My trip to Kickapoo State Park in Danville, Illinois started with a flat tire on my “Mighty Dodge Van.”  Not exactly what I wanted to mess with on the way to a race. It could have been worse…the tire didn’t blow a 70 miles an hour and I had a spare and thanks to my buddy Marty I had a better jack than my bumper jack. So, Kickapoo is one of my favorite places to ride when it comes to trails in my area. Its about a 11 mile loop and has a pretty good flow through most of the trail. The start of the race was insanely fast. The first 3/4 of a mile or so kinda…o.k. really sucks. Its a open field section and the temps grazed 90 by that point with plenty of humidity. Everyone on the front line wanted to be in the woods first. I originally was in the mind set to be the first one in the woods…worked well there before. But, today after the go and the sprint, I settled in behind a group of guys that would later under estimate the heat and the length of the race. The first part of the single track is fast and flowing. There was about 10 of us in a train hammering through and no one was letting up yet. I ended up running a big gear (34×17) that day so I didn’t have to much problem keeping up. I kept the throttle on and tried to keep things smooth. We all stayed together until the last couple miles of trail. There is a annoying triple hill section that isn’t long but no momentum to easily get you through them. Right there I passed a couple guys and the group split up. About 7 of us took off past the triples and we popped out onto the gravel road that makes the lap and back into the starting field section. A few guys got away in the field but I kept them in sight. The second lap went a little better. I passed a couple guys that had succumbed to the heat and the excessive speed at the start. I kept my tempo going and I felt pretty good most of that lap. Towards the end of lap two I was really melting and I was really wanting a water instead of a cytomax drink at the feed area on the gravel road. As soon as i popped out on the road I yelled for water instead…I had 1 bottle of cyto to get me through the final lap. My awesome support crew( Valerie and tammy) luckily had me covered! I slammed the water and noticed I had caught another rider. I caught him in the field and passed him. He followed me into the woods but at that point I had my second wind kicking in. I took off and he dropped out of sight. I had made up some ground on the group in front of me and I closed the gap on two more riders. From there I focused on my spinning and kept the legs pumping. Before I noticed it was getting close to the end and I saw my next victim. He saw me coming and had nothing. He was cramping and  I was stoked. I passed him as we entered the last few miles. There was a deep ravine switch back we approached together and I think he was planning on maybe trying to get back the lead. I had ran this hill the first two laps and really you spend to much energy trying to ride it. So I ran it he rode it and he died off. I hopped back on and took off to chase down first place. I continued the steady pace but first place had the gap he needed. I finished 2nd and it felt pretty good with all the passing in the second and third lap I did.Thanks to the Kickapoo Mtb club for all your hard work . It is fun trail and if your in the a Danville area you should check it out. The next race is not so close to home and about 66 miles extra riding distance…..Shenandoah 100! See you there…..

Dear Paul B.,

It was a usual Monday at the bike shop until you called wanting to trade in your girlfriend’s and your bikes. I anxiously awaited your expected arrival. When you came in later you asked for me and then I helped you grab your 2 Madone road bikes out of you 2 door older model Mercedes Kompressor. As Matt checked over the bikes in the back for value we talked about possibly a new Trek Speed Concept that these bikes could go towards. You fancied yourself quite the triathlete and proudly proclaimed your 9 hour time at Ironman WI the year before. As we talked at the counter the front door opened. You looked over for a second and back at me with a little worry in your eye. It was a fully clothed police officer.

And I, with pride and cockiness in my voice, said “Yep, he’s here for you”.

You see Paul, you know those bikes were stolen in Wabasha. I don’t know if you did it or a friend. What you didn’t know is that your victims had bought the bikes at our shop. So when you called about trading “your” bikes in I got your name and number. Then I convinced you to come in. When you walked through those doors I already knew that you were from Arkansaw, WI, ran track in high school, you were about 20 years old, and had in your possession 2 expensive probably stolen bikes. Google and being attentive to people calling can get lots of info.

Now, I don’t know if people trusted you before. But when the officer told me that the cost of the bikes meant you would be charged with a felony, I figured it couldn’t be good for your reputation. As I went home to enjoy my night with my daughter, you were handcuffed in the back of the police car on your way to jail. Funny how life is when you have to pay for your actions.

I guess what I am saying, Paul B., is don’t steal bikes. Oh, and I found no result for you Ironman time. How could you have lied to me, I thought we had a lot of trust going on? Have fun dealing with the mess you created, you moron.

Hugs and Kisses,
Charly

Motivation at 6am

I have been able to put in a few more hours on the bike lately since this cold/flu has been dwindling. Mentally I have been preparing for my first solo 6 Hour event, the 6 Hours of Dauset. (My shop is one of the main sponsors) Physically I should be there come Sept 18. My Hifi is ready.

I put in a good 3.5 hours on the road bike yesterday with one of my good friends, Larry. He sported his Fisher road bike and old school 29er jersey that I gave him, sharing the love!
The route we chose was a local favorite, Rolling to Roberta, for this area it has some good rollers, hence the name. Towards the end after battling a steady headwind for 20+ miles my legs were to toast.

