Nostalgia

After the sting of winter's cabin fever the 2011 spring has been filled with escapades.

My Ragnarok 105 experience could have been likened to a six hour gravel time trial coupled with two bike maintenance sessions. I was left to chase after my first flat was lengthened by clogged co2 head. Strong winds and the solo ride left me gassed at mile 80 after my second flat put the nail in the coffin. Big thanks to Rick for the tube and the pulls home!

Thirty nine degrees and raining, the Cable Area Off-Road Classic left us block footed and chilled to the bone. After an early effort, I found myself in the lead group with Minnesota's speedsters. Pond size puddles and snotty trails took their toll as the battle of attrition got the better of me. Positively, some good efforts reaffirmed the early season work and the form seems to be coming around. Shout out to Weber for the six speed doughnuts and tropic flavored towel.

"Your shoulder was so grotesque I almost puked." KORC started their Thursday night races at the Whitetail trail system in River Falls. Ten minutes into the race I pulled the eject lever, and in what seemed like slow motion, dislocated my shoulder. Thankfully, the boys and doc put me back together again.

This weekend was a trip down memory lane as I made the short trip to St. Croix Falls. B-e-a-utiful country! I spent some time catching up with the good friends. Frank is opening a bike and ski shop in downtown St. Croix Falls. You may know him as a co-founder of the cyclovaxc club!

A preview of things to come…
Wooly MTB Race

Wausau WORS

Respect!

2011 Season

Welcome back! The spring bug has a way of creeping up on a boy. One minute hibernation, with an occasional cross country ski, and the next, road salted freckled faces and frozen toes. The spring traditions haven’t changed. Talk big before break and find some friends to suffer with. Most importantly, spring break lends itself to some resemblance of planning.

Here’s the “plan” so far:

Ride for On the Rivet “OTR”
Consult with Yoda Training Master
Pain Schedule…

Top Secret Training
Ragnarok 105 v.4
WORS/MNSCS mixer
Top Secret Training
Subaru Cup
Seeley Pre-Fat
O2S
Dakota 50
Fat Tire
Iceman

Respect!

Ice Box Newsline

“Epically chill,” were the words used by Matt Muraski to describe the Ice Box 240’s first annual mountain-bike relay.

A heightened sense of anticipation and unknowing filled the heavy air as riders arrived at the base of Mt. Whitetail. Race organizers later reported, “Gloom and doom weather forecasts spread paranoia into the hearts of the weak.” Total race census hit 36 chiseled legs, accounting for eighteen testosterone jacked riders.

Pre-race meeting was well organized as officials eloquently set strict expectations and highlighted trial conditions. Riders were treated to a wonderful rendition of our countries national anthem by local music phenom, Matthew Bach, on the alto recorder in key Bb.

Fast forward and enter chamois. An adrenaline pumping Le Mans start sent six brave souls into the dark and precarious forest of River Falls. The following teams entered three muddy rubbered warriors: Knight Riders, Thunder and Lightning, Midnight Thunder, The Pooppers, Toptube Steaks, and Pink Steel.

Mid-race terrors were brewing of a phantom menace roaming the woods of Mt. Whitetail. “These are but mere rumors,” said race director Ricky Bobby. “I know what I saw!” yelled one trembling man.

A scalp tingling pace kept teams neck and neck as the cold winds violently blew through the sounds of smack and House of Pain. Fortunately, the caveman, brought fire and fans to warm the spirits of racers hearts and thighs.

After three hours of racing, onlookers gasped as riders arrived within seconds of each other. One eyewitness exclaimed, “The guttural sounds of beaten warriors echoed through the fat tire playground!”

Respect.

ICEBOX 240

Interested Parties can crash at our pad in River Falls!

Rewind...

the tape a couple weeks to mid September. Fat Tire 40 time. Anticipation high. Expectations high. Roll out on main street seemed calmer than normal. The unmistakable hum of the tires reminds you of years past. The acceleration on to Hwy 77 reminds you of the two hour hurt locker you've just been slammed into.

Lost postions on the road. Feeling a bit off, but holding the eye of the tiger. Boxed in! Hit Rosie's top 30, maybe. Knew I had to move up fast. Burned some matches leap frogging groups. 10 sec off pace. Drill it. 15 sec off pace. Top 15 and climbing. Leading a four man charge for several miles. On the rivet, 20 sec down. It is now or never, pin it and chance, or conserve and go home with regret. Pin it!

60 sec off the pace at OO. The Billy Mills tank was low. Unfortunately, I was defeated. I rode the remainder of the race well below red line, disheartened by my tactical mistakes. Being a teacher I understand the value of a good lesson, and I got mine.

Funny how the body tells you enough. I got home Sunday afternoon with a sore throat and head cold. I have been on the bike a couple times this week. I hope to ramp things back up for She-vegas WORS race.

Enjoy the fall rides, they are the best!

Dakota Five-0

Only a 3 second gap...

Pre-ride.

"Look Back!"

A bit scary for a midwest boy at 1200 feet.

Battle Royal

Epic. The only word I can use to describe the weekend. Dakota Five-o, a last minute addition to the race calendar, was like no other.

Our crew hit the road Friday after work for the ten plus hour haul to Spearfish, SD. Accommodations were fabulous in our down town tour guide's parent's pad. Thanks Johns! A special thanks to Mieke for the race support!

Fast forward one day, a good nights sleep, a long pre-ride, some good camaraderie and we were on the starting line Sunday morning.

Smokey the Bear dropped his hand for the parade lead out as we rolled on to, what was to be, the most challenging course of my cycling career. Fifty miles with over 6,700 feet of climbing. Not knowing the who's who of South Dakota's mountain bike racing made things a bit more tenuous as we hit the first climb out of town.

The pace was blistering. A thirty man lead group was instantly whittled down to seven as the lactic tub filled. At that moment I was wondering how a four hour ride could go on at this pace! Pop, Pop! We were down to five riders. It's certainly amazing how hard it is to close a five yard gap at red line on a 15% - 20% gradient.

Into the uphill single track, and off the pace by 5 seconds, I rallied to bridge. Former champs and Colorado natives weren't making it easy. I could see the lead group shatter as the race took shape and gaps formed. It would be an epic haul from here on out!

Climb, climb, and climb was the name of the game. By mid race the knife was dull. With my face on the stem I put the 26 tooth to use. A mental battle more than anything, the race was taking a toll.

Past the bacon station, and a short late race bonk, I found some power for the final climbs. Not knowing the situation ahead, or behind, I knew the final ten miles down to town would be crucial. I had no idea how crucial.

With four to go, a slip of focus, and an evil stump, sent me jetting into the woods. My initial reaction was disbelief followed by a "my collar bone is broken!" Fighting off panic, I caught my breath and remounted only to be caught by two riders. Not good.

Adrenaline closed the gap and I had to quickly make a plan. We hit the final gravel road as a trio. One rider on a single speed and the other milking a 15 psi front tire. I knew I had the single speed in the sprint and railing the final corner would give me the gap over the other. Success.

I rolled over the line in just under four hours of the most painful racing I have ever experienced. I will be doing it again!

See you at the Fat!