The Yearn To Burn...Preview...

I thought if it was ever fitting to preview an upcoming race, this weekend's U.S. National Mountain Bike Championships would be the one.

I just came across a few interesting stats on the XC course itself:

Course lap: 4.2 miles/lap

Steepest climb: 19% grade

Number of times I will suffer up this climb: 6

Steepest descent: -48% grade
Number of times I will try to avoid crashing down this elevator shaft: 6

Total vertical gain: 5400'

Number of Pros expected at the start line: 90

Number of amatuers expected at the start line: 1400

If ever there were a course fitting enough to crown a national champion, this would be the one...

Number of hours I expect to be out there suffering: 2.5

Number of calories I expect to burn during the race: 2700

Number of calories I expect to intake during the race: 620

Number of National Titles I expect the Stunt Double to claim in his class: 1

Number of National Titles I expect to claim in my class: 0

Number of beers I expect the Mrs. and the Stunt Double to consume while cheering for my sorry ass: 7.5

Predicted weather: either cloudless and 85 degrees, or apocalyptic lightening and rain

My expected 'working-class Pro' view at the start line:

Stay tuned...

Winter Park Series #3 and #4...

A dogs' instrument of precision. A tool tailored to deliver a unique, technical flavor. Designed to deliver a heightened sense of each luxurious difference...

Saturday:
Valley Point-to-Point cross country

24 miles

Time: 1:42:02

Saturday's cross country would bring a Pro field of 60 racers to the start line; and almost 700 racers overall. Pretty sizeable competition. Seems more than a few pros were looking for one more chance to tune things up before next weekend's U.S. National Championships.

My instruments of precision; designed to deliver a heightened sense of each luxurious difference...

This course seemed to have everything; hard climbs, fast descents, technical singletrack, and the perfect tree root for me to flip over the handlebars on.

But a hard-fought 11th place would be the result of my suffering for the day; after crashing midway through the battlefield and fighting my way back to pick up precious lost placings.

Sunday:

Super-D

5.3 miles

1620 ft vertical drop

Time: 18:49

For those who don't know what a Super-D is, it's what some might call "downhill-lite." It's a downhill race by all accounts, but enough climbing to keep the true downhillers honest and still enough speed and danger to make your loved ones cringe. That's a lie - enough speed and danger to make ME cringe.

At the start line my legs were waving the white flag loud and clear. I'd dug plenty deep the day before and when it came time to sprint up the courses' initial 200 yards prior to the first singletrack, I just couldn't hang.

I did hang on the descents well enough for 10th place, though, with all my skin and bones in-tact. Talk about funny - after almost 2 hours battling for 11th place the day before, I actually rose one placing in a less-than-20-minute race on Sunday.

....I thought I'd better show this to you now, while it lasts. It's gonna take a lot more than consistency to be in this position at the end of August...

Up next: the U.S. National Championships....

'Cause I Eats My Spinach...

Honestly, I don't know how they do it. I've had 1-2 races per week for about the past 3 weeks and I can't recover fast enough in between.

But I can't understand how they do it day after day at the Tour De F. Granted, they don't work in an office 40 hours a week like me, but I guess that's what seperates the men from the boys.

You know you're burning some serious calories when you finish dinner and 30 minutes later you're already eyeing your breakfast options. These days it's a constant cycle of racing, caloric intake, washing bikes, replacing worn parts, and getting things dialed in for the next onslaught.

Thanks to AboutTheShot photography for letting me use this photo below, and without their permission. AboutTheShot.com: Capturing seriously ego-inflating photography.......

The Right Place At The Right Time...

The weekly lessons continue... Last Wednesday's Sand Creek Series #3 left me limping and bloodied to a 2nd place finish....

Following the surge of pain, me and the Mrs. bolted up to Mountain Command faster then a tank-top to a Slayer concert....

........I was out minding my own bidness, preriding next weekend's race course when I turned up a dirt road I'd not yet traveled...

Not long after, up rides what could only be described as the "Over The Hill Gang" - a gaggle of denture-wearing 60-somethings decked out in some of the best mountain bikes money can buy.