18 hours…of racing that is! Once a year this xc racer likes to strap on the big boy bibs and toe the line at an event totally out of his realm of comfort. Last year I gunned for a sub 10 hour Shenandoah 100 with no training. This year a buddy asked if I wanted to join up for a duo at the 18 Hours on the Farm. So after a little hesitation I said sure.

My only experience with anything this duration was competing on a very fast 4 man 18hour team a few years back. We all raced singlespeeds and we won in a commanding fashion. So I agreed and hoped I had the legs to go all night long. Start list was intimidating as every team in the duo category seemed composed of that ‘guy who is right on your heels all through the season’ from two or three seasons past. Figures. Nonetheless I was stoked to start the pain train on an epic scale. Here I am lining up next to my good gal pal and teammate Denelle Grant:

Thats my serious face. After a blistering fast first lap where I made it to the front for a few miles then missed a turn, corrected, and grabbed back on to the front (nothing like wasting a little effort early on in an enduro event eh?) and came in just behind the lead. My team mate made up the little time I had lost and we started into a long 18 hours of an ever increasing lead. Time ticked by, and ticked by, and ticked by, funny how time does that. I dear soigneurita fixed me up some rice for supper and after chowing like a starved Somalian I went back out. Fortunately I am too fast for cameras to catch at night, it comes out like those apparition you see on Ghosthunters or other SciFi channel shows. But this is what I look like when I am in the zone:

"The Zone"

Science has yet to establish which zone this is exactly, I like to think this is me focusing on something. I may be asleep. But our lead kept growing. the 10.5 mile course was unusual in that the first half continued to get slower and more technical with every lap while the second half became faster and faster. Funny how a couple hundred racers riding one trail all night allows you to see very visible changes in the track. Well, visible until my bike mounted light went out half way into a lap, fortunately my headlamp stayed strong. AS it always does, daylight came mercifully, although I never really felt totally drained and tired I nearly tanked it into my powdered eggs at breakfast. I imagine it looked a lot like “the zone” discussed above.

Alas podium came and we were on top by three laps and 20 minutes above the closest duo team and a lap + a few minutes over the next closest anybody else. Great victory for the Trek 29er Crew and Bike Factory Racing. Other really great races were had by Denelle Grant who took the womens solo and Shawn Tevendale of Trek Co-Op who took the mens solo podium. If we had our act together we would have scored a really sweet family photo. I imaging our family photo would have looked a lot like this:

Im the one with the sweet “one-zie.” Final results from the Trek assault on the Farm can be perused here

The Breck Epic has just come to a close. I survived and now it’s time to drink beer for a few hours and sleep for a few days. While I take care of those things, you can check out my Stage 4 post on Mountain Bike if you feel like it.

One week after my season highlight, the Wildcat Epic 100, I decided to jump back into XC racing at the Taconic 909 challenge. My work plans, vacation plans, and a nasty summer cold had already taken me out of contention for top points in the series, so I went into this race with no expectations whatsoever. In fact, I probably would not have raced at all had 909 not been the only venue in the series that I’d never ridden, let alone raced. I’d heard nothing but great things about the course, so I had to check it out. I had just come off an easy week on the bike, but I wasn’t really sure how my body would respond after racing 100 miles the pervious weekend. I decided to just go out there and see how I felt, and if I still had good form I’d try to drill it. If not, I’d just take it easy and have fun, with no concern for where I finished.
Even though rain had been threatening all morning, it was holding off when the race began, with cool temps and overcast skies. Perfect race weather! From the start, the four usual fast suspects set a blistering pace that I had no desire to match. I went into the tight twisty singletrack in 7th and immediately began a leapfrog battle for position with Chris Ledonne, Steve (Estebon Rodriguez), and Willy (James Wilbur) that would last for a significant portion of the race. We had a nice chain in the first few miles of singletrack. When the trail opened up, and the first of the course’s two notable climbs began, Willy, Chris, and another rider who I didn’t recognize passed me. I was able to stay with them as they entered the next section of singletrack…a maze of tight switchbacks that weaved in and out of a tight network of trees.
While I wouldn’t describe the course as overly technical, racers really had to be very sharp on the bike to hold you line and not catch a handlebar on a passing sapling. My Superfly was just perfect for the course, which also featured a wicked series of near vertical drops ranging from ten to twenty-five feet in height.
Near the start of lap two, Ledonne started to fade and dropped back, never to be seen again, and the unidentified rider had pulled away. After the drops spat us back out onto one of the fire road sections, Steve, Willy and I were still all together. We looked and each other and exchanged comments, mostly along the lines of “Hey, this train we’ve got here is pretty damn cool” We dove back into the next section of singletrack with Steve leading and remained together for the rest of the lap.
Coming through the start area for lap tree, the train derailed; Steve had to pull off to grab a water bottle. I still had plenty left, so I sped on with Willy on my wheel. By my count I was in 6th when we started to pass some of the racers who had gone out hard at the start. One by on they were starting to crack, and I was feeling better and better as the race went on. At the top of the first climb, I glanced back and found that I had a bit of a gap on Willy, and I didn’t see Steve at all. I was pretty close to my limit so I couldn’t really attack, but I was able to hold my pace and the gap started to grow.
By the time I reached the top of the big singletrack climb I was riding alone. So with about 5 miles go to I lifted my pace just a little to be sure I kept my gap, and possibly to pick off some more races. I thought I was in 4th at this point, and then about 3 miles from the finish I came across Ben William (who had been leading) fixing a flat on the side of the trail. He threw up his hands as I sped past as if to say, “Hey what can you do?” Now thinking I had a podium spot, I buried it all the way to the finish. My right quad started to cramp badly within sight of the finish line, so I got out of the saddle to push it out, and gritted my way across. Willy came in one minute behind me, and Steve shortly thereafter. We all congratulated each other on some really fine racing and close competition. I soon learned that one of the racers that I thought was ahead of me had pulled out on the first lap, which put me in second place, my best ever finish in the H2H series! It turned out that the unidentifiable racer that passed me on the first lap had taken the win.
This was one of the most fun races of the season for me, and just a really well run event. It felt really good to stand on the podium again, especially since I went into this race just looking to have fun. It just goes to show that sometimes the beat results come when you abandon your expectations, and adopt a laid back attitude. Looking forward, I’m hoping to hold my form as long as possible, and turn in a good performance at my next stop…the World Cup race at Windham.

