Lonesome Luddite

This Lousy Winter

2012-01-16T21:49:00.005-06:00

I have given up on skiing. At least as far as this race season goes. There simply isn't enough (any) snow and even if we got snow tonight I still wouldn't have time to get in shape for it. It looks like I'm biking at Arrowhead. I'm lucky that it's a bike, run, and ski event. Besides, the Pugsley needs to get out and stretch.

It wasn't really this warm. It only got up to 50f or so, but in the sun my thermometer was reading up to 65f.

Someone out there was more desperate than I was. I thought about riding on the river, but gave it up as a bad idea.

I stopped to cook some lunch on my camp stove. I needed to remind myself how to use it. It also served as a reminder that I need to tour more and enjoy myself rather than treat every ride as a race.

I would say that riding fat tires opens up new places to ride, but I've ridden here before.

Tuscobia '11

2011-12-27T15:04:00.004-06:00

Tuscobia ‘11 was a bit of an adventure this year. Not so much in terms of physical difficulty or ultra-ness, but more in terms of unsuitable weather and mechanical/logistical problems.

In other words there wasn’t enough snow to ski and my bike fell off of a car. In an attempt to be a good blogger I brought along my camera, but in 115 miles of racing I didn’t take a single photo. Maybe my New Year’s resolution should be to take photos.

On the drive up Thursday the 15th we got a good look at the snow or lack of it. The western end of the trail had none and while it got better the further east we went it still wasn’t covering the grass. I was prepared though. I had brought along my bike along with the two pair of skis I hoped to use.

I had decided to bike the 150 mile race, but at the pre-race meeting I found out that Mark Scotch was planning to ski in spite of the conditions. Not wanting to miss out I quickly changed my mind and prepared to ski. Rumor was that the course was skiable all the way from Park Falls to Birchwood, more than 60 miles of the 75 mile trail. Honestly I didn’t figure I’d be able to ski 150 miles. I hadn’t been on snow and hadn’t been skate skiing in several weeks on account of ice. I would be happy to get 75 miles in.

We started in the dark at 6am and immediately the trail was rough and barely skiable. Mark and I were both doing a lot of double poling and I was doing more than my share of face-plants. I was the slower of us, but I can’t feel to bad about that. I’ve been skate skiing for less than a year. After a few miles the trail smoothed out enough that we could skate. It still wasn’t perfect. The snow covered portion of the trail was often too narrow to get a good stride on and in many places gravel showed through. Whenever I skated onto one of the gravel patches my ski would suddenly stop and I’d fall on my face.

After a while I started to get the hang of skating on the rough trails and occasionally I managed to get into a rhythm for a few hundred yards. I was even starting to get the hang of the (few) steep downhills on the trail. My double poling was inadequate though. I was trying to use too much arm strength and wearing myself out. Before long my arms were jelly and I learned through trial and error how to pole more efficiently, keeping my arms in and doing crunches down the trail.

(photo Roberto Marron)

The trail was getting worse though. Every mile west brought us more gravel and ice and less snow. Eventually there were bare patches all the way across the trail and we were forced to walk.

By the time we got to the first checkpoint at Winter 30 miles in we had had enough. Skiing wasn’t really an option anymore and we didn’t feel like walking 40 more miles only to turn around and do it again. We rested for about an hour and made the call to turn around and ski back to Park Falls. Since both Mark and I had brought bikes along we decided to abandon the 150 mile ski and enter the 75 mile bike race the next day.

(photo Mark Scotch)

We skied back 10 miles to the towns of Loretta and Draper where Anton Oveson stopped and offered us a ride in his car. I was stopping often to rest by that point and the ice on the trail was making it difficult to get a good push-off. We decided to take the ride back to Park Falls and rest up for tomorrow rather than face the rough trail in the dark.

The next morning I loaded my bike onto the back of a car for the drive to the 75 mile start at Rice Lake. I rode the bus with the other racers. About halfway there I got a phone call from Helen Lavin, the race director, that my bike had fallen off of the car. The front tire was destroyed and there was some more minor damage. I figured my race was over, but Helen called around and managed to contact Jason Novak who had dropped out of the 150 mile race. He generously agreed to loan me a wheel and my race was saved.

The rest of the 75 mile racers started while I waited for the replacement wheel to arrive from the other end of the race course. I spent the next two hours at the home of Jim and Liz Broome who own a kennel very near the race start. They generously offered me breakfast, coffee, and conversation while I waited. I was well fed by the time the wheel arrived. That’s one of the things l love about these races. A little adversity always makes for an interesting story and more often than not a good time. I started the race two hours late, but I figured I could still catch a few stragglers.

The first ten or so miles to Birchwood were fast on the bike. There was very little snow on the trail and I was averaging over 10 mph on the Pugsley without really trying. At Birchwood I passed all of the 75 mile runners. I made a slight adjustment to my saddle that made all the difference in terms of comfort and continued on at a good pace. Snow cover increased, but it still wasn’t anywhere near skiable. I was flying along and soon had my jacket unzipped and my gloves off. Biking felt a little like cheating compared to running or skiing.

I caught several bikers and arrived at the Winter checkpoint before dark, much earlier than I expected. After a break for chili I started the final 30 miles. The same 30 miles I had skied the day before. There were a few spots on the trail where my rear tire punched through crust, but by lowering my tire pressure I kept this to a minimum. Aside from some problems with my sleeping bag working loose from my front rack I had an easy time of it. I finished around 10pm and wasn’t tired or sore at all

(photo Chequamegon Canoe Club)

As I sit now, a week and a half later, there is still no snow on the ground and temps are approaching the 40s. Things are not looking good for skiing the Arrowhead, my big goal for the year. Perhaps I’ll be doing more biking this winter.

Pugsley Metric and Pre-Tuscobia

2011-12-13T21:36:00.006-06:00

Nick and I got out the other weekend (Sunday the 4th) and rode a gravel metric on the Pugsleys. Like a good blogger I took my camera along, but somewhere around halfway I forgot about it and just rode. I have more of a race mindset when it comes to my endurance sports. I just can't seem to tour or sightsee or what have you. Oh well, someday I'll learn to take it easy.

In any case it was pretty icy in the morning and we had to be pretty careful on the way out of town. Once we were on the gravel it was okay with one nasty exception of a B road. We checked out the Chichaqua Bottoms greenbelt, but didn't venture in as it was the first weekend of shotgun season. Apparently we missed the main trail area of the park, but I figure that's just an excuse to go back some other time. We also stopped by Robison's Acres which has great ski potential if we ever get some snow.

The icy B road of death.

Riding at Robison's Acres

Pugsleys in what passes for snow these days.

Next weekend is the Tuscobia Trail Ultra. I'm signed up for the 150 mile ski event, but it looks like there won't be any/much snow. I'm going to take the bike along just in case. It might be a saving grace that I won't be able to ski. I haven't been on snow since last March and going straight into a 150 mile race is rather dumb. I think I'll just take it easy and try to "tour" it.

LHF/Survivor Cross

2011-12-02T21:09:00.002-06:00

Two weeks ago I did the Living History Farms Race and afterward rode Survivor Cross. Two races, one on foot, one on bike, same course, same day. Very different races though.

LHF is a crazy race. Lots of people talk about how "tough" it is and how wet and muddy you'll get. That wasn't a big deal. The crazy thing about this race is that there are 8000 people on the same course at the same time. I had been warned to get to the front if I wanted to actually "run" the race. I lined up with the 8 minute mile folks, but when I saw the others lining up next to me (a couple in a tandem cow costume, a guy who admitted to having 30# of bricks in his backpack) I crept up a bit in the starting chute.

I guess I picked the right pace because I felt like I was running about as fast as I could maintain over the seven miles. Actually it was an uncomfortable pace for me since I'm used to running ultras, but I knew that ultra-pace was going to be too slow. I didn't get passed much and I didn't pass a lot of people.

I managed a top 500 finish which may or may not seem impressive. For perspective, I came in in just under an hour and there were still people coming through the finish chute and hour and a half after me. I was also beaten by a guy in a Sponge Bob costume. I'm not sure how I should take that.

As a side note, I guess some folks were upset by some of the costumes on course. All I can say is that if you encourage costumes and offer drink specials at the bar next door you have to expect some overweight guys to run in bikinis. As for me, if I were to run in costume I think I'd go as Anton Krupicka.

Survivor Cross was much smaller with a little over 100 people on course. I was expecting a tough race with many un-ridable sections. I expected to crash and have my bike covered in mud. Thus I brought my single-speed mountain bike. It was geared for climbing though and the 32x18 gearing was far too low for the mostly open course. I was spun out the whole time. The course was very ridable and the few stream crossings were easily managed. I would have been much better off on the cross bike. The worst I got was bashing my lower lip with my handlebars while shouldering the bike.

Both races were fun, but not my style. I doubt if I'll do them again. Too many people and too short.

P.S. Here's a great video of the bike race. Look for me at 4:40 passing on the left in the yellow shorts.

Memories on gravel.

2011-11-18T20:26:00.005-06:00

I debated whether or not I should write this post. It's a little off topic for a blog that's about endurance sports, I'm generally not comfortable with expressing emotion, and it's two weeks late. Given all that I still think it's important to share.

On October 30th, while I rode the American Gothic Gravel Invitational, my grandfather died. Honestly I don't think there is any place I would rather have been.

My grandfather and I were never very close. We never did much together like some families do. No good reason really. I think we just led very different lives. He was a farmer who probably never rode a bicycle. By the time he was my age he owned his own farm and had more children than I'll ever have. I have no idea what he made of the life I lead.

The AGGI course passed by several places that he knew well. He farmed 80 acres on Heaton's Valley road. My uncle (his son) lives just off of Duck Pond road. His 85th birthday party was at the bar in Waubeek. Some of the gravel we rode I had been on before, but only on a hayrack or passed by in a canoe. I remember him, well into his 80s at the time, jumping off of the hayrack and running to close a gate at that farm on Heaton's Valley.

I knew he was dying as I rode. I didn't know that it would be that day, but I knew it would be soon. To say that I "dedicated" the ride to him doesn't make much sense, but I was thinking about him the whole time.

Gravel riding is and always has been a bit more personal for me than perhaps it is for many others. I am not a farmer, but to get out and ride past farms and fields gives me a good feeling. It is a connection to the land, to history, and to my family that I wouldn't otherwise have. I had, for several years, intended to ride those roads in Linn County and more like them in Delaware and Dubuque counties, but until that day I hadn't done so. I'm glad I did that day.

11 Utra-Lessons

2011-11-13T19:47:00.003-06:00

Ultracycling legend and probationary DBD member Charlie Farrow has given us bloggers an assignment. Write eleven lessons you've learned from cycling with personal commentary. Well, I'm going to flaunt that assignment and write eleven lessons I've learned from cycling AND running AND skiing.

Lesson 1: Train I used to think that commuting to work and doing the occasional gravel road century was enough. I finished my first Arrowhead 135 with basically no training. I finished the Dirty Kansa 200 with basically no training. Heck, I ran my first marathon with absolutely no training. Skiing the Triple D shocked me out of my complacency. I barely made it through the 18 or so miles of flat terrain. Needless to say, I didn't finish the Arrowhead that year...or the next. The third year I put together a training program. Nothing special, just a guide to what I would do day by day to get myself ready. It worked. Last year I used a slightly modified plan to finish the Arrowhead on foot.

Lesson 2: Sell your rollers. Go outside. Ride in rain, sleet, snow, wind, and darkness. Ride on gravel, mud, snow, and ice. Run through mud and creeks, and over roots and rocks. Ski in the rain and on ice. Your races will be like this. When everybody else stays home or bails at the halfway point you will laugh and know that you've been through worse.

Lesson 3: Eat food, drink water. There are lots of expensive gels, bars, and powders out there. You don't need them. Sure, they probably work, but there are tastier, cheaper options. Fig bars, peanut butter sandwiches, trail mix, pizza, cheese and sausage. Energy drink? Ensure, Carnation Instant Breakfast, and soy milk. Chocolate covered espresso beans can save a race. Eat! Drink! Use them! It is better to stop and pee than stop and pass out.

Lesson 4: You can go farther than you think. In 2009 I skied the Tuscobia trail ultra. 67 miles into this 75 mile race I was suffering from horrible blisters, poorly waxed skis, and weird hallucinations. I had given up on skiing and was walking slowly down the trail. There was no way I was going to finish. I reached a road and powered up my cell phone; no signal. The race director rolled up a few minutes later and I told him I was done and needed a ride in. He said "no." Walking the next eight miles is the toughest thing I've ever done. I made it.

Lesson 5: Know the meaning of "quit." When you are pushing your boundaries and trying new things sometimes you get in over your head. When you feel like there is no choice but to quit ask yourself this: How will I feel in a week about having quit today? If the answer is, "terrible," then keep going. If the answer is, "like I did all I could," then quit. Be honest. You'll know if you're not being honest. Sometimes getting the Myrtle the Turtle award is a step in the right direction.

Lesson 6: The hardest part is getting out the door. Feeling sorry for yourself? Didn't finish that gravel race again? Seriously underestimated a 100 mile run? Ride across town to the coffee shop, run one lap around the park, get up and do something! Chances are you'll end up doing a 30 mile ride or a ten mile run and feel better.

Lesson 7: Savor it. In 2006, at my first Arrowhead, I was exhausted, cold, alone, and riding through a flat boring swamp. I knew I was going to finish, it was just a matter of time. So I stopped got out some food and water and just looked around. I said to myself, "This is why I came here. This is what I want to be doing." I felt great.

Lesson 8: Look out for old guys on crusty mountain bikes. It's not the young guy on the custom titanium rig who is going to win. That old guy is going to beat all the fatbikes to the finish line and set a record doing it.

Lesson 9: Commute. Ride to work every day. Walk if you have a trip to make that's less than a mile. You'll never be out of shape and you'll learn how to dress for the weather. Just remember: commuting miles don't count towards training (see #1).

Lesson 10: Be afraid.

Luke: "I won't fail you. I'm not afraid."

Yoda: "You will be. You will be."

If you're not afraid of the big race then you're overconfident. You will fail. Fear makes you prepare. It makes you train. It makes you learn everything you can. If you are managing your fear then you are on the right track.

Lesson 11: Call me a Sissi. You're not normal. You are doing things nearly everyone considers dumb. You wear tight pants. You will get made fun of when you're out there running in the rain. That's okay. When someone calls you a Sissi smile and tell them, "No, they're tougher than I am."

Moving on.

2011-10-02T20:49:00.005-05:00

Since my disappointing performance at Superior I've turned my focus to the next big race: Arrowhead. It has been my #1 race for a few years now. All other races are somehow just "training races" for the big one in the Northwoods. I'm going to ski it again this year and I'm trying for better than my previous ski time of 54:21. In pursuit of that goal I've been doing a fair bit of roller-skiing.

On Saturday I skied down to Slater on the bike lane along county road R38. Not the best of places, especially on a game day, but the traffic was courteous. I had a mind to go on to the High Trestle Trail and get a few more miles in, but I was already into unknown territory on skis. I wasn't sure how my arms would hold out if I went that far. As it was I was getting pretty worn out by the time I made it back to Ames. Considering how I feel today though I think next time I'll go all the way to Woodward. I managed 22 miles in about 3:15.

(Me in Slater with the skis.)

A few weeks ago I threw my hat in the ring for the White Mountains 100 in Fairbanks Alaska. Unfortunately they have a limited number of spots available and a lottery system for figuring out who is in. I say unfortunately because I am #42 on the wait list. Meaning if 42 people (nearly 2/3 of those signed up) drop out then I'm in. That's not too likely and I'm a bit disappointed, but I'm in good company. Jeff Oatley didn't make it in either.

Now I have to consider if I want to sign up for Susitna or not. It would be less expensive to do, but is less than two weeks after Arrowhead and somehow Anchorage just doesn't appeal to me as much as the interior of Alaska. I'll probably have to do it.

(A little inspirational reading.)

I was more put out than I expected about not getting into the White Mountains so to get over it I went out for a ride on my new bike. Did I mention I got a new bike? Yeah, another one. A Cannondale Flash 29"er. That brings the total up to 8 right now. It's pretty fun, but it's taking some getting used to. I haven't had a bike with suspension for some time now and I've been doing nearly all of my singletrack riding on the 1x1 so having 30 (!) gears now is a bit of a novelty. I was a little worried about it overlapping too much with the 1x1 and Pugsley, but I needn't have worried. It is a very different bike and makes short work of some of the slogs I've put in on those other bikes. I've ridden the Skunk River Greenbelt twice now, once in the dark, and it is a blast on the faster parts of the trail where I can really get moving. Once I get the hang of it it will probably be fun on the more technical parts too.

(If you're interested I have a Cannondale Capo fixed gear, and an older Schwinn Voyageur road bike for sale).

Underestimating 100 Miles

2011-09-14T21:54:00.005-05:00

There comes a time in every ultra when the only thing you want to do is quit. I didn't expect that to happen at mile 15 of the Superior 100.

The shirt says, "Rugged, Relentless, Remote" and it is absolutely right. From mile one it was like running an agility ladder. Every step was dodging roots and rocks interspersed with the occasional balance beam or teeter-totter of a bog-bridge. And those bog-bridges were the only flat spots. The trail was always headed steeply up or down. Sometimes it was steep enough down to make you want to turn around and face the hill. So much for the "easier than Arrowhead" run I was expecting.

However the real fault for my failure at Superior lies with me. I was overconfident and under-prepared. By looking at the numbers it seemed like I should have no problem and so I wasn't thinking of the race as it is.

It is a day-and-a-half race and I was mentally prepared for a half-a-day race. In a race like this you have to think through it and plan for the long haul. "How will I feel in the middle of the night and what will I do about it," is a question that has to be remembered in training and at the start line. At AHU I knew I was going to be out there a long time and I was ready to camp or slow way down if I had to. I had no such plans for Superior.

Because I was thinking of it as a half-day or training race I started off far too fast. I was running at 50k pace. Part of the reason for that was starting at the front of the pack. I often make the mistake at short races of starting near the rear. At Superior I made the opposite mistake. I started at the front. No one likes getting passed so I ran at the pace of the people around me. Some of those folks finished. Most didn't. There is a marathoner's saying: Start off slow and then slow down. I forgot that one.

I knew that the aid stations were about 10 miles apart and that didn't worry me, but I am still fairly new to supported runs. I carried just a few gels with me and had no solid food. I expected to eat at the aid stations. 10 miles is too far to go without food, at least if you want to keep running afterwards.

The heat surprised everyone that day. No one expects record highs of 84f on a September day on the North Shore of Superior, but it happened. I, and just about everyone else, ran out of water on the second section of the trail which took us from Split Rock to Beaver Bay. I thought that 2 liters would be enough, but five miles in, 15 miles into the race, I found myself out of food and water, standing atop an exposed granite cliff, overlooking a picturesque lake. All I could think about was how nice and cool that water looked and how great it would be to dive off into the water hundreds of feet below. I didn't, but I suspected that my race was over.

Five miles later as I stumbled into the Beaver Bay aid station I knew I wasn't going to make it, but I resolved to keep going until I couldn't anymore. I was already walking everything. I sat down ate, drank,and recovered a bit. In the next section to Silver Bay I was able to run a little as I belatedly formulated a plan for the night, but it was too little too late. I picked up my drop bag at Silver Bay feeling good, but the nearly 10 miles to Tettegouche humbled me once again.

I thought about dropping out at Tettegouche, but, thanks to Don Clark and Vicky Begalle egging me on, I started moving again. For a little while my walking pace was good and I as I crossed over the Baptism River I thought I might make it to the 50 mile mark at Finland. But before long the sun set and I was barely stumbling along. Lots of folks started catching up and passing me. I imagined every one of them to be the sweep runners shepherding in the slowest of us. At one point two runners passed me and mentioned that since we had descended quite a bit we must be getting near the County Road 6 aid station. I wasn't so sure. I've learned to be pessimistic about distances on the trail. Sure enough, before long I came to a cliff overlooking the aid station far below. I spent the better part of an hour switchbacking down to the level of the road and aid station. I dropped out as soon as I got there and no amount of cajoling was going to get me up again.

Looking back I can see that I could have gone the next eight miles to Finland, but I had just given up. Sure I would have gotten there slowly and past the cutoff, but it seems to me it would have been the honorable thing to do (if there is honor in trail running).

As far as under-prepared I have always poo-poohed long runs. I figured that long runs were just confidence builders and that really, if you can run 10 miles you can run 100. I'm rethinking that. Sure, fitness wise that might be true, but how else are you going to learn pacing, but from running 20+ miles. I guess it's time to stop being lazy and step it up.

The Superior 100 is in no way harder than Arrowhead, but it is so different that it is hard to compare. Next year I'll know better. I won't underestimate it again.

It was good to see all my ultra-friends (better than the Super-Friends) especially Kurt Neuberger, Matt Long, and Anne Flueckiger who all found me places to sleep when I was tired. It was actually hard for me to leave on Sunday morning. I really wanted to stay up there with the good folks of the Northshore. I'll be up to visit soon.

Rationalizing 100 miles.

2011-09-05T14:25:00.004-05:00

The Sawtooth 100 is next weekend and I'm in. It'll be my first 100 mile run/walk and I'm a little bit nervous about it. Sure, I did the Arrowhead 135 on foot but that's a different animal. Regardless that's what I'm comparing it to. Here's how I'm rationalizing the race to myself:

The cutoff for the Sawtooth is 38 hours so to finish I'll have to average at least 2.6 mph.
100/38=2.6

Compare to my pace at this years Arrowhead:
135/56=2.4

Keep in mind that the AHU is cold, you're walking on snow, and carrying/dragging 15+ lbs of gear and food. Sawtooth could be cold, but not that cold, the surface should be good if rough at times, and you can carry minimal gear. Superior is likely to be hillier, but I'll deal. The last 20 miles of the AHU I was nearly dragging my left leg and moving very slowly.

Actually, I made it to Crescent at mile 110 in 40 hours:
110/40=2.75

I don't think I'll have any serious trouble finishing Sawtooth.

Finishing fast is another story. My goal is to finish in 32 hours. I think that's a reasonable pace and compares pretty well to previous finishers who run about my pace.

No use worrying about it now. It's time to just go out and do it.

But you are not a Jedi yet.

2011-08-22T21:59:00.004-05:00

So by now you've heard that I got 3rd place at the 24 Hours of Seven Oaks. That sounds impressive. Here's why you shouldn't be impressed:

-I did this on a bike not on foot (just in case you were under some sort of misapprehension).
-I know people who can run farther faster.
-There wasn't a whole lot of competition. Only seven solo riders. (Which means that it could have been you. You should be there next year.)
-4th place had a broken pedal early in the race, had to drive into Ames, buy a new set, and still almost beat me.
-I am barely even sore today. I could have done more.
-I had plenty of time to go out and do another lap, but 4th place conceded and so I didn't.
-I didn't manage my goal of 17 laps/136 miles. I only managed 13 laps/104 miles.
-In the first 12 hours I did 9 laps. In the second 12 I did 4.
-I slept for 3 hours and sat around for the same.

Then again maybe you should:
-I did it on a rigid, single-speed, 26"er. The rest of the field was on suspended, geared, 29"ers
(okay, one guy did have a 26"er).
-This is one of the toughest courses around. Unrelenting hills, 95% singletrack, and virtually no place to rest (unless you want to just stop and lie down).
-I was only one lap behind 2nd place.

So how should you feel about my performance in this race? I don't know. I'm reasonably happy with how I did. It was better than previous years and my best mileage yet. I had a good time. I still feel like I slacked off too much. Decide for yourself when you ride it next year. I'm serious about you coming out and beating me. This race deserves more competition.

Round and round, up and down.

2011-08-16T20:45:00.005-05:00

The 24 Hours of Seven Oaks has become something of a tradition for me. Since it's inception in 2003 I've raced in some form or other every year but 2005 (long story, but I'd be happier if I had made it that year too), usually in the solo 24 class. In fact in it's inaugural year I managed a podium finish and won $50. It was my first bike race and I haven't been able to find the magic since.

Every year since then it has been a downhill slide. I go in with good intentions only to lose the will to race around midnight. Some years I have had reasonable excuses, numb hands, broken lights, but most years, I pretty much just give in. Last year I just looked up at the big hill and couldn't will myself to go out there.

I don't quite know why it's that way or why I keep coming back. Some of it has to do with the nature of 24 hour racing. Round and round. It gets boring, and even if you quit halfway through you're still credited with a finish. I'm much happier doing point to point races with a defined distance rather than a defined time. At least it is close, a great course, with great people (though I could live without the thumpin' tunes from the Rassy's tent), and relatively inexpensive.

In any case I'm back. I'm probably better trained than I have been since...ever, even though I haven't been training with this race in mind. I'm riding a known bike that fits me and feels good, even if it is a rigid single-speed. I have lights that work. Even the race time suits me as it starts at 10am this year rather than noon. As for goals, I hope to be on the bike for 18 hours of the 24, get some good night laps in, make it a double metric, and enjoy myself.

(Hmm, maybe those thumpin' tunes could be my motivation to stay out on course. I won't have to hear them if I'm behind the hill in the woods.)

Afton Trail Run '11

2011-07-05T21:29:00.005-05:00

My cardinal rule for ultra runs is: don't get hurt. Its corollary, don't do anything stupid, also has it's place, especially in more extreme conditions, ie. cold, heat, hills, rocks, mud. I've also heard ultras described as eating and drinking contests. That's true too. It's all part of the same thing really, take care of your body and mind and you'll get there.

Last years Afton Trail Run was my first ultra (if you call a 50k an ultra which maybe you shouldn't) and I made some rookie mistakes. I didn't carry any water and instead depended on aid stations. I ran the hills from the start and didn't pace myself well thinking that it was only 5 miles more than a marathon (I had only run two marathons, both paved and very flat). Those rookie mistakes almost cost me a finish when I fell apart ~25 miles in. I like to think I've learned from those mistakes and this year I had my chance to prove it.

Due to the follies of Minnesota's government Afton State Park was closed and the race had to be moved at the last minute to the Afton Alps Ski Area right next door (it also cost me my campsite reservations, but that's another story). The bike trails at the ski area promised to be more rugged and steep than the hiking/ski trails at the park and the heat and humidity were typically high for July. I was going to be smarter than last year and pace myself by walking the hills and stay hydrated by carrying a water bottle.

After a typical understated John Storkamp start I was jogging along with a pretty large pack. It wasn't breaking up as fast as I had hoped and so I picked out someone who I knew was a faster runner than I and made sure not to pass him. Soon enough came some hills and walking, The heat wasn't so bad, but the humidity and morning dew was making the trails and grass slick. I knew I had to be careful.

At the first aid station I filled my bottle halfway figuring that this would be enough to get me the 3.75 miles to the end of the first lap. The relentless wooded switchbacks of the first half gave way to open fields and climbs straight up the ski hill in the second half. The toughest hill of the course was saved for last as the trail led straight from the bottom of the hill to the top and then switchbacked down to the aid station/finish.

After the first lap I found myself out of water and in need of a bathroom. I took care of my needs and set out for a second lap. The day had heated up a lot and many runners looked like they had been out for a swim rather than a run. I caught up to the folks who had passed me during my short break and then, to my surprise, I passed the runners who I had been using as de facto pacers. I was a little nervous about passing someone who beat me by an hour and a half last year, but I knew I wasn't pushing myself. I had run one lap and knew what I was in for.

There was a little standing water on the only flat section of the course and there wasn't much choice but to run through it. That wouldn't have been so bad, but the humidity was so high my shoes and socks stayed wet throughout the course. I was worried that I might have some good blisters by the end of the race, but there wasn't much to be done about it. I made sure to fill my water bottle completely and found that I was still drinking it dry in the relatively short distance between aid stations.

As I was finishing up the second lap a 25k runner who had just passed me went down on the steep grassy downhill. He must have sprained an ankle or something because he was done. He couldn't finish the last hundred yards or so to finish his race and had to be helped down the hill. It was a good reminder to be careful, especially as the race wore on and I became more tired.

I was halfway done and feeling pretty good. The heat and hills were making it tough for everyone and I just had to keep eating, drinking and upright. I started to pass a lot of the slower 25k runners who were on their second lap. A lot of them seemed to be wearing VFFs which got me thinking that reading a book about running and buying the latest fad shoe does not make one a runner. Nothing wrong with running in VFFs exactly, but they aren't magical.

I stubbed a toe on a root, barely managing to stay upright, then a on the next downhill I kicked a rock with the other foot hard enough to knock my insole out of place. That hurt, but no real harm done. I was just getting tired and had forgotten to look where I was going.

As I walked the uphills on the second half of the course I started to pick out places where I'd push it and run on the next and final lap. I was starting to pick up some speed on the downhills as well staying loose and trying to take quick steps to minimize my chances of wiping out.

On the last lap I started to run some of the more gentle uphills and found myself passing quite a few folks. A few passed me as well, but on the whole I was moving up. On the last uphill I passed one guy who was crawling up the hill, which might give you some idea of how steep it was. I cruised on down to the finish and lapped a few 50k runners whom I recognized. I almost missed the finish line and went out for a 5th lap, but stopped myself. I did feel pretty good, I could have done another if I'd had to. My finishing time was 6:45:46, nearly 40 minutes faster than last year and on a much more difficult course.

I had definitely put more into the race than I had since the Arrowhead and that was a pretty good feeling. My legs hurt all over and it was difficult to walk for several days after. I think that's a good sign. When I have a bad race I tend not to be sore afterwards. It seems to mean that I didn't go as fast as I could have for some reason.

All in all a great weekend. I saw more folks puke at a race than I have since High School cross country and there is a trophy for the finisher with the longest beard. I'll see if I can't get that award next year.

Killer Bees

2011-06-26T21:48:00.005-05:00

A ride/run/race isn't worth mentioning if everything goes perfectly. Two weeks ago I did two gravel metric centuries, but everything went well, so that's that. Yesterday though was a different story.

A group of us from Skunk River Cycles went down to Newton for the Renegade Gravel Race. It was originally supposed to be a team race with five person teams, but due to popular demand a solo division was created. As a consequence only two teams showed us and one other and the other didn't have five members, only four. I think that counts as some sort of moral victory on our part.

The weather forecast played a part in the low turnout too. 60% chance of thunderstorms. Well, we didn't get the thunder, but we got plenty of rain.

We hadn't had much experience working as a team and so we couldn't take advantage of team tactics (drafting mostly) as much as we would have liked. After the field thinned out we were able to make a paceline for 15-20 miles, but due to differences in skill and strength it was tough to hold it together. After the checkpoint in Kellog we mostly didn't bother.