One of them, we'll call him "Bill"was particularly eager to divulge himself of his "locals-only" trail knowledge and proceded to spout off a half-dozen locations of his personally hand-cut trails. You see, local trail knowledge, much like the ski season's local's-only powder stashes are often well-kept secrets. A kind of "wink-wink, nudge-nudge" attitude takes over...

I stood, bug eyed and jaw gaping. Wishing I had a tape recorder I tried desperately to let the local trail tips seep into my spongy brain.

His directions were vague - something like, "down this dirt road look for a big tree stump next to a rock off to the right." Well, that key was enough and would soon unlock a secret door to a twisty, flowy trail no wider than a ruler............

It flowed through seemingly forgotten forests carpeted with knee-deep wildflowers. I was smitten....

I followed his vague instructions to another trail, then another. These trails weren't built for mountain bikers, they were built for mountain biker - singular - to be experienced in the pristineness and solitude of being alone - held gently by this emerald forest and guided through each gentle arc of a turn.....

Prior to departing "Bill" I told him his tips would be "our little secret."

No no, he urged, saying he didn't care if word gets out. Again I was shaken by his stance. Some people are just too generous, I guess.

I was just lucky enough to be riding up a dirt road and came across some guy who knew some stuff. So thanks, "Bill," but still, I'll consider this our little secret...

Winter Park Series #2...

As I finished my prerace warmup ritual of calisthenics Saturday morning I rolled to the start line of Winter Park's Series #2 cross country race.





Glancing around the percolating start line would reveal a Pro field of almost 50 racers; including a 4-time National cross-country champion, a collegiate National cyclocross champion, and a 2-time Olympian, all lined up for the morning's stampede...







In no time the field would string out along the race course's mix of singletrack trail and service road. And within minutes of ducking into the dark forests the brightly colored jerseys would be splattered with black mud. Recent rains had turned sections of trail into bogs of spoke-deep pudding.




After nearly an hour and a half on the frickin' rivets I'd take a hard-fought 7th place in the Pro field; just 2 minutes shy of the top 3. Striking distance, I'd say. Granted, JHK unleashed a mighty fury on us all and put no less than 10 minutes into yours truly, but I guess that's why he's a 4-time National champion, isn't it?










Racing is tough on the body and tough on the equipment. Following the weekend's muddy escapades I've got a total overhaul to do on the bike before the next onslaught.





Tip Of The Day: Make memories, people. Some parcels of time you just want to bottle up and take with you. Cheers to the moments we remember............

Fast Times...

Meet Mr. Berg (pronounced, Burjjj). The toughest dude in mountian biking.

I first met Mr. Berg out at the mountain bike races in about 1992. His presence at the start line of each race made me nervous.

Mr. Berg is the type of guy who's a mountain biker - not a racer - despite having won more races in the past 20 years than most will ever win. Yet he's never "trained" a day in his life.

I make excuses when the weather turns bad - Mr Berg makes excuses to stay out longer in it.

I race in a skinsuit - Mr. Berg races in a sleeveless flannel, on a bike with one gear.

Everyone wants to know Mr. Berg; all the hottest "Johnny-come-lately's" want to go riding with "this old, like, 43 year old dude who frickin tears it up!"

He is still a man of local legend. This guy's passionate, and he has a message...

And summer rolls along...

Wednesday night's Sand Creek Series #4 was a familiar scene, but that never makes it any less painful...

The fact that these short courses change from week to week keeps you on your toes. Quick, punchy climbs and twisty, off-camber descents require not only concentration, but a fresh set of legs...

And after an hour inside the veeeeeeery back of the pain cave while chasing some of my veeeeeery fast ProCycling teammates, I pulled off a 4th place finish.

I think I should start racing in a sleeveless flannel. Screw all this blue spandex crap. If it works for Mr. Berg, then why not for everyone...

Hors Catégorie...

It's rather uncommon to face total gridlock in the middle of a national forest up at 10,000ft.

But it has been known to happen...

You know, I'm really really glad that I found a sport where the training is more fun than the racing..

Cause I just couldn't deal with the countless hours in da' studio...

Besides, with views like this, it's easy to keep coming back...

......To yet another one of those totally obvious trails in the repertoire...