In these parts your will to win mountain bike races is measured by your willingness to ride Clarks-Radford. From 2N10 (aka Skyline Dr) in Big Bear, Clarks Grade is a twisty sandy road that descends to the sleepy settlement of 7 Oaks, which is mostly cabins and campgrounds. From there, you can travel to all kinds of places, but the most popular options on a bike are to head west to Angelus Oaks or east on 7 Oaks Rd or Converse Rd to Glass Rd, Barton Flats, or to the always fun Santa Ana River Trail. For those who like to suffer, there is another option, and that’s Camp Radford. The mostly abandoned and run-down camp located northeast of 7 Oaks is simply put, the entry way to Hell. Radford Camp Rd is a mostly exposed boney 5 mile road that leads back to 2N10 via Sugarloaf Truck Trail. Essentially, if you do the Clarks-Radford combo from Big Bear, you ride the final third of the loop with the Devil. If the relentless climb, oven-like heat, and gardens of loose stones don’t kill you, the army of gnats will drive you to tears. Just in the first couple miles of Radford Camp Rd, many have been found in the fetal position, but more than rocks and insects, Radford Camp Rd is littered with souls.

Last Saturday, me, Woody and Jeff Stanners raised our fists to the Devil and gave it a go anyway. Sorta. Instead of doing the Clarks-Radford combo from Big Bear, we began at the gateway, heading straight up Radford Camp Rd from the start. No warm-up (it was already warm enough); no opening shredding descent; basically, no fun. Our first pedal stroke was headed up, strangely, in the direction of Hell. I can testify that the experience was infinitely worse by the fact that Woody and I were pedaling… singlespeeds (insert menacing music here). Well, I wouldn’t actually call it pedaling. Stomping, is more like it. We stomped over jagged boulders, we stomped through clouds of gnats, we stomped under the searing sun, and we stomped up. Up, up, up. Meanwhile, Stanners spun. Granted, he had to spin over, through, under, and up the same Hell that we did, but let’s face it, on easy days no one ever says, “I’m gonna go for a stomp.” It’s always, “I’m gonna go for a spin.” Anyway, my point here is this: Stanners is smarter than Woody and me. The gears in his brain turn at a significantly faster rate than the gear (singular) in Woody’s or my brain.

It took roughly an hour to summit, and by that time my back felt like it had been trampled by a herd of wild horses. At the top I was swimming in sweat and couldn’t get warm, even in the summer heat. After re-grouping and gathering our composure, we headed straight to the reason for the ride: a singletrack trailhead at Grandview. Word on the web is that an old singletrack was recently fixed up and that it’s a fun descent from Big Bear to the Camp Radford area. Word on the web is only right about half the time. True, it’s fixed up, but I wouldn’t exactly call it fun. More than half of the trail is on loose hillside and only a few inches wide. I spent almost as much time traversing my way on foot as I did actually riding. It should come as no surprise that Woody, who is known to clear and clean most any obstacle, was able to roll significantly more of the trail than Stanners and me. With the way things have been going as of late, I was just happy to make it back to the car alive. The next day, however, my back was really unhappy. Although not on the same level suffering, and in a completely different circle of Hell, I got a little taste of Trish’s world on Sunday. I was confined to the couch mostly, accompanied by the comfort of a heating pad and this question in my mind: “What in the Hell were you thinking climbing Radford on a singlespeed?”

In these parts Radford Rd is a source of folklore and a place of legend. But climbing it on a singlespeed? Now that’s just divine comedy.