It rained pretty steadily for most of the race, but we had a good group of people and there wasn't any complaining. I flatted about 45 miles in and told the rest of the team to go on. Fixing a flat in the rain was about as fun as you'd expect, but really not that big a deal. I did have trouble locating the cause of the flat and that bothered me, for several miles afterward I was constantly checking to make sure I wasn't losing pressure. I caught up to the team a few miles later as they contemplated the B road.

The roads were just fine, at least until we got to that one B road on the course. There was some discussion about killer B roads and my destroyed derailleur problems of earlier this year. We opted to be (B? bee?)cautious and walk if anything looked sketchy. It looked pretty sketchy. We weren't cautious enough. Less than 100 yards into the road Stephen's rear derailleur self-destructed. Well, I'd been through that before and luckily it was another Surly Cross Check so we had the option to single-speed. It took me longer than I would have liked to single-speed it, and we were on our way, walking.

Only later would we realize that this was the very same B road that destroyed my hopes at this year's Trans-Iowa. It looks different in the light, but it might still be evil.

Once we managed to push/pull/carry our bikes down a mile of sticky Iowa clay we cleaned our bikes and got back on. We had to stop a few times to adjust the chainline and gear on the kludged single-speed, but eventually we found a gear that worked and Stephen was able to finish the race.

We rolled up to the finish in last place, but we made it. Working with a team is certainly a different dynamic. With a little practice and one fewer wet B road we could do pretty well.

Photos C/O Wrecked'em Racing

Getting the X-Wing out of the swamp.

2011-06-19T21:39:00.004-05:00

Those of you who know me know that I am a very habitual person. I tend to do the same things every day, eat the same things, go the same places. Recently I abandoned one of my usual haunts (several reasons) and it has been taking a toll on me. For the past week I haven't been eating well, I've been sleeping too much, and generally not been doing to well.

It all kind of came to a head this weekend when I found that I didn't have any reason to get out of bed on Saturday. I laid on the couch-that-hurts-my-back all day and read a schlocky fantasy novel even though I knew it would hurt my back and make me feel generally like crud. And it did. I felt like crud and my back hurt.

Today (Sunday) I did the same thing until I finished the novel and found that now I really didn't have anything to do. Of course I knew that I should be doing something. I had wanted to roller-ski on Saturday and run on Sunday, but I just couldn't find the motivation to do it. Finally at about 2 in the afternoon on Sunday I got out of the house, got some coffee and some internet and felt better.

We'll see if this lifestyle change is going to be worth the trouble or if I should just go back to old habits. At least I'm reading a better book now.

I did make it out to Ada Hayden and roller-skied today. It didn't go quite as I had planned though. I found that I couldn't skate like I had wanted to. I had always used the skis for classic technique and now I found that the skis really wanted to trip me up when I tried to skate. I'm not sure exactly what the problem was. It could be that I have the bindings mounted too far forward, or that I have floppy combi boots, or soft flexors. It could just be bad technique.

So I double-poled around the lake for 20k or so. I haven't double poled that much since attempting the Arrowhead in '08. I quit at 70 miles that year and couldn't lift my arms for days afterwards.

Since I've been doing some upper body strength work I think I did better than I might have otherwise. It was tough work, but I managed to be faster than all the runners, though slower than the bikers and skaters. By February I hope to be faster than at least half of the bikers.

I could rant more, but I won't.

2011-05-11T22:59:00.000-05:00

I got a chance last weekend to practice my get-up-and-do-it philosophy of my previous blog post. Saturday I had to get up early (for me, 6:30) and provide support for the NABR ride. While I didn't do much in the way of physical activity (I drove around the course, fixed a few bikes, and picked up a crash victim) I did get a taste of what cycling is for some folks.

Don't get me wrong, most of the folks out there were riding, having a good time, and being responsible cyclists, but there were a number who didn't do any of those. Bike riding for them was an excuse to drink (a lot), complain about almost everything cycling related, and act like it was a "hard ride".

I have a lot more respect for the person who goes out on their decade old hybrid, does the 12 mile loop and finishes exhausted than the person who goes out on their '11 carbon & Dura-Ace race machine, does half of the the 42 mile loop, and then has to be picked up at the VFW because they're too drunk to continue. I guess everyone has their own way of having fun.

I was also surprised that there were at least three fairly serious crashes (as far as I know not alcohol related). I hardly ever see anyone crash on a gravel ride, but on clean dry pavement people still managed to go down. Two of the crash victims ended up in the ER with likely concussions. Luckily those folks were wearing helmets. However after the ride one person still had the gall to argue that helmets don't do any good and said you'd never catch him wearing one.

But enough complaining on my part. I had a good time helping out and seeing a lot of people whose bikes I fix enjoying those bikes.

Afterward, since it was such a nice day, I got out and practiced my in-line skating. I got a few miles in and gained a little more confidence on the skates. It's tough, but enjoyable learning a new skill and I hope my work pays off come winter when I get on the skis.

Sunday I got up at 5:30 after four hours of sleep to run the TIMTAM 50k. There was a pretty small turnout for this virtually unadvertised race, but who can complain about a nice low key race like this for $10 within two miles of home. The course is pretty flat and I was hoping to PR in both the Marathon and 50k. I don't know if I managed it in the Marathon as I don't know what my split was, but I did manage it in the 50k. I didn't have much trouble (as expected), but I did have to dig down a little bit when I wanted to walk about 25 miles in.

Recovery was good too. I'm back to 100% after just two days as I had hoped. All in line with my summer fitness goals. I want to be able to run a 50k or ride 150 miles of gravel without seriously tapering or hurting afterwards. Ultimately I'd like to expand this goal to include skating or roller-skiing, but I don't know what an appropriate distance is yet.

PMA?

2011-04-27T21:36:00.003-05:00

In light of some recent blog posts you may be wondering (I know I am) what effect my mental attitude had on my performance at Trans Iowa. I think that I did the best I could given my fitness on race day. I left it all on the course, but I was beat when I made it to the first checkpoint and I doubt I could have made it faster that day. My attitude was good on race day. I'm okay with how I did that day.

On the other hand, my attitude was crap for the two months preceding the race. That is where I failed. Because I had a poor attitude I didn't train as I should have. Many of my post-work workouts didn't happen and I slept in more weekends than I rode. My training was so lax that T.I., at ~60 miles of gravel and 30 of pavement, was still my longest ride of the year. I should have had multiple gravel centuries in, but I couldn't stomach the thought of 8-10 hours of riding on my days off. I'm not okay with that.

I'm not a big believer in The Power of Positive Thinking. Some days I just don't have it and I think that's okay. I do know the meaning of "quit" and I think I'm better for it. If you think that you can be positive all the time you're going to be in for a big surprise halfway through an endurance race.

That said the most important thing, whether training or racing, is to, no matter how you feel about it, act like you're going to do it. If you don't feel like getting up and going that's okay, but you'll have to do it anyway. Actually I think that this is one of the best sorts of training.

I remember someone saying to me once that a race was "90% mental" and it was probably true, but you don't train the mind for a race by sitting down and meditating. You train it by getting up and doing physical training even when you don't want to.

For more on mental toughness during a race check Guitar Ted's blog posts of a few months back. There's some good stuff there if I do say so myself:
Mental Toughness
Mental Toughness II

T.I.7: A short recap for a short race.

2011-04-24T15:59:00.004-05:00

"A committee is a life form with six or more legs and no brain."
-Robert A. Heinlein

Well, T.I 7 didn't go as planned. I knew my fitness wasn't tops. A broken bike and lack of willpower to train on less than perfect days saw to that. Still I hoped I'd manage to pull it off though the same sort of determination that saw me through Arrowhead this year. Unfortunately there's no comparison between the AHU and TI. Determination might have seen me through to the end of a 322 mile gravel ride, but not Trans Iowa.

The first problem I noticed was on the ride from the hotel to the start. I couldn't read my bike computer in the dark. The digits were too faint. Without knowing how far I had gone it would be difficult to navigate.

It was wet and foggy as we rolled out of Grinnell, but there was no wind and the gravel was reasonably fast. I always seem to start myself off towards the back of the pack and then have to work my way back up to the front. I did it again and found myself stuck in no man's land between a group of singlespeeders and the large lead pack. I decided to bridge up and take advantage of the big group, but it took a little bit out of me to get up there. I wouldn't be able to race like that all day and all night.

There was a course detour that took us a mile north, and then a mile west, but we had been warned about it.

Then, about ten miles in we came to a stop. Ahead was a B road and no one seemed to know what to do. Someone mentioned that we hadn't found our turn at 110th Ave, but since I couldn't easily see my mileage and hadn't been paying attention to the cue sheets I had nothing to contribute to the decision. Somebody started down the B road I followed and then everyone else. It had to be the right way. This was Trans Iowa and it lead down a B road. Of course.

The B road was unridable, but the ditches weren't too bad and we made our way mostly walking. As B roads go it wasn't too bad. It felt a lot like bike pushing at Arrowhead. At the end of the level B we stopped again at an intersection with a paved road. Again, nobody seemed to know what to do. So we kept riding.

One mile further on it became clear to someone that we were on the wrong road. Our left turn on 92nd Ave had appeared about 5 miles too soon and led down a dead end. After some discussion the group turned around and headed back the way we had come. We ran into a lot of riders who were slower and luckier than the rest of us. They only did the B road and not the extra mile out and back we had done. We turned south on the pavement, where the group started to break up, and after a mile east on gravel we were back on course though I was a bit behind.

The whole B road experience had been off course. Including the on-course detour the lead group had done approximately 6 miles extra. I wasn't that worried, I was still reasonably close to the front and nobody appeared to be in any hurry. It was early.

Soon the sun rose and it was looking like it would be a beautiful day. A few miles south and the course turned back to the east near Newton. I was now on my own. I could see a few riders up ahead of me, and none behind, but the lead group was gone. With the sun there was now a strong wind out of the west. We were headed straight into it and I didn't have anybody near to help out. I crouched down into the drops and geared down.

I knew I wasn't making good time and the hills were really taking it out of me as well. I was pedaling downhill and then grinding up the next one in my lowest gear. I was 25 miles or so in and knew that making the cutoff at 9:15 would be a close thing.

Over the next few hours I passed a few riders with mechanicals or who had just had enough. Some folks were walking the hills only 1/10 of the way through the race. A bad sign. With about five miles to go the course finally turned back to the east, with the wind. I threw the bike into the big chainring and pushed as hard as I could to try and make it before the cutoff. I didn't think I could make it, but I knew that if I didn't try I'd regret it.

With only about three miles to go I turned down a road that I thought was on course. There was a broken course marker lying in the middle of the intersection but I wasn't sure whether to go left or straight on. I chose left, then after a couple hundred yards I changed my mind and headed back the other way. A half mile down that road I realized that that was wrong. I had had it right the first time. A couple of other riders caught me and we took the correct road. Half a mile down we ran into another rider coming back towards us. He was even more confused than we were.

I pushed it as hard as I could the last two miles into the town of Baxter, but I was pretty sure I'd be about five minutes too late. I was hoping my bike computer was off by a few minutes. At the checkpoint there was a large group of riders, including some folks I thought would be in contention for a win. The CP volunteer told me he had some good news and bad news. The bad news was that I had indeed missed the time cutoff, the good news was that I was done.

Last November when I signed up for Trans Iowa I said that if I were to do it again I'd have to go all in. I would have to set a training schedule and stick to it if I wanted to have a chance to finish. I did a pretty good job of it too up until I broke my race bike on a B road. After that I didn't feel like riding any of my other bikes for mileage and instead I went running, made excuses, and slept in on the weekends. That more than anything contributed to my failure. I should have done more riding at night to check my light and computer setup and riding in a group would have made me more confident in staying with the front pack at the beginning. I should also have learned by now that I need to be self-sufficient for navigation and I can't count on others to do it for me.

Will I be back next year? I'm not sure. It is hard for me to focus on a race of this magnitude so soon after Arrowhead. Shifting from a ski or run focus to a bike focus is tougher than it might seem. It is hard to have two "A" races only three months apart. On the other hand I did have fun at Trans Iowa this year. My past two experiences were somewhat miserable and I was expecting more of the same at this one, but I had a good time at the "meat up." I have a desire to finish this thing again and maybe I will.

Trans Iowa Dread

2011-04-20T21:09:00.004-05:00

I said that last year was the last year. I'd never do it again. But I wasn't able to make it last year. A little regret at having failed before, a little peer pressure, a little hope to just finish it and have it behind me. I'm going back to Trans Iowa.

The weather has been rainy (and snowy) the past week. There is no chance the roads will be in good shape. I was out sick for a day last week. A friend of mine thinks I have pneumonia. I haven't trained properly since March. I am riding a bike with less than 100 miles on it. I am giving up Easter weekend with family to be there.

I dread Trans Iowa. I don't look forward to seeing the people. I don't look forward to seeing the bikes. I just look forward to having it over and done. By Sunday afternoon it will be over for better or worse. Probably worse.

I don't want to do this race again next year. I hope I don't have to.

The Bike of Theseus

2011-03-11T23:00:00.006-06:00

Those of you who have been following on Facebook know that my Surly Cross-Check has been giving me some trouble lately. Enough trouble that it's now time to get myself a new Cross-Check.

The trouble started about a month ago when I did some riding down in Page County with a friend. It was supposed to be a Trans-Iowa training weekend so we were looking at 100 miles on Saturday and 62 on Sunday. Saturday started out well enough, but due to a "train the way you fight" ethic we ran into some trouble. Since the Trans-Iowa would include some B (aka. minimum maintenance, aka. dirt) roads we'd be including some in the training ride. I should have known better than to try B roads after rain, in early March, but I went along with the plan. The problem looked like this:

The problem wasn't that guy. He's okay, but you can see the problem. He's not riding that bike, he's carrying it, and look at those feet.

Well, we did a lot of walking and by the time we were 30 miles into our 100 mile ride we'd been out for five hours. I did the math, it didn't look good. Just as we decided to make it a metric rather than a full century my drivetrain decided to give way. The rear derailleur pulled straight out of the dropout and the dropout itself was bent in about 45 degrees. The B road mud was just too much for it. I rigged up this to get home:

But the troubles weren't over. We took a shortcut back to home base and while we were walking yet another B road my shoelace decided to break. Unfortunately my shoes have a BOA system and fixing a broken lace isn't so easy as it ought to be. Luckily I had a spare tube along so I did this:

Pretty clever if you ask me and it worked well too. Twenty miles later we were home.

Part II

At first I thought the frame was toast, but after some judicious bending, a dropout saver insert, a new chain, and a derailleur (upgraded to Ultegra) I thought I had it licked. Fast forward to last weekend.

Same route planner, same plan, lots of B roads. Closer to home though; Story County. On the final B road of the day 30+ miles into the ride my cranks ground to a familiar halt. The derailleur hadn't pulled out this time, but the hanger was bent a good 45 degrees again. Once again B road mud had done me in. I hadn't even gotten the new Ultegra derailleur paid for (it looks like it might be okay). Once again I single-speeded it (it took me much less time, a benefit of practice) and rode the 30+ miles back home.

This time I think the hanger is done. I could probably bend it back, but it wouldn't be the same. The place where I had drilled out the hanger to accept the dropout saver insert is ovalized and won't go back to round. I don't trust it anyway. I could have the dropout replaced, and I might someday, but it would be fairly expensive to have that done and then repaint the frame. The best option is to buy a new frame and swap the parts over. Until then the old Spree Green Surly will be a single-speed. The new one should be here later this week and look like this:

Fame: CIRREM 2011

2011-03-02T20:54:00.002-06:00

I wasn't going to write anything about regarding CIRREM last weekend because it didn't seem to be that big a deal. After thinking about it a bit though it does deserve some attention or at least I can't seem to get parts of it out of my head. Not so much the riding or course, which was fine, but other people's comments surrounding the event.

First off, it had snowed a bit the night before the race and was about ten degrees colder than expected. I was happy because I figured it would scare off the riff-raff. Even so 101 riders toed the line at the Cumming Tap.

I was getting a lot of congratulations on my Arrowhead a Trois achievement from those who knew about it. I'm still a little uncomfortable with that, but I tried to be nice even if it was nine AM and I wasn't quite awake yet. I really didn't want to talk, I just wanted to start the ride.

Apparently though word hadn't gotten through to everyone. As I was filling up my Camelbak in the bathroom with hot tap water I had a guy tell me that cold water was better as it wouldn't freeze as fast. I wanted to tell him that the Mpemba effect was a myth and that this was the exact same way I'd used the Camelbak at Arrowhead, where it was 55 degrees colder, without any problems. Not to mention that the water wouldn't freeze even if I used it wrong, only the hose would. It just wasn't that cold. Instead I said, "Nope." I guess that was a little too terse as he replied with something like, "Okay, tough guy," or something like that. I didn't feel like arguing that early in the morning.

I started out the ride somewhere near the back, I didn't want to fight in the main pack for the first mile or so. The roads had about an inch of snow on them and I didn't want to be part of a pile-up if things were slippery. I'd wait for things to spread out a bit and catch up. That was a poor tactic as it turned out. The roads were good and the front pack charged out fast. In the first few miles I picked off almost everyone between me and that front group, but there was no way I was going to catch them, though I probably could have stuck with them.

As I was passing a group one of them said, "Do you know who that is? That's Matt Maxwell." I didn't stick around to hear the conversation. I mean, who doesn't like compliments, but this is ridiculous.

The roads weren't too bad in spite of appearances. The inch of snow along with some fresh gravel made things a little interesting, but, at least for the first half it was easy going. I used the big ring more than I think I ever have on a gravel ride.

The only problem was my glasses freezing up. I'm not sure if it was mist in the air, snow kicked up by the tires, or breath condensing on them, but after a few miles I was struggling to see out of one eye. Riding without glasses was out of the question. I can't tell a car from a tree without them. I kept scraping at them to keep them clear enough, but it wasn't ideal.

At the halfway checkpoint I put my glasses inside my jacket for a few minutes to thaw and ate a cookie since I hadn't had breakfast. The glasses stayed thawed for all of a mile and ten miles down the road I was feeling a bonk coming on. I took a short break to eat some fig bars I had with me, but unfortunately I lost my riding companions, the Mables on a tandem, and had to start navigating by myself. I tried to follow tire tracks, as I didn't want to dig the cue sheet out of my pocket, and ended up making a wrong turn and climbing two steep hills before figuring out my mistake.

I rode the last few miles with Steve Cannon, organizer of the Winter Race Series. My right toes were numb, but okay, and I really hadn't eaten or drunk enough. My time of 5:08 for the 63 miles wasn't bad, but the detour and icy glasses probably cost me ten minutes or so.

After the ride I got a lot of "dude, awesome beard" comments at the bar. I sat down with a cyclist who I didn't recognize but who said he was also from Ames. We talked about riding around town, working at bike shops, and exchanged first names, but it wasn't until the next day I figured out that I am already Facebook friends with him. I think that says something about Facebook. I wonder if he knew the whole time and was just humoring me.

Another group was talking about how 'epic' the ride was. I don't know if my perceptions have changed, but it doesn't seem like a metric century is epic material anymore. At least not unless the weather is truly horrible. Maybe if it had been windy or we had had more snow I could agree to and epic label.

The Arrowhead congratulations and beard comments were a little too much so I went to talk with some folks I actually knew. Mark Stevenson told me that some of the advice I had given on mental training/tricks worked for him on the ride. I'm glad that not all of my advice has been bad. In talking with Steve Cannon I found out that he's a fairly accomplished ultra-runner which was cool to find out.

Crowded social scenes just aren't me and I hope I wasn't too much of a jerk to anyone and this blog post isn't too humble/pridefull. I do like talking about the Arrowhead and other races I've done and plan to do, but I don't quite feel deserving of the accolades. There are so many other folks out there who are so much better at this than me. Like these guys.

Truckin': Arrowhead 2011

2011-02-13T14:40:00.007-06:00

The Arrowhead 135 has been my favorite race now for 6 years. Ever since first biking the race in 2006 I've come back every year. It's an obsession of sorts. But it wouldn't be the obsession that it is if I were coming back to the exact same race every year. I need it to be something different, something new, every time. Now weather provides different in spades up at the Arrowhead 135, cold and colder, snow and snowier, and I should be content with that, but I'm not. That's why coming in to this year's Arrowhead, the 7th annual, I had biked and skied and now I was running it.

Running is too strong a term. Most of us walk as running would be too tiring and too sweaty in the snow and cold. Many of us say we're going to do it "on foot" or something similar. It's the pedestrian class.

I was as nervous as I've ever been going into this years race. As nervous as last year when I felt I might actually finish on skis. When there's no chance of finishing I'm not nervous. When there's no question of finishing I'm not nervous. This year I knew I had trained as hard as ever (not very hard by most folk's standards) and the goal was within reach, but I wasn't sure. It looked like it was going to be the toughest race I'd ever entered. I was hoping for an easy year.

From the start at Kerry Arena I set a good pace. I wouldn't run, but just walk as fast as I felt comfortable. I don't know exactly how fast it was, but I'd guess I was approaching four miles per hour. Temperatures weren't too bad and I wasn't having any trouble keeping warm. Even my feet, which I was a little nervous about since I hadn't tested my footwear in temps colder than -10f, were comfortable.

There's not much to say about the first 35 miles of the course. It's pretty flat and easy. The snow was well packed down and even after a groomer went through it was pretty solid. The pack thinned out a lot and it didn't really feel like there were over 100 participants in the race.

Just before dark I made it to Gateway, the first checkpoint. I had visions of being in and out quickly so I brought in everything I thought I needed and made all my purchases immediately. Soup, hot dog, Monster energy drink, coffee. I ate, changed my socks (the first pair already had a hole in the heel), used the bathroom, and refilled my Camelbak and bottles. I got in and out about as fast as I could, but I later found out that I spent an hour at the store. It's all too easy to waste time at a warm checkpoint.

Back out on the trail I finished my coffee and continued my fast walk pace. So far I hadn't had any troubles with hamstrings or heels, both places I thought might be problems. Time passed and I made it to the Ash River shelter. I stopped in the somewhat hidden shelter and ate a pop-tart and rested my legs for a minute. I was feeling pretty good. As I left I noticed that there was a tent set up just beyond the shelter and they had a nice fire going. I figured it must be some causal "touring" cyclists, but it turned out to be the folks from EWS, the skipulk people. They had hot chocolate and if I had known it I could have rested in the tent, but it's probably for the best that I didn't know. I had been plenty comfortable in the shelter without heat. After downing a cup of hot chocolate I was on my way. I had another nine miles to my stopping point for the night, Black Duck shelter.

There were only a few people camped out at Black Duck. Fewer than in previous years. I could see Mike Stattelman's skis and a Salsa Mukluk leaned up against the shelter. The cyclist was sleeping inside the shelter and I figured there was room for one more. I used just my sleeping bag and pad and skipped the bivy sack. Unfortunately I had forgotten a pee bottle and knew I'd be getting up a few times in the night. Taking off my shoes would be a bit of a chore in the cold conditions so I merely stuck my feet into the sleeping bag's stuff sack rather than unlace them. I slept pretty well, all things considered, and only had some minor problems with chilly feet. I heard Mike get up to leave and Lisa Paulos catch up and pass me, but I reasoned, it's a long race and I needed my rest. After my third time getting up to pee it was time to go. I had slept about three hours. The cyclist was still snoring away.

The first thing I noticed after getting moving was that it was cold. I know I'm good to at least -20f with what I was wearing and so it had to be colder than that. I wouldn't find out until I arrived at Melgeorge's that it hit -35f that night. I put on my down jacket and army surplus over-mitts, both of which I had never used in anger before. In fact I had almost ditched the mittens at the last minute, I'm glad I didn't.

My pace was still good though I was starting to get a twinge from my right hamstring. I passed several runners just after the shelter and I was glad to have slept. I find that if I sleep for a few hours I can make better time on the first night than if I go straight through. Passing those runners only confirmed it. By the time the sun came out I was through the worst of the hills and only had a few miles left to Melgeorge's. I was still suffering from cold hands however. Every so often I would have to stop using my poles and make fists to warm my numb fingers. My fingers always came through though so it wasn't too bad.

I caught up with Mike Stattelman and Lisa Paulos on Elephant lake, just before Melgeorge's. Mike had carried his skis at least half the distance from Gateway. It was just too cold to get any glide. I know how awful it is for me to walk any distance in ski boots and figured he was done. Lisa was suffering from cold hands too and from chatting with her I could tell the long night and cold had taken a lot out of her. I was hoping she'd recover and keep going, but it wasn't to be.

I was relieved to be at Melgeorge's and glad to know I was halfway done. I stripped off my outer layers, shoes and socks. I had one blister on my right heel, but nothing too worrying. My feet were a little swollen and starting to get leathery. Nothing to worry about as I've been there before. I greedily ate some soup and a grilled cheese then went up to the loft for a nap. I didn't want to sleep long, but any time I could rest in a warm place I felt I had to take advantage of it. It couldn't have been longer than twenty minutes or so and I decided it was time to get going. I changed socks, refilled my water and restocked my food from my drop bag. I had, as usual, massively overestimated how much I would eat, but better that than underestimating.
Figuring that if it had hit -35f during the night it wouldn't be all that warm during the day I dressed for sub zero conditions and headed out the door. Mike, to my surprise, was heading out as well. I figured he'd catch and pass me during the warmer daytime conditions, but it never did warm up enough for efficient skating. He dropped out at Crescent just before the cutoff.

I had spent about two hours at Melgeorge's and that seemed about right. Rest had again done me good and I was once again truckin'. Speaking of truckin', this was the first time during the race that the image of Mr. Natural truckin' came to me and it was to help/haunt me to the finish. After Elephant Lake there are a few huge hills and then quite a few miles of flat. I formed a paceline with Carles Conil and another runner whose name escapes me.

Somewhere near the Elephant Lake access road I spotted something crossing the trail ahead of us. It looked like two large black dogs with white tails. Wolves? I had been noticing recent tracks in the trail since before Gateway, but this was the first I had seen anything. I alerted the others, but they hadn't seen anything and the wolves were gone. Perhaps it was just snow in the trees. I hope not.

Shortly after crossing the road Carles and the other runner picked up the pace and I couldn't hang with them. My hamstring was getting worse. Still, I didn't take many breaks and I overtook Carles a few times before we arrived at Myrtle Lake shelter. I sat down inside the shelter just to be "inside" for a while. It seemed warm with the sun shining on me and ate a pop-tart. Carles sat down outside and Marcio Villar caught up to us. Marcio shared some peanut butter crackers with us and we moved on.

It seemed all too soon and the sun was setting again. I geared up for another cold night, and put over-sized wool socks over my shoes then fixed them in place with Yaktrax. I also put on my down jacket and army mitts. Soon though my hands were getting cold and numb. It was a lot colder than I had expected. I started to panic a little bit. Luckily, Lynn Saari, who had dropped out, had talked me into taking a couple of chemical hand warmers at Melgeorge's. Now I was glad to have them. I opened them up and dropped them into my over-mitts and after a few minutes of faster paced walking I felt much better. Disaster averted.

I had forgotten just how many rolling hills there are in the second half of the course. I kept hoping to spot the Elbow Lake shelter, but it wasn't showing up. I was starting to hope that I had missed it, but I knew it wasn't possible. There are several distinctive landmarks, a trail junction and a bridge, just after it and I hadn't passed those. Now nothing was tasting right and I was starting to tire. I was getting a cotton mouth sort of feeling and I think I had slightly frostbitten the inside of my mouth with all the frozen food I was eating. Even though nothing tasted good, my stomach and my mind were both telling me to eat more and so I did.

Finally I arrived at the shelter. I hear that this is a very pretty place with a nice view of the lake, but I've never taken advantage of it. In '06 I didn't even see it on the bike and in '10 and this year it was dark and I didn't have time to stop. Carles was there though, just getting up from a nap. He mentioned that his favorite part of camping is just getting all the gear out. I wish I could have agreed, but when I get the gear out all I can seem to think about is how hard it will be to put it all away again. I kept moving and passed Marcio who was just settling down for a nap beside the trail. I asked him how he was doing and he said he was tired and cold. He asked whether or not he should take off his shoes before putting his feet inside the sleeping bag. I shrugged and said it didn't matter. If we had shared a common language I could have told him what I had done earlier with the stuff sack, but it seemed too hard to try to communicate that to him.

Finally I was into the real hills. Up and down without a break. My hamstring ached on the uphills and my knee ached on the downhills. I was feeling okay, but I had to use my walking poles like crutches to climb every slope. I realized I was slowing down a lot and knew it was time for a rest. I started looking for a place to lay out my sleeping bag, but I was a little picky. I wanted a spot packed down by a snowmobile, but off trail, and on top of a hill. I figured that'd be the warmest spot on this cold night. I kept saying to myself that I'd find it on the next hill and so several hills later I found something like what I wanted.

A snowmobile had pulled off the trail, but the spot was very unevenly packed down. Some spots were hard as rock and some very soft. I kicked at the snow to even it out a little, but I didn't try very hard. I set out my walking poles to mark the spot, laid out my pad and bag, then used my sled to block the entrance to my campsite. I didn't want any snowmobiliers running me over. I lay down at an angle somewhat like a recliner chair, but with a hole to my right that I'd roll into if I wasn't careful. It should have been uncomfortable, but I fell right to sleep. I woke myself up a few times snoring and found that I had rolled into that hole, but I didn't mind. I was warm and sleep felt great. After the third or fourth time waking up at the sound of my own snoring I decided, once again, that this was a race and I'd better get moving. I had slept for about an hour.

As I was packing up Carles came up the hill looking good and passed me once again. Marcio was just behind him, but moving slowly and not looking so good. I asked if he was okay and he responded, "muito frio." I know that much Portugese and asked him, as best I could, if he needed anything and suggested he try getting in his sleeping bag. "No. Drop. Snowmobile." he responded and I told him if I saw any snowmobiles I'd send them to him.

It was cold, and I had to pull my hands into fists around the heaters in my mittens from time to time. I could only do that on flat spots however as I still needed the poles to walk up and down hills. There were no flat spots. It was all hills.

Marcio caught up with me some time later. At first I figured I must be really slowing down, but I asked him how he was doing and he responded, "Maravilha," which I took to mean, "It's a miracle." He was warm once again and feeling strong. I'm glad no snowmobiles had passed us during that time.

We must be getting close to Wakemup hill (the last one), I thought. I started looking for it around every bend in the trail. I caught up with one runner who was melting snow for water. He had run out. I was thankful that I had increased my water load from 3 liters to 4 at the last minute. By insulating the water bottles with my sleeping pad I was able to keep them from freezing even in the cold temperatures we were experiencing.

Marcio and I passed a couple of trail junctions and I felt that I knew where we were. I told him in my Sesame Street Spanish that we had "tres kilometers" to go to the checkpoint at Crescent. He took off running at that, but I was wrong. Soon I passed Rick Wagar, another runner, who had a GPS and informed me that we had six miles to go to the checkpoint. I should have said, "diez kilometers."

Eventually we really did arrive at Wakemup hill and I was relieved to see it. I hobbled up to the top without taking a break (I had to take two breaks when I had biked) and then grimaced through the pain in my knee on the way back down. The trail wound it's way to the Crescent bar and last checkpoint.

I had hoped to make it to the Crescent by 3AM so I could get something like a good night's sleep before sunrise, but it was now 5AM. I'd still be able to sleep, but not much more than a nap. Carles was warming up by the fire as I got in and he informed me that runner Scott Myers had measured -42 on the trail. I figured he must have his units wrong so I asked if he meant Fahrenheit or Celsius. "It doesn't matter," he said, "it's the same." And so it is.

I ordered a pizza from the bar and ate the whole thing. I wanted more, but instead I laid down on the floor and right to sleep. Some time later I was nudged awake by one of the volunteers and told my hour was up. Apparently we were limited to only one hour of sleep in the Crescent checkpoint. I think it had only been about forty-five minutes, but I wasn't going to quibble. I was grateful to be warm and rested and I'm not sure I was really supposed to be sleeping on the floor anyway.

As I left the eastern horizon was just beginning to lighten. John Taylor was coming in as I was leaving. He isn't fast, but keeps moving and doesn't sleep the whole time. Amazing, no wonder he sees such crazy stuff on the trail. Marcio and Rick passed me shortly thereafter and I was on my own for the last twenty miles or so.

The long, straight, flat sections that typify the last miles of the Arrowhead Trail didn't seem to bother me. At least I was done with the hills. I got to the Cook turnoff and knew I had about 16 miles left to go. That felt good, but after thinking about it I still had at least 5 hours left on the trail and more like 7. Not such an encouraging thought. Still, I thought, there's nothing to do but keep walking. So I did.

Eventually the day warmed up a little and I traded my down coat and army mitts for a fleece vest and lobster mitts. I usually only use the vest and lobster mitts in sub-zero temps, so I know it couldn't have been too warm.

As I reached the last shelter it was time to deal with a problem that had been plaguing me for some time. I had been happily breaking wind since early in the race, but now by breaking wind I risked more than a minor stench in my shorts. Things were getting serious and I was expecting an outhouse at the shelter to deal with the problem. I was disappointed then that there was no such facility. I'd have to deal with this in the open. So I did.

Now that I was almost done the "truckin'" theme started to come back to me. Now not only was I thinking of Mr. Natural, but the Grateful Dead song "Truckin'" was getting stuck in my head. I'm no deadhead, but it wasn't too bad a song to be stuck with. "What a long strange trip it's been," seemed pretty appropriate lyrics.

I was tired and really slowing down. I was almost dragging my left leg down the trail and now I was using my poles like crutches much of the time. I wanted to bivy and sleep for a little while, but with the finish so close I wouldn't let myself. I arrived at the turnoff to the Casino and knew I was in the home stretch. I met Lisa Paulos, out for a walk, on the trail. I couldn't imagine just being out for a walk at that moment. Wasn't she tired from walking 70 miles? I was hurting a lot and no longer having any fun, but I was going to make it. I just kept truckin'.

Finally there was the finish line and Arrowhead banner across the trail. Apparently someone had gotten word to the finish that I was coming in and Nick, Caitlin, and Matt Long were there to meet me. I finished in 56:01 and not a minute too soon. I nearly swore never to run a race again. I think I did say I wouldn't do the Arrowhead on foot again.

Now, a week later, I am a little bit disappointed to have it behind me. It feels like it was too short. I wish it weren't over. Still, my leg is pretty messed up. I'm just now able to walk without a significant limp. I'm still in some pain though and having trouble sleeping because of it, but that'll get better.

Next year? I think I'm going to ski.

Busy Weekend

2011-01-19T21:51:00.004-06:00

This past weekend I ran the Triple D and skied the Cumming Winter World Championships (aka. Iowa Winter Race #2). Triple D was to be my last race before the big one at Arrowhead and since it was "just" a training race I figured it wouldn't hurt to do a little ski event the day before.

I haven't been skiing much this winter so this was only my third time on skis and the first on this particular pair ever. I wasn't sure what to expect for the course or competition. It turned out to be about 10 skiers and approximately 5k of out and back on the Great Western Trail. There was about 4 inches of snow over asphalt bike path. Not ideal, but I don't think I've ever skied in ideal conditions. I started at the middle of the pack and pretty quickly moved up to the front. Once I took the lead I never gave it up. One woman followed me pretty close to the turnaround, but then I dropped her and put about a minute between us by the finish. It's my first contested win in a ski race and for that I'm happy, but I don't imagine that my competition was much. Hopefully I can make it to race #3 in the series and defend my title (such as it is).

After the ski race I had to book it back to Ames, pick up a car, pack my sled, and drive to Dubuque to give a seminar on winter racing with Lance Andre. I arrived a little late, but that didn't turn out to be a big deal. The seminar went well and several people commented that I had done a nice job. I'd say there were about 25 people there, most of them racing the Triple D the next day. For the most part we went over the mandatory gear for Arrowhead and Susitna. I don't mind talking in front of crowds about stuff I know something about so it was no trouble, but I was worried that there were people taking notes about the things that I said. No one should take anything I have to say on any subject that seriously.

The next morning I ran the Triple D. I've skied the race three times so it was fun to do something a little different. Since it was my last training race before Arrowhead I decided to run the whole thing without walking and see whether or not it would be feasible to run some of the AHU course. I was a little overdressed for the day and had to unzip my jersey and remove my gloves and hat from time to time. Conditions were exceptionally good with a hard trail and temperatures in the teens, the best of any Triple D thus far. While I didn't have any trouble running the 22 miles or so I was more sore than I wanted to be, probably in part because of the ski race the day before. I opted not to do the extra miles for a marathon or 50k. No need to hurt myself before the big race. I concluded that running at AHU probably wouldn't happen for me. There's just no way I can run any significant distance and still have it in me to do the whole 135 miles.

So, can I finish the Arrowhead in two weeks time? I honestly don't know. I think I probably can if all goes well, but there are a lot of variables. I'll be cutting it pretty close to the 60 hour time limit in any case.

Tuscobia 2010

2011-01-02T18:57:00.004-06:00

This years Tuscobia didn't get off to a great start for me. First, I had broken the zipper on last years sled making it pretty much useless. I had to scramble and put together another one the night before we left. Second, I had forgotten my hiking poles at home and had to borrow some from Tim's (the race director) parents. They were 145cm, which would have been great for skiing, but I was walking and would rather have had 125cm poles. Finally, I had been fighting a cold for almost a week and while it had seemed to be improving, I lost my voice the night before the race. All of which had me thinking: when is enough enough and can I just quit now, before I start?

Of course I didn't quit, but it was tempting. Last year's race had been such an ordeal that I had hallucinations, could barely walk for a week afterward, and seriously considered biking the Arrowhead rather than skiing as I had planned. Hopefully this year wouldn't be as bad.

The start in Rice Lake wasn't bad. Temperatures were fairly warm and the trail was reasonably solid. For about the first half mile I was keeping pace with all the other run/walkers pretty well. Then of course, some folks started to run. I was pretty sure that if I took off running I wouldn't be able to complete the 75 mile race, at least not in the snow, so I kept up my walk. I promised myself that if I could I would start running after the halfway point, mile 38. By that point I figured I would know how I was doing and could wear myself out without too much worry.

For a while I leapfrogged with the only two skiers, Anne and Leah, but once they found their stride they passed me and kept going. I found myself going about the same pace as Darryl Saari and two other guys who were working together. I was pleased that I was keeping pace with Darryl, but I knew it was temporary. I knew that he could keep moving at a good pace when I slowed down or stopped, hopefully that would be a long way off.

We passed by the 150 mile racers a few miles in including Roberto Marron who I had run with at Wild Duluth in October. He told me not to go too fast so he could walk with me after the turn-around. He was jogging along at a steady pace so I figured he'd catch up to me at some point. He didn't, but did finish the 150 which is an amazing accomplishment, especially for his first winter race.

I was on my planned pace of 3mph when I arrived at the first checkpoint at mile 12 in Birchwood. I had hoped to sit down for a few minutes, but the other racers seemed to be getting in and out without pausing and I was feeling good enough to follow suite. After refilling my Camelbak with Carnation Instant Breakfast I was on my way.

The toughest thing about the Tuscobia isn't physical. The terrain and weather are pretty mild, but mentally it is a real challenge. For me it is mentally tougher than the Arrowhead 135. The trail is almost perfectly flat and quite straight. There are no hills to break up your progress into manageable chunks and the scenery never seems to change, just trees converging in the distance. At Arrowhead I can focus on making it to the top of the next hill or around the next corner. That doesn't happen at Tuscobia. To make it worse there are markers every mile that tell you exactly how far you have to go. It might seem like that would make it easier, but it just serves to frustrate when it seems to take forever to go one mile. The mile markers also don't let me zone out and just walk. I'm never pleasantly surprised that the miles have gone by quickly and I'm further than I thought.

Dark seemed to come all too soon. I had hoped to be further along, but I was stubbornly keeping my 3mph pace. I could only hope that time would seem to pass more quickly in the night as it sometimes does. I turned on my headlamp, and used it to help me find the most solid part of the somehow softening trail. I passed by a bar at Couderay where I saw a runner's sled parked by the front door. I wondered who it was and started to think that I could use a bathroom and maybe some water. Still though, I kept moving. A few miles further I came into the town of Radisson and saw Leah and Anne, the skiers, getting underway again after stopping at a convenience store. It seemed like a good idea to me as well and I summoned the courage to go all the way across the street (it seemed like a long way out of my way, but wasn't really). After using the bathroom and refilling my Camelbak I drank an energy drink for a mental boost, physically I was fine, and started off again. It turned out that the sled at the bar belonged to Lynn Saari who caught up to me as I was leaving the store. She passed me by as I loaded up and started moving again.

Just after leaving town the trail joined a road for a couple of miles and I finally reached the halfway point of 38 miles. I had been using this point as a carrot for quite a while and promised myself that I would start running when I got there. Now that I was there I gave it a shot. I ran to the next mile marker and while it seemed a lot faster than previous miles I just felt too tired to run much further. Disappointed, I started walking again. Again, I tried not to think too far ahead and focused on just getting to the next checkpoint in Winter at mile 46. Somehow I just kept walking and counted down the miles until town.

By the time I made it to Winter I was ready for a break. I my cold was starting to catch up with me and I was starting to cough more and have a runny nose. I hadn't sat down since the start of the race fifteen hours earlier. Lynn Saari was leaving as I arrived and the skiers were setting up their sleeping bags and resolved to sleep until dawn and then continue. I knew I didn't want to stay that long, but figured that three hours would do me good. After sitting down and having some soup I tried to lay down to nap, but I couldn't seem to manage it at first. John Taylor and a couple of other runners came and went and three more runners including the pair working together dropped at the checkpoint while I was there. Jan Roe who was staffing the checkpoint left me in charge for a while while she drove the dropped runners back to Park Falls. With a little quiet I was able to get a some rest. I slept fitfully for about an hour and a half inside the checkpoint while my cough worsened. Making things worse it seemed far too warm, I had to strip down to my underwear to keep from sweating, and there were weird programs on TV (which I didn't think to turn off) about serial killers and unsolved murders. Not the most restful situation. By the time Jan returned, even though my cold was getting worse, I was ready to get out of there.

At that point I was pretty sure I was the last 75 mile runner on the trail. I was surprised that Roberto, who was running the 150 hadn't caught me yet and I hoped he hadn't dropped. I told myself the good news that I only had 30 miles to go, but I knew that the bad news was that I had at least 10 hours left on the trail.

A few miles down the road I had one of those weird experiences that seem to happen in the middle of the night in races like this. Just as I arrived at a road crossing a jeep pulled up and stopped. I tried to wave him through, but rather than moving on a man got out and asked me, "Have you seen a little girl out here with two little boys?" I wasn't expecting that at 4am. I told him I hadn't and he replied, "Okay, just curious," and drove off. He didn't seem worried or any thing. Curious indeed.

I saw lights ahead and wondered who I was catching up to. It was a biker just packing up after camping. He started off just as I passed him and I figured I wouldn't see him again. It was a long slow slog to the towns of Loretta and Draper, the next landmark. This was where I started to have real trouble last year and couldn't ski any more. This year I was doing better in spite of everything and was still walking though I had to concentrate to keep my speed up. After passing through the towns the trail entered a spruce bog where I had had hallucinations last year, but this year I seemed to be better rested and in less pain.

As the sun rose I thought for a second that I was hallucinating again. There seemed to be a bike leaning up against a sign up the trail. No way of course, it must be a log or something, but it was. The same biker I had passed earlier in the night was camped out again. He must have been having some trouble like I had had the year before.

I finally made it to the spot, eight miles from the finish, where I had tried to quit last year, but couldn't get phone service. At this point my cough was getting worse, doubling me over a few times, my left hamstring was starting to act up, and worst of all my gloves were covered in ice from wiping my nose so often. Nothing worse than trying to wipe your nose with ice. Still it wasn't as bad as last year and I kept going.

About six miles out I had another run in with a local. A guy in Carhartts and Sorels was walking down the trail toward me. No snowmachine in sight. I said hello. He looked at me and said, "You're not from around here, are you?" I guess it shows.

Finally, with about two miles to go I saw a cyclist coming towards me. Nick, who had finished the 150 mile race on his bike the night before was coming out to look for me. I was happy to have somebody to walk with me and finally felt like I was going to make it. I picked up my pace a little and we also met Jan Roe again who was out on skis checking on the racers. I walked the rest of the way in with Nick and was relieved to have the Tuscobia behind me for another year.

Now, with barely four weeks to go until the Arrowhead, I still have some lingering questions that walking the Tuscobia didn't answer for me. While my hamstring injury doesn't seem to be serious, I'm over it already, how much worse could it get? Will it be a problem in the nearly twice as long AHU? Did the too long poles have anything to do with it? While I didn't have serious blisters like last year I did have some moderate ones on my heels that became a bit of a nuisance. Can I get my shoes/feet broken in before the big race or will I be fighting blisters there too? My finishing time of 29:06, while faster than I skied it last year, isn't too impressive. At that pace it'll be a close thing to finish the Arrowhead in under 60 hours. Could I have gone faster with shorter poles or could I have run more than I thought I could? How much did my cold affect me? Hopefully I can get the answers to these questions in the next few weeks and finish the big race this year.

How an "expert" builds a pulk

2010-12-28T00:04:00.011-06:00

**There'll be a Tuscobia write-up sometime later this week. I managed to do the 75 miles in just over 29 hours with only minor troubles, but I really want to give it a more thorough treatment than I can right now.**

Lately it seems like folks have been asking me for a lot of advice on these winter races, especially the Arrowhead. It's something of a surprise as I don't really consider myself an "expert" on these things. I suppose I've been doing it for several years and had some success on both the bike and on skis, but folks seem to forget that I've failed just as many times as I've succeeded. As it stands I'm happy to answer as many questions as I can, but it should be remembered that I am not an expert or an elite athlete (as some have suggested), just a guy who kind of likes doing this stuff.

In any case, one thing I've been asked about is my sled. Here is how I built one on short notice when my old one had a zipper blow out. It's quick and dirty, but it got the job done for Tuscobia this year. I hope to make a nicer one before Arrowhead.

Step one: find a sled. A simple plastic toboggan seems to work best. Lots of room, light, durable, and cheap. Get it home however you like.

Step two: enlarge the existing rope attachment points to fit your rope. I used 9mm dynamic rope (stretchy) so that it would pull more smoothly and be stronger than I'd ever need it to be. Use what you like. It's not a big deal.

Step Three: Tie your rope in to the sled using a figure 8 follow-through. Other knots, like a bowline, would probably work fine (it isn't like you'll be hanging from it), but I can be a knot snob.

Step Four (no photo): feed your rope through a rigid tube of your choice. I used an old fiberglass ski pole, but others have used PVC pipe with some success. I like the ski pole because I know it won't weaken in the cold and it has a narrower inside diameter to more closely fit the rope. About two meters seems to be a good length for the poles.

Step Five: once you've threaded your rope tie a loop in the other end using a figure 8 on a bight (again other knots would probably work fine). I pull the rope tight and try to get some stretch out of it when I do this. It helps to keep the pulling system rigid and keep the sled from overtaking me on the downhills.

Step Six: toss a large duffel bag full of your gear in and strap it down. The strapping down could take a whole other blog post, but you could just tie it in with more rope. I have used parachute cord in the past, but on this sled I riveted nylon straps with buckles in to the sled. One downside to just tossing the duffel in is that snow can pack in around the sides.

Step Seven (no photo): attach to a waist belt with carabiners. I use a reversed fanny pack with loops sewn into the sides, but there are other options. I cross the poles and then strap them together where they cross. This makes for a directionally stable sled which is nice on downhills.

Step Eight: walk 75 miles with it. This isn't my ideal sled, but it was done on short notice and took less time than writing this blog post (about an hour).

Looking back on Arrowhead '06

2010-12-08T21:51:00.004-06:00

Yesterday I was reading a blog that reminded me of the 2007 Arrowhead which led to me looking back on the race from that year (the line from blog to '07 AHU is not straight so I won't bother with it.) For those of you who don't know that was the year I made some serious mistakes and I had to be rescued on snowmobile. I suffered some pretty serious frostbite and, while it wasn't as bad as it could have been, my toes are still not quite right. Granted, it was a tough year with a combination of bad snow conditions and a serious cold (-35f), but it was nothing I wasn't aware was possible.

After that disappointment I was in quite a funk for a while and as a result I've never written about it or analyzed what I did wrong (although I did learn some things from it). The AHU blog from that year (especially the "To bivy or not to bivy" and "Drink water don't ration it" entries) makes some pretty heavy points about the race and it really got me thinking I needed to re-think what happened. Here's a rough outline of what I did wrong that year:

What I did wrong:

-My cycling shoes were not warm enough or roomy enough for the conditions.
--I had gotten frostbite the year before ('06) using the same shoes, but rationalized it as "not that bad." Any frostbite is too much, don't think otherwise.
--I tried to use heat packs in my shoes, but without any room to breathe in the shoes they didn't work.

-Not enough water
--My thermoses froze shut from spilled water freezing on the cap threads (I managed to force one open, but on the other I broke the cap trying to get it off and never did get it open cutting my water supply in half).
--I didn't drink because it was too tough to get in to the thermos in my pannier bags (even when not frozen shut).
--I didn't eat for the same reason. It was hard to get to the food. That and not drinking probably caused a lack of appetite
--Because I didn't eat or drink I had a pretty epic bonk about 50 miles in. I didn't have the energy to ride the bike and eventually couldn't even swing my leg over the top tube.

-I was in a hurry.
--I was trying to break 24 hours and stuck to it even though conditions dictated otherwise.
--This contributed to not eating and drinking along with not stopping at the Gateway store.

-I didn't stop at Gateway store 35 miles in.
--As a result I didn't warm myself up, eat, fix and refill my thermoses. All of which would have been possible at the Gateway store. I probably could have bought warmer boots there too (it's that kind of store.)

-I never expected or intended to use my stove.
--I had never tested my lightweight alcohol stove in cold temps (sub-freezing. I have since and the stove does not work well in those temperatures.)
--I hadn't practiced with the stove.
--I didn't melt snow to drink.

-I got lost.
--The Arrowhead trail is pretty straightforward and I didn't figure I could get off course...and I didn't, but I didn't know where I was on course. I thought I was ~5 miles from Melgeorge's (halfway/75 miles) when I was actually ~20 miles out.
--Because I thought I was closer than I was I kept moving rather than stopping to camp. I thought that at worst I had 2 hours of walking. In reality it would have been more like 8.

What I did right:
-said "no" when asked by a snowmobiler if I was okay. I got on the snowmachine and dropped from race. None of this would have been necessary if I had done just one or two of the major points above right.

The number one thing I can do to keep these things from happening this year as I attempt to run the Arrowhead is to practice with my gear. To that end I slept outside last night and, while the 6f temperatures aren't what I expect at Arrowhead, I got some good practice with my (much better) stove.

Me, proving my stove works with a hot cup of coffee.

24-7 and Septemper Overview

2010-10-04T22:35:00.006-05:00

It's been a while. Here's what I did in September:

Over Labor Day weekend I rode in the Eighth Annual 24 Hours at Seven Oaks. I can't say it was my best effort. Maybe my third best over the five times I've ridden the race solo. Given that I was out of shape and riding a less than ideal bike though...excuses, excuses. I rode about 88 miles in a little less than 14 hours on a 26" wheeled, single-speed, rigid, Surly 1x1.

The bike generated astonishment from the peanut gallery of 29"er, 2x10, suspended, titanium bike riders, but I didn't feel like I was at too much of a disadvantage. Heck, I knew that by lap three most everyone would be walking the hills anyway. And really I thought the bike served me well. It never beat me up or failed me in any way. My lights though...

I was feeling pretty good going into the night laps, always a bad sign. The first night lap went well, and I had just started to climb the second big hill on my second night lap when I saw a guy walking backward on the course with no lights. His headlight batteries had died and was walking out, back to the campground. I told him I knew how that felt (happened to me in '03) and kept going. Not 100 yards down the trail I thought that my lights were getting kind of yellow looking, the first sign of a dying battery. I figured I was just fooling myself, seeing things, after all the batteries should have been good for about three hours and I only had a little over one on it, but shortly after that the light went dim and then died. Crud.

Well, I could ride out the course with my backup one watt light or I could follow the dude back to camp. The one watt seemed to be doing okay, but I knew the course was going to get more technical. I was also only about one mile into an eight mile course. But I didn't want to sacrifice my mental momentum. I continued on.

The lap went okay, but I was glad to get back to the camp and hook up my second battery. The bright light was reassuring to see. I started up the first climb with new confidence. Then the light went out. Then back on. Then off. A loose connection? I checked both ends of the power cord. It seemed okay, but if I shook the light it would go on and off. Bad sign. Somewhere in the lamp there was a short. I turned around and rode the short distance back to camp, light more on than off.

What to do. I figured my race was done, at least until the morning. Luckily there were two sturdy DBDers, Charlie Farrow and Jason Buffington from Duluth on hand. They weren't ready to see my race come to an end (though theirs already had). Jason Buffington lent me his headlamp and helped me zip-tie it to my helmet. It wasn't as bright as my old one, but better than nothing.

Two more laps and I was starting to fade. Physically I was feeling fine. My legs were still working (though my arms were tired from the single-speeding), but my mind was going. I was starting to focus on the negative and imagine that I was about to ride off the trail with my weak lights. In fact, I was having trouble staying on the best line. I could no longer tell where the center of the trail was and ended up hitting more than my share of tree roots and branches. At the end of that (eleventh) lap I knew I had to stop and at least take a nap.

I unrolled my emergency blanket and sat down next to a fire that Kyle Sedore's had burning. Before long I was half asleep and overheard a few comments about a "baked potato", but I couldn't be bothered. I slept for a few hours, and just before dawn I was alert enough to continue. But I didn't.

I looked up at the hill looming over the camp and knew that to get back on the bike meant riding up and down that hill again and again for at least an hour and probably more. I didn't have it in me. I couldn't imagine doing it. I was done for lack of willpower.

Talk around camp was that 1st, and 2nd place were still racing hard, while 3rd wasn't going to catch them. 4th however was at 11 laps. There were at least 4 of us with 11 laps. If one of us went out, we all had to. None of us were going back out.

The broken (but still sturdy) DBDers gave me a ride back to Ames, before they hurried back to Duluth to meet their fates. Shamed I too fled the state.

The rest of September:

While I was out of the state I did manage to get in a short hike the next Saturday. Sleeping Giant State Park in Connecticut was a surprisingly strenuous endeavor in the middle of a very lazy week.

Returning to Iowa I rededicated myself and ran 25k on Saturday the 18th and then raced Cyclocross on the 19th. Cyclocross isn't for me. It's a tough 45 minute effort, but it's still only 45 minutes.

Finally, on the 25th I ran about 10 miles then learned to play Snooker early on the 26th. That's an adventure right?

Seven Oaks Trial Run

2010-08-31T21:39:00.004-05:00

I rode out to Seven Oaks and did a few laps last weekend. I wanted to get some miles in on the 1x1 and check out the trails before the 24 hour race. I managed about 65 miles in about eight hours with a fair number of stops. Not stellar, but about as well as I could hope given the bike and terrrain.

On the way out I rode through Ledges park. It's quite a mess because of flooding a few weeks ago. Most of the fords are washed out, the last bit of the road is under several feet of sand and mud, and the bridge on the Highway through the park is pretty much gone. I had to do a bit of walking, but it was fun to have a bit of adventure on the way out.

Once I got to Seven Oaks I was expecting some bad trail and so when I saw the caution tape cutting off the back 2/3rds of the trail I took it seriously. I did three laps of the top portion before I ran into somebody (whose name I should really know) weed-whacking the trail who asked how the back side was. He said that it was supposed to be open for the 24 and I decided to check it out.

Both bridges over the creek were out and I was definitely the first person through in a while (spiderwebs and trail debris indicated that). Fording the creek was actually a lot of fun and I kind of wished that the powers that be would make that part of the course. Of course it wouldn't be ridable, but that's okay with me. I'm not much good at riding anyway.

Most of the trail was in pretty good shape. Sure there were a few washouts and in two sections the hill had more or less slid away, but it looked like there were re-routes in progress. I finally found Tom, who I had hoped to help with some trail work, but since I had messed around on the front side of the hill for so long he was ready to go and so was I.

I rode back home across the Wagon Wheel bridge and through Boone. I was pretty happy with the way the ride went. I was afraid that riding so much gravel on an undergeared singlespeed (32x18) would kill my back and test my patience, but I managed it pretty well. Good to know those years of riding the 1x1 at the Arrowhead and winter commuting with a ridiculous gear (32x22) weren't a complete waste.

Adventure #5(?)

2010-08-23T22:28:00.002-05:00

I'm beginning to think that the purpose of this blog is to show myself how little training I really do. I know that I can go out and ride a gravel century or run a marathon any time I like, but I also know that if I don't do it regularly it will hurt a lot more. I am not fast, but maybe I could be if I trained right. Last years success at the Arrowhead convinced me that I can stick to something like a training regimen and that it really does help. This year I'm hoping to run it, something I have even less experience with than skiing, and it will require that I actually train rather than just talk about it.

In spite of all this negativity I did get out and ride last weekend. I took a couple of the guys from the shop out to Fraser and over to Ogden where we stopped at a Casey's for some food and drink. Oddly, it was breakfast for all three of us (that's normal for me, but most folks are smarter than that). We hit a few good hills and managed 74 miles on a tough hot and humid day.

On the way back we took the Wagon Wheel bridge across the DesMoines river. I hadn't been that way in a long time (since before they built the new railroad bridge) and I wasn't sure that it would be open. Well, it wasn't, but we could cross anyway. We hopped the barriers and stepped over a few missing boards, but the bridge was largely passable. I expect it will undergo a long decline and in about ten years will be torn down. Until then I plan to ride it.

Updates

2010-08-15T21:35:00.004-05:00

Here's what I've been up to the last few weeks:

August 1st: Rode the Skunk River greenbelt trail up to Story City and back. Very muddy due to recent rains. Lots of mosquitoes. A few trail re-routes. All in all about 40 miles on the Pugsley.

August 8th: Rode a few laps at Peterson Pits and McFarland park. Again, muddy with mosquitoes. I noticed that my chain was skipping about halfway through the ride. I stopped for a break at Ada Hayden park and saw that I had a broken chain link. Soft pedaled back home. ~30 miles. That's what you get for hard downshifting on the hills.

August 10th: Short gravel ride after work with Jared. ~20 miles easy pace with a little adventure riding through flooded roads and dodging thunderstorms. I tried out some new bib shorts on this ride and I have to say that they're fine, but not all that. I think I'd have to be a little bit larger to benefit from the relaxed waist. I promise never to ride in bib shorts w/o a jersey though. I won't be that guy.

In the meantime I've been checking out this barefoot running fad. It's pretty fun if nothing else, but I refuse to buy those Vibram Five Fingers shoes. I won't be that guy either.

Windstorm survey ride. (Adventure #2)

2010-07-18T15:56:00.004-05:00

I skipped my adventure last weekend. I have no excuse for it really. Sure I was tired, it was my only day off, I had run a 50k the weekend before, but the truth is I slept until three in the afternoon. So much for my planned bike ride.

This weekend, despite similar obstacles, I managed to get up and ride fifty miles of gravel with Paul. Now, you might be saying, "That's not much of an adventure. Dave G. does more than that several times a week," and you'd be right, but I have excuses...it was hot, the wind was in our faces, there were trees blocking the road, I for got sunscreen, I was on a Pugsley for goodness sake.

Actually we were planning to ride out to Seven Oaks and do a lap or two out there. Combined with the ride out and back that would have been a metric century and I've been wanting to do Seven Oaks on the Pug for a while now. Unfortunately we had a pretty nasty wind storm last night that took down a lot of branches and trees (rumored winds of 71 mph). So we figured that the trails probably weren't in good shape (Seven Oaks is pretty bad when it's wet) and opted for a shorter gravel cruise instead.

I have to keep things interesting though so I managed to re-learn a couple of lessons. 1) Things in frame bags get shaken a lot. First it was the pop-tarts that turned to pop tart powder. This time I was prepared and brought crushed Fritos, but the bag broke and I had crushed Fritos all over my stuff. 2) Wear sunscreen. I burnt my arms again and now they're swollen like after TI3. Well, not quite that bad, but still not good. I should have learned that lesson by now.

Afton Trail Race (Adventure #1)

2010-07-05T15:21:00.004-05:00

It turns out that that six hour goal was a little optimistic. I finished in 7:24:05 with a lot of room for improvement. I learned a lot about running ultras though and that was my real goal for this event.

The race started out at a slow pace and seemed surprisingly comfortable to me. I really expected something more like the bike races I'd been in where there's a hard push at the beginning to drop the weaker riders, but I guess that's not the way ultra runners work. I was really confused then when we hit the first uphill and everybody started walking. I'd heard that it was de rigueur to walk anything resembling a hill in ultras, but had always assumed that that only applied to 50 milers and more. A 50k is hardly longer than a marathon and no one walks hills in those. So I ran the hill. Not hard mind you, but at a comfortable pace, and hoped that it wouldn't come to haunt me later.

The first lap of the two lap race went really well. The course was extremely hilly. It was like running at Seven Oaks with a few gravel hills like Y-Camp thrown in for good measure. They were steep and long, but so long as I didn't try to run hard I was fine. As it got later in the morning the day started to get very hot. In the woods it was shady, but muggy and still. In the open fields it was breezy, but the direct sun was tough to bear. Still I made sure to run everything and try to keep a moderate pace.

I finished the first lap in about 2:45 and thought I might just have a chance at keeping it under six hours, but I doubted it. I had told myself that I'd run everything for the first lap and then see about the second, but though I probably could have run a few more hills I had lost my motivation to do so. I couldn't make myself. I was starting to have a little trouble gettling myself to run the flats and downhills.

After about nine miles of that I was starting to fall apart. I needed water, but I hadn't brought a bottle. I had figured that I was fine with just the aid stations every three miles or so. After all I often do runs of seven miles without water and I'm fine. With the heat and distance behind me I wasn't as fine as I thought I would be. Added to that I needed a bathroom badly. I knew that there was one in the campground about a mile ahead, but I wasn't sure I'd make it that far, besides it was up a big hill. My calves were also starting to cramp. I figured I'd make the railroad bridge ahead then stretch a little and try to regain some strength for the climb.

When I reached the bridge I stopped and started to stretch, but after just a few seconds I felt like I couldn't even stand. I had to sit. I wasn't dizzy or nauseous, just exhausted, I couldn't get myself to move. I sat for a minute to regain some strength. A few runners passed me and asked if I was okay. I said I was and got up to continue. The path circled around beneath the bridge and after just 100 feet or so I had to sit again. I needed water, rest, and a bathroom and wasn't sure which one I needed most.

It was only a mile to the next aid station and I knew there were bathrooms at the top of the hill, if I could make it, but I couldn't walk more than a short distance on level ground. I knew I wouldn't make it. A runner stopped and gave me all the water he had left in his bottle, just a mouthfull, and I admitted defeat. I knew that there was a shorter way back to the aid station along a level trail and I decided that was my best choice. I got up and staggered back up to the bridge and the rail trail along the St. Croix river.

Then I spotted it. A sign I had missed before that said "restrooms". One of my needs would be met after all. Just a few yards down the rail trail I found them and sat down inside. Immediately I felt better. Maybe I could make it. After a few minutes of sitting I was ready to try again. I walked under the bridge again and up the hill recovering along the way. By the time I was at the top of the hill I could run a little and shortly I was at the aid station gulping down water and HEED. I had figured I would need to lay down for a while, but I felt good to go. How much time was left though? It was 12:30 I had three hours to cover the next five miles, I was going to make it.

Running was barely faster than walking, but I'd still run when I could. When climbing hills I'd put my hands on my knees to help push me up (a trick I remember reading about in elementary school, but never understood). Before I knew it I was at the next aid station where John Taylor helped me with water and filled my cap with ice (felt great). All I had left was the "snowshoe loop" which was mostly singletrack and very muggy. I walked almost everything, but forced myself to run the downhills.

Finally I passed under the entrance road and knew that there was just one last long hill to go. As I climbed I made up my mind to run the last bit to the finish. Once at the top I started jogging slowly, but steadily until the finish line was in sight. With only 50 yards or so to go I sprinted for it. There was no point in conserving energy any more. I crossed at a run in 7:24:05.

Lessons learned: walk the hills, carry some water, and for goodness sake know where the restrooms are.

Thanks to everyone who organized and ran the race. It was good to hang out with old friends and meet new ones. Especially John Storkamp, Tim Roe, Angela Hill, Darryl Saari, Dan LaPlante, Karl Neuberger & family, John Taylor, and the blue mohawk guy.

52 Adventures

2010-06-28T22:22:00.003-05:00

I haven't posted in a long time. That's because I haven't done anything lately worthy of a blog post. The most blog-worthy things I've done lately are a 100k gravel ride and a 25k run. Not much. That's about to change. It's time for a new beginning. I [will shortly] have a new camera and need to use it. So here's the plan:

Have an adventure every week for the next year and write about it here. 52 adventures in total.

Next weekend, for Adventure #1, I'm going up to the Twin Cities for the Afton Trail Race. It'll be my first 50k run and a difficult one at that. I've been training (at least a little) and although I've had to take some time off due to injuries I think I have a shot at finishing in six hours. That's the goal anyway.

I'll let you all know how it turns out in a week's time.

Slow day at CIRREM

2010-03-01T22:47:00.002-06:00

I could say that the reason I finished over an hour slower than last year was because I rode my least comfortable bike. I could say it was because I used studded tires, or ran them at 30psi. Maybe it was because I rode with fenders and a rack. I could blame the weather, but really the only reason I was so slow this year at CIRREM is because I am out of shape.

As the longest ride I've been on since November I guess I should have been expecting it. Sure I've been skiing a lot and done well in three ski races (two of them longer than the 62 mile CIRREM), but my legs didn't seem to care about that. What really mattered was that I couldn't turn the pedals over like I did last year.

From the first moments of the race, as we pulled away from the Cumming Tap, I saw that I wasn't going to be in the top five like last year. The gravel, which last year had been soft and sloppy, was frozen solid. It was as fast as pavement for those who had had the foresight to bring their cross bikes (like I did last year), but slow for those of us who had anticipated warmer, wetter conditions that would favor mountain bikes. The pack started pulling away within the first mile and for a few seconds I tried to keep pace, but knowing my body as I do I saw that I'd blow up in no time if I did that.

Last year the weather had been nasty. A cold overcast day that cycled among just about every sort of precipitation. Rain, sleet, snow and lots of wind. This year it was colder, probably in the high teens at the start, but with the sun out and little wind it was much more comfortable for most folks. I would have preferred worse conditions to keep the riff-raff away. There are lots of folks out there who might be faster than me on a good day, but get demoralized and drop out when the weather turns. That's where I'm good. I am energized by bad weather. It makes the ride more fun for me and makes me focus on the here and now rather than the finish or competition.

Before long I was on my own. A few riders were behind me, but most were in front. My only hope was that there would be some folks who went out too fast and blow up when we came to the hills. Unfortunately once we got to the hills I found out that that person was me. Where last year it seemed like there were a few steep hills I found that every hill this year was steep.

Luckily my Arrowhead experience kicked in and kept me mentally focused and I started treating the race as a race with myself. I wouldn't worry about anyone else's race. I was going to finish and I knew that even a worst case scenario of six hours was nothing compared to the 54 hours I had spent on the trail up north.

At the halfway checkpoint there was a crowd of competitors milling around chatting. I rolled right up to the water jugs, refilled my water bottles and, refusing the offered beer, took off immediately. I couldn't believe that so many people were taking a long break in a short race like this. I figured that I'd be passed by a lot of folks right after the checkpoint, but surprisingly only a few did.

The sun had warmed the roads by this point and in many places the gravel was getting very sloppy. The wide tires didn't seem to make much difference in the slop and the fenders were both a blessing and a curse. They kept the majority of the mud from spraying me and kept me dry, but they kept packing up with icy sludge and rubbing on my tires. Occasionally the fenders would cough and spit out a chunk of frozen mud and there was a constant drip of somewhat more snot-like mud dripping out by the mudflaps.

Still, even though I was out of shape and miserable, the end came fairly quickly. It's strange how a six hour race can seem short these days. I rolled up to the bar and went inside expecting some kind of a greeting, but slow as I was, nobody even noticed. They were already on to handing out prizes and drinking. I had to ask someone where I should check in (the race director was busy with the prizes) and I was directed to someone behind the prize table who took my number. With that I was officially done with the race.

As much as I hate getting in so late that the awards ceremony is already over (this has happened to me twice now, the first time was in a road race. I won't be doing that again.) I can't really blame the race directors. The leaders had gotten in over two hours before me and some had already left. In spite of my pathetic finish, the course was great. Hilly and remote, it only crosses pavement twice in the whole 62 miles. The cue sheet and course markings (orange paint on snow shows up really well) were easy to follow and I was never in doubt as to where I was. If all goes well, I'll be back next year.

Arrowhead 2010

2010-02-12T23:20:00.005-06:00

Headed into this year's Arrowhead 135 I was more anxious than ever before. I had put together and followed (mostly) a training plan, researched and bought gear, done training races up to 75 miles, but still I didn't feel ready. I suppose I never do, but in a way I had more to lose this year. I felt like I might actually have a shot at finishing, a feeling that I hadn't had since biking the course, and halfway wasn't going to be enough this year.

It was about -21f (-30C) at the start this year and I could just see the first light of dawn to the East as we started out of International Falls. From the start I set my own pace and decided not to worry about anyone being faster than me, even the walkers. For a time I skied behind Pierre Ostor, the race director and fellow skier, as he made his bid to become the first person to finish the Arrowhead in all three disciplines (run, bike, ski). He looked strong and I was jealous of his skinnier skis and lighter sled. I thought he had the ski race figured out as he pulled ahead.

Because of the new start line in I-Falls, the first eight miles of the course were new to me, but I knew them to be flat and I just plugged away, trying not to worry about anyone or anything. Before I knew it, as the sun rose and warmed the snow, I was actually kicking and gliding rather than just shuffling along. I still wasn't what you'd call fast, but the skis were actually an advantage over the runners. I passed up Pierre (I wouldn't see him again until the finish, he would have boot fit problems and drop out at Melgeorge's the next morning) and made the first shelter at about two and a half hours. I was back in familiar territory.

I don't remember much of the next eight miles, I must have started getting into the groove. I focused on eating and drinking as often as possible. Soon I was crossing Highway 53 and getting into what I used to think of as the race proper. By the next shelter, about 25 miles in, the temperatures had risen and the Polar grip wax I had been using was getting a little slippery. As I chatted with skier Tim Roe and a runner, I corked in some Green wax, ate some cheese and sausage, and was back on the trail in just a few minutes. Only about ten miles to go until the Gateway store.

The advantage of having been through this part of the course four times before was that I didn't have to guess how far it was to the Gateway. I knew I was a little ahead of past years as the sun wasn't as low in the sky. It looked like I'd make my (provisional) goal of 35 miles by sunset. There is a big white pine on the right side of the trail a mile or so before the store and I was happy to see it. I made it to the store with sunshine to spare.

The parking lot at the checkpoint was crowded with runners sleds and a few bikes. Inside was crowded with racers, but not as bad as I thought it might be with 102 people in the race. Took off my boots, bought a Monster and some potato soup, and sat down to rest for a few minutes. So far I was doing really well. I had thought I had felt some hot spots developing on the backs of my heels, but when I took my socks off it didn't look to be a problem.

I was wearing two layers of socks, one an extremely thin nylon dress sock and over that a medium weight Smartwool sock. The thin slippery sock allowed my feet to slide a little inside the boot without causing blisters while the outer sock provided insulation and cushioning. I had also finally found a pair of boots that worked with my feet. Many people use or recommend a larger than normal boot for winter use, to accommodate multiple socks or heat packs, but I had found that getting a boot that fit right, with minimal slop, was more important for skiing. After more than two years of failed experiments I seemed to have the boot fit and blister problem licked.

As I ate I again chatted with fellow racers. Runners Carles Conill and Alicia Hudelson seemed to be doing well. Brazilian runner Marco Farinazzo looked a little shell shocked. I saw all the skiers except Pierre pass through too. After four years of tough luck for skiers it seemed we might just do well this year.

Leaving the Gateway store is always a challenge. It's just too nice a place to stay, eat, and chat, but I had set a goal for myself to leave in half an hour. I'd guess I stayed three quarters of an hour. Not too bad.

After the store it was dark and there started to be more hills. Both of those made the time pass more quickly. In the dark you can't see how far you have to go and with hills you have mini goals to keep your mind occupied. About twelve miles down the trail I caught up with South African Doug Girling as we passed the Ash River shelter. Shortly thereafter I caught up to Tim Roe who had taken off his skate skis and was walking. He confirmed that we were making good time. Mike Stattelman was also out there and we skied together off and on until the Black Duck shelter at about mile 56 on the trail. It was about 12:30 or so and we both agreed that, although we could have pushed on, it was time to get some rest. Mike and I agreed to sleep until 4 AM and then wake each other to push on to Melgeorges.

I pulled out my sleeping kit and, because I had packed it together and uncompressed on the sled, had it ready for use in just a couple of seconds. I took off my Camelbak and refilled it from an insulated Nalgene in my sled, took off my boots and then stuffed both water bladder and boots into the sleeping bag with me to keep them from freezing. I ate a little cheese and sausage and tried to sleep, but instead I started shivering. By the time I warmed up I had to get up to pee and the cycle repeated itself. By 3 AM I had had enough. I got up and told Mike that I was leaving. He seemed to be sleeping soundly and I hated to wake him, but didn't want to just leave him behind.

The fourteen miles from the Black Duck shelter to Melgeorges is pretty hilly, but I was pleasantly surprised at how well my skis held on the uphills and how well I hung on through the downhills. I only had to remove my skis twice to walk up hills during this section, far less than last year, a testament to having learned how to wax properly.

Twice, on downhills, I ran across items that racers had dropped once a mitten and later a reflective vest. I tried to stoop and pick up the items as I sped by, but I'm not that good yet. Luckily, in both cases, the racer was only a few yards up the trail and I could alert them to their lost gear.

I reached Elephant Lake just as it was getting light in the East again. Skiing across the lake was where I started to notice a problem that would be my only real physical pain through this years race. My right ankle was starting to get sore where it contacted the cuff of my boot. It seemed related to ankle problems I'd had in previous years, but was coming on at a much later time and was more bearable than with my old stiff boots. In the hills it wasn't a problem, but when the trail widened and got rutted and bumpy on the lake it took more ankle strength to keep the skis on track. I was happy to arrive at the halfway cabin.

As usual the cabin was a little bit of pandemonium in the midst of a peaceful, silent race. I made sure to keep all my gear in a small neat pile off to the side and get my eating, waxing and resupply done as quickly and efficiently as possible. I was surprised to see several of the bikers still there, having spent the night in the warmth of the cabin. It was mostly that I was there so much earlier than in previous years and hadn't seen the overnighters leave. With all of my resupply done I laid down in the loft to try to get a few minutes sleep that I had lost the night before. I probably got in two fifteen minute naps before deciding it was time to move on. I ate a little more, thanks to the volunteers manning the checkpoint, and then left a little ahead of the other skiers who had arrived.

Leaving the checkpoint, I skied along the road to the trailhead. This is where I had my first (and not last) crash of the race. The road was surprisingly icy and when I turned to check for traffic I slipped and fell right in front of Caitlyn's van (the very van I had ridden in up to the race). It was a little embarrassing, but I was glad to get it out of the way.

I was happy to be on the second half of the course for the first time in four years. This time I'd be able to see much of it in the daylight that I had seen in the middle of the night in 2006 and I was looking forward to it. Soon I hit the first big hill of the course, a screaming downhill that I somehow managed to stay upright on. Then I saw the accompanying uphill. I walked. At the top of that hill, figuring that I had just started in to the dreaded hills, I changed into running shoes. I figured that with uphills I'd have to walk and downhills I'd be foolish to ski I was better off that way. One more killer hill seemed to confirm my decision, but then the course flattened out. I figured it was just a temporary reprieve and kept walking, but as time wore on Carles and another runner caught up to me and I wasn't making good time, not as good as skiing anyway. After about two miles of walking the flats I switched back to skis and was immediately glad.

The second half of the course was turning out to be much flatter than I had remembered, but that had been four years ago, on a bike, in the dark so I didn't worry about it too much. At the next shelter, near Myrtle Lake, I caught up to Doug Girling who was taking a nap. Soon Carles and the other runner caught up and we all sat down to rest and eat for a few minutes. Skate skier Jim Reed passed us as we were sitting there and we watched as he skied down the hill, then took off his skis and walked up the next. It looked like a skiable up-hill and when I tried it a few minutes later I had no problem climbing it. I was really happy with the way my skis were performing.

With that the infamous Arrowhead hills were underway. I yo-yoed between Jim Reed in front and Carles and the other runners behind for several miles. I could climb better than Jim, but not as well as the runners, while on the downhills and flats Jim could skate away from me while I skied away from the runners. It went on like that for perhaps five miles and then another flat section was in store. I hadn't remembered there being so much flat on the second half of the course. According to my map there would be a shelter coming up shortly and I'd be happy to see it just to have a measure for my progress. But the shelter never seemed to come. I kept skiing long past where it should have been and as it got dark and I put on my headlamp I figured I must have passed it up.

Then, just as I had given up hope, out of nowhere there it was, Elbow Lake shelter. Carles had caught up to me and we both sat down to rest. He gave me a Hostess cake and I gave him some chocolate coated coffee beans (my secret weapon for the second night). He said that the Orr trailhead should be coming up soon, but according to my map it was still at least five miles off. Imagine my surprise then when I started down the next hill and saw a trail junction. I was moving to fast to do a controlled stop so I did an emergency crash and checked my map and the signs. Sure enough it was the Orr trailhead and my map had the shelter wrong by several miles. I got up and started down again only to find a sharp turn in the trail and executed another emergency crash, then a third as the hill ended in a narrow bridge. I am sure Carles was wondering what was wrong as he saw me wipe-out three times on one hill.

I walked up the next steep uphill and down the next downhill, but my the struts keeping my sled from catching up with me had come out of place (probably in the crashes) and the sled would over take me, forcing me to spin around and chase it down the hill. Again I am sure I looked to Carles like a dog chasing it's tail down the hill. I paused to fix my sled and duct taped the struts back into place, but since duct tape doesn't work very well at -10f it was a partial fix at best. The best way to fix the problem was to ski faster than my sled and so I did.

I had come to the true monster hills of the Arrowhead trail. After a couple of hills I developed a strategy to make it through the worst of them. If the hill was too steep to ski straight up, but I could see the top with my headlamp I would herringbone, if I couldn't see the top I would walk. If I could see the bottom of the hill and I was in control I'd ski it out, if I couldn't I'd ski as far as I could in control and then intentionally crash.

Somewhere in there I caught up to Jim Reed, who was doing a lot of walking, and was passed by cyclist Christian Arel. For a second, as he cruised away, I wished that I was back on a bike. I knew we were getting close to the Tepee checkpoint and I was anxious to get there as soon as possible. The Crescent bar at the checkpoint would be open until 1 AM and I wanted to get inside and get some food if possible. I estimated that if I hurried I'd be able to make it.

As the hills petered out Jim was able to ski again and he caught and passed me. The trail wound through a very cold bog for what seemed like forever before I finally caught sight of Wakemup Hill. I could see Jim's lights high up on the hill and I knew I was nearly to the Tepee. The climb was shorter, but much steeper than I had remembered it on the bike. My sled pulled back just like the tire I had dragged during training and I silently thanked myself for doing those silly workouts. As I was climbing my headlamp flashed to indicate low battery. Once again I was glad that this was the last real hill.

At the top, though I knew it was foolish, I put my skis back on and tried to ski down the other side. I couldn't see the bottom and it was far steeper than anything else I had gone down. Once I felt I was way out of control I sat down for another "controlled" crash. I got back up and, still not seeing the bottom I went for it again. This time a rut or something caught the edge of my ski and threw me. Perhaps the first unintentional fall since the road back at Melgeorges. Once more I got up and finally I made it to the bottom. I switched my headlamp to low and skied the mile or two I had left to the tepee. It was midnight.

I was the last one in to the Crescent before they closed for the night. Skier Jim Reed was having a bowl of soup and I did the same. It was nice to get some hot food in me after a day out in the cold. I had been thinking of pressing on, but after warming up and eating I thought that it might be better for me to get some sleep. I still had approximately seven hours of skiing left to do and I didn't want to have a repeat of the exhaustion and hallucinations I'd had at Tuscobia. Jim and I threw out our sleeping bags behind the tepee as the bar closed for the night and went to bed.

As usual my bladder got me up at least three times during the night. Each time I'd have to get my shoes on and rush shivering over to a snowbank wearing only my Smartwool long underwear to relieve myself. Next time I will be bringing a relief bottle with me. I expect it will add significantly to my comfort.

At 5 AM I heard Jim getting ready to go, but I wasn't ready yet. I knew I had until at least dawn to get back out on the trail and now that I was warm and comfortable I wasn't in any hurry to finish. I went back to sleep and when I next awoke and peeked out I could see a little light on the Eastern horizon. It was time to get moving. I dressed, packed up, checked out with the volunteers manning the checkpoint and got underway.

As I started out I was cold, but I was confident I would warm up as I got moving and the sun rose. The day took a lot longer to warm than I expected though. Before long my fingertips were numb and I was getting worried about frostbite. I tried squeezing the ski poles and flexing my fingers. I tried tucking my thumbs in with my other fingers to keep them warm, but I knew it wasn't working. I had left my army surplus mittens behind to save weight and now I was regretting it. The combination of low temperatures, exhaustion, and probably mild dehydration was getting to me. Eventually the sun started to warm me and most of my fingers came back, but I knew I had some minor frostbite issues on the tips of a couple fingers, something I had promised myself I wouldn't let happen again.

With that all I had left was the long, very flat, ski to the finish. As in 2006 I started to get a little impatient with the terrain. There just wasn't anything to focus on, nothing to break up the monotony and make the trail seem shorter. Rather than let it get to me though I tried the same thing I did in '06. I focused on being present. This was where I wanted to be. I had chosen to be here. I was doing just exactly what I had trained for and dreamed about. I was having fun again.

I kept thinking I saw someone a little ways up the trail from me and after coming around a corner I found Mike Stattelman resting and eating alongside the trail. He had camped out on the trail after having missed last call at the bar. He was still moving, but pretty slow. I could see that stopping for the night had been the right choice. I was still moving along pretty good.

After I passed Mike it seemed like no time and I was at the turn off to the casino. A few snowmobile volunteers, including Don Gabrielson, congratulated me on my impending finish. I was pleased to know that I had done it and the last few miles through the tribal land felt like a victory lap. I crossed the finish line to the cheers of Lisa Paulos, volunteer and possible competitor for next year. I felt so good to have made it that I could have skied another fifty miles.

Now all I have to do is run it next year.

Arrowhead Finisher

2010-02-06T16:23:00.003-06:00

I made it. 135 miles on skis in a little over 54 hours. I expected it to be the hardest thing I'd ever done, but, thanks to my training, it wasn't. Not to say that it was easy. Certainly I worked harder towards this goal than I have towards anything before (not that that's saying much). In any case, this is just to let you all know that I did it. I should have a race report done sometime early next week.

Tuscobia Ultra

2010-01-26T20:53:00.002-06:00

After a little thought I think that my experiences at Tuscobia deserve a closer look.

The night before the race Nick and I went out to check on the trail. Hard and icy. Good for the bikes, but bad for the lone skier, me. However by the time we awoke the next morning there was 2" of new snow on the ground. Perfect.

We took the bus from Park Falls to the start at Rice Lake (a feat that Tim deserves great credit for organizing) where we lined up for the start. As soon as the race started everyone realized that the hard surface we had seen in Park Falls wasn't representative of the whole trail. The trail was super soft. Most of the bikers couldn't ride more than a few yards before slewing off to one side and stopping. Only the fat tired snow bikes had a chance and only at extreme low pressures. What this meant for me was that I immediately passed most of the bikers and was able to keep pace, even with a few of the fat bikes.

That went on for about ten miles before the trail hardened up and I lost contact with most of the cyclists. After that it was just me for a long time. The trail was pretty unremarkable. No hills, just the odd spot where the trail dipped to cross a creek or in one case a railroad track. My glide wax was fine for the warm temperatures, but my grip wax was sketchy. Not a big deal since there were no hills to worry about. I re-waxed at mile 22 or so and then took a break about mile 36 to eat, wax, and put on my headlamp. Oh, and I should mention that this was the first time that I stopped to take care of the blisters that were getting the better of my feet.

Every mile of trail had a mile marker and I knew that this would be a blessing and a curse. I knew where I was so I could plan out strategy, but I also had a sense of how slow it was between markers. It felt like every mile was taking too long, but I knew that was just in my head. That said, I knew that the checkpoint where we were to refill our water was supposed to be at mile 44, but it wasn't there. By mile 45 I started to worry, but at mile 46, there it was. Not too big a deal, but mentally draining.

At the checkpoint (just a couple of folks in a mini-van, not the full service massage and buffet I was hoping for) I refilled my Camelbak and again waxed the skis. My feet were in rough shape and I knew it, but I felt like I could keep going. My left foot had a large blister that had already torn open and the right hurt more, but was still intact. I was also passed by Matt Long, the first runner to pass me up. That gave me a little motivation and I got started again and tried to keep up.

Keeping up was no use. My feet were too beaten. After a few miles of skiing alone in the dark with nothing to keep my mind occupied I started to get sleepy. For a while I kept moving, but soon all I could think about was sleep and I was drifting off while skiing. I decided to stop and bivvy until the next runner caught me and then keep going with them for company. I laid out my bag at about mile 56 and was soon asleep.

The sound of a sled on the trail woke me and I peeked out to see Mitch Rossman pass by. I was still tired, but figured I had probably rested enough. I rolled up my sleeping bag, pad, and bivvy sack all together and put them in the sled. It was great to find that I didn't have to pack them all away in their stuff sacks to do this. I could save a lot of time and effort that way. I was underway in less than five minutes, but Mitch was long gone. I occasionally saw a taillight in the distance, but I couldn't make up the difference.

A few miles later in the towns of Loretta and Draper I was passed by yet another runner (Daryl Saari). My grip wax was gone again and I just couldn't muster the energy to reapply it. My feet were also so bad that it felt like my whole right heel was a huge blister. I couldn't kick with my right foot anymore. I knew I had to do something different to give my feet a break. So I took off my skis and started walking. It still hurt, but not as much as skiing.

I was fine for a little while, but then I started to see things. First there was a bright blue flash, like a camera flash, but when I looked around there was no one there. No camera, no car, no buildings, just trees and the trail. I figured it was probably just some snow on my headlamp, but it seemed bigger than that. I heard sirens in the distance, but when I stopped to listen they weren't there. I kept going telling myself that it was just the sled on the snow. Then there were tractor tires in the trail ahead of me. I shook my head and they were gone. I was drifting off again. Corn was growing out of the snow ahead of me, then that was gone and white triangles of snow were floating up off the trail and dancing just above it. It was time to sleep again.

I was glad of my hasty packing from my earlier bivvy and bedded down at about mile 62. I figured I should eat something and got out the donuts I had bought before the race. I laid down, took a bite out of the donut, and woke up with the donut still in my hand. It was dawn.

In a rush I packed up and hurried down the trail. I still couldn't ski and walking was getting harder. The visions were gone, but I was spent and I didn't want my feet to be permanently damaged so I began to entertain ideas of dropping out. By mile 67 I was done. The trail crossed the highway here and I figured it would be a good place for someone to come and pick me up. I dug out my cell phone and turned it on, but there was no service, I tried again a hundred yards down the trail. Still no signal. Then there was a snowmobile coming towards me. It was Tim, the race director. He stopped and I gladly told him that I was done. He looked at me and said, you've only got eight more miles and everybody says that the trophy is pretty cool. What could I say, I was the only skier who had shown up. First place was mine. I cursed him and kept going.

The last few miles were torture. My feet were indescribable. The trail was dead straight so all I could see were trees converging. It looked like the trail went on forever. But somehow I made it to Park Falls. I followed the signs to the turnoff to the finish, nearly missed another turn in spite of it being marked with a flashing light. Tim waved me in to the finish and asked if I could turn around and do it all again. I said no.

My left foot had the largest blood blister I've ever seen on the heel and there was a blister under my large toenail that I knew meant the toenail was going to come off. My right foot was worse. There were two blisters on my heel: one on the back of the foot that had already drained and was larger than the one on my left, then the one that really worried me, underneath the callus on the bottom of my heel.

But a week later I was back on the skis. Now, in just a few short days I'll be attempting to do the same thing again, but this time it'll be twice as long and hilly.

Results.

2010-01-23T16:48:00.003-06:00

Okay, so part two of the Pug trip report never materialized. Something with distractions and a little thing called Facebook. It goes kind of like this though:

We rode out of Cedar Falls to Eldora while my achilles got worse and worse. Sometimes high cadence on the pedals helped, sometimes low. We left Eldora and rode through the wind farm North of Roland stopping frequently to rest/stretch my ankle. Just after dark we arrived in Ames and I subsequently took the next week off from running and any serious biking. After that week off my Achilles improved significantly and I haven't had any problems since. I have been stretching more than in the past though.

Since then I've been focusing on the Arrowhead 135. We've had good snow up until this last week and I'm more prepared than ever. Not that that guarantees anything.

I've done two ski races to prepare for the AHU. The first, on December 19th was the Tuscobia Ultra. 75 miles of mostly flat snowmoblie trail in Northern Wisconsin. I finished, just barely, with bloody blisters on my feet. Since then I've lost a toenail and gotten new boots that fit a lot better. I actually tried to drop out of the race with eight miles to go, but since there was no cell phone coverage and Tim, the race director, wouldn't let me give up when I saw him I managed it. There was also something about hallucinations in the middle of the night, but anyway... The second race was Lance's Triple D on January 9th. 50k of flat snowmobile trail from Dyersville to Dubuque. No problem. The new boots work.

The Arrowhead is in one week and I'll try to get a race report up in a reasonable amount of time.

Pugsley Tour and an Injury : Part I

2009-11-20T21:44:00.006-06:00

Last weekend Nick and I went for a little ride on the Pugsleys. The plan was to cruise up to Cedar Falls, where I hoped to turn in my Trans Iowa VI postcard, camp at some park in the area (we weren't sure which, but I was thinking Blackhawk) and then ride back home. Our goal was to get in two full gravel centuries and test out some camping gear for the Arrowhead.

At a little after seven AM on Saturday we met at Nick's place and had some pancakes and coffee to start out our ride. Nick had photocopied the maps we'd need (we didn't have a pre-planned route, just an idea) and had a bag of Daddy Ray's fig bars ready for me (these things are the best [$2/lbs]). We left a little after eight and headed up through town to McFarland park, through the prairie along the interstate and on to the gravel.

There's not a lot out there. We rode through the wind farm north of Colo and then up to Clemons where we took a short break in the city park. On the downhill into town a deer ran along beside us before cutting in front of Nick forcing him to hit the brakes. Clemons is a nice little town that is pretty friendly without being in any way pretentious. After a few blocks of cheese and sausage (AHU food, not what I'd normally eat on a fall bike trip) we took off with the vague Northeast destination of Whitten.

We went north on Mormon Ridge road and then crossed the Iowa river on gravel. After that we were off of our Marshall county map. The photocopy had covered most of the county but left off in the North. I assumed we were only missing a few miles so we just continued North. Soon we came upon a town that matched where I assumed Whitten would be, but something didn't seem right. After consulting a large scale map of the state I had brought along (for the bike paths in Cedar Falls) and, more pointedly, the water tower we figured out that we were in Liscomb. After some locals expressed interest in our bikes ("those are the biggest tire's I've ever seen on a bicycle!") and we assured them that we knew where we were going ("Cedar Falls? That's up by Waterloo right?") we were once again on our way.

I started pushing a bit because I wanted to be in Cedar Falls before Europa Cycle & Ski closed so I could hand deliver my T.I. VI postcard, but at this point we started having to head more North than East which meant into the wind. The wind wasn't really all that bad, but when you factor in the Pug's tires and the camping gear we were carrying, it made for more of a slog than I really wanted. It was around this time that I noticed the first twinges in my Achilles tendon.

It was a little after two when we rolled into Grundy Center. The gas station had a nice sitting area and after having a Monster (I was trying to make it the whole two days on just the food I had brought, but I did make this exception) and refilling our Camelbaks we decided that it didn't make sense to try to get to Cedar Falls by five. We still had thirty miles to go in less than three hours. It would have been possible on our cross bikes, but on the Pugsleys we were thrilled to be averaging 11mph. It didn't make sense to push ourselves that hard. We took a longer break and then headed on to Dike.

At Dike the road that I had hoped to cross Highway 20 0n turned out to be a dead end. We had to detour through town adding a couple miles of unwanted pavement. Just outside of Dike we spotted a campground that looked about as boring as a campground can get. No trees and a view of the highway. I might have been tempted, but we weren't to our goal of 100 miles.

Just out of Dike the sun started setting and we turned on our lights and followed the gravel as it merged into University Ave and the last few miles into Cedar Falls. There was more traffic on University than I like riding at night, so we rode on the shoulders dodging pieces of metal and dead raccoons. This was actually one of the places where the Pug excelled. Anytime a car came past, pavement or gravel, we were able to get all the way over to the edge of the road. In fact the softer gravel at the edge of the road was often a smoother ride for us than in the "track", which often had larger rocks and potholes.

Once in town we started heading north on Hudson, following a bike path that was on my map. There was a lot of traffic in town that I hadn't anticipated and the cause was soon obvious as we approached the UNI Dome. There was a football game and everyone was just arriving at the stadium. At the Dome we found that, like several other bike paths in the state, this path ended in a staircase. Detouring around the staircase by a well worn dirt path we escaped the game day traffic and biked through Cedar Falls proper to get to our new camping destination, George Wyth park.

Navigating the bike paths was a bit tricky in the dark with an inadequate map, but we made it to the campground a little after six.

This is for you Cory.

2009-10-26T22:37:00.002-05:00

It's been too long since I posted here and I need to keep you all, and my writing up to date. So here's what I've been up to (athletically at least) since last I posted:

-Late August: Rode a century on the Pugsley (see previous post). It is surprisingly fast even with tires at 15psi, but a pig on the hills. I was wishing for a lower gear than my 22x34 (and yes it's still faster than walking). The hands weren't 100% happy with the handlebar setup. I'll have to look for something different.

-Early September/Labor Day: 24 hour MTB race at Seven Oaks. Felt pretty good fitness wise, but had a few problems. Early on I knew that my Midge Bars on the Gary Fisher weren't the best idea, especially without a nice pair of cycling gloves to go along with them. But I persisted and paid the price for it. By 11:00pm my hands were toast. They were curled up into useless claws and I couldn't shift or brake anymore. I had trouble feeding myself for a week afterwards. I only just regained the use of chopsticks.

-October 1: I put my Arrowhead training plan into action. Five days of workouts per week focused on getting me to the finish line on skis. So far I've been keeping up with it well. I've only taken one weekend off and I seem to be getting better at rollerskiing. Hopefully it translates well onto the snow. Daily workout updates on Facebook.

-October 17-18: Paul's Gravel Ride Across Iowa in a Day (GRAID) is a success. I make it 240 miles from Minnesota to Missouri on gravel roads in under 24 hours. I feel great the whole way and have almost no pain. The course is flat for the first half with just a little tailwind. I crave and receive Chicken McNuggets in Iowa Falls. The second half, almost all in the dark, goes by quickly for me. I just drift off into a hypnotic state and pedal away. In Chariton I feel a little sleepy, but in no way sore or exhausted. The last 12 miles are the hilliest and windiest of the entire ride, but I'm ready to be done and I push it a little to the border. I figure that I must have broken the part of my brain that feels physical fatigue.

-October 25th: I run in my second marathon and finish in record time (for me, 4:38). This time I manage to run the whole way without walking. Beautiful course in and around Mason City. Architecture, gravel roads, rivers, creeks, limestone outcroppings, bike paths, dirt paths, parks, etc. all great. The first and last six miles seem to take forever, but the middle goes by quickly. Picked up the pace for the last three miles and sprinted the last few hundred yards. My legs were pretty tired and my knees are still a little sore, but I wasn't spent at all. I could have gone farther. I refused the mylar blanket at the finish line because I felt so good, but then regretted it because, hey, free mylar blanket. The showers and towels at the high school were a great treat.

That's about it for me. How about you?

Pugsley Review / Ingawanis Race Report

2009-08-03T22:37:00.004-05:00

Paul twisted my arm last weekend and got me to go with him and his fellow Gilbertite Tod to the Camp Ingawanis mountain bike race. I've done very little mountain biking outside the immediate Story and Boone county trails so it wasn't too hard to get me to go. I had to make a decision on which bike to take though. The Gary Fisher isn't in race condition right now. A bent derailleur hanger and a jury rigged front derailler make it iffy until I take some time to fix it properly. The 1x1 is a de facto fixed gear right now. The freewheel is completely frozen from last winter's road salt. The best option was to take the recently assembled Pugsley. Besides being in the best condition the Pug needed a good shakedown ride. How would 3.7" tires fare on a mountain bike course? How comfortable would it be? Would the heavy wheels be a liability or would the extra traction make it a great climber?

The Pugsley is not a subtle bike. The 3.7" tires, an inch and a half wider than your typical fat mountain bike tire, along with the offset wheels (for better chainline) and 135mm front hub (same as the rear) make sure of that. The bike turned a few heads, but really, how many times can you stand to hear "Those're fat tires." and respond "Yep." I really bought the bike for winter riding and racing along with the occasional summer trip down a sandy creekbed or along a river. It's not a cross-country race bike and it was totally inappropriate for going fast on hard packed dirt.

The sport class race (that'd be me) was three laps of the 4.5 mile twisty wooded course. There were a few hills, steep but short, and a few rocky (for Iowa) parts and some sandy corners, but nothing too technical or demanding. It's a pretty good course for Iowa, but I still prefer Seven Oaks tough climbs and tight switchbacks. Swerving around trees doesn't excite me much.

From the start I was at the back. I couldn't accelerate with the group, my heavy wheels and tires held me back, but neither did I want to be at the front. I am more of a slow and steady guy rather than a sprinter who can make good time on a course like this. The fewer people who have to pass me at the start the better. I hoped to catch a few people who had blown up sprinting too hard at the start. The first part of the course turned out to be very rough. The trails were newly cut through the woods and hadn't been smoothed out with constant riding. After the first half lap where I did try to keep up, the course smoothed out into older trail and I started to sit back, relax, and have fun on the course. With fewer people around I could pay attention to the trail and carry more momentum which was becoming essential with the Pug. Most of the short hills on the course were ridable with little more than a few standing pedal strokes,but a few were too long and steep or didn't allow me to carry momentum into the climb. On these I was lucky on the first lap and had someone who knew the course just ahead of me. When he geared down I did the same and on one particular hill I was able to pass two folks who were caught by surprise and walking it. With extremely fat tires and low gearing I could spin up loose steep slopes I would never have been able to climb so sloppily on a conventional bike. The same logic held for rocks. Just run 'em over. Why pick a line when the tires can roll over anything? Sandy corners? Sure, these tires won't bog down. Logs? Just a little loft of the front wheel and stand up. It really suited my sloppy xc style.

For the second two laps I rode alone. I just concentrated on maintaining my momentum through corners and on down/up gully crossings. As I rode the bike I was able to relax a bit and figure out when I needed to stand and when to stay seated. It may have fat tires, but it is no plush full suspension bike. It rides like the rigid frame that it is. Rough ground is still miserable in the saddle, but out of the saddle it doesn't really slow the bike down. For the first lap my hands were getting tired holding onto the bars, but as I settled in and relaxed this went away. The last lap was really enjoyable. I finished a respectable third...to last. The race felt too short, I was just getting warmed up and then it was over. I'm still an endurance guy.

Overall I'm happy with how the Pugsley rode. I have some tweaking to do on the bike, but none of it is Surly's fault. I installed the zip-ties that hold the brake/derailleur cables/housing wrong so that they occasionally scraped my legs. Speaking of cables and housing, I would prefer that frame had cable stops as well as or rather than the zip-tie anchorages. I don't particularly care for full length housing, I'd rather be able to keep the cables clean and lubed through maintainance than just hoping that no water will get into the housing. The seatpost and saddle are old used bits I found around the shop and they really aren't suitable. In particular the seapost is a little too short. The Titec/Jones H-Bar handle bar is okay. Single-speeders love them and I can see why, they don't have enough room for shifters! I installed my Suntour XC Pro shifters on the bar-end section which is a little far from where I would really like them to be and takes up a lot of the space where my hands ought to be on the bar-ends. The bar-ends were useless during the race, too much turning and braking, but are nice on more open road/trail. The vintage Suntour shifters work marginally with current Shimano derailleurs and cassettes. Well enough for what I normally plan for the bike, but not precise enough for XC racing. And the big tires? They're no substitute for suspension on bumps or drops, but in loose gravel and sand (no snow yet) the float is amazing. There's no digging in or squirming around that you get with narrower tires. On very steep loose climbs it is great to be able to sit down and spin without worrying about lines or loosing traction. On the other hand they are heavy, though not bad considering the size, and I really needed the low gears to get the bike moving. I can't wait to get a legitimate adventure underway on this "adventure bike."

Spectacular Crash on Y Camp

2009-07-30T21:34:00.002-05:00

Nick and I did a gravel century last Sunday. We left Ames and headed to Ledges State Park then headed north along the river via some great hilly roads along the river. We rode down 224th, a dead end road I knew to have a great hill on it. Down was steep and loose, but we took it easy and, after a short break at the bottom, we turned around to ride up. I had ridden the road years ago in an adventure race and remembered that there had been a prize for those folks who managed to ride up the hill without walking. Either the hill has gotten easier or I have gotten stronger, because the hill was really pretty easy by Des Moines River standards.

We headed North through Boone where we scared some peafowl then continued on to the Y Camp road (166th). Here's where the fun happened. As we started down the steep grade the loose washboarded gravel got the best of Nick. He was about 10 yards ahead of me when I saw his rear tire break loose. First he swung to the right and I thought, "that's some loose gravel, I'd better watch out." Then he over corrected to the left and I thought, "he's not going to make it." I watched as he went down...hard. He fell to the left while his bike went more right. I saw a water bottle rocket out of it's cage and fly off the road to the right as a dust cloud rose from the impact. At this point, with Nick and his bike covering much of the road directly ahead of me I had to decide what to do. Ride over him or try to get around to the left where there was still some room. Riding over him was out of the question. I don't like to ride over my friends and I figured that it would just result in a bad header-type crash for me. I steered left and hit the brakes as hard as I could without locking them up. As it was there was no chance and I went down hard too. I slid down on my left arm and then rolled onto my back where I slid for a surprising distance on my Camelbak to a stop just a little downhill from Nick.

Nick spoke first, "Are you okay?" I figured he was hurt worse than I was so I said, "Yeah, I'm okay," and then stood up to prove it to myself. It hurt to stand, but I knew that there wasn't anything seriously wrong. We were both shaky from adrenaline and headed to a shady spot a little ways down the hill. There we sat down calmed down while irrigating our wounds with water bottles. Both of us had scrapes down our left sides, arms, and legs. His jersey was torn, while my Camelbak seemed to have taken the blow without damage. Both our bikes were okay except for misaligned brake levers. Nick said something like, "Bikes are tough." To which I thought, but did not say, "So are we."

At first as we rested I was wondering what the fastest way to end the ride was. Actually I started thinking about exit strategies even before I crashed. Do we ride back into Boone, continue up to Stratford and complete the ride, or call for a ride home? Pretty quickly we decided that we were okay to go on and carefully descended the rest of the way down into the valley. I cut a few miles off the route where I had planned to go back south and pick up a few more hills and we headed off along the river valley north to Pilot Mound. The hills were a little tougher than usual due to our injuries and I started to notice that my ribs hurt on my left side. It really only hurt when I breathed hard or pulled up on the handlebars. In other words only on the uphills. As we got past Dayton and climbed the last steep hill out of the river valley on River Road we started to hear small engine noises. I figured somebody was out on their ATVs and we'd see them soon enough, but as we got closer I started to hear the sounds of an announcer on a PA system. We had stumbled upon the Dayton Hare Scramble. We thought about trying to find some people who we knew would be there, but decided against it and headed on to Stratford. On the paved hill into Stratford my front tire started to go flat. Since I was only a couple of miles out of town and it seemed like a slow leak, I aired up the tire without changing the tube. I knew it wasn't the right thing to do, but I figured I'd feel more like working on it after I had rested and had something to eat and drink. I made it into town without any more problems.

After a Monster Pop (it is pop) and a bag of chips, we were good to go. I pumped some more air into my tire and we headed for home. About five miles out of town my laziness caught up with me when my tire blew. No slow leak this, I had to fix it. That done we rode along more dusty, washboarded roads into Gilbert and then back home to Ames. It ended up being a pretty tough ride. My legs don't hurt from riding, but my back, neck, ribs, and left arm are all pretty beat up from the crash. But hey, if you don't crash occasionally you don't know what your limits are.

The Worst Journey in the World

2009-06-05T20:06:00.004-05:00

By now I'm sure you've all heard about how I didn't finish at Dirty Kansa and had one of the worst races of my life as far as aftermath goes. That's true, but I suppose you'd like to hear the whole story. Here it is:

Friday night I slept fitfully. I'm not sure why. I knew that I was overconfident going in. I had done two previous 200 mile rides and both had gone very well. I knew that I could finish, but I also knew that 200 miles and 16+ hours in the saddle holds a lot of unpredictability. There are too many things that can go wrong. One guy I know has tried to do a double century on the road several times only to be thwarted by t-storms every time. That was one possible obstacle for the race, but others I was concerned about were flat tires, crashes, and the heat of the day. I was to have a couple of these problems, but I can now add a few more items to my list of concerns.

As I was saying, I slept poorly the night before and I didn't feel all that great in the morning, but that's not really a cause for concern on these rides. I rarely feel good in the morning and the best way to deal with it is to get on the bike and start riding. With a few miles under me I usually start to feel better. I can almost always make a good day out of a bad one. I drank a bottle of Boost and rode to the start line.

As we rolled out through town I felt like the pace was too fast. I wanted to take it easy while the rest of the field was pushing 20 mph on the streets of Emporia. It wasn't much of a problem to keep up though and I kept with the pack. I figured that the group would break up as soon as we hit the gravel and I could find my own pace. That wasn't to be. The first miles of gravel were flat and fast and the peloton (if I may) stayed tight. It wouldn't be until we hit the first hills about fifteen miles in that the group really started to break up and I could try to find my pace.

As soon as we got out of town the wind hit us. It was at least 20 mph or harder out of the WSW. The course steered us directly into it as we made our way to the Flint Hills rangeland. I am a good hill rider, I have a pretty good strength to weight ratio, but I am not a good wind rider, I have a poor strength to area ratio. Big guys with big legs are usually better at that. Still I was doing okay. When we got to the hills I would pass folks on the way up and I could usually keep them behind me. Still I knew that today wasn't going to be a fast one for me. I wasn't feeling real strong on the hills like I knew I should.

I passed a lot of people with flat tires, especially after water crossings. It seemed to me that people were shooting through the rocky crossings too fast and finding sharp chert to puncture tires or else pinch flatting on the rocks. I would slow down before the crossings, not wanting to crash on a hidden rock or get a flat this early in the race. Still, I was hoping that the tough new tires I had just put on the bike would protect me, even if I did make a bad decision. I rode with a fellow (sorry, I'm terrible with names) from Cedar Falls on a Salsa Fargo for quite a few miles through this first 60 mile section. He said something about how riding with someone makes the time go faster. I didn't say anything, but I know the opposite to be true for me. Riding alone is when I can "zone out" and ride hard for miles without noticing any time passing, my favorite part of any ride.

Most of the first section was through open range with huge stone slabs creating terraces across the hills. Few signs of civilization were evident outside of the road. The exceptions were radio towers on hilltops, oil wells, and one gigantic mansion in the middle of nowhere. Signs of cattle however were everywhere.

By the time I made it to the first checkpoint at mile 61 in the town of Cottonwood Falls I was spent. I hadn't managed to wake up and start feeling better like I usually do and the ride was already the hardest sixty miles of gravel I had ever done. It wasn't shaping up to be a good day. I thought about calling it quits, but I thought about Charlie and decided to take a nap before deciding. I slept for about twenty minutes under a tree and it felt great. After the nap I wasn't feeling good, but I knew I could make it another 42 miles to the next checkpoint. Knowing that the next section was more sheltered from the wind and flatter I opted not to fill my Camelbak to full. I left with 1.5 liters in the bag and a 20 oz. water bottle on the bike. I was using Ultima Replenisher in my Camelbak which has served me well on long hot rides in the past (including a previous DK), but it didn't seem to be doing its job as well on this ride.

The next forty-two miles took me along Diamond Creek road past ploughed fields and farm houses. The gravel would occasionally turn to asphalt for no apparent reason for a few hundred yards and then go back to gravel. As I figured this section was much easier than the first, but the heat was far worse. I wasn't visibly sweating, but I knew I was going to regret not having filled up all the way on water at Cottonwood Falls. I was still seeing riders stopped along the road with flats every few miles and a few times just lying in the shade taking a break. I was surprised since these 40 miles were so much easier and the roads so much better maintained. I was looking forward to breaking out of the valley and heading East so I could take advantage of the strong winds that had dogged us all morning. By the time I got there though I was disappointed to find that the winds had shifted to the North and were once again fighting me. As I made it to the second checkpoint at mile 103 at Council Grove I was pretty sure I was done. I had made a full century ride and knew I wasn't going to make the finish without some kind of miracle.

I mulled the options over and decided to call it quits when Dustin from Great Bend Kansas made me an offer. If I would ride with him to Alma, the third checkpoint at mile 142, his girlfriend would drive us back to Emporia (the start/finish). I accepted. Another 39 miles was possible. My knees hurt and I was tired, I wasn't really feeling like myself, but 39 miles is an easy ride, short almost.

We headed out in the heat and headed almost straight North into the wind. The wind wasn't strong, maybe 8-12 mph, but it was there and it was slowing us down. About 10 miles down the road we hooked up with Jim (?) from Lawrence Kansas and took our first break. I had planned to go 20 before stopping, but I wasn't going to argue. I felt like I needed one too. The next stop was about 7 miles down the road, and then about 5. We were getting worn down.

About that time, some twenty miles into the section we hit a road called, variously, "'Lil Egypt" or "Little Egypt." The smallest gravel was the size of a hen's egg and it was all the sharp edged chert that had been chewing up folks tires all day. Sure enough about half a mile along Jim got a flat. We all stopped and waited. Dustin helped Jim out a bit with a CO2 cartridge while I sat on a flat rock and put my head down to rest. After a few minutes we got back on the road again. Not a hundred yards down the road I flatted. I called out to the guys ahead of me, but they were already headed down a steep hill into a creek valley and likely didn't hear. I inspected the tire and found an inch long gash where a rock had gotten me. I first tried to boot the tire with a GU package, but it wouldn't stay in place with the undersized tube I had brought as a spare. Luckily the glueless patches I had were particularly tough plastic and about an inch square. I stuck one to the inside of the tire, only about a half inch slice showed on the inside, and hoped for the best. I pumped until I was tired of pumping, then pumped some more and called it good. I figured I only had about 35 psi or so in the tire (I had started the morning with 65), but I was concerned about the tube bursting through the gash in the tire. I would just have to ride carefully. I headed down the hill which was covered in fist size rocks and washed out from recent rains. I expected either a crash or another flat at any time. As I was riding up the other side of the tiny creek valley I came upon my two companions walking down towards me. I dismounted and we all walked back up to their bikes at the top. 'Lil Egypt road had several more steep washes to ride through and all were sketchy with their sharp and loose rocks. We walked most of the uphills and luckily we had no more flats.

We only had about fifteen more miles to Alma, but we came across at least two maybe three riders sitting alongside the road, cell phones out, waiting for rescue and a ride back to town. I was confident we'd make it without help. The course indicated for us to ride pavement for a couple of miles then turn off and ride another five or so miles of gravel before getting to the checkpoint, but according to the map we could cut off all of that gravel and just ride straight into town on pavement. I didn't want to be the first to suggest it, but someone did and the decision was made. We took the shortcut and called it quits at Alma. It felt a little odd to be giving up after only 140 miles, but I knew I didn't have it in me. I was done...or so I thought.

About 10 minutes after we stopped the gurgling in my stomach started. I hit the convenience store bathroom just in time. That taken care of Dustin handed me a Gatorade and we hopped in the truck for the hour long drive back to Emporia. We started with the windows down in the 90 degree heat, but just a few minutes down the road I was shivering with cold. I also became nauseous and I couldn't force myself to drink the Gatorade. With the windows rolled up Dustin and Jim were sweltering, but I was still cold. I knew this wasn't good. The only thing I could think was that a warm shower might cure me. By the time we got to the hotel I had to jump out and run for the toilet again. Still shivering, I found the warmest room in the hotel, a hallway with vending machines, and curled up to rest and try to find the strength to find a shower. Joel, one of the race directors found me there and ushered me to his room where he kindly offered his shower and found my finish line bag with my clothes in it. The shower felt good and took care of the shivering. I don't know how long I sat there, warm water running over me, I knew something was more seriously wrong than I had ever been through at a race. When I didn't think the shower was doing me any more good I got out, wrapped a towel around me and passed out on the floor. I don't know how long it was. Probably only fifteen minutes or so, but I was feeling well enough to walk around. I dressed and made my way outside to the finish area. Someone had kindly unloaded my bike and I laid down next to it and slept for a while. When I woke, Joel offered me some pizza and I forced down a slice, but couldn't do much more. I had just expended more than 10,000 calories on a hot day and I was having trouble eating and drinking. Not good. I got up and biked across the street to my hotel where I laid down in bed and once again had a bad night of sleep. I was afraid that the ride home would make me car-sick, but I just slept the whole way.

Since then I've been shivering, achy, and having gut pains on and off. I get a little better every day, but I don't seem to get better. I initially wrote it off as dehydration, but now I think maybe I got some contaminated food or water. It couldn't have come at a worse time. Now I'm weak and the idea of doing a long ride has absolutely no appeal for me. I couldn't make it more than ten or fifteen miles right now anyway. This is by far the worst I have ever felt after a race and I hope it never happens again. I enjoy being sore from exercise, but this is too much like being sick. Hopefully within the next few days I'll make a full recovery and I can get back to biking and more hopefully roller-skiing in anticipation of this winter's Arrrowhead.

Marathon Matt

2009-05-11T21:28:00.003-05:00

After last winter's Arrowhead race I knew that I needed to do more cross-training for skiing. It's too easy to bike during the summer and then when the snow falls get a few miles of skiing in in an attempt to get ready for the big dance (as Charlie would say). It's too little too late though. It's impossible to get those skiing muscles in shape in just a few weeks and expect to be able to gut out 135 miles. 70? Sure, that's do-able, but really I need to be doing more, different sorts of workouts all through the year. With that in mind I decided that I needed to run a marathon this summer.

I had been looking at doing Grandma's Marathon in Duluth (June 20th) or the Des Moines Marathon (October 18th), but when I heard about TIMTAM, a marathon in a park that I ride through literally every day and with no entry fee it was too good to pass up. The down side was that I only had a week and a half to prepare and was still recovering from a nasty bout of the flu.

How did I train with those constraints? I didn't. I rested. I knew that if I tried to run more than a couple of miles I risked blisters and soreness that would haunt me in the marathon. No, I needed to count on my base of biking miles and what little running I had done in the previous months. My last run had been a 5k about three weeks previous and my longest run had been about 7 miles. Not much to go on.

As I arrived to sign in on Sunday morning I was confident that I would finish. I have done tougher, longer events. Mentally I was prepared for the pain and tedium, but I wasn't confident that I would finish running, or with my knees intact. At 7am we were off. Five laps around a 5.25 mile course for the marathon. Some people were doing the 10.5 mile, two lap race, and many, if not most were doing the whole 50k, 6 lap race. I was hoping at the start to be able to do the 50k, but I had my doubts.

For the first lap and a half I was doing great. I found a pace that worked well for me and fell in with a group that included some runners from Grinnell and a man working on his second time around the 50 states. The experienced 5o stater said that we were on pace for a 4 hour finish. Faster than I had hoped, but I was still optimistic. About nine miles in though I had to fall back. Their pace remained steady while mine just wasn't up to the challenge.

The third lap I ran at a slow pace, with short steps to keep my knees from giving out. I was sore, but still felt that I would finsh running. I was on my own at this point. No one near me was going near the same pace. That suited me fine though, I've done many bike rides of 10 hours or more with only myself for company. It's easy to zone out and think about anything or nothing. The race leader passed by me and called out "Nice job, one fourty nine." 1:49, I thought, I'm halfway through and I'm still under two hours, maybe I can finish in a little over 4! It wasn't until a lap later that I realized my race number was 149.

About 18 miles in or 2 miles into the fourth lap my legs gave out on me. There was no way I could pretend to run anymore. I swallowed my pride and started walking. I would walk for a mile or so jog for half a mile, walk some more. I'd guess I walked about half of the fourth lap. I was considering quitting, but I knew I'd be disappointed in myself. Besides, I have walked 50 miles through the mountains with no food in less than 36 hours (long story). I knew I could always walk that last lap. Maybe it wouldn't make for a good story, but I'd have finished the marathon.

I formed a plan in my mind. The loop of the course was broken up into four sections by the aid stations along the way. If I walked two of them then I'd run the other two. I would end running. I started walking the last lap and didn't worry about what other people thought of this youngish skinny guy walking with a race number on. As I got to the first aid station I drank some Gatorade and started into a painful slow run. It hurt, but I didn't feel like I had to stop. When I got to the second aid station I slowed to a walk even though I felt like I could run a few more yards. It wouldn't be worth it in the long haul I thought. At the last aid station I started up running again. I was going to make it. As I got within sight of the finish line I started striding out, just a little, and finished in the slowest sprint I have ever been party to.

My finishing time was an unrespectable 5:41. A testament to my stubborness if nothing else. My knees and calves ached and the blisters on my heels had already popped. Feeling kind of ambivalent about my finish I thought about going out and walking another lap for the 50k, but I stopped myself. I wanted to do a 200 mile bike race in another three weeks and while I knew the sore muscles and blisters would heal in that time I wasn't sure about the knees.

Since then I've been walking stiff legged and going down stairs backwards because of the pain in my calves, but my knees seem to be getting better. I'll take it easy and spin on the bike for the next week to work my knees. Next time I'll train a little more diligently, but I'll have a better base for the Big Dance.

LeGrand trip

2009-05-07T20:44:00.008-05:00

I rode out to LeGrand this weekend to volunteer and take some pictures for Trans-Iowa V. LeGrand was the second checkpoint in the race, 151 miles of gravel in and 163 to go for the racers.

I left home at 7:30 AM and headed south out of town and then east along gravel roads. Passing south of Nevada I explored some beautiful roads I had never been on before. Hilly, twisty, and wooded I don't know why I had missed these great roads so close to home. As I passed into Marshall county I stopped, ate some breakfast, and took a couple of photos.

The scenery:

The Bike:

As I approached LeGrand my planned turn to the north on a B road looked a little odd. All the street signs were there, but the first thirty yards or so of the road were ploughed under.

The road continued on for about half a mile.

Then ended. I walked through the field and up to where the road continued near the farmhouse.

I arrived in LeGrand in plenty of time, and took a lot of pictures of all the racers coming through the checkpoint, but that's another story.

After the race went through I planned on biking up to Union Grove State Park to camp, but two miles down the road the bridge over the Iowa river was out, presumably from last year's floods.

After a five mile detour I arrived at the campground just after dark, set up camp, and promptly fell asleep.

In the morning I took a short walk through the park. I wish I'd had more time to explore, but I wanted to get back home. I rode part of the route I took to Cedar Rapids in April. I stopped for a break at the city park in Clemons.

Then rode through the wind farm north of Colo.

It was rough going, the gravel was loose and I had a headwind much of the way. I arrived home two hours later than I had hoped and suffering from a pretty bad sunburn. All together I did two metric centuries over the weekend and my first multi-day "tour" of the year. A pretty good weekend.

2009-04-14T21:23:00.002-05:00

Saturday's ride was a 130 mile trip to Cedar Rapids to see family for Easter. I left at 4am after getting about two hours of sleep. That's the way I usually do these things. For the first few hours I was in the dark. Highlights of this section were seeing the horizon to the east covered in the flashing lights from the tops of windmills and getting chased by a dog I could barely see.

Around sunrise I was crossing the Iowa River at Albion and on to the straight flat section from there to south of Vinton. As the sun rose the winds picked up. There wasn't a lot of wind, just 5mph or so, but it was constant and in my face for the whole ride. The wind took its toll on my by the end of the ride making me much more sore than I would normally be after a ride of this length.

There isn't much to say about Marshall county, but as I entered Tama county I was expecting a B road section, but instead got a dead end. I know that I rode on that road two years ago, but now it's a plowed field. I detoured north a mile and continued on. I shouldn't say that it's all flat between Albion and Vinton. There was a long section in Tama county that was rolling hills. I didn't remember it from the last time I had been there.

A few B roads broke up the monotony and were a relief from the often new, soft, and loose gravel I encountered for much of the trip. I wished that I had brought a camera for a few of these classic sections of road. By the time I got near Vinton I was ready for a change of pace.

A few miles north I found myself riding along the Cedar River on a road that I think is one of the best in the state. Not only does it go right along the banks of the Cedar, but it is a minimum maintenance road that has flood warning signs along it. It doesn't hurt that there is a nice park there, the Benton City Fry Access, and it includes a hill to rival those on the Des Moines river. I stopped at the park for my first rest of the trip at mile 107 and drank a Boost and a Monster along with a few Daddy Ray's fig bars.

The food and caffeine woke me up and let me ride the last 20 or so miles into Cedar Rapids. I crossed the river on the Lewis Bottoms bridge and then rode along some fast smooth gravel south into Cedar Rapids. I felt great and the winding roads were just the kind of road that I like. I even managed to find a few B roads in the last few miles before being dumped out onto the pavement.

It always feels weird arriving at my parents' house after biking there. Almost as though I've passed through some sort of space/time warp and gotten somewhere that I shouldn't be able to by bike. I hope to do it again this year, hopefully exploring some new roads along the way.

Savoir c'est pouvoir

2009-04-13T22:39:00.001-05:00

"Knowledge is power," I had always taken this phrase to be about the nature of power. As in, if you have more knowledge then you will be more powerful. In this construction the emphasis seemed to be on book learning and smarts. If you are more educated and read a lot then you will be able to press your agenda on others. If you are not educated then you are weak.

But a few years ago, in college I had a TA who appended the French phrase "Savoir c'est pouvoir," to an e-mail. Another student asked her in class what it meant and she replied that it meant, to know is to be able. This I took to be a statement about the nature of knowledge. That is, if you are able to do something then you know it. Or to take the inverse (assuming a biconditional), if you are not able to do something then you don't know it. This takes the emphasis away from book learning and puts it on practical experience and technical skill.

"To know is to be able," has a similar flavor to Pragmatist statements like "Meaning just is use," (Wittgenstein) and "the true is only the expedient in our way of thinking" (James). According to some (pretty unreliable) sources the pragmatists were inspired by the phrase "knowledge is power" (attributed to Francis Bacon). The proverb has the look of a Pragmatist theory of knowledge. As a sometime Pragmatist myself, I am attracted to this idea of knowledge as something which gets its value through practical use.

I hadn't realized that the two phrases were supposedly equivalent until today. The English phrase I had always disliked, because it implied that well educated people were the best able to effect change, while the French version I had liked because of the implication that if you couldn't actually do something then you didn't know it after all.

Thoughts on "I am a Strange Loop" by Douglas Hofstadter

2009-04-07T20:49:00.002-05:00

I really wanted to read Hofstadter's "Goedel, Escher, Bach" but it was checked out at the library so I went for this one instead. I had just read Neal Stephenson's "Anathem" and was curious about references to the loops, logic, and the source of consciousness. I figured that Stephenson had used GEB as a reference (it was obvious that he was using references) and wanted to see what he had drawn from it. (It turns out that he hadn't, see http://www.nealstephenson.com/anathem/acknow.htm, but he does reference Goedel.) Anathem was interesting in a sci-fi kind of way. You know that there's some science there for inspiration, but you doubt that it's portrayed accurately. In this case rather than science it was philosophy that was being used, and I could tell when the arguments broke down, but you get the picture. Accuracy has to be sacrificed for the good of the story. I'm okay with that.
Hofstadter's book, so far as I gather, is a re-hashing of his old ideas from GEB. Apparently he wasn't happy with the results of GEB. Nobody "got" it. Rather than focusing on the examples, the math, the logic, the Escher, the Bach Hofstadter wants readers to focus on the consciousness argument. "I am a Strange Loop" is his attempt to rectify that. He fails.
The parts of this book that are easy to focus on and caught my interest are the chapters on logic, math, and proofs. I am sure that to someone with more experience in math most of what he has to say would be trivial, but to me it was an education. It was the first time I had seen Euclid's proof of the infinitude of prime numbers and it was good to be reminded just what Fermat's last theorem was.
I had studied Bertrand Russell's philosophy before, but I had a poor understanding of what his project was in "Principia Mathematica." And as far as Goedel's proof of the incompleteness of PM I was fascinated. More by his method than by the fact of it. I had always wondered what it meant to say that something was "true but unprovable." Now at least I sort of get it. Hofstadter's examples of loops, both contradictory logic loops and other types were fun as well. I've always wondered who shaves the barber.
Early on I thought that he did a good job avoiding reductionism (even explicitly rejecting it). It's too easy to think that the smaller levels (neurons, molecules, atoms, etc.) are the "True" ones. The places where the work really gets done. But in just a few examples he shows that it is just as useful, usually more so, to think on levels of symbols, ideas, and thoughts when we are examining consciousness. Unfortunately though he claims this sort of anti-reductionist position he shows his true reductionist colors later in the book as he combats dualisms (which I generally also reject). He wants there to be a "really real world" down there somewhere and he's willing to sacrifice higher level functions to get it.
He dismisses qualia quickly and without much argument. While I think that the question of "what it feels like to be an X" is metaphysically interesting, like most metaphysics it doesn't get you anywhere. Still I don't think he should dismiss the idea as simply silly.
One controversial subject that he fearlessly dives into is levels of consciousness. He proposes that different beings have different levels of consciousness. A spectrum of sorts with rocks on one end, moving through single celled animals, to insects, fish, chickens, dogs, babies, and adult humans on top. It's a spectrum that most of us believe in to one degree or another and can lead us to some interesting conclusions. Especially in conjunction with his belief that consciousness is equal to moral value.
As far as that goes Hofstadter believes that the more conscious something is the more ethically valuable it is. Therefore something more conscious, like a dog, or adult human, should not be mistreated, killed, etc.. While something less conscious, like a rock, (or Hofstadter's favorite example) a mosquito, is less deserving of respect. Given this we can ascertain his beliefs on a number of ethical quandaries. Obviously he's a vegetarian and a pro-choicer, but one wonders about the ethical status of babies and comatose people. To give a literal lifeboat scenario, think of yourself on a lifeboat with a comatose person and a live dog. Which one would you eat first? What if the person were dead?
Of course it doesn't automatically follow that Hofstadter would eat the human rather than the dog. There is clearly more going on in ethics than just consciousness, but what role does it really play? Hofstadter also makes remarks about war, criminals, and the de-humanizing of enemies as an example of our beliefs about certain peoples' level of consciousness.
More bizarrely he links levels of consciousness with musical aptitude. Musically minded people he believes are more attuned (no pun intended) to emotions, therefore more conscious themselves and thus more moral people. He cites Bach and Albert Schweitzer to support his thesis. I hope it's just a quirk of his. I'm not much of a music person, but then maybe I'm not very ethical either.
The irony of the book is that Hofstadter's heroes are dualists and would likely have disagreed with him vehemently. Goedel was a Platonist who believed that mathematics was a real thing, discovered not created. Schweitzer was religious and his beliefs were the basis for his acts. Moreover Hofstadter would have disagreed with the whole premise Neal Stephenson's novel that started me reading his book in the first place.

April Snow

2009-04-06T20:54:00.004-05:00

I decided, rather than sit around all day, to enjoy the snowstorm yesterday. I got out the skis for one last trip around the arboretum. I had to use klister of course, and the stuff is way too sticky for it's own good. It gets on everything and doesn't come off. Most of the time the skiing was slow but okay. Occasionally though the snow would pack up under my ski and stick there. It was like skiing with muddy boots on. It felt pretty good to get out though. It seems as though biking isn't as much fun as it used to be. I rarely go for long rides alone anymore. But skiing is still fun all by itself with no goals or company.

A Short Ride

2009-03-29T21:46:00.003-05:00

The ever ambitious Nick had a vision of a double century today, but it wasn't to be. The original plan was to ride down to Pella and Lake Red Rock, but due to Saturday's snow and rain down there Nick, Paul, and I compromised and decided on a route north and east to Eldora and Iowa Falls for about 140 miles. Initial conditions weren't what we were hoping for. A strong wind from the NNW dogged us from the first. Combined with sub-freezing temps that had our Camelbak hoses frozen solid at points and numbed our fingers and toes we were in for a rough one.

Going east, roughly with the wind, was a treat and I thought we might finish the ride feeling pretty fresh, but I should have known better. At about mile 40 when we turned north we had to fight not just the wind, but some pretty tough rollers of hills. By the time we hit Eldora at mile 60 we were ready to turn around and after a brief discussion we decided on a route that would put right at 100 miles and Nick and me at about 113. Going south with the wind was a treat, but east was still a chore.

Our revised route had us riding along 270th Street in Hardin county all the way through Hubbard and Radcliffe, but that was a lie. 270th doesn't go straight there at all. After that it was dead reckoning as we zigzagged SW. We found some pretty nice B roads that curved through scenic hills. Unfortunatley we also found several miles of pavement that were pretty much unavoidable. At Roland we took a bike path for a mile that was far worse than the B roads we had been on. By the time we crossed I35 and the Skunk River we were more than ready to be done. The last few miles into Gilbert Nick and I sprinted for the tops of hills, but niether of us had much left in our legs.

We were all pretty satisfied with the distance we went today given the conditions. That double century will have to wait for later in the season when we have some nice weather for once.

First post on new computer.

2009-03-17T20:18:00.003-05:00

Last weekend's ride was a gravel century with Nick and Wade. We rode over to Frasier on the Des Moines river and rode north along the valley to Stratford then turned around and came back the same way. As usuall the hills along the route were challenging. They are steep and pretty long for the Midwest, but there aren't as many as I had remembered. We rode more flat river bottom miles than it seemed like we did last year along here.

All along the way I was dreading the last hill out of the valley, Y Camp Hill (166th Ave). It isn't the longest, but it sure seems to be the steepest and most of the hill is hidden from the bottom so you don't know just how far you have to go. I wasn't sure, but I thought I could make it up without walking. As I started up the gravel was looser than I was hoping. That meant that I wouldn't be able to stand up and pedal without my wheels slipping, not to mention that it is a lot harder to ride through loose gravel. About half way up I went over to the left side of the road. Not where I wanted to be given the possiblity of traffic, but it was much smoother than the right side. After I got onto the harder surface it was no problem to finish the climb. It almost seemed too easy.

All in all a pretty good ride for the first century of the year.

CIRREM

2009-03-09T18:20:00.003-05:00

On Sunday I decided to do CIRREM, a 62 mile gravel race, at the last minute. Paul, Nick, and I drove down to the start in Cumming where, not to our surprise, the weather had scared away a lot of people. Rain, snow, and temps in the mid thirties were forecast.

It was raining as we rolled out of town and on to the gravel. I started at the back, but soon found myself passing riders and moving up to the front. The hard packed gravel was hardly affected by the rain. Just a couple of miles in Nick and I broke off the front, everyone else seemed to be going too slow for our taste. I have the feeling that if we hadn't done that this wouldn't have been much of a race. People just weren't feeling good in the rain and didn't want to try and push themselves.

Pretty soon though a group of seven or so riders had caught us. We went rode together for a while until five of us broke off the front for good. I was really surprised that I was with that group and that Nick wasn't. He has been riding really well this year and already has two full gravel centuries under his belt.

I rode with this group through some pretty hilly terrain towards Winterset. The rain and snow that were forecast were always present and I didn't mind them. I was perfectly comfortable for the first fifteen miles or so until water started wicking down into my cycling boots. My hands were became too warm too so I stripped them off and rode without for the rest of the race. What wasn't comfortable was the sleet that hit us for a few minutes in the first half of the race. It stung my face and hands, especially on downhills and going into the wind.

After Winterset (which I only recognized because I had ridden some of the same gravel in Paul's GRAID ride last spring) I lost contact with the lead four riders and was on my own for the rest of the race. It was a beautiful ride. Lots of hills, wind, fast gravel, and not a few dogs.

I would pull the cue sheet out of my pocket, memorize the next two turns, put it back and enjoy the ride. It was tough to remember much more than that. After five miles of spacing off it is tough to remember whether the next turn is a right or a left. With five miles to go I put away the cue sheet for good and sprinted for the finsh. I was sure that someone would catch me so every so often I'd glance over my shoulder and see if anyone was back there. No one was.

With three miles to go there was a bridge with lengthwise boards spaced about an inch and a half apart. The same width as my tires. As I came up to it I thought to myself that if I got caught in one it could be a pretty nasty crash. Sure enough, with nearly sixty miles of hard riding behind me it was tough to steer a straight course and I ended up with one tire in the gap. Luckily I managed to ride out without incident. Don't ask me how.

I rode the last couple of miles as fast as I could. Not all that fast really. I arrived at the Cumming Tap in fifth place overall. Not bad. I was happy to get into dry clothes.

Arrowhead Video

2009-03-04T18:04:00.002-06:00

A Brazilian news crew filmed much of the Arrowhead this year. The video link is well worth a look if you want to see what the race looks like. Yes it's in Portuguese and it takes a long time to load.

Arrowhead '09

2009-02-19T20:24:00.002-06:00

Everything falls apart at 4am. Parties wind down, cramming for exams becomes intolerable, sleepless nights become restless mornings. In this year's Arrowhead 4am is when the cold set in, the shelter was full, and wax wouldn't stick to my skis.
The first eight miles to the turnaround had gone well enough. As usual the flat terrain was trying my patience, but I knew that I'd have more than enough hills once I was past the Gateway Store at mile 35, not to mention if I made it past the halfway checkpoint at Melgeorges. Ten miles in I had re-waxed my skis to accomodate the warmer than expected snow. The temp at the start had been about 4f, but now the sun was melting the ice out of my beard (though only on the south side) and my skis weren't sticking like I wanted.
This year's mantra was 'fix it now, before it becomes a problem.' The year before I hadn't stopped to wax, or eat, or drink, figuring that I could make it just a little farther before I took a break. That hadn't worked. I had ended up effectively poling myself along for nearly 70 miles. By the time I had stopped I couldn't raise my arms above shoulder level. I couldn't let that happen again so I waxed. Much better.
The one thing that I couldn't fix now was my boots. I knew that they didn't fit well. They gave me blisters on my toes and beat up my ankles leaving them bruised and swollen. Unfortunatley I didn't have time before the race to get a new pair and break them in. I was just going to have to suffer with them (I found out later that the boots, though I had been using them for nearly four years, were actually two sizes too big).
At the Hagerman trail shelter, about 20 miles in I once again waxed (carefully, taking my time), ate, and drank. My feet were already in pain so I took some painkillers for it. Within minutes the pain was under control and after a short chat with runners Lara and Tim I was on the move.
As I skied on, feeling okay but slow, I met up with volunteer Ron Kadera. He told me I was looking good and had an efficient stride. At first I thought he was being too generous with his praise, but after thinking about it I changed my mind. As one of the few (four?) ski finishers of the Arrowhead I respect his opinion. He has always been accurate with milages, unlike some snowmobile volunteers, and gives good advice in general.
I arrived at the Gateway store around 6pm or so. It's easy to spend too much time at the store so I set a goal of being out again in an hour. After eating some chili and a hot dog, drinking a Monster energy dring and refilling my water bottles (including 16oz of coffee). I put up my feet for a few minutes while I waxed once again. This time I layered a softer wax over cold in the expectation that the temperature would drop. It was my first time experimenting with layered waxes, but it worked out pretty well. I was off again in just over an hour.
Mike Stattelman and I left about the same time and leapfrogged on to the Ash River shelter. The trail starts to show some terrain around here and I was pleased to find that both my skills and the snow were better than the previous year. Since I had the right wax on I could climb most of the hills without trouble and on the downhills I could both turn and control my speed. In fact over all of the 70 miles I did this year I only crashed three times and once was intentional (to avoid a worse crash), a big improvement over last year.
It didn't seem like too long and we were at the shelter. It was about midnight and the shelter was already overflowing with sleeping competitors. Mike and I were both ready for a break so we skied a short way down the trail and sat down on our sleds to eat and don warmer clothes. Before long we were chilled and ready to get moving again.
Skiing through the night I found that I lost track of time. It seemed like forever to the next turn or the top of the next hill, but it once again seemed like no time and we were at Black Duck shelter, 56 miles and a two fifths of the way through the whole Arrowhead trail. Here's where the race came apart for me. I was tired and cold, it was 4am, and I could tell that my feet were in bad shape from my boots. I told Mike that I was going to take a nap and he went on without me. But the shelter was full here too. I decided to put on some warmer clothes, eat, wax the skis, then make a decision.
The first problem I had was that I couldn't open the tin of wax. I tugged and tugged but the lid was frozen on. With a final yank the lid popped off, sort of, the pins that hold the lid on had broken off in the wax. I knew that the pin would probably scratch up my skis, but at this point I didn't care. I pressed down and tried to crayon the wax on to the ski. It wouldn't happen. The wax was just too cold to go on. After pressing down harder and scrubbing the wax back and forth I got some of it down on the ski, but I knew it was clumpy. I tried to cork it in, but it didn't want to smooth out. I did my best given the tempereature, but it wasn't good. I knew it would only work for a few miles before I had worn most of it off. Thinking back I should have started up my stove and used a pot of hot water to iron in the wax. But I wasn't thinking like that. I didn't want to take the time. I had forgotten my mantra of 'fix it now.'
By now I was awake and reasonably warm so I decided to go on. Lara had caught up to me as well and I really wanted to be faster than at least one runner this year (I really shouldn't have worried, I had passed at least ten sleeping racers). I was comfortable starting off, but in short order my down coat and snowpants were making me sweat. I thought I could slow down a bit to regulate my temperature, but I was already going my slowest. After just a few minutes of skiing my vision started to swim and I thought I might pass out. Finally remembering my mantra, I took off the coat, though not the pants, and continued on.
I was counting on the dawn, only a few hours away, to wake me up and get me in to Melgeorges in good tim, but I knew that that with my feet as bad as they were I wouldn't be continuing on. I caught up with Mike and we skied together through some big hills, that I'm sure seemed bigger because we were tired. I started having to walk up quite a few of them. When dawn arrived it didn't energize me and it didn't seem to warm the air either. I had been right about my wax not lasting and I had to stop again. I tried to use a softer wax in anticipation of the warmer day, and hopes that it would cork in better, but I had most of the same problems I had had at Black Duck shelter. All the softer wax did was take away what little glide I had. It didn't matter much though as I was virtually walking already.
Because of the sun in the sky I had a better sense of time passing, but that wasn't a good thing. I felt like I was making little progress. I caught up with Mike sitting on the trail and leaning up against his sled. He looked pretty comfortable and he admitted to almost drifing off. We talked a little about how much further we had to go to Melgeorges and I estimated three miles. After our short break we found a sign just around the next bend that said five miles to Melgeorges. I wasn't suprised, but I was dissapointed.
When we finally made it to Elephant lake it seemed to take forever to cross. By the time we could see Melgeorges we could see a big group of runners catching up to us. As we skied up to the checkpoint cabin I said to Mike that I was going to wait one hour before throwing in the towel. I probably had the energy to keep going, I really wanted to, but once I took off my boots I made up my mind. I had bloody blisters on most of my toes and red swollen ankles. I might have made it another ten miles, but I didn't want to be evacuated by snomobile as I had been two years before. I made up my mind and have been satisfied with the decision. If anything it has made me more certain that I can finish...with my new boots.

Registration

2007-11-02T10:25:00.000-05:00

Registered for the Arrowhead today. I will try to ski it this year. Registration for TransIowa started yesterday. I'll have to get on that.

24 hours of boone

2007-08-18T18:27:00.000-05:00

Okay, we're all signed up and going to do this. Corey, Nick, Alex, and I that is. One speed, one bike, one lap, etc. See you there?

Frostbite + Fresh Snow = No Fun

2007-03-02T14:58:00.000-06:00

All I can do is look out the window at all the snow and think, "Why, of all the times, do I have to have frostbite now." I'd just like to get out and ski in it, but my frozen toe just won't take it. The doctor says wear a hat, don't drink caffiene, and stay warm. At least he also says the dark brown color is a blood blister and not gangrene.

Arrowhead report to come.

6 Interesting Things

2006-12-28T18:42:00.000-06:00

I've been tagged by both Cory and Paul. Does this mean I should list twelve things? Or just six really good ones? Here are five I can think of right now.

1. I am red-green color blind.

2. My first bike race was a 24 hour race (First Annual Iowa 24hr at Boone. I took 3rd place and won $50. Kerkove beat me by 10 laps for first).

3. I do not own a telephone. People can either call me at work or knock on my door.

4. I have never flown commercially, but have flown on private planes 4 times.

5. I have never owned a car, but I did total my boss' car last winter on the way to a race.

What's up?

2006-12-11T18:05:00.000-06:00

What I've been up to lately:

Reading. Wendell Berry, Michael Pollan, and now Christopher Moore.

Riding. Not much. Just to and from work, but I did do this last Saturday. I'm riding the 1x1 to try and get ready for the Arrowhead.

Cooking. I've been trying to go to bed early and get up early so I can read and make myself breakfast. Mostly pancakes, fried potatoes, eggs, and sausage.

That's about it.

TOBASCO a success

2006-11-07T11:01:00.000-06:00

TOBASCO went well. We cut it short for time and safety reasons so we only ended up doing about 130 miles. In any case a good ride. I'll talk about it more when I have more time. For now you can look at Paul Varnum and Cory's reports and pictures.

TOBASCO still on for Saturday!

2006-11-01T22:23:00.000-06:00

Sorry about the long absence everybody. I haven't been around computers much and I've had other stuff on my mind so...there you have it.

TOBASCO is still on for this weekend. Start at 5am at Ledges. Cory, are you planning on camping? How are you getting out there? I'd like to ride out, but with my gear I don't know how I'd do it. Maybe one person can drive and carry gear and the rest can ride or maybe since the ride is so early we should all just drive out. I don't know. We'll make it work somehow.

Here's the final route. Print it out and bring it along. I plan on riding as a group, but you know how it can be. My use of "left" and "right" can be a little misleading in the best of times so check the map as well as the directions. I have ETAs listed at each pass through town, but keep in mind those are estimates and are perhaps a little optimistic.

Possible food stops will be in Madrid, Slater, Huxley, Cambridge, Maxwell, Gilbert, Stratford, and Boone. Other towns may be on the route, but they probably don't have anything. Be prepared to be self sufficient for at least 50 miles at a stretch (more is better). Running out of food is bad. Running out of water is worse.

Weather looks like a mystery so far. We'll see I guess.

So who all is coming? I've heard confirmation from Cory, Nick, and Eric. With no goes from Paul and Dave (who is planning his own epic in his neck of the woods). I heard rumors of participants from Cedar Falls, but fear that my long internet absence may have scared them off. Let me know (post a comment) so we don't leave without you.

TOBASCO update

2006-10-03T21:53:00.000-05:00

The TOBASCO ride will be held on November the 4th, starting at 5am at Ledges Park in Boone County Iowa. Here is the more or less finalized version of the course. I hope to have some directions on the map before ride time. Post a comment if you need more info or have any questions. Hopefully all will become clear as mud before the start.

Your opinion needed.

2006-09-25T18:35:00.000-05:00

With the postponement of the Endurosnob Epic and conflicts of every variety I'm considering moving the TOBASCO ride back a couple of weeks. The 14th would work, as would the 28th, or perhaps the 4th of November. There's no need to rush the ride in order to get ready for the Epic anymore so why not? Give me a show of hands for which weekend you'd prefer.

I rode the first 50 miles of the TOBASCO route yesterday and it's looking good. There will need to be a few course tweaks, but I think everything will work out. I'll update the map soon.

Endurosnob Epic Cancelled!?!

2006-09-22T18:12:00.000-05:00

Sad news. Snob has cancelled (okay, techincally postponed) the Endurosnob Epic. I was really looking forward to it too, reading everything I could get my hands on about the backroads of Nebraska and so on. November is a bit scary, but I was willing to risk it. I had planned on carrying emergency camp-out stuff just in case. Oh well. I'll just have to put my energy into the TOBASCO ride and then the Arrowhead.

TOBASCO Ride

2006-09-19T18:21:00.000-05:00

In order to prepare for the Epic, I am planning my own training/fun ride on Saturday, October 7th. I am tentatively calling it the Tour of Boone and Story Counties or TOBASCO (despite the fact that it touches Marshall and pokes into Hamilton Counties and there is no hot sauce involved). Here is the tentative route.

Everyone is invited, but bring both your cruising and climbing gears. The ride will start at perhaps 4am at Ledges State park and finish when it finishes. I figure we'll start in the dark so we don't finsh too much after dark. Perhaps there'll be grilling opportunities afterwards.

Thanks to Cory and Jeff for actually publicizing this ride. Special thanks to Jeff Kerkove for the logo.

Triumphant return?

2006-09-15T23:20:00.000-05:00

Well, when last I wrote I was preparing to ride in the 24 hour race at Seven Oaks. Preparing might be saying too much. I didn't really do anything to get ready. That might explain my less than stellar performance.

The race started out well enough. I jogged to my bike in nearly last place (right where I wanted to be) and started up the first hill. Now Seven Oaks is a course more to my liking than 9 Mile. I climbed pretty well and, though I couldn't descend the hills like some others I was doing okay and actually passing some people and keeping ahead of them. I felt pretty good that I could ride so much of the course. I rarely had to dismount or even put a foot down. I think that if I put all of the best parts of each lap together I'd only have to dismount once (and I'm so close on that one too). This early confidence may have played a part in my demise.

After four laps I was feeling pretty good and I decided that since I had plenty of water left I'd go out for one more before stopping. This was contrary to my four lap rest strategy, but I don't think that it was a big deal. I did start to notice a bit of a hot spot on my saddle, but I didn't think much of it. The fifth lap went fine and after a quick refill of my Camelbak I went out for another.

On this lap it started to rain. Not much more than a sprinkle, but if you know Seven Oaks then you know how it can be when it's wet. Most of the trail is clay. Hard and fast when dry, but slicker than snot when wet. Think of wet clay in elementary school art class. Think of the way it would get underneath your fingernails and never come out. Think of what that would do if it filled in the tread on your mountain bike tires.

So yeah, I started crashing. On the first tough downhill switchback I took it a little tight and fast and ended up running down the slickening trail with my bike wrapped around my leg. I thought I was going to break my leg, but I just ended up with a bruised knee. I remounted, confidence shaken and continued to ride. I crashed several more times, none too severe, but it caused me to walk a lot. Many places it was as tough or tougher to walk as to ride. I got to a nice flat section of trail and thought to myself, "finally, I can relax for a minute." No sooner had I thought it though than I went down hard (for no apparent reason) and left a divot by the side of the trail with my shoulder. I didn't really hurt myself here either, but I was shaken to have fallen on such an easy part of the course. I rode/walked out the rest of the course and decided to take a break.

The rain quit pretty quickly, but once again, knowing the course I knew it would take hours if not days for it to go back to good riding conditions. I sat down for a while, then lay down, then slept. After dark I awoke and thought I'd try another lap. On my way out I ran into Squirrel and chatted with him about the race. I had only been out of the race for about an hour, but he was up to lap 10 on his single-speed. I had thought that I was doing pretty well, but finding out that someone on a single was four laps ahead of me was another blow.

After that I pretty much called it quits. I hung out for a while, called Eric for a ride and was back home by about one in the morning. I found out after I changed that I had what is perhaps the hugest saddle sore that I've ever had. I guess I'm glad I stopped. Time to look into a new saddle. 6 laps, 7 hours, 42 miles isn't too bad is it?

Thinking back I realize that I was doing pretty well up until the rain hit. I've ridden two other 24 hour races at Seven Oaks and at each one it rained more (much more) than it did this year. What was different? Well, I couldn't ride the course when it was dry the first year. Rain didn't do anything but bring the competition down to my level, walking. This year, since I could ride most everything dry, rain really slowed me down. Also, the rain freaked me out, I let it scare me. I kept picturing myself crashing and that was a huge mental toll. I thought I was going to hurt myself. I stopped having fun.

I'm not sure if I'm going to do any more 24 hour races. I don't think they're my style. Point to point races are much better for me. First, there's no going around in circles which makes the race seem interminable to me. I look at a landmark, say a tree, and then, ages later, when I think I've made some progress, there it is again. I haven't gotten anywhere and I still have to ride all day. In a point to point race there is new scenery at every corner. It's the same sort of thing for me as having a bike computer telling me how fast I'm going. I keep looking at it and saying, "I'm only going 7 mph, that's crazy, I'll never make it at that rate." If I don't look, if I don't know then I can just ride and have fun. Second, there's just no quitting in a p-to-p. If you're out in the middle of nowhere 20 miles from a town, you still have to go 20 miles to that town. In a 24 It's too easy to quit when the going gets hard. All you have to do is finish out the lap and stop. Not being able to quit makes me work through tough periods in the race and keep rolling. I end up enjoying it more. Finally, I don't pass or get passed constantly on a p-to-p. In a 24 you're always either coming up on someone (rare for me) or having to get over for someone else. It breaks my momentum and makes me feel like I'm going nowhere.

Which brings me to my next topic:

The Endurosnob Epic
Finally, a point to point race. 300 miles of gravel and dirt roads. There are some great photos on the Snob's blog. This sort of terrain really makes me want to get out and ride. Just, what, seven weeks to go? I'd better get rolling. And you'd better sign up. The deadline is October 15th and we need some more people to make this race go. Nick? Cory? Paul? get on it.

TOBASCO
In order to prepare for the Epic, I am planning my own training/fun ride on Saturday, October 8th. I am tentatively calling it the Tour of Boone and Story Counties or TOBASCO (despite the fact that it touches Marshall and pokes into Hamilton Counties and there is no hot sauce involved). Here is the tentative route.

Everyone is invited, but bring both your cruising and climbing gears. The ride will start at perhaps 4am at Ledges State park and finish when it finishes. I figure we'll start in the dark so we don't finsh too much after dark. Perhaps there'll be grilling opportunities afterwards.

I will be checking out portions of the route this Saturday and Sunday to make sure they are actually there. Most of this route I have ridden before, but some parts are new territory. Check out the elevation maps! I've saved the best for last.

The Arrowhead is on!
I'm all signed up for the Arrowhead Ultra again this year. Hopefully I'll make it in. There's a 50 rider limit and those 50 will be determined based on a ride/training resume. I think this is the first time I've had to turn in a resume. And for a race no less. I hope to get some extremely slow riding in this December and January to prepare for the inevitable pace of the race.

Books
Since I last wrote I've read one book twice, Wendell Berry's novel, Jayber Crow. This is a break from my usual routine. I usually read a book and then quickly move on to the next, but this one caught my attention so much that I had to read it again. This is certainly the best book I've read in the past couple of years and perhaps the best book I've ever read. I won't say too much about it since I can't do it justice, just read it yourself.

The elves have been lazy.

2006-08-30T18:30:00.000-05:00

Not much time. I'm at work so here it goes.

I have a new (old) bike. An old Schwinn that I'm turning into a Grant Peterson bike. Cotton bar tape and eventually a Brooks saddle. Looks nice.

50 mile ride with Cory last weekend. Lots of nice B roads. The pictures don't do it justice.

Thinking about putting on a 15o+ mile ride in October. You'll probably need lights.

24 hour race in Boone this weekend. I signed up. Now I've got to do it. How to get motivated?

Books I've been reading:
Harlan Ellison, various short stories. More to say on this later.
F. Paul Wilson, The Keep. Dracula vs. the Nazis. What more can I say.
Edward Abbey, The Monkey Wrench Gang. A nice fantasy.

Stealing the internet

2006-08-14T23:59:00.000-05:00

I went for a gravel ride Sunday. I used the route that I'd planned on using a few weeks ago, but a little more successfully. Nick and I left at about 11 Sunday morning and began our leisurely tour of the Dragoon Trail in Boone County.

It was warm and hazy for the first 25 miles or so, but as we climbed up from the Wagon Wheel bridge we started to hear thunder and feel the drops. From there until we finished at about 7 it was nothing but rain. The rain wasn't too bad, goodness knows I'm used to it, but it stung a little on the downhills when I got going fast and I couldn't see too well. Speaking of stung, around mile 23 or so I was stung by some sort of insect that got caught in my beard. It hurt, but what more can I say about that.

After an hour or so of heavy downpour the gravel started getting soupy. I could tell when I was getting into the soft stuff because my tires would start to roar like there was an old truck coming up from behind. That and I'd slow way down. Around mile 40 the gravel got so bad that I was in my 34x25 low gear and struggling on the flats.

I always look forward to the Y Camp hill (mile 46) on 166th Ave because it's the steepest toughest thing around, but it was too much this time. Things were going pretty well most of the way up, but just as I could see the big willow at the top a car came up from behind and I moved over to make some room. The soft gravel at the side of the road did me in. I walked the last 100 yards or so. Nick, coming up from behind, saw me walking and gave up himself. I probably would have done the same. We took a long break at the top and ate my emergency Power Bar to try and recover. That's the first time I've been defeated by that hill. I vow revenge.

By mile 55 or so we were both spent. The hills and the soft gravel were too much. Nick was having to stop every mile or so to rest, and truth be told, I wasn't doing much better (not that I'd admit it). With about 8 miles to go we hopped on the paved road back to Ames. It was amazing how my bike, even with knobbies on, seemed to pedal itself down the road. A huge relief from the mushy gravel (worse than the gravel on TI2, good thing there weren't any B roads). Roadies have it too easy, I say.

Quick Links:
I'm trying to add some links in my text to make this blog more accessible to those who don't know what I'm talking about. Here are some extras.

Confrontation isn't my style. This seems more like it. Nice bike Lindsay.

I won't be making the GTDRI this weekend. Unfortunately I'll be working. I guess someone has to.

Moving

2006-08-13T00:20:00.000-05:00

I've had a busy couple of weeks. Nine Mile, visiting family in Michigan, and moving have all kept me from blogging as I ought. Where to start?

Moving has been an experience. I'm moving most of my stuff by bike and since I don't have to be out of my old place right away I'm taking my time. So far I've moved most of my clothes and about half of my books. I'm trying to get organized and get rid of excess stuff at the same time. We'll see how that goes

The new place will not have a TV, internet, or a telephone (my choice) so I'll be more out of touch than ever. I hope to continue my blogging at work and at the library, but since most of my thinking is done at night I'm not sure how that'll work out. I might find myself a computer to use as a glorified typewriter and write out entries at night and then upload them the next morning at work.

Since my roommate and I agree on sparing use of A/C and he has even later nights than I, it seems as though I'm back in the dorms. The humidity, late nights alone, lack of worries about waking anyone up, and the insular environment are similar to those times I spent pacing back and forth sporadically listening to music, thinking, and reading in my college days. I kind of like it and I feel as though I could sink back into that sort of vague existential mood I embraced back then. I think that might be a mistake though. I should really be getting out and doing things, becoming more active, rather than staring at walls for hours on end. I'm older than I used to be and don't feel like wasting my life all over again.

Please excuse any misspellings. The spellchecker is down.

24 Hours of Excuses

2006-08-01T23:05:00.000-05:00

Oi, Nine Mile wasn't what I'd hoped it would be. Despite my moderate ranking, I'm pretty disappointed with my performance. No one to blame but myself though. Here's the run down.

The course wasn't what I was expecting. I had heard that it was fast and not too technical, but I didn't really know what I was getting into. I guess it's where I live, but I have always felt that a mountain bike course is defined by the climbs. Instead of being hilly though the course was virtually flat. There were a few climbs, but they were all middle chainring stuff, nothing you had to gear down and grind up. I also expect tight singletrack with switchbacks heading up the climbs. Instead the course was rolling open double track for about 2/3 of it's length. Actually this part of the course was kind of fun and made me wish I had brought my cross bike.

The other third of the course was tight twisting singletrack that seemed to go nowhere. While the course was flat it was also bumpy in these parts. I'm not used to tight and flat and combined with the bumps there was just no way I could conserve momentum. Some people really seemed to fly through these parts, but I just couldn't do it.

The biggest problem on the singletrack though were the rock gardens. There were more rocks on that course than in the whole of Iowa, it seemed. I've never ridden anything like it and I didn't know how to pick lines or keep my momentum up through these sections. I got the impression though that rocks like this, or worse, are par for mountain bike courses in much of the country. Most people seemed to handle them well and flow right over and through these sections.

On the open sections my endurance training came in handy and I'd pass a lot of people who were struggling while I was barely pushing the pedals, but as soon as we got to the singletrack my weakness showed and all of the people I had passed and more caught and passed me. It was frustrating yo-yoing back and forth like that. I felt like I should be more consistent, like I was going too hard on the doubletrack, but I never felt like I was working too hard or even breathing hard. I even saw some people climbing short hills in their lowest gear and having trouble, I don't get it. Am I a good rider or not. I couldn't figure it out.

All the tedious singletrack wore on me pretty quick. By lap four I was starting to dread those sections. I had forgotten commandment one of endurance racing: ride your own race. If I had been thinking straight I would have said to myself, "just walk the parts you can't ride and don't worry about everyone else," but I didn't. I became annoyed with myself for not being able to ride what I figured were easy singletrack and rock sections. I guess I considered them easy because I wasn't busting a lung out there. I never had to catch my breath or felt my legs burning. It wasn't mountain biking the way I know it.

On lap five I had a hard crash transitioning from the singletrack to the road. I caught my crank on some dirt and was launched over the handlebars. I landed squarely on my chest. For a second I thought I had knocked the wind out of myself, but I hadn't. I grabbed the bike and pulled it off the course and started to get a serious head rush. I felt dizzy, my head hurt, and I heard buzzing in my ears. I had to sit down. I knew I couldn't ride that way. I began to wish that I had hurt myself worse so that I could drop out of the race. I knew the damage wasn't that bad though. It would just be an excuse. After a few minutes my head cleared and I started to ride again. My head wasn't in it anymore though. I felt tired, not physically, but mentally. I wanted to quit.

I finished out the lap and started another, but noticed that when I started to breathe heavily my chest hurt. I also started to feel sleepy. That was enough for me. After the end of lap six I went back to my camp. I figured that I would rest for a while and see if I felt better later, but I really didn't expect to. I went and chatted with Kyle and Ron from Irwin's and then decided to go to bed. I knew that I shouldn't have quit, but by that time it was dark and I was dreading riding the rocks in the dark. I kept picturing myself falling and breaking an arm or something. Looking back it wouldn't have been a problem if I had ridden my own race and just walked when I felt like it. I couldn't sleep and my body wasn't tired or sore, but my mind didn't want to race anymore.

I finally fell asleep with the thought that once it was light I'd get in a final lap or two, but the weather had other plans. At about 5:30 in the morning the storms started again. The wind wasn't as bad as the previous night, but the rain and lightning were worse. Again I thought of riding on slippery rocks, falling, and breaking an arm. I got up and walked around for a while, took a shower, and called it quits. It turns out that after a bit of a fiasco with delays and restarts the race was called at 5:30. I couldn't have gotten those last few laps in anyway.

If there's anything I've learned from this race it's to not pay attention to perceptions of what I should be doing and focus on what I can and am doing. In my first 24 hour race I couldn't ride large chunks of the course, but that didn't deter me. I just swallowed my pride and walked up those hills. If I had done the same thing at Nine Mile I would have gotten in probably four more laps without much trouble. Looking back my lap times weren't that bad. If I had continued at that pace, or even a little slower I would have been fine. As it was I did 80 miles in 10 hours with no physical exhaustion or soreness. That is at least some sort of accomplishment.

It was worth going up just to see everybody from my previous races. Endurosnob, Paddy, Simmons, and Kerkove from Trans Iowa, Charlie Farrow from the Arrowhead and more whose names elude me just now. It was good to go to a race of almost 900 people and still feel like I was known and welcomed. Maybe I'll give it another shot next year

For now I'll just have to look forward to the 24 at Seven Oaks. Now that's a course I can get into. Climbs like you wouldn't believe. Bring your granny ring and your good set of lungs. If you're looking for a good small 24 I can't recommend it enough.

As to that riser stem, Paddy, I love it. It is part of the solution to hand numbness problems I'd had on other 24s. That along with the Ergon grips kept my hands feeling great all ride. I even rode the first four laps without gloves (I'd meant to wear them, but I forgot and didn't want to stop) and felt great. Yeah, it looks funny, but so do I.

Almost ready...I think.

2006-07-27T01:05:00.000-05:00

The bike is good to go. I installed a new rear derailleur, chain, and shifters today, all SRAM. No bell though. I couldn't find one I liked. The bike is cleaner than it's been in years (not saying much) and everything has been inspected. Nothing could possibly go wrong...Right?

The clothes are in the washer and I'm starting to get all my gear together. Now I just need to stock up on some food, drink, and chamois cream. Anything else I'm forgetting?

I think I might make my goal for the race 200 miles. I don't really know if that's reasonable or not. I'd have to do 15 laps at an average speed of just over 8 mph. Seems slow I know, but I'm a pretty slow mountain biker. Actually, after some thought that's about twice as fast as I did the Arrowhead (with sleep) or 2/3 of my Dirty Kanza speed. Maybe I can do it if the course is willing.

In literature:
I returned a book to the library unfinished today. Thomas Pynchon's V. wasn't doing it for me. It seemed too much like something assigned in a high school lit class. Well written to be sure, but I just couldn't connect with it. 100 pages in and nothing but party hopping.

Something I often look for in a book is that I can empathize with what is going on. I couldn't do that with this book. I didn't see any of myself in it. Now, a good book can make the alien seem familiar or the familiar seem alien and I can respect that, but this was just keeping the alien alien to me. Besides, the symbolism was a little bit heavy and that always gets me.

I decided to try the book because one of the blurbs on the cover of a Phillip K. Dick book I was reading called Dick a "poor man's Pynchon." Well, why not try the rich man's Pynchon I thought. I returned it and checked out another Dick novel.

Nat'l Champ? No.

2006-07-26T01:14:00.000-05:00

I've got my ride up to 9 Mile all set up. I'll be RVing in style with some guys from Irwin's in DSM. The trade off is I have to be willing to go to quilting shops with the support crew/drivers. I'm doing the solo thing, but I won't be Nat'l Champ material. I didn't want to pay for a license and heck, I know I don't have a chance anyway so I'm just a "solo freak." I'm still thinking about bringing up the 1x1 just in case, but I really think I'll ride the Rocket 88. I've got some new SRAM X7 and X9 stuff for it and I can't let that go to waste. Is it okay to do major parts overhauls days before a big race? I thought not.

Actually this isn't really a big race for me. I'm going to take it pretty easy. I think I'm going to focus more on the point-to-point endurance stuff rather than the 12 and 24 scene. My real goal is seeing how long I can make it before sacking out. I'd like to do the whole 24 without sleep, but based on past experience 2am is the latest I can make it without a nap.

I'm not really into the 24 thing. Something about crowds and going around in circles. Seriously though, the crowds do scare me and the partying. I don't know if I want to be on the trail with that many hooligans (and I mean that in the best possible way Dave). I probably should have done the Laramie Enduro. I've always wanted to go to Laramie and 70 miles of mountainbikeing seems like a good excuse. Oh, well. Next year.

Non-bike stuff: My friend Pinky challenged me to write a short story and so I did. We settled on a Sci-Fi time travel theme. It's pretty short. Maybe a page or two. It's not ready for the public yet though so you'll all have to wait before you see it...Maybe a long time.

Movie Reviews

2006-07-24T23:59:00.000-05:00

I've seen more than my share of movies in the last few weeks as well. Here are some one minute reviews.

Superman:
It's a Superman movie. What did you expect? It's got all the essentials: Lois Lane, Lex Luthor, kryptonite, etc.. The new actor looks too much like Christopher Reeves. The whole 'son of Superman' thing doesn't work. Pretty thin really. And let me get this straight. Superman can get stabbed with a shard of kryptonite, almost die, barely be able to stand, then suck it up and still save the world by lifting a continent into space? I want a refund on my kryptonite. It just doesn't hurt Kryptonians like it used to.

Pirates of the Caribbean 2:
Not too bad. At some point the love story got lost (as though anyone was paying attention) and it turned into a vehicle for action (well, I guess that's no surprise). Good effects, some great sequences, but it doesn't hang together like the first one. Some action sequences seemed to last forever. The film was about 30 minutes too long. I'll see #3, but probably on videotape like I saw Star Wars Episode 3.

The Aristocrats:
A film about a joke that isn't funny. I know that no one will listen to me, but this is a pretty worthless documentary. I know you'll go out and see it anyway, I guess you have to, but the film has little redeeming value. It is disturbing and gross at the best of times and pretty boring most others. The high point of this film is Gilbert Gottfried. Enough said. See it anyway.

A Scanner Darkly:
I just saw this one tonight so I haven't had time to wax pessimistic about it. Good film. A good examination of drug addiction and drug culture. It delves deeply into realms of paranoia and helplessness, using others and being used. From what little I know of the addicted personality this seems to be accurate. At times we can laugh at the absurd actions of the characters, but at others we have to cringe at their logic and rationality in irrational situations. I like the cringing. It also goes into drug rehabilitation and recovery though not as much as I would have liked. This is a topic that has deep interest to me. So yeah, see it. It's some of Phillip K. Dick's best writing adapted for the screen. I'll have to read the book now, though I wish I had read it before seeing the film.

Updates

2006-07-23T19:35:00.000-05:00

Gravel Grinder:
Two weeks ago I did a gravel ride with Eric. It was a hot day and neither of us were really prepared. It was Eric's first gravel ride and with a new bike to boot. I decided to really put the hurt to him and plotted a tough hilly route through the Des Moines river valley. By about mile 32 the hills had been enough for Eric and I wasn't feeling too good either. We turned around, headed into Boone, ate some sliced turkey and rode back to Ames. Not a bad ride, but we'll do better next time. We were chased by only one dog. A big disappointment there.

Bob Roll just said "Bougie."
What can I say. I've been watching the Tour these past few weeks and that has kept me from writing as I should. Now it's over and hopefully things can get back to normal.

Lantern Rouge:
That's French for dead last. That's how I did in the Iowa Games this year. In the time trial I was last in my age group and missed my goal of 30 minutes for the 20k race. The mountain bike race was indefinitely postponed. Then there was the road race. To make a long story short I was dropped by the peloton after about 5 miles and had to ride the rest of the 52 mile race alone and way off the back. At the feed zone (where I had no one to feed me) at mile 26 someone yelled, "nice effort." Great. Just what I wanted to hear. With about 10 miles left to go the race director's van started following me down the road pulling up race signs and markings. As soon as I crossed the finish line they pulled it up off the road. Demoralizing. I hope that 9 mile isn't so bad.

Crosscheck Challenge

2006-07-09T00:26:00.000-05:00

Here's tomorrow's route for all of you following from home. Lots of hills, mostly gravel. Start at 1:00pm, my house. End at Stomping Grounds sometime before dark. What else you want?

Dog Gone Ride this weekend

2006-07-06T01:41:00.000-05:00

Just a quick post today. Sunday is looking good for a gravel grinder. I'm thinking about doing a route that I did before TI where I was chased by, at least, 30 dogs. Up to 5 at a time. It'll probably be better with a group. Lots of hills and I might throw in an extra section down by Ledges just for fun. Eric and Nick are coming for sure, I think Cory knows about it, but everybody's welcome (sorry I didn't get in touch with you last weekend Paul). I wanted to write more, but, you see, there was this bike race on TV that I just had to watch.

It's the Pits for me.

2006-07-04T23:24:00.000-05:00

I felt pretty awful today so it's a good thing that Eric and Cory showed up and dragged me off of the couch for a ride. I had woken up early for work, not eaten, drank a beer after work, and all I really wanted to do is sleep. I was really hoping that no one would show and I could just go on sleeping.

Originally the plan was to ride at Seven Oaks, but the clay soil out there is notorious for slippery footing after rain. Plan B was a gravel ride, but that didn't sound too exciting so we compromised on a ride out to Peterson Pits. We pushed pretty hard going out and gave Eric a taste of gravel riding. None of us were really set up for gravel. Eric was on his single speed and Cory and I were on full suspension bikes.

Once we got out to the pits we previewed the Iowa Games race course. Much of the time we rode at speed, but after a while we mellowed out and just rode. My bike was acting as a stick magnet and as soon as I got one out of the derailleur another got caught. I think my shifting is a little off now, hopefully I can get it taken care of when my SRAM X-7 stuff shows. Horses had torn up the trail pretty badly and I'm not sure whether having suspension was a help or a hindrance. With all the little bumps it seemed like the suspension was always active and dragging me back. I think I would have been happier on a rigid bike using my legs and arms for suspension. Probably I need to get a rear shock with adjustable rebound, but I'm too cheap.

As we were headed south along the river I tried to hop over a log and crashed. My first thought was that I had fallen poorly and landed on my hands which is a mistake, a good way to break a wrist. Then, seeing that my wrist was okay, I checked my knee which had hit pretty hard, but it seemed okay. I got up and started riding again only to realize a little further down the trail that my right leg near the Achilles tendon was pretty scraped up. I stopped a bit further on and had a look at it. It was ugly. It looked like someone had taken a potato peeler to the back of my leg and ankle. There was a four inch "peel" of skin hanging off.

I don't usually carry a first aid kit with me while riding. I've never had an injury that I felt needed attention. I figure the injuries I'm really worried about are broken bones and there isn't really much I can do with a first aid kit for that. This is the first time I've wanted something. It wasn't a serious injury, but it looked bad and I wanted a bandage to cover it up. Pretty much all I could do was remove the flap of skin and keep riding.

After that we decided to head back home. It was a pretty short ride overall. A little under 3 hours, but it was good to get out and stretch the legs. It made me feel a lot better overall. The ankle injury isn't too bad. It just looks like someone painted a red stripe on the back of my leg.

Does this mean Hushovd will win?

2006-07-03T23:41:00.000-05:00

The satellite TV is working better today so I've been watching the Tour. The Tour isn't really all that exciting at this point. I'm more enjoying the sight of bicycles on television. All this doping controversy along with that one guy who won like seven times or something has got me thinking though.

I think that the prevalence of the "who wants it more" attitude has made doping inevitable. The person who wants it more is obviously the one who cheats. Of course the race isn't really about who wants it more. It is about who is the best cyclist. I'd bet that the guy in second wants to win as much as (or more than) the guy in first. However, the person who wants it more might be willing to do something a little underhanded to get the win. I guess that's pretty obvious, but at the top levels everyone want to win so much that cheating is an unsurprising result.

I'm glad that I don't care about winning that much. I think that's why I go in for the endurance events. The race is as much against myself as it is against anyone else. Especially in the point-to-point races or extreme conditions races it is just a challenge to finish. When I signed up for the Arrowhead race all I wanted to do was finish. I was really pleased with my result, but mostly I'm glad I finished. In a way I'm glad that I didn't manage to finish Trans-Iowa because that makes finishing the others more meaningful. I'm not testing myself if I succeed every time. What's the point of cheating when the only one who cares is you and you'll be happy just making it to the finish line.

Another phenomena that I've noticed is that of the comeback from injury and eventual triumph. Think of LeMond after his shotgun wound, or diver Greg Lougainis after hitting his head on the board in the Olympics, not to mention that one guy with cancer. I can think of other examples from people I know. The formula seems to be: be close to the top of your game, get hurt, recover and gain sympathy, come back and win.

It's possible that it's just a fluke, that for every miraculous recovery there are dozens of normal wins, or maybe it's just that at the top of any sport you're almost guaranteed to get hurt at some time (okay, this doesn't work for LeMond or Armstrong, but it might apply to many others who suffer from sport related injury, think of mogul skiers and knee surgeries). It seems to apply in other walks of life too. Almost die climbing a mountain, become successful in business. Recover from alcoholism and become president.

Whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger...right? I don't think so. I've seen too many contrary examples. I think people just like a good story. In any case please don't push me down the stairs and think you're doing me a favor.

Rained out at Seven Oaks

2006-07-02T19:23:00.000-05:00

Well, I did that Seven Oaks ride I was talking about, but it didn't turn out the way I'd planned. I rode out Saturday at about 4pm and got there with plenty of time to spare. The wind was pretty strong out of the west so I had to gear down on the gravel. I was only chased by one dog so I'd consider that a success.

Once I got there I set up my hammock to hold my campsite and went out on the trail. There were a surprising number of campers there (probably because of the holiday and free camping), but none of them looked like cyclists. I had really hoped to have the place to myself, but I should have known better. The trail was in good shape, dry and packed, and I was able to clean some sections that I hadn't been able to ride before. Four dabs and three dismounts for the first lap. I'm slowly becoming a better technical rider. After the first lap I laid down in my hammock and rested for a while. After about half an hour of rest I went out for a second lap. I did better as far as dabs go, I don't think I had any, but I dismounted four times and one of those was over the handlebars. I still can't get the hang of those downhill switchbacks.

After that I made some mac & cheese, tried a yogurt granola bar (pretty good, thanks Amy) and laid down for some more rest. It was tough to relax the way I'd wanted to with the other campers though. They had some bad music blaring, kids crying, 4x4 pickups revving, and other general noisiness. A little before dark the races started up at the Boone raceway to add to the general hubbub. Did I mention that you can hear Hwy 30 and the railroad tracks well too? I think I should have opted to ride into one of the harder to access campsites down in the woods. It would have been a lot quieter, but I would have had more insect problems.

Just after dark I started to hear thunder, I hoped it would pass me by, but it just kept getting closer. I got up and rigged my tarp over top of the hammock and hoped for the best. Shortly thereafter it started to rain. I hoped it would be one of those quick rainshowers, but I wasn't in luck. The storm lasted all night. At first I stayed pretty dry, but then I started to get splashed and the longer it lasted and the harder it rained the wetter I got. I started to get cold and though I knew I wasn't in any life threatening danger I knew I wouldn't get much sleep if I didn't warm up. I hadn't brought a sleeping bag since I hadn't counted on getting cold, but I had brought my emergency blanket. You know, one of those Mylar sheets. I've used them before and they aren't too bad, but they don't breathe at all. So I had to choose, damp and cold, or soaked and warm. I chose soaked and warm.

I could feel water trickling down my body and insects crawling all over me, but I was too tired and uncomfortable to do anything about it. At least the thunder and rain cut down on the disruptive noise. I put up with it until morning when I decided I'd had enough and got up to make some breakfast. I've had some pretty miserable nights out and this wasn't the worst, but it definitely ranks as "miserable." I pulled quite a few bugs out of my gear, including two grasshoppers and a spider out of my helmet. After making some more mac & cheese I decided to pack it in.

I had planned to stick around for the IORCA State Championships today, but I thought that with the rain and so on the race would be cancelled and I didn't want to spend $30 to ride (if you can call it riding) on a muddy course. I rode home through Boone on the pavement in the rain and had to wait for a long train at Jordan, but I got home pretty quick anyway. I was home by 8:40. I hung up my wet things, showered, and took a nap to make up for the restless night.

So yeah, I guess I had a good time. Hopefully the trail will dry out by Tuesday for Cory and I and anyone else who'll be joining us (Paul? Eric? Nick?). I'll have to rethink my packing list for ultralight camping though. I don't really care to be that miserable on a longer trip.

Update: it seems that the championships were not cancelled. Oh well. I'm a slow XC rider anyway. I'm trying to watch the Tour on OLN, but our satellite reception is horrendous. Sometimes I can tell they're on bikes but most of the time it's colored squares and "Geo...capie...Pelo...eak awa..." and so on.

Book Review: The Man in the High Tower

2006-06-29T00:34:00.000-05:00

I just finished reading Philip K. Dick's The Man in the High Tower. Briefly it is an alternate timeline wherein Germany and Japan win World War II. Nothing too exciting about that. Now how does Dick deal with it?

Dick's world has the two Axis powers dividing up the U.S. much as the Allied powers did with Germany. The Japanese are largely benevolent towards the occupied lands, however Germany continues along a path of extermination and police/military rule. The two Axis powers are also positioned in a sort of Cold War much like that between the U.S. and Soviet Union with proxy wars being fought in regions of Asia and South America. It seems that Dick doesn't want to stray too much from actual history here, but rather attempts to merely juxtapose the players.

One interesting facet of alternate histories for me is the possibility that moral problems are historically constructed. Winners write their own history. Portraying Nazi Germany as a "good" victor would be challenging and interesting version of events. Disturbing sure, but imagining a world where what was done was good is the kind of stretch I look for in this sort of book. Dick does a little of this, but ultimately the Nazis are still disfunctional and evil in his opinion.

One major theme in his book is the concept of "historicity" or that which separates the historical from the mundane. Think of the difference between a flag and a flag flown over the White House. Same object, but one gains a certain (though limited) amount of historicity. To illustrate this some of Dick's characters are forgers of historical artifacts. They have no qualms about flooding the antiques market with forgeries of Civil War revolvers and Mickey Mouse watches. Through the course of the book one particular forged item becomes a piece of history and must be contemplated as such. What is this ephemeral "historicity" is it real and what is it good for? Something to consider in the age of E-Bay where a wad of celebrity chewed bubble gum is worth bidding for.

Another theme is that of reality versus fiction. Dick presents us with a book within a book, The Grasshopper Lies Heavy. This book presents the characters with an alternate reality in which the Allies won the war. Although different from the way things actually turned out it does turn the eye of the character back towards the reader. This becomes even more convoluted when a few of the characters come to the conclusion that the events of The Grasshopper Lies Heavy are reality and they are living in a false world (Interestingly the notion that they are living in a false world makes historicity impossible).

What does it mean to live in a false world? It doesn't make sense to me to say that although everything that we see says one thing, what is actually going on is another. Why would anyone believe that the events of a book are more real than what they live every day? It seems as ephemeral as historicity. There are some clear parallels here to The Matrix movie, but in that case there is a real difference (however unlikely one is to find it). I might recommend the film Total Recall as an example of this inability to distinguish real from unreal (Not suprisingly Total Recall is based on Dick's own short story We Can Remember It For You Wholesale, which I have yet to read). This theme of living in a false world also harkens to Dick's own belief that we are actually living in ancient Rome and history has not progressed from there. It's a tough one to buy into.

Races anyone?

2006-06-28T00:54:00.000-05:00

I took Cory's lead and signed up for Iowa Games today. I'm planning on riding to each event and doing every event on the same bike. Gotta have a gimmick.

I was planning on riding at Seven Oaks this weekend, but as Paul pointed out there's a race there on Sunday. Well, I wasn't really planning on racing this weekend, but I might just do it. There's free camping the night before so I think I might ride out on Saturday, do a couple of practice laps and work on my skills, then camp out and do the race in the morning. It'd be a pretty good weekend adventure and perhaps I need one of those. In some ways I hate XC racing, mostly because I'm not any good at it, but it can be a powerful motivator for improvement. Even if I decide not to race I could ride out, camp, and watch the race. That wouldn't be so bad. I'd get all the riding and wouldn't have to compete or spend too much money. Besides, I need to try out my ultra-lightweight camping setup.

Oh, and the IORCA website says that Seven Oaks is 7 miles now that they've added another 1.5 miles of trail. But I thought it was 7 miles two years ago. I don't know who to believe anymore.

Why do I have to do everything X-treme?

Blog resolve fading

2006-06-26T23:34:00.000-05:00

I've been terrible about posting. Sometimes I get on these kicks where I do something religiously (brush my teeth, cook for myself, bike every weekend, etc.) for a while, but then I skip one day and everything falls apart. Classes while I was in school were like this, as was martial arts when I did that, and fencing too. I don't like being the kind of person who is so flaky when it comes to commitments, especially self-commitments. I don't know if it's a responsibility thing, wanting to quit, or just laziness. In any case I don't want blogging to become like that. I really do want to learn to write better and I think that this is helping. By the way, harassing me about it won't help. As my friends and parents know, this can solidify my failure into a will to fail.

Wedding Attended:
My roommates got married last Saturday. It was a good ceremony and reception, not much more to say about that. They had some edible Legos as party favors (or whatever they're called at weddings) and that was pretty neat. As usual when I get dressed up I forgot something. This time I forgot my belt and had mismatched shoes. I tried to find a belt at my parents' house, but there was no hope of wearing the two belts I found in my father's closet. As for the mismatched shoes, I have two pairs of dress shoes and they look pretty similar. Every so often I grab the wrong two. At least this time I got a right and a left rather than two rights that I grabbed for another wedding.

Mountain bikes ridden:
Bob and I went biking at Seven Oaks after work today. According to Bob's cycle-computer the course is now a full 12 miles. Wow, it's tough. The first half is very tight and there is a lot of climbing and not a lot of opportunities for carrying speed or resting. The second half is much more relaxed and makes you feel like you can at least attempt another lap.

I only crashed a couple of times and I seem to be getting pretty good at the uphill switchbacks. The downhill switchbacks are another story however. I get unnerved and feel like I'm going to crash. One of these days I'll gain some confidence on these and then I'll be a much better rider. I'd better hurry though. 24 hours of 9 Mile is coming up soon. Oh, and if anyone is heading through or near Ames on their way up to Wausau and has room for another bike and rider I'd like to beg a ride.

Adding to the list of demoralizing things I've heard recently:
Dave Nice, the awesome guy whom I met on TI, had his bike stolen on the GDR. Add this to the rash of stolen seatposts and headlights in Ames, the theft of a good customer's new (and well deserved) bike, and a cyclist getting beaten up by an SUVer in Des Moines and you might say I'm not feeling so great about being a cyclist. Sometimes I feel like the whole world is against us. I know I shouldn't let it get me down, but somedays I feel like throwing in the towel, getting a car, a credit card, phone, mortgage, and taking up golf. I suppose golfers have their problems too.

Psychologists as portrayed in Sci-Fi

2006-06-21T00:38:00.000-05:00

Lately I've been reading a fair amount of science fiction. The past five books I've read have all been by Frank Herbert (of Dune fame) and Philip K. Dick (best known for Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep). All of these five books have had psychologists/psychiatrists as supporting if not main characters. Psychological professionals as presented in these novels are very different from the way I typically think of them.

Herbert portrays them as all knowing behavior predictors. They are able to tell what a person will do far in advance and use that information to advance their agendas. Psychology is an accurate and predictive science in Herbert's view. This seems to imply a rather simplistic model of the human mind. As if psychology were like elementary physics and we could predict behavior as though it were a cannonball on a trajectory. In reality it isn't so easy. No reputable psychologist would venture much more than an ordinary human guess at what a particular person might do in a particular situation. There are just too many variables to consider in each person. The science deals more in generalities than specifics. They can say what many people would do (and perhaps propose an explanation why), but not what the individual person would do.

Herbert's view seems like it might have had some weight in the popular media forty years ago when he was writing, but it seems to have little now. Science fiction is sometimes portrayed as a picture of the future. Viewed this way we can see that Herbert thought that psychology would someday become like the 'hard' sciences and be a predictive tool. Looking from where we are today though it seems foolish. We would never expect Dr. Phil to be a swami who knew what others were thinking and could control them with a word or gesture.

Dick shows psychologists as inept know-it-alls who have a psychobabble explanation and a snake-oil cure for any problem. In some respects he sees them similarly to Herbert: he sees them as people who believe that they hold the key to human behavior. They think that they see the true motives behind actions and have some control over them. In fact they are deluding themselves with their own fancy words and concepts.

Dick presents the popular view of the psychoanalyst who can come up with an after-the-fact reason why someone has done something. Dick is critical of these psychoanalysts and sees them as vain and self-important people who believe that they have it all figured out, but can't make heads or tails of their own lives. This cynical view helps Dick to give more credibility to the views of 'insane' people, a theme that appears again and again in his novels.

The psychologists, psychiatrists, and psychoanalysts whom I have known don't tend to fit in either of these models. First, no one takes Herbert's predictive model seriously. As far as Dick's view goes, most psychologists and psychiatrists won't venture into the realms of motivations or mental states, but stick to simple correlations. In the case of clinical psychologists and psychoanalysts, most are hesitant to offer up patent explanations for behaviors and would rather listen and offer a few suggestions or hints to help the patient/client.

Atkins' Diet + endurance ride = bonk.

2006-06-20T00:33:00.000-05:00

I went for an epic ride with Cory yesterday. It was to be a simple gravel cruise on the Rocket 88, but events conspired to make it a long 5 hours on the bike. Lets look at what these events were:

1. It was a longer ride than either of us figured. Cory's estimate going in was 50+ miles, but after some quick and dirty calculations with the map it seems that we went at least 60 miles. Now an extra 10 miles doesn't seem like much, but consider item 2.

2. We both ran out of water with about 10 miles to go. Cory ran out a little before me, but he seemed to be in better shape during the second half of the ride. I was really dragging and while no water for 10 miles usually wouldn't be too significant, consider item 3.

3. It was over 90 degrees out. I was unprepared for the heat. I didn't have anything in the way of electrolytes and only a little food, which brings me to point 4.

4. I didn't eat any breakfast that morning. I rarely do before rides and usually it doesn't make much difference, but I think that it could have helped for this ride. Besides, I didn't have anything in the house that I could have eaten for breakfast, see item 5.

5. I had accidentally gone on the Atkins' Diet for the previous couple of days. I happened to have a lot of eggs and hamburger around so that's what I had been eating. Hamburger omelets. I did have a little ramen, but that hardly counts. I really needed more carbs in order to do a ride like that.

So that's about it for analysis. Next time I'll know a little better. Not that I'll listen to what I know, but at least I'll know it.

Book Review: Guns, Germs, and Steel

2006-06-18T23:40:00.000-05:00

Jared Diamond's Guns, Germs, and Steel explores the topic of human history through a rarely seen and yet compelling lens. Diamond sees history as the interplay of evolution and accident (one in the same by some accounts, notably mine). First I'll explore what is meant by evolution and accident.

Evolution, in biology, is generally thought of as "survival of the fittest." We think of one species being better suited to a climate or food source and prospering while another is poorly suited and failing. In the short run this is a reasonably accurate view. However, evolution is not a short term process. We have to ask ourselves, how did these two species become different. This leads us to the true mechanism of evolution, accident.

In some sense, evolution might be thought of as "survival of the luckiest." By this I just mean that if one species happens to live in a particular place it will do well, while if it happens to live in another it will do poorly. The same species then is both fit and unfit, depending on the circumstances.

If we view human history as evolutionary then we can see that some cultures have flourished and others have failed. Why? Genetics? Well, yes, that is a factor (though only one), but only on the surface. We have to look beneath the surface to find the accidents that led to this and other factors.

The biggest factor that Diamond sees is geography. Where a people live, what resources are available, in terms of plants, animals, climate, and communication and migration routes are what makes for success or failure.

Diamond is sensitive to the fact that this makes him look like a historical determinist. That is, history is an inexorable march that can not be slowed, diverted, or changed. History is fixed. He defends himself by claiming that history is unpredictable because of it's accidental nature.

While he is partially right, we can't know what, exactly, will happen next, we can still make some predictions about how it will happen. He might not be a historical determinist, but he does seem to be a historical fatalist. There's not much we, as individuals, can do about it. We can't make the less fit culture predominate, because it would therefore be more fit.

Diamond makes much use of the somewhat controversial science of linguistic chronology in showing the various waves of migrations that have populated then displaced, assimilated, or destroyed those populations. In order to defend this science, much of the book is dedicated to giving evidence for it's usefulness in establishing dates and relationships among peoples. This topic is at least as fascinating as his main historical thesis and deserves (and probably has many) a book of it's own.

The only problem with Diamond's book is it's practical application. What exactly are we supposed to do about the bad things in history if history is fatalistic? Diamond mentions that this avoidance of the mistakes of history is the purpose of his book in the introduction, but only alludes to it vaguely in the main text. The book appears to be largely a curiosity for overeducated people such as myself.

If I had to draw a lesson from it, and this doesn't seem insignificant, it would be: don't take history too seriously. More specifically, don't be too proud of who you are or your homeland. We are all immigrants of some sort or another. Using historical lands as a guide to whose land is whose is a false way of deciding political arguments. Also, our genetics is an accident rather than a cause of history. Thinking of oneself as superior based on genes is wrong.

This review was hastily written and poorly edited so don't put too much stock in it. This book is a thought provoking and very readable. I recommend it and not just because you'll look intelligent to your friends.

No more griping about work.

2006-06-16T01:20:00.000-05:00

I had another pretty interesting conversation, if you can call it that, at the coffee shop this evening. A guy whom I sold a bike to last week was looking a bit lost and so I waved him over and asked if he wanted to sit down. He did, well sort of. First he asked if I'd rather stand. I said no and he sat. He seemed to have a really short attention span and couldn't seem to string two sentences together in a very coherent way. His responses to my questions or comments were vaguely related to what I had said, but not quite right.

He asked what I was reading and we talked about that for a while. He made some comment after looking at the cover like, "I can tell you that there are better things you could be reading." I asked him what he considered good reading and he said that he wished that he had never learned to read. I tried a different line and asked what movies or TV shows he preferred (he had previously expressed that he had some interest in these). The Chapelle Show was the only one he could come up with. He asked if I read a lot and I said yes. Then he said something like, "So you prefer to do this than live?" I told him a little about my philosophy of reading, but he started to glaze over. He said that if a book didn't catch him in a couple of sentences then it wasn't worth reading. Same thing with TV or movies. He said that he was an artist, photoshop and photography.

He started flipping through the book, looking at the pages, but not really reading them. It was like the letters didn't mean anything to him. He seemed to have a lot of trouble with symbols and ideas. He asked if the book wouldn't be better off as a tree. It was as though looked at things as objects without meaning or context rather than as objects with a use, purpose, or deeper significance. He didn't seem dumb, but he didn't seem to be in the same content-rich world as I am.

Then he asked me if I had a flag. I asked what kind of flag, thinking that he meant something like a personal flag (based on his art background) and he pulled a US flag out of his backpack and gave it to me. He gave me a talk about proper ways of displaying the flag and we discussed that for a while (about two short exchanges which seemed to be about the best he would do). He then decided it was time for me to go and told me to "say one for Uncle Sam," whenever I saw the flag.

Odd. I'd like to know what goes on in some people's heads. If I had to make a diagnosis I'd say schizophrenia (based on his inability to see things for other than what they are, though this doesn't mesh well with his artistic aspirations), but it might just be drugs. Who knows? It was actually kind of enjoyable though difficult for me to have a conversation with him. I've seen him hanging around quite a bit so maybe I'll get to talk with him more. Anybody need a flag?

Bike stuff:
I'm starting to get used to riding the Rocket. I've finally got the seat at the right height and I'm starting to remember how to ride a full-suspension bike. I hit a couple of tough technical climbs in the area (very short, but steep with no way to carry momentum) and re-learned how to use my gears and body weight. The headlamp is also taking some getting used to. The long ride I'm doing this weekend should teach me how to conserve energy on the bike. Something I haven't quite figured out with this bike. The bike also feels a lot sketchier on gravel and loose stuff than my Crosscheck. I feel like my tires are going to wash out in the corners. Maybe it's the higher CG or perhaps it's the suspension that is taking some getting used to.

A couple of classic dreams

2006-06-15T01:02:00.000-05:00

I just had a dream that I was arrested for running a subversive website. I was caught because I rode the Rocket 88 in to work which is the only bike I have licensed. The police found my bike, impounded it and waited for me to show up at the station. In the dream I fell for it.

I also dreamt that I was at work and one of my co-workers had flooded the basement up to the ceiling by plugging the drain. I kept working while wearing scuba gear, flippers, and an inflatable PFD. I was annoyed primarily about all the cardboard getting wet.

Why aren't YOU out riding?

2006-06-14T00:52:00.000-05:00

I finally managed to fit in a ride. Last winter while I was training (or pretending to train) for the Arrowhead I plotted out a loop through town. The idea was that if I'm tired, it's dark out, snowing, or I just don't feel like a real out of town ride I can do this loop and still manage to get some riding in. It links together all the in town singletrack, a lot of bike paths, a little gravel, and some hilly roads to make an at least 12 mile workout. I really don't know how long it is, but it took me about an hour to complete it tonight on the Rocket. I've now ridden it three times. Each time I've been sitting at the computer, read someone's "why aren't you out biking" comment, stood up and gone biking.

I found out yesterday that a friend of mine was in a pretty bad cycling accident on TOMRV last weekend. Apparently he went down while descending a pretty big hill. I don't know all the details, but he broke a rib, punctured a lung, and suffered two seizures on the way to the hospital. He's conscious, though sedated, which is at least something good. I've never ridden a bike with him, but from kayaking and XC skiing with him I know that he has the right attitude to pull through something like this.

Head injuries scare me. I've met too many people (mostly through work) whose lives have been affected by them. It's one thing to be physically disabled, but to be mentally disabled is incredibly tragic. Sometimes the person before the accident and afterwards seem like different people (I won't delve into philosophical and psychological ramifications here). I don't have much reason to think that this has happened to my friend, but it worries me nonetheless. Take this as you will, but most of the people I've known with serious head injuries were riding a motorcycle without a helmet when it happened.

I'm getting way behind on book reviews. A couple of Rushdie novels and Guns Germs and Steel are in need of reviewing. I've also been reading quite a bit of sci-fi lately. The good stuff, Philip K. Dick and Frank Herbert, not fluff. Dick's troubled characters and unique time imponderables along with Herbert's sociological insights have kept me too busy reading and away from writing. Maybe I'll have to do a series of one-minute reviews or something like that.

I'll never qualify for RAAM at this rate.

2006-06-12T23:42:00.000-05:00

Guitar Ted's ride has been moved to the 19th of August. I just might be able to attend. I think I'll try to get Friday beforehand off from work and ride up, then ride back on sunday. Lets see, that'd be 100 miles on Friday, 150 on Saturday then another 100 on Sunday. 350 miles in about 60 hours with sleep. Do-able, but tough. I think I'll give it a shot.

Perhaps I shouldn't be so cavalier about it. I didn't manage to do the 120 miler that I was planning on for last Saturday. Lots of little things came up that, when taken together, prevented me from riding. I needed the rest, but on the other hand I need to ride too. I haven't ridden since Memorial Day, two weeks ago, and that was just a 40 mile road ride. Nothing to brag about.

Over the weekend though I got a good look at some gravel roads in the NE part of the state. There were some pretty nice hills and great views up there. I was hoping that G-Ted's ride would head out that way, but it doesn't look like that'll be the case. I'll have to make it a bike destination someday.

Tomorrow I start my Rocket 88 only training. I'll be riding the Rocket to and from work and on every other ride I do until 9-Mile. I need to get used to the way the bike handles and figure out if anything needs to be changed before the race. I'm thinking about some SRAM X-7 and one of those funky Titec Jones bar ripoffs.

Back on the blogger wagon

2006-06-08T23:19:00.000-05:00

I've been breaking my resolution, such as it is, this week. Now it's time to catch up with the blog and see about some bike riding. First the news:

An 18 hour LAN party/bachelor party last weekend kept me off the streets. I haven't done anything like that in years. Endurance computer gaming is tougher than endurance biking for me. Good to see old friends though. Civ 4 is a pretty okay game, but I'm a little sick of it.

Work is as crazy as ever. A guy came in today with a "Winnipeg Centennial 1874-1974" sticker on his old Sekine. He was trying to peel it off. I thought it was a shame to waste such a nifty sticker myself.

It looks like I'll be doing a 120+ mile gravel ride this weekend. I'm biking to Cedar Rapids on Saturday and then hopefully getting a ride back by Monday morning. Tomorrow I'll have to photocopy some maps so I don't get too lost.

Speaking of long rides, Guitar Ted's endurance ride later this summer sounds like fun. I won't be able to make it though as I'll be in Michigan that weekend. I like the idea of more semi-organized rides popping up in the area. Perhaps I'll have to do my own someday. Perhaps Paul could do his Stratford century ride or something.

Joe Partridge also made some good points about travel time vs. event time. His rule, as stated on G-Ted's website is:

Sounds like fun, but I have a new rule: I won't drive to ride unless the total ride time is greater than the total drive time. That means TI is in (26hr drive, 27+ hour ride) but DK (26hr drive, 16hr bike) is out. The GTEF (Guitar Ted Endro Fest) is also out.

I made a similar rule for myself after an ill-concieved kayak trip to North Carolina and Georgia. I don't think that my rule is quite so strict as Joe's though. Fun/experience time is also counted into my equation. Thus for me DK was: 10hr drive <>

What else did I miss?

2006-06-02T00:15:00.000-05:00

Hopefully everybody stopped by the shop today for the Cannondale demo. Rumor has it there was even a new Cannondale 6 there. I don't know for sure because I was chained to the bench for 10+ hours today. So if you didn't see me at work today it just means that I was working on someone else's bike.

I've been slacking on the blog these last few days. It may continue to be that way for a while. I'll see if I can divert some of my attention to writing, but I just don't know right now.

The real trick to writing a blog in my opinion is not what to write, but rather what not to write. I could go on about personal details or trivial incidents of my day for pages, but that wouldn't be appropriate for me. Certainly it is appropriate to the medium. What is a blog if not a place to publish whatever you happen to fancy? A place to rant and rave, say sappy and inappropriate things to perfect strangers.

But I know better. Many of my opinions are better left inside my head. There's no need to get others concerned, infuriated, or bored by them. Not only that, but a blog is not anonymous. People read this and thereby know something about me. I have some control over what people know about me and what they don't. I tell some things to some people and not to others. If I publish my thoughts on the internet I no longer have control over who reads them, who knows about me. Therefore you'll never read my innermost secrets on this blog.

I've taken up enough of your time for one day and revealed more of myself than I probably should. I'll try to get back to something less trite tomorrow.

It's a go for 9 Mile

2006-05-31T00:37:00.000-05:00

I signed up for 9 Mile today. It looks like it'll fit in my schedule and I guess I can put up with the crowds that are likely to show up. My major trepidation is that I'll get into trouble with passers like I did two years ago at 7 Oaks. Some speed demon tried to pass me too close while yelling "on your Right" too late. Sure enough, I panicked, swerved and nearly took us both out. He had a few choice words for me.

I accept some of the responsibility. I have to remain in control of my bike. I should have just kept riding straight and all would have been fine. However I think that much more of the blame goes to him. I think this guy was on a team and pretty fresh (otherwise he wouldn't have been going so fast), but he has to know that there are some solo guys out there who are taking their time and a little tired after 18 hours on the trail. I can't be expected to be especially quick and alert at that point. Second, he should have let me know he was coming a little earlier not when he was already beside me. Third, we were on a pretty narrow section of singletrack and I'm not sure there was really enough room to pass. There probably was, but it was close. In my opinion he should also have waited for some sort of confirmation from me before proceeding, something like moving over (which I had been happily doing all day) or saying "okay." At least that's what I try to do while riding paths in town.

I understand that it's a race and all. Maybe I'm the one out of line here. I'd hate to be the dumb guy who cost him 1st place, but I don't think that's the case. Whatever the case, I'll try to be more alert at 9 Mile where I'm bound to be passed dozens of times. I'll also bring a bell.

How'd tutoring go?
Glad you asked. It went okay I guess. It's tough to teach someone who isn't on board with the philosophy program. Sometimes I wanted to say: "read it again and pay attention this time." It's probably too late for his first exam, but what he really needs to do is improve his reading comprehension. He needs to not worry so much about the big words and try to figure them out from context. He also didn't seem to like it when I said things like "Well, you could argue this two ways." Really I figure the first session is more about finding the problems rather than quick solutions. Besides, reading Kant is always tough.

Another weekend without internet access

2006-05-30T00:16:00.000-05:00

I've been a little lax in my riding lately so the 40 mile road ride I did with Nick this morning was great. Not a big deal and we didn't try to race or anything (the heat wouldn't have allowed it anyway), but just some good miles. I seem to be pretty much recovered from Dirty Kansa. The saddle sores are about healed and my legs are just great. The unfortunate thing is the sunburn that I have from riding without sunscreen today. It's not hurting too much yet.

Seven Oaks was once again rained out. One of these days I'll make it out there on a dry day.

It looks like I'll be tutoring a student in ethics for the summer. I'm not really sure I'm up to the task, but I'll give it my best shot. The first assignment is Kant and Mill. Mill is easy enough, but Kant has to be the most difficult philosopher out there. I re-read some important works from both this weekend. Kant is certainly easier this time around (probably the 4th time). Not that he's easy, just easier. Ethics has never been my strong suit, but I think I can get the points across. I just hope that my tutee "gets" philosophy. Some people don't quite understand what the deal is: that there is no right or wrong answer (per se), just sound or poor argument. This guy seems smart enough. I think that he just isn't comfortable with how different a phil. class is from any other discipline.

Dirty Kansa: Nutrition, Equipment, Strategy

2006-05-26T00:00:00.000-05:00

Nutrition:
There were two considerations in my nutrition strategy. The first was the heat. I wanted to make sure that I wouldn't get dehydrated or low on electrolytes. In order to do this I filled both my Camelbak and waterbottle with Ultima replenisher drink mix (raspberry flavor). The stuff tastes good and works for me. It's supposed to contain B vitamins which are purported to improve endurance. Whatever it does I was happy with it. In the second half of the race I switched to Elete because the additive was easier for me to carry than the powder. It seemed to work okay, but I prefer the flavor of the Ultima to flavorless Elete. It's like that old dandruff shampoo commercial: "Both have effective dandruff fighting medicine, but only Selson has something extra that tingles." Ultima tingles with flavor. Ultimately I think I drank about 9 liters of liquid during the race. That seemed to be about the right amount. I just drank whenever I thought of it, whenever I felt tired, or felt a headache coming on. Unlike some other racers I did have to stop and relieve myself several times during the second half of the race. That's a good sign I think.

The second component was the food. I decided early on that I'd eat something every 10 miles of the race. Usually I ate one of the fig bars that I had stashed in my jersey pockets. Since I carried them unwrapped and loose they were easy to get to and stuff in my mouth. I can't stand having to open and dispose of wrappers while I'm trying to concentrate on riding. It took me a couple of tries to get the hang of eating them without getting out of breath. The thing to do is chew as quickly as possible and then swallow. Follow quickly with a drink and everything's fine. If I try to chew on it for a while and take my time with it then I end up trying to breathe through my mouth while eating which is a bad idea. Sometimes I'd have an energy gel. Usually I had these when I was stopped or had just completed a hill or major milestone. I probably only had 5 of these during the race, but they were a welcome change from the fig bars. At Cottonwood Falls and Eureka I ate something like 2 fig bars and a gel. That seemed to work for this race, but for something longer like a 24 or TransIowa I think I'd need to eat some real food at some point.

Equipment:
I chose equipment pretty well for the race. The Surly Crosscheck with 42mm tires was about perfect. I had a mountain bike ready for this ride, but I decided not to take it based on course reports and the fit of the bike. Sure it was rough and my forearms and rear-end paid the price, but I don't think that the mountain bikers fared any better. I was expecting the downhills to feel sketchier on the cross bike, but I never felt out of control and rarely had to touch the brakes. I just had to watch where I was going.

The tires I chose were a pair of cheap Cheng Shin wire bead 42mm tires I found in the trash. There is absolutely nothing special about these tires. I wanted to run WTB Mutano Raptor 44mm tires, but I didn't manage to order them in time. They certainly would have been lighter, but I'm not sure that they would have been better in two other categories: durability and rolling resistance. The Cheng Shins have a lot of rubber on them. It would be tough to get a puncture type flat on a tough tire like this. Since punctures are what took down a number of competitors I'm glad I chose to go heavy. On the other hand Dave Simmons ran the course on Bontrager 32mm tires and didn't have any flats either. Maybe we were both just lucky. The Cheng Shins are also fast rollers on pavement. They don't hook up particularly well in the dirt, but that wasn't a real worry for this course. The knobs have an almost connected center tread and that's just what I needed on the 30 miles of pavement on the course.

As for clothing the only items of note were my gloves. I used Ironman Pro gloves by Spenco. I picked up these gloves after having had some carpal tunnel-like symptoms after 24 hour races. I didn't want to be unable to use a wrench for a week after long rides so I tried them out. They work very well for me. My hands did get sore and the gloves were uncomfortable during the second half of the ride, but I didn't have any numbness and that's what counts. The use of drop bars and Cane Creek brake levers might have contributed to my success here too.
My only equipment failure was my Jandd seat bag. At some time during the race the bag fell open and I lost my favorite Park tool kit on the backroads of Kansas. If anyone found my tool wallet let me know would you?

Race Strategy:
My race strategy was simply, "going is faster than stopping." Rather than stopping for breaks in every town I picked the ones that I needed to stop in and ignored the rest. Thus I didn't stop in Council Grove or Olpe. I didn't generally stop and rest when others did so alongside the road either. Whenever I did have to stop I made it as quick as possible and got right back on the bike. By doing this I think I kept up with a lot of riders faster than I am.

I didn't really intend to go out as hard as I did at the beginning. Like in TransIowa I was at the front for a while, but unlike TI I wasn't feeling up to it. I'm glad that I stopped trying to keep up pretty quick, but I should have fallen back earlier. During the first half of the race I averaged just over 15 mph, but for the second half I averaged just under 11. Sure some of that was the wind and the fact that all of the stopping I did was counted in the second half, but I don't like that I slowed down so much. I'd like to even it out more next time. I started to notice that I was slowing down around mile 120. Perhaps it's that I'd never done a continuous ride longer than 130 miles (I did 150 once, but had a 2 hour break in the middle). I wonder if I didn't pace myself well enough for the first half. It's something to work on I guess.

That about wraps it up for Dirty Kansa. I look forward to next year. It was a great, well organized race and there wasn't much to dislike. I personally liked the course markings and maps. I thought that they were great. Much easier to navigate than TransIowa. I know a few people got lost, but that, I suppose, is part of the race. I don't want these long gravel races to turn into orienteering tests. Leave that to the adventure racers.

To 9 Mile or not to 9 Mile

2006-05-25T01:37:00.000-05:00

The question of the day is: Should I compete in the 24 hour race this July in Wausau? No, I won't be national champ, but it might be fun. I've got to decide soon so as to save some money on my registration and start training right away.

Dirty Kansa: Cottonwood Falls to Finish

2006-05-24T00:05:00.000-05:00

At Cottonwood Falls I tried to get everything done as quickly as possible. I wanted to get moving again. In the past, at 24 hour races, I've stopped for too long and stiffened up or fallen asleep. I didn't want that to happen here. I was surprised at who was still waiting around at the checkpoint. Paddy was still there, along with Dave Simmons. There were about 6 people overall who had gotten there before me. I was pretty happy about that. I refilled my Camelbak and bottle, ate a couple of fig bars and a gel and was ready to go.

Dave and I decided to ride together for a while. We rode together for a while and chatted about the Arrowhead race and TI2. It was pretty flat with good roads for a while. About mile 100 things started to get hilly and the gravel got rougher. We crossed over our first cattle grate and into open range territory. I seem to be a pretty good climber and so the hills didn't phase me, but rather gave me energy. At times I gained some distance on Dave, but I couldn't keep it. It wasn't really my intention to drop him so I was okay with it. Soon we crossed over Interstate 35. It was interesting to think of people speeding through the area at 70+ mph, not noticing anything, while we were crawling along at barely 10 mph and enjoying it immensely.

We caught sight of someone ahead of us. I thought it was Paddy. He had left shortly before us and whomever was ahead was riding some kind of mountain bike and was climbing like a singlespeeder (or so I thought). Before we could catch him though we saw someone coming up from behind. I had no idea whom this could be, but Dave thought it was Paddy. (Can Paddy be in two places at once? A question for Paul.)

Around this point we started up a long incline. Actually we had been climbing more than descending for some time, but now it started to get serious. It was never super steep, but it went on for longer than anything around central Iowa (not too hard to find I guess). As we got to the top the rider behind caught up with us. It was Paddy. Dave was right. He said that he had gotten lost and wasted about 45 minutes. Considering that he had only left 15 minutes or so before us he must really have been moving. He passed us as we got to the top of the hill and began to ride along the ridge. Dave chased him and I tried, but my body wouldn't let me. I knew that if I chased I'd be cooked for sure. We also caught the rider ahead of us here. It was a guy on a Salsa Dos Niner, geared too. I guess my intuitions about the single speed thing were wrong. I rode just behind him for a while, but he was a little faster on the rough roads and he soon dropped me.

This ridge was the highlight of the ride. It was more like being above treeline in Colorado than being in Kansas. There was just grass and rocks, lots of rocks. The bedrock poked through in many places and it made it seem almost like a moonscape to me. Very different from what I'm used to back in Iowa. The area was studded with oil rigs, some operating. That sort of added to the mystique. I saw a few pickups with trailers alongside the road, but didn't see anyone around. It took me a while to figure out that the trailers were for horses and that whomever was up here was going around on horseback. Some terrains really are impassable by motorized vehicle. I wonder if a Pugsley would do.

After riding on the ridge for a while we hit the downhill. This was a terrific downhill: fast, rocky, long, somewhat twisty, but there was never any need to brake. I felt really confident descending, but was convinced that I'd soon have a flat tire. I didn't have that flat and soon I was back pedaling along in the flatter valleys. Soon it seemed, I was out of the open range and back in civilization. The roads widened, became smoother and I was able to pick up speed a little and not get beaten up by the rocks.

It didn't seem like long and I was in Eureka. I thought I was home free on pavement all the way through town , but I was wrong. The race organizers had routed us down the (seemingly) only gravel road in town. It was rough and had some double track if I recall correctly. At the Casey's I caught up with everyone else. Paddy, Simmons, the guy on the Dos Niner along with a few others. I refilled my Camelbak and since I was out of Ultima powder I had to use the Elete capsule that I had with me. It didn't taste as good, but I think it got the job done. Dave gave me some of his Sun Chips and I was soon on my way.

Paddy had left just before me and I knew that Simmons was right behind. Soon though Simmons passed me and then, not long after, a rider on a black Crosscheck passed me. I felt like I was losing ground, but there was nothing to be done. I knew that if I started to push hard here I'd never make it the remaining 50 miles. I rode alone for a while. There was a long 8 mile stretch into the wind, but once I started I hardly noticed the wind. I just kept chugging along. About halfway through the 8 mile stretch I caught the guy on the Dos Niner. He was standing in the middle of the road talking on his cell phone. I asked him if he was okay and he said he was. I wonder what he was doing. I thought at the time that he might be dropping out.

Towards the end of the 8 miles was the worst water crossing of the ride. A short steep downhill into a rough, rocky stream. I was forced to brake and slow down for fear of losing control or pinch-flatting. Right afterwards though was a super-steep uphill. I had to stand and grind and still I barely made it. From the tire tracks it looked like others had had problems too. Some tracks weaved side to side more than I'd think was efficient.

As I reached mile 170 the hills started up again. There were some nice views and I saw some bird that was small, black and white, had a long tail, and liked sitting on fences. Kansas sure does have a lot of interesting birds. I was getting pretty tired of riding a bike so it was nice when Joe Partridge caught up with me and said he wanted to ride together. He said he was happy with his placing (2nd single speed) and just wanted someone to talk with and make the time go faster. I guess I'm not much of a talker, but it was more company than I'd had for about 50 miles.

We stopped in Madison to top-off our bottles. I only put in about a quart. I figured I could make it the 25 miles to the finish with two quarts in the Camelbak and my 20oz. waterbottle. On the pavement around Madison I dropped Joe for a while, but I never seriously entertained the idea of leaving him behind. First, I knew he could catch me, second, why should I get rid of the only company I'd had in hours. Joe and I helped each other (he helped me more than I helped him) stay on course for the rest of the ride.

Just after mile 180 somebody on a full-suspension bike screamed past us. I hadn't even known he was behind us. I wanted to chase him, but once again, knew I couldn't. The idea did cross my mind though. I had intended to start pushing my pace with 20 miles to go, but now it didn't seem possible. It was getting dark as we rode into Olpe, the last town before Emporia and the finish. There were some huge stadium lights across town. It looked like a baseball game might have been going on. Baseball still seems to be popular in Kansas which I think is pretty cool even though I don't care for it.

We almost missed the last turn at mile 190. We couldn't see any of the markers we were expecting, but the map and our mileage said it had to be the one. The last 10 miles were daunting. I know I ride 10 miles every day; sick or well, awake or tired, every day, but thinking about 10 miles was just too much for me. Luckily Joe saw some fireworks in Emporia (I never did see them) and started talking about his time seeing a meteor shower on TI1. The talking helped to keep me from thinking about how far we had to go and before I knew it we were rolling into Emporia on pavement.

It almost seemed too short. We rode through town and found the hotel and finish line where we had started in the morning without a problem. There were quite a few people there to greet us and someone took our bikes for us. I was disappointed for Cory and Guitar Ted. As soon as I saw them I knew that they must have dropped out. I really wanted to see those two finish.

I know that I could have kept riding, but I was happy to be done. I showered and joined in the finish line festivities.

Tomorrow: analysis of my equipment, nutrition, and race strategy.