In European road racing (a la' the Tour) a climb that's difficult enough to be rated beyond the 1-5 category scale is deemed HC, or, "beyond category."

Their version...

Our version...

I've got no less than 7 races in the next 3 and-a-half-weeks. So I really need to do a better job of keeping it up..right. Cause, according to some, there's nothing worse than a gremmie out of control...

The Q-Factor...

Just another day-in-the-life...

The boys share war stories about the recent digital cable switch-over. Finally the Stunt Double found a reason to get rid of his tin-foil covered rabbit ears...

My, how times have changed. For those who'll recognize, on the left is my 1993 Marzocchi XC300 suspension fork. 16 years later, today's versions...

I don't mean to get all techy on ya, but I'm demo'ing a 2 x 9 Rotor Q-Rings setup. If it's good enough for Ned Overend and Christoph Sauser, I guess it's good enough for me...

Meanwhile, my quest to infiltrate the local print media continues...

One publication at a time...

Peak Region Cyclist Magazine: Page 18 here: http://content.yudu.com/Library/A18crf/PeakRegionCyclistJun/resources/index.htm?referrerUrl=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.yudu.com%2Fitem%2Fdetails%2F59663%2FPeak-Region-Cyclist-June-2009

Fools Rush In...

If only we could all be this happy, all the time...if only the world were one big dog park...

At the top of Saturday's Winter Park Series opener, gasping at 11,250' I rested alongside a friend and competitor. "What doesn't kill you only makes you stronger." I said, between wheezes. To which he replied,

"That's what they keep telling me........But it seems like the better part of our adult lives we've done nothing but put ourselves through serious physical suffering..."

What a true statement. So one would think such efforts would always yield truly Herculean results. Yet the mediocrity of of some race performance leaves me wondering....

.............I had supremely high hopes of a top 3 finish Saturday, and foolishly, I tried to win it within the first mile. But intermitant glances at my heart rate monitor during this short race displayed disconcerting numbers: at first, 94% max heart rate........then 92% max......90%......88%...........86% max....

Nothing is more revealing about ones physiology; ones training prowess than a hillclimb. It's not a race of skill, it's not about aerodynamic advantages or unlucky flat tires - it is a bare, unpolished ratio: raw power versus weight. It's go till you blo.........

And it has been gravely displayed for many moons that if I go out too hard, I'll unravel quicker'n you can say, "Snap it to a Slim-Jim!" Yet as easy of a concept as "keeping pace" is and letting others do the work early, in practice, for me it is all but impossible.

At the finish I was a respectable, but tormentable, 9th place out of a Pro field of 35.

What are ya gonna do? Some days you have it some days you don't.... And that's the funny thing: it should come as no shock by now that I lack not in self-confidence but the very nature of this blog opens a portal to my very thoughts; the inner threads of my pride, my bragging, as well as my big ol' pieces of humble pie...

Weight Matters...

Just another crappy day here in Colorado. Man does it suck here...

Perched high atop the 11,200ft summit of Mary Jane I gaze as though I'm seeing the views for the first time. This weekend's Winter Park Series kickoff attracts a special breed of people - a 5 mile climb, from the base of the ski area to the summit, in (hopefully) just over 30 minutes.

Thankfuly it's over quick cause it's blow-your-mind painful. I'm trying to secure a SuperMan cape for my rocket-ship-inspired ascent. I'll let you know ...

Sand Creek Series #2...

Nothing makes you howl at the moon more than being at over 90% of your maximum heart rate for over an hour. And Andy's Sand Creek Series race courses have never favored recovery sections. You let up even for a second and you fall behind.





The immenseness of suffering on these short courses is uncanny. But we've no one to blame but ourselves as our pain is truly self-chosen...

So why am I so happy? It's not because I finally got to rock the skinsuit again - I just found out that free-range chickens yield stronger yolks. It could take up to 100 whips to get scrambled eggs. A hundred whips!

So after a 60 minute all-out sprint with the Pro's that left the legs cramping like an engine with no motor oil, I took third place.......saweeeeeet...

The Airplane...

True Story:

Captain Sidney Harrison: 1912-1952

"Captain Sidney Harrison was one of the country's finest soldiers. He had been through the invasions of France and Germany and lived to tell the tale. His last flight was from Wichita to Buckley Air Force Base In Denver. His plane went down in a blinding snowstorm."

While Captain Harrison's remains were removed from the site of his Air Force plane's crash, the plane's wreckage remains to this day...

57 years have passed since that day and every time I visit this place, it's tragedy and its tranquility stir me the same...

This ride is out there. Way out there. Not to diminish the tragedy of what went on on that snowy day in 1952, but as far as mountain bike rides go, this ride is effin' epic and it always has been.

This is some of the Front Range's most obscure, most decent singletrack and it shows. To me, it is mythical. It is legendary....

This ride defines epic. We left home at 9am and didn't return for nearly 7 hours. We saw nary a person once we left pavement. 70+ miles and over 6 thousand feet of climbing. You don't have fresh legs and a snack pack and you're in trouble. The plot thickens and you're at least 10 miles from anywhere...

There's nothing "Buckhorn" about this ride. It's backwoods - the kind of terrain where you wouldn't be suprised to see Jalmer and his shine'n still. You wouldn't be suprised to see the Chupacabra. The kind of place where Jack and Diane drove their '68 Ford Bronco one Saturday afternoon and never returned...

And the coolest part is that we didn't start a single car engine to get there. Granted, we dodged lightening much of the slog home, but that's neither here nor there...

Recon...

Memorial Day. Backyard BBQ's, rain, and 45 degrees. The Colorado high country at its finest...

Seems we weren't the only ones hungry....

After spending the better part of five months atop six feet of snow, you get inbetween one of these guys and its roughage-filled dinner, and you're in for it. Yup, it's situation normal up at Remote Mountain Command. Snow is melting, trails are.......muddy, and things are greening up as if they're on a deadline...

Until you get up high, that is...

I did a little course recon for the upcoming Winter Park Series opener and at about 10,200ft, it soon became "situation February..."

It never ceases to amaze me that with the snow depths of winter it's even possible to have a summer up here. Days like these, though, it's easy to take the weight of the world and make it hollow...

A Rising Tide Lifts All Boats...

We eagerly inch our way to higher elevations; pressing the limits of where the shores of spring meet the tenaciousness of winter...

For every five out of seven days I wish it were just this simple. But there are times in life when it's easy to lose sight of what's real...

It's no secret that I work for The Man. And today, The Man asked me how I manage to keep such an even keel at work - how I always seem to have ice running through my veins. "Don't you ever get stressed out?" The Man asked.

And I answered, with the slightest smile, "I know I was born, and I know that I'll die; but the inbetween is mine..."

Le Beetche'...

While the high country's snow turns to mud, Spring on the Front Range is a fantastic place to be, and so I got to thinkin'...

Trail lingo. It's a funny thing. You know you've lived and trained in a place long enough where simply the words "Jones Park" mean the precise distance, terrain type, and level of difficulty of the ride.

There's no need for "how long are we gonne be out?" or "is it haaaaaard?"

For example, the Stunt Double knows exactly what I mean when I say "Almagre." See, to him, it means, "6+ hours, no lightening in the forecast, bring the snack pack." It's an underground mountain bikers' language complete with verb conjugations and pronoun posession.

Want to go long? All you gotta say is:

"Dude: 9am from home; GOG, Red Rock, Intemann, GC, Columbine, Buck, Jacks, Sesame, Palmer, Section 16, Inteman, Red Rock, Starbucks."

To me that means the following: 4-5 hours, depending on photo stops; 5k feet of vertical, 4 gel shots and an energy bar. 2 large water bottles with a stiff mix of powdered drink mix.

Want steeps? One word: Barr. My way; expect 4+ hours with a killer climb and lots of hikers on the front end, wild flowers galore, 5500 ft of climbing, 4 gel shots and a PB n' J at the Camp. This means nothing to most of you. But to those in the know, it's a dialogue. A training diary. It's a plan...

And some trails you've got what I call "the wrapper." To the newbie, the word "Superloop" might mean nothing more than a huge piece of red licorice. To me and a handful of my guys, it means (without spilling the beans) one-of-the-hardest-rides-you'll-do-all-summer, and, better bring extra beef jerky. No joke.

Even the Mrs. is on board with this mantra. I'll leave here a note with my route on the kitchen counter: "dude: N. Baptist, The Roooooock, Cinco Muertes, " and she knows exactly when to notify the authorities that I've been out too long.

She'll even leave a similar note for me:

"Yo chicken: Rampart, Williams, the 'Fonda: join us after - no spandex allowed."

Yep - I like to say I'm bi-lingual... I'm thinking about approaching Rosetta Stone about this language.. Could be my ticket outta here...

The Usual Suspects...

If you're flawless, you have nothing left to work on.................. And as flawless as my chiseled calves are....

....my late-race endurace has plenty of room for improvement this early in the season.

I found myself in unfamiliar territory for the first 7 of 10 laps around Sunday's Sand Creek Series kickoff in front of the home crowd: leading from the gun...

The thing that's fun about a local race is that you're competing against the guys you train with. And Sunday's chilly and rainy race looked, and felt, a lot like a team training ride, to me...

But I knew the company that I was in front of, and I knew the weakness would come in the final 30 minutes - when things unraveled like a cheap sweater; and when I faded to 4th place. But to be this strong this early in the season is a good thing...

In the end, ProCycling took 1st, 2nd, 3rd, and 4th place; with 5th place a distant half-lap behind us. The mind goes through a thousand emotions during any race - be it 3+ hours or a 60 minute effort. Kudo's to JJ, who finally quit focking with me after an hour and took control; and to the other half-dozen on the team who took top spots in their categories.

One thing's for certain: the sweet relief of the finish line is enough to keep you coming back...

Like Jumpin' Trains To Stay Alive...

I recently got a comment from someone; we'll just call him the Stunt Double, who seemed to be questioning his whole purpose for racing mountain bikes.

In fact, I get that very question posed to me a lot: what exactly are you training for? What are you working towards - you're a "Pro" now, so what does that mean?

I told the Stunt Double I pose that same question to myself during the first, the second, and occasionally third hour of virtually every race I'm in. What the hell am I doing to myself?

Racing hurts like hell. And the training can be a huge scheduling inconvenience, and in 18 years of it I've attained what you might call a "working-class-Pro" status and have never drawn a salary - so what's the point?

The point is simple: To me, it's not an event, it's a lifestyle. Each and every race is like the biggest presentation you've ever done in your career. It's like your senior thesis; like your sales pitch to the CEO. Racing is like getting the nerve up to ask the hottest girl in school to prom and then getting the nod...

And as long as that emotional rollercoaster is in my gut; as long as my mouth continues to dry out as I go through my warm up phase before each race, then I'll keep going. It's never been about the paycheck...

It's about the experience. And if you get a handful of podiums each year, well then, all the more gravy on that chicken fried steak...

Coming up, the Sand Creek Series kicks off. And later, TwoWheeledWorld's origins: before the blog...

Chicken Fried Steak....Seriously.....Chicken Fried Steak...

The last time I woke up at 9am on a Saturday morning, read the entire paper, and ate a plateful of sugar was probably......mmmmmmmmmm....6 months ago. And the last time I did the same on the following Sunday.........call it a year.

And a funny thing happens when you're full of coffee and sugar and you stare outside at the rain all weekend. You start to ponder things. I mean one of the things I was wrestling with all weekend was how much deeper the oceans would be if sponges didn't live there...

It's a damn good thing the sun is back out...

The Best Of Bollywood...

Being able to ride a wheelie for any distance is an elusive skill I've yet to master. Sure, firing off a photo with the zoom lens at 20mph while riding no-handed I've got down. But the wheelies, I leave to others...

Studies have shown that mountain biking improves neuromuscular control far more than other, more conventional sports.

Furthermore, the activity may even help prevent early onset of Alzheimers. Take a look at my recently-installed "Yeti-Cam" and you'll see why. (Sound for the full effect) How are my lines?

YetiCam from TwoWheeledWorld on Vimeo.

As long as you're gonna be trainin' the brain it might as well be fun~

Standby 1...

Testride HelmetCam from TwoWheeledWorld on Vimeo.