Pages

Monday, May 23, 2011

2011 Gravel Metric Trailer

2 flat tires early on made for a fun day of riding rather than racing at the Chequamegon 100. I'll be whipping up a race report soon enough. Biggest takeaway: Even if it's May, bring bug spray on an endurance mountain bike race in the middle of the Chequamegon forest.

On another note, these folks down in Illinois have put together another awesome trailer for their Gravel Metric coming up in a few weeks. Enjoy!

The Gravel Metric -- More Gravel from Seth Deming on Vimeo.

Wednesday, May 18, 2011

The Royal 162 - A True Spring Classic

One day when I am more experienced I will not babble about a race for as long as I did in this report, but it is not this day. I figured this one ought to test your endurance as well.

Now, before I forget, I have to say Chris Skogen is a class act. Driven by a vision to have free bike races available everywhere to everyone, he created the Almanzo 100 a few years ago (as well as a putting together a series of races with other hosts creating races along the same lines)...and each year the race is growing in popularity. It grew so much and so fast that this year he added a big brother to it - The Royal 162. Before going in to too many details I'll give ya the straight dope: Between the two events 730 people signed up to race (the weather forecast was poor and not all toed the line...maybe ~80% if even that), but 177 people finished. Of the 177, 151 people finished the Almanzo 100 and 26 people finished the Royal 162. I finished the Royal in 8th place. Results

I headed down to Rochester on Friday at about noon with my buddy Brent. We stopped at the bike shop to pick up a few last minute supplies, then proceeded to the bar and grill where the registration was taking place. Chris and I ironed out the few details of upgrading from the 100 to the 162. We swapped out the cue cards with another fellow who was hoping to downgrade, so that worked out. The bar was pretty packed, and last year Whistle Binkies was the ticket for a fine selection of beers and good food, so we headed there instead. There are 2 locations in Rochester, so we thought this year we'd hit the one that we hadn't been to. Surly Furious on tap made it dangerous to stay there for too long, so after grubbing down we made a quick touristy stop at the Seneca Foods where my old man used to work, and snapped a few pics of the corn cob water tower.




By the looks of it I'm pretty sure Brent thought it was edible. Considering I'd be crushing rocks for 12 hours the following day I thought it was appropriate to get the rock in the picture.

Anyway, we headed back to the hotel where I would make the final bike adjustments, laminate my cