Helluvan awesome weekend. Actually it started off pretty rough with a trip to the vet for the cat. Cat hates car, which makes life no fun for us. Also got a quote two take two lumps out of the dog and clean his teeth. Sorry kids…no Christmas. Gotta save Fido.

After being shredded by the cat it was time to hit DT’s for some beer and BBQ. Didn’t stay too long due to impending ked meltdown. Leaving early wasn’t a bad move though, as a torrential downpour kicked off right after we entered our house. Next morning it was off to Skyline Dr to meet up with a few compadres from work for 20 miles of road cycling joy. Fortunately, I was able to take it easy and enjoy the scenery. After the post ride beer it was time to get home and change out a few critical pieces of componentry on the Rig before the night race. Suspension and bigger cog turned out to be a great idea. Between the hours of 4 and 10 I turned a respectable 8 laps @ the Paranormal. Lap times went something like 36, 36, 40, 45, 50, 44, 43, 50 (rough estimates based on the garmin). I edged out the only other guy in SS solo by 3 laps. Suspect I’m somewhere between 6^th and 10^th overall in Solo. Not bad. I could have rolled out for a 9^th lap @ 9:45, but I had talked myself out of that a long time beforehand. My other SS Bike Factory brethren destroyed the duo class, as expected. Big Bear may be fun for us. Time will tell. The Tevendales rocked, of course.

Sunday was all about the little guy’s BD party and E-man’s ball game. Good food. Good game. Good stuff all around.

Reflection

Where was I one year ago? I was chatting with my to-be-boss, who was destined to leave Charlottesville, and leave me his job in the process. Craziness. We had looked at Charlottesville plenty before then, but the job scene always blew. We looked at Boulder/Longmont/Ft Collins. We even took a little trip out there. Frizzy hair and dry lips, but no job. Probably the sweetest pedestrian mall ever though. Then we hit Portland, OR during the dry season. Beautiful. Even had a few interviews. Nothing solid though. When I came home, I read an article about Bend, OR in Outside Online. At the end, it says: "NEXT BEST: Charlottesville, Virginia." Hmmm. Hadn't looked there in a while. A few empty job searches leaves a bad taste in your mouth.

So I do some searches. Job boards blow. Digging deeper, I google a few random things and end up on my to-be-boss' blog. I post a comment. I get a job. Not quite that easy, but nearly. As the wise man said: #&$% monster.com - obtuse blog posts work magic.

One year later, I find my family comfortably nestled in the valley in a cozy home in the woods, with an arsenal of good friends that ride nice bikes and drink nice beer. Even found my way onto a bike racing team somehow. Kids are in a nice school that they love. And work ain't bad.

Moral of the story: It has been a good year. Looking forward to many, many more.

SM100

It came. It went. Definitely the toughest thing I have done in a long, long time. Short recap: I went out at a moderately fast pace...maybe too fast. Mile 36: The old man passed me by. Never saw him again. Mile 39: Off bike with big, big cramps. Hammy and quads in knots. My quad looked liked it was going to jump out my skin. Very freaky. Was on the verge of cramping here and there after that, but I was able to hold them off. Yes, I was hydrated, and popping endurolytes. It didn't matter.

Braileys Pond sucked (in the 50 mile range, I guess). It sucked bad. I walked more of that hill than I rode. The downhill was nice coming out of there though. One of the smoother descents, I think. Mostly, I stuck to my plan to not indulge in too much crap. Sun chips out of my drop bags @ rest stop 3 and 5 were delicious. Thanks to Shawn for that brilliant idea. Pizza at rest stop 5(?) was great. One small piece. Even though it probably wasn't the best idea, I indulged in a cup of coke here and there too. The flasks of espresso clif shot + coffee ended up tasting pretty bad after not too long. Everything sweet was sounding pretty bad, as a matter of fact.

I had my sights set on a a sub 11 hour time. I saw that slip away as the average speed started dropping. Leaving stop 6, I was determined to keep it under 12. With the GPS telling me I was averaging 8.1mph, it didn't look good. Luckily, the race ended @ around 95 miles, per the Forerunner, with a time around 11:38 or so. New for 2007: I was hungry and ready to eat. Hot dog? Check. Cheeseburger? Check. Two heaping helpings of wonderful salty fries? Check. I did not however, indulge in any alcoholic beverages. That didn't sound good at all. Dirty, and exhausted, I crashed early.

Up early on Monday we broke down camp pretty fast and headed for the promised land: Cracker Barrel. Chicken Fried Steak, Eggs, Hash brown casserole, bacon, biscuits and
gravy. And Mr. Pibb. It was spectacular.


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It was nice to hang out with everybody. Good to see Kim too. A fine mix of friends from then and now. Was it fun? That is a tough question. Why would I voluntarily to this myself? I don't know. I've now done the W101 with 24 speeds, the W101 w/ 9 speeds, and the SM100 with one speed. Perhaps I should be done. We'll see.

Return to Camp Hilbert

All in all, I'd say I had a pretty good day @ Hilbert. Tough to admit it right now, with my calves aching, numbness in fingers and a stomach that still hasn't quite settled, but I can still recognize some good. To start with, I ran my first competitive 10K. Actually, it was probably the first time I had run 6 miles in many months, maybe even this year. After a short bit of trail, DK passed me by, but I was able to hang with him, recognizing I may be running a hair harder than I should be. After 4 miles, I felt him slow down a bit, and we had been gaining on a guy, so I jumped on the opportunity and passed him by and caught the next guy too. At 5 miles, I gave the 1 mile-to-go-shout-out. I felt DK pick up the pace, so naturally, I did too. I was able to hold and took him by 20 seconds or so. Overall, I pulled 5th in my age group out of quite a few folks. Unfortunately, I filled DK with rage and he was gonna make me pay. 45 minutes to prep for the MTB enduro...

The Enduro started off well enough. I was a few spots back, holding my own for two laps. DK caught me at the end of two. We both pitted, and as I stuffed a Clif bar in my mouth, I taunted him a bit and rolled out. Mistake. Shortly thereafter, he caught me, passed me, and disappeared. I didn't see him again until the end of the race, when he was rolling up the hill, completing his 9th lap. I did 8 and bailed out with 7 minutes remaining on the clock. At that point, I was totally beaten. My hands hurt, my stomach was in knots, and somewhere in the last 2 miles, I started feeling lightening bolts shooting through my toes on my right foot. Not cool. I ended up in fourth in enduro. Pretty cool to see third and fourth place go to singlespeeders. Something tells me we were lucky there were other races going on that day.

So DK walked off with the "Me Stud" prize money and the knowledge that he once again was able to beat up on a bunch of young bucks.

Stats: 656' of climbing on foot. 5248' by singlespeed. Total distance run/ride: 49.64 miles.

Love and Hate for el Oso Grande

We came. We saw. We didn't rock the house, but we did OK, especially considering the shear insanity associated with 24 hours of racing on rigid singlespeeds.

I arrived Thursday before anyone else from the team. With a little help from a one of the Grand Masters riders from "Off the Porch" , I got the tent (AKA The Gaylord) erected and treated myself to a sub and a beer. Friday morning was slow. I enjoyed some breakfast tacos and tried to get pumped for a pre-ride. Eventually Bry and I pulled out for a lap with Solo-Bob. The lap felt good. This SS/Rigid thing will be OK, I was telling myself. I will always remember passing mile 5 that day. Why? This is where the hate starts...because it is the last time I saw my beloved Garmin Edge. Somewhere around mile 5, I flatted (one of the hazards of running rigid with comfortable air pressure in a tubed wheel in rocky terrain). So I flip the bike, yank the wheel and go to work. Bob and Bry catch up and laugh at my efforts to get a 26" tube on my 29" rim. Eventually, we get rolling. I start to hammer up a hill and realize I forgot to turn the Garmin back on. I reach down hit start. It wasn't there. WTF? So I head back down the hill and search the spot where I changed the tire. No Garmin. I back track. No Garmin. I head back up the hill. No Garmin. Unbelievable. Maybe a flippin racoon ran off with it. Bob and Bry had gone ahead. I rolled out sad and slow, having just made a hefty donation to the mountain.

I don't remember much else about Friday, except selling a rear x9 shifter to a guy for $50 (the start of the new Garmin fund), and Laird's repeated warnings over the PA that we were about to get rocked by the storm of the century. We got some rain and wind, but luckily nothing too bad. The course took it well.

Saturday came fast. Always does. Captains meeting...nothing new. The run would be shorter and the "parade lap" would be longer. I knew that meant a bunch of gearies flying by me, spinning out in 32x19. Whatever. I had the usual case of nerves leading up to noon accompanied by a few trips to the port-o-can. Noon comes, the cannon booms and we are off. I lead the run all the way around this year. That felt good. Grabbed the bike and headed out. As expected, quite a few guys blew by, but only one SSer in a tall gear, but he had suspension, so I knew he wasn't in my class. Off into the woods and the race was on.

I finished lap 1 in decent time. Trail was good. Body held up well. I did get passed on the last climb by another rigid SSer who proceeded to disappear. He ended up taking me by 45 seconds or so. So we had a race on our hands. As it turned out, we really didn't, at least not with those guys. The boys from Baltimore came ready this year, churning out some rather impressive lap teams. Well done.

I fully expected to rock lap two. Without the run and parade lap, surely I'd rock a 1:15, right? Nope. 1:19. Same as lap 1. Oh well. Maybe if I had my Garmin I would have known I was sucking and stepped it up a bit. Lap 3: More hate. A full night lap, starting at 11:00. Mile 5. pssssss. Flats suck. Flats at night really suck. So I pull the rear wheel, yank the tube, replace it w/ another 26er tube and go to town with the mini pump (note: maybe I should start carrying CO2 again). I get the tire to a pretty decent pressure, decide to throw in a few more pumps and then pssssssss. I ripped the valve stem half off. Deflate, remove tube, put in another (luckily, I had two). I got that one pumped up without much to-do and I got rolling. Oh, I nearly forgot to mention the moths...the Wild West Virginian Mountain Moths. Holy S. They swarmed my head lamp, adding to the joy of changing the tubes. So I ran a 1:48. The team's slowest lap. Much dissappointment there.

My Lap 4 started at 5:30, later than expected. Daybreak was starting to crack. Still needed lights for 1/2, maybe 3/4 of the lap. I never got the "ah, the sun is coming up, I can rock it now" feeling, and the lap time shows it. 1:33. It was abundantly clear that 1st place was out of reach, probably long before this point. Dirt Church had caught up quite a bit after my flat lap, and we really wanted to hold second. Luckily, we were consistent enough to pull it off.

Around 11:30, we weren't even really sure if I needed to go out for a 5th to hold onto 2nd place. I had no idea how long Dirt Church had been out on their lap, only that D-Unit would be in soon and I needed to make a decision. Secretly, I really wanted to go out. I wanted to lay down a decent lap time to make up for my lackluster performance. I also didn't want us to have missed 1st by a full lap (we weren't far from that). So out I went in traditional Kevin last-lap form. It wasn't super fast, but it was the team's fastest lap, @ 1:16:60 (edit: that's what granny gear says, and it looks better than 1:17, right?). In the end, I had three of the top ten fastest laps in SS/Rigid. Davek had one, so Huevos netted 4 all together. D-Unit and Bry had the 12th and 13th fastest. Not bad. (none of us where anywhere near the top 20 overall fastest). Huevos took 2nd Place in SS/Rigid. 28th overall.


I think 4 Men's Sport teams beat us. Hopefully they got the same ration of shit that we got last year. I wish them all luck with their decision on what class to race next year.

Big Bear. What a run it has been. I first hit this one in 1996 when it was the 24 Hours of Canaan. We stayed in a cabin, 10 minutes from the venue. I don’t even have a clear picture of what the venue looked like. I was on a 5 person open team, and we were beginners and we were slow. I think I turned 2 laps, maybe 3 at best in those days. We were there to finish, and we left feeling good as long as we had somebody come across the line after noon on Sunday. Sherry Z, thanks for getting me out there that first year. It was life altering experience.

We did that for a few years with random teammates coming and going. It wasn’t until 2000 that we missed a race. It had become the 24 Hours of Mud, er…I mean Snowshoe. There were enough teams registered for Snowshoe that we got wait-listed, like 50 deep. Madness. (Wouldn’t Laird love to see that again?) But in 2001 we made it. Still 5 person open, still relatively slow, and operating out of a nice condo at the top of the mountain.

Snowshoe took its toll on some of our team, and in 2002, we re-organized. Two of us old-timers joined up with two other SoMD guys and moved up to Men's Sport (I probably would have still raced beginner in those days). Finished up @ 60/166. 4 laps for me. 13 overall. A monumental feat. 2003. Same team. 28/77. 20 laps, 5 each...whoa. 2004. 11/71. 20 laps. Notice the shrinking field size? Where is everybody going?

2005. Another team reorganization. Two new riders. The birth of Huevos del Toro. A new venue. No more condos. First time camping for me in a long time, and I think I like it. The Big Bear course was well put together. It drained very well. I wasn't a fan of what I perceived to be a lot of climbing, but we had a fun time. 11/48. 15 laps.

In 2006, we lost JAM. He and I had been racing together for many years. Hopefully he'll be back in the saddle some day. Anyway, we drafted a new guy. He only brought one gear, and to our satisfaction, he rocked that one gear. Three 29ers and one holdout. We rolled consistent laps, and had only a handful of issues, if that. To our surprise we rocked the house. 1/49 in Mens Sport. 17 laps.

What to do now? We won sport. Can't go back and do that again. If you win once, people already call you sanbaggers (never mind that 11 teams finished 17 laps in Sport inside of 1 hour). Regardless, we weren't going back to Sport. So we were left with two options: Expert or SS/Rigid. Three of us had been riding SS off and

on for years. I had done some races rigid in the past, but rigid at Big Bear sounded plain nuts. The problem with Expert is that you never know who might show up and destroy you. Expert just didn't sound fun. Once our holdout got himself a Fisher Rig with a rigid Bonty Switchblade, it was settled. Rigid/SS, here we come.

So here we go. Two of us are fresh off a 1-2 finish at the 12 hours of Lodi, SSS, rigid. Feeling good. I'm also feeling like I may have run my course with this race. 11 years. Long time. After this year I will have competed in a class that I formerly believed was reserved for the lunatics (I guess that isn't too far off). Now that I live in Central VA, I have a plethora of local events to sample right out my back door. I also need to go camping with my kids.

We'll see how it goes...

The 12 Hours of Lodi Farm

Three races into the season, things were looking pretty bad. SS @ Camp Hilbert. Two short laps. I was sick and out of shape. I felt horrible, and finished appropriately. SS Enduro @ Poor Farm. Never really felt good after speeding through laps one and two. Cramps, upset stomach. Blah. SS (in Expert) @ O-Hill. Ouch. Bottom of the barrel in expert and feeling pretty weak the entire time.

Status…not good. Wondering why I do this. Maybe I should quit all this racing non-sense. Spend time fishing. Take up rock climbing. Join a softball league. That’s the train of thought while mulling over my packing list for the 12 Hours of Lodi.

My partner from last year decided to go SS Solo. What a loon. So I draft a new partner from my Big Bear squad. After we register, he decides he’d rather hammer out his laps at his own pace in SS Solo. So it is settled. SS Solo for me too. I started looking at last years times, thinking about what a respectable number of laps might be. Thought: Ricky D is an animal. Read his blog from 2006 Lodi. Not thinking I'm that kinda guy, I plan on having full-on meals after every two laps. 8 laps total sounded like a good number to shoot for. I knew I’d be cramping and hating life, but 8 sounded doable.

I packed up the Karate Monkey in 32x18 and the WaltWorks in 32x19. The Walt would be the fall back bike. It had the Titec H’s on it. Between the bars and the easier gear, I figured it might be a life saver. The Monkey would be the balls-out bike. Packed a ton of soup and all manner of evil edible things that I would not ordinarily ingest. I treated myself to a Chipotle burrito and watched Kill Bill V1 and V2 Friday night. Glass of wine and I’m off to sleep.

I left for the venue a hair early, so I stopped and waited in a hellish line for another Chipotle Burrito. Yum. Picked up a propane heater too, remembering how damn cold I was last year between laps (note: tough to find propane heaters in Spring). Arrived around the same time as my buddies and went to work setting up camp. The weatherman turned out to be right on, and the rain settled in and soaked the place. Note: I hate mud. The few calls to my pops to check the forecast were not re-assuring…90% chance of rain. Big wind. 8 laps? The good news is that the rain stopped before midnight, and it didn't return, though all the water falling out of the trees sure sounded like rain. Or hell, maybe it was raining. I dunno. The mud was nasty for a few laps, but it seemed to get better fast. Or maybe it was delirium.

So at midnight we set out. I tried my best to take is easy. The parade lap vice the lemans start was nice and easy and kept everyone from killing themselves running on the muddy course. My plan to stop after two laps went by the wayside. I felt good. So I sucked down a packet of gel and rolled on. The laps felt like they were going by pretty fast. I stopped after 3 laps for a refill. I don't recall what I ate, but it was probably a banana, some endurolytes, some maybe some cheese nips. It was 3:07AM. I was averaging 1 hour laps and I felt strong. No sign of a cramp. I can't really remember how many times I stopped after that. I think I went two laps at a time, trying to kill a bottle of Clif Shot drink mix during that time. I also threw down a few packs of the Clif Bloks here and there. Also after lap three I turned on the bar light. Not long after, the helmet light started to fade, so I rode w/ just the bar for awhile and that sucked for me. So at the next pit, I threw a fresh helmet battery in the camel and had helmet and bar light for the remainder of the night. That rocked.

Daybreak and the sound of birds chirping may never be as appreciated as during an endurance race. Holy hell...that was great. I had been telling myself all night that I would get stronger when the sun came up. I don't think it really happened, but I think I was able to pick better lines, so my laps stayed consistent. So here I am wrapping up 6 laps, just after 6AM. Two laps to go to meet my goal. And the legs are still solid. My hands, shoulders and triceps are taking a serious beating though. Bryan's Ibuprofen is helping. Two pills here, one there, and I'm doing alright.

I got through 8 and took a break. I think I was going out for nine when I caught up with Ricky. He asked how I was doing...I told him I was doing OK and going out for 9. He asked if I knew where I was in standings. (Pause here...I had some fantasy during the night that I might actually podium. I had heard rumors of some super-hero, bike-cargo guy that was going to dominate SS Solo so I had ruled out the top spot. One of the guys from my squad was out there, and he's an animal, so I couldn't rule him out. I had no idea who else might be in front of me. All I knew was I was running consistent, and my legs felt good) So Ricky tells me he thinks I'm in 1st and that I should go check. I didn't want to do that. By this time, I had convinced myself I was definitely going to do 10 and that 11 was possible. How did I get here from there? I have no idea.

During Lap 8 the stomach started getting upset. Too much Clif Shot and other random enduro products? Who knows. It reminded me of the evilness that set in during the W101. So I turned to the ultimate medicine...Famous Amos cookies and lemonade. Damn, it was good. That got me pumped for the start of Lap 9. And hour later, more cookies and lemonade and I was out for number 10, just after 10:00. I was tired, the upper body was aching. Triceps were fading on every climb (every climb that I rode, at least). I finished up 10 and decided to forego the cookies and lemonade. If I was indeed winning, I wanted to lock it in. At 11:10, I rolled out. Some of the climbs went a little slower, but I still managed to push myself to climb a few things that had been notoriously challenging for me (for those that were there...the really short, rooty climbs on the back side).

And so I finished up 11, sometime around 12:15 or so. I handed in my wristband and asked if I won. One of the volunteers said yes, and then another followed that with "we are all winners." So I asked again, "but really...did I win?" And they said yes. Sweet Jebus. The other guy from my BB squad that I feared finished up 11 too, not sure how far back. He had light and air pressure issues. Given that, he must have put in a herculean effort to get as close as he did. Not really sure where crazy cargo man finished.

Re: my performance, I have no idea where it came from. If you had asked me if that was possible anytime before ~8AM on Sunday, I would have said no. Maybe it was the Chipotle. Maybe is was the cross-training I did that week. Maybe the Monkey in 32x18 is the machine for me (been riding the converted Walt w/ the Titec Hs in 32x19 and 32x20 for awhile now...didn't touch it during the race). By all accounts, I should have cramped. I was creeping up those hills just waiting for a quad to explode. Never happened. The stars aligned. That's all I can say.

I guess I'll postpone joining the softball league, for now...