth in the face of a mighty force like "little Adam" led to one of those inner-ultimatums, though in this case, the diplomat representing Give-The-Eff-Up was John Bolton, and the diplomat from We-Can-Do-This was Arnold Schwarzenegger. One has a giant furry mustache and actually gets his way all the time, the other struts around in a very public way but has relatively useless musskuls. In this particular game of Model UN in wilson's ego, Arnold managed to strut his way all the way to the finish, just a few seconds ahead of Adam, right up until the Croftfather pronounced that Adam had started at the back and therefor had a 2 minute faster time. BOLTON WINS AGAIN.

Arnold is moping in the corner clutching the results printout telling himself that his victory was a real one, really it was, I swear.

Metaphoric digressions aside, I had a really great time at a really great race, and that pleasure is nothing compared to the fun I had making the trophies for Mark to award to the Elite Men's and Women's winners. At some point I will post about my deeper feelings about hand-work; for now I'll stick to how really satisfying it is to make/fix/improve a thing that someone else appreciates. Whether it's a bike that does its job or an object that holds meaning or brings happiness, creating those moments for others is what keeps me going -- and brings me joy -- through the long days and tired hands.

May 2014 be full of satisfaction and hard-ass bike rides.

Il Pirata and the things we do for socks

And so another year passes, and another Pantani is ridden.

I would normally excuse my late-ness with a whiny complaint about how much that ride hurt, but in the spirit of il pirata, let's just say I've been busy at a 'clinic' getting my 'nutrition' ready for the grand tours.

Rolling into the Tevendale Homestead in the morning, we got our bikes out and suited up in our Mercatone Uno tribute kits, did a few lines of tribute coke. One of those things is true.

I missed most of the pre-ride riders' eulogy (death awaits on that mountain), due to a last minute batman tire pressure check. Unfortunately, I've never been good at the whole 'type-a' thing, so I wound up toodling over to the start as the powers-that-would-be proclaimed that the ride had begun. 48 miles of sometimes 200rpms and sometimes walking later I was tired and trying not to get smoke in my eyes. The fire pit/fire wood situation at the TevenCompound really needs some game-upping.

That was a terribly brief description of the ride. Let's call that the cliff notes "lite."

The cliff notes version:

• Rolled at the front -casual 200rpms- to the first grade on Davis Shop, them some asshole (Bryan Lewis?) attacked the il Pirata-don himself and upped the pace. A cadence of 250 is a little beyond me.
• Leisurely drifted back to 30th or so on the Col-du-Fox, then settled into a 'grupetto' for the road section to Marmolada, where I attacked, dropped my bro Zülle, and finally got the maglia rosa during which I burned way to many proverbial matches keeping up with my derailleur-clad brethren of the road.
• Got to see several friendly faces riding up the Mission Home climb. One friendly Design Physics couplet (todd and plassman?) and one short-bearded Metro riding in his traditional style: solo.

Marco Pantani

• 

  Metro Pantani- The resemblance is uncanny

  At the start of Simmon's Gap, I came upon one "Downtown" Lester Brown having arrived late and taken his Pro Team Bus to the start of the first climb. He's a sponsored pro now. Must be nice. I hope I'm still faster than him...
• Having done unspeakable things to my body on the voyage to the tippity top o' the pop, I began descending and immediately came upon and freshly "KTFO" rider on a 30second memory loop. Stayed with Plassman the Medic until SAG arrived (what kind of unofficial hard-man's ride has SAG anyway. Refer to rule #5). Rallied. Descended.
• Brokenback Mountain consisted of very little riding for me. maybe 10%. Apparently it's steep? Who knew.
• Back at the top o' the pop again, but in significantly worse shape, I imbibed half of a Brooklyn Brewery chocolate stout and 4 munchkins. Race nutrition y'all.
• Witnessed a second wreck near the bottom of Simmons, though this time the bicycle-driver performed some sort of mid-road-rash levitation which allowed him to run away from his bike. He was hooting in pain, so perhaps not as magical as it could have been, but he still went from sliding-under-bike to jogging away in one graceful maneuver. Bikes=Magic.

The rest of the ride and day is a blur of Quadsworth preaching the gospel, Nachos, and Cramps, so there's not much else to describe. Something about pink knitted stockings, but I think those are mythic.

I blame the TevenSmoke™for the lengthy delay in this post. 

Seriously promoters <Cat5ComplaintRant> straighten that out.

AVL, or the little city that rides like a big one

Asheville is great, and by Asheville, I mean specifically the riding that can be had in Dupont and Pisgah, the sleep at the Bent Creek Lodge, and the food at Tupelo Honey Cafe. If you're a proprietor of one of those fine establishments, email me to discuss my advertising fees.

Saturday we rode from the Turkey Pen trailhead. Up a long steep dirt road is a pretty sophisticated trailhead, with 4 options and a big map board. Pisgah is giant, and the loop we were looking at seemed tiny compared to the expanse of the forest. 4 hours of snowy cursing, muddy rock gardens, and waning daylight later, we put our muddy bikes on the car, and thanked our lucky (and now visible) stars to have survived an "epic" ride unscathed.

Squirrel Gap was a little squirrelly and a lot snowy. The 2 hour loop took 4 hours.

Dupont has every trail surface and every difficulty level you could ask for. As the locals reassured us several times, it's the best riding in WNC when the ground is wet, and I mostly agree. Some of the less-sandy sections were a little peanut-butter-y, but for the most part the trail seemed very stable and sustainable. Dupont is very hardtail (rigid, even) friendly (though we avoided the gnarliest trails, due to icy/slick conditions) and all of the downhills flow amazingly well. The first singletrack we encountered was the Hilltop Trail, which primed us for a fun day. Even the short and seemingly uninteresting trails rode exceedingly well, fun rolling and well bermed turns were everywhere. As you can see here, we meandered all across the park, and got to ride up most of the hills Dupont offers. The park is just so big, complex, and well developed (sounds like a fine wine) that you'd have to ride several iterations of every different loop to really get all of the trail, and from the sounds of it, it's all worth riding.

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what a terrible view

It wasn't muddy at all, I swear.

Dupont had the best signage and upkeep
of any trail system I've seen

We stayed at Bent Creek Lodge, and came close to calling it a religious experience. It was fantastic.

Just go stay there.

The third side of the Asheville love triangle was the Tupelo Honey Cafe.
Free Biscuits. Amazing Food. Great Service. Cheap.
Everything that is good about the South.

For those of you that prefer a TL;DR: Go to Asheville. Now.

Rainpants

As a friend of mine recently wrote, when bike commuting, the weather is rarely as bad as it seems once you get rolling. For those that wish to replace the climate-controlled convenience of a car, sometimes it really is "that bad". For those times, there's rain pants.

Move the hyphen and is Aqua No-Pants

Rain pants are to cycling as the cover is to a Jeep. Usually, you don't need it, and you have lots of fun. When the weather gets nasty, if you don't have it, suddenly the fun evaporates and the misery sets in. Just visualize a cyclist in the rain, and the first thing that pops into your head probably makes you feel bad for whatever schmuck is slogging their way to work on their ill-fitting Next with their ratty Jansport backpack in the pouring rain.

Add rain pants to the mix, and BAM you've got a sophisticated cyclist using his self-powered transportation as the leatherman of commuting tools. No waiting at the bus stop with an umbrella or spending the day in wet socks for this guy. He's the spitting image of dedication and preparedness, and it only took $40 bucks and 3 minutes.

One shouldn't have to follow rule #5 when commuting. It should be as casual and convenient as the car, with the added benefits of exercise, scenery, and fun times.

Next topic: Rain pants as a fashion statement.

Adventure to WNC and A New Blog

A new adventure this weekend and a new blog to share it.

Francine and I are departing early in the morning to make the 6 hour drive from Richmond to Asheville and Brevard, where we'll ride a fast (and hopefully fun) loop of Squirrel Gap in the Pisgah NF (trail map), at the recommendation of one Jesse "I created the trail hardtail" Leadbetter. The original plan was to leave this morning, but as all things, responsibilities at the Studio took precedence. We're looking at the Bent Creek Lodge on Friday night, so we can roll the recommended trails in the morning, following a jaunt down to Dupont to rally those trails. Then a night-time return to RVA to get some quick rest before heading to Fooftown to stomp out a SS Pantani attempt. 'Attempt' is the word, definitely not 'ride'.

My last attempt at Pantani ended with this, then I "attempted" the
walk to the car, with a gracious save from Ms. Rapp

Weekend adventures like this are what fill my dreams, when it's not a dream about having a 15lb steel singlespeed with perfectly clashing anodized colors. After spending a week in Crested Butte, CO this summer, I realized that places and adventures like that are (for me) what make life worth living, no matter what other shit has gone down the rest of the year. One amazing and satisfying adventure can make tribulations like self-doubt, unhappiness, and stress feel like passing white clouds when one has to face the thunderhead of dilemmas like "should I ride the IMBA epic 401 trail or the locals' favorite RenoFlagBearDeadman." Let's stick to the big problems here people.

Problems like "pro-choice or no-choice at Pantani?"

With a little luck and a little getting-up-when-the-alarm-goes-off, we'll be enjoying WNC and some new and exciting trails tomorrow.

Let's hope this whole blog thing is a habit I can get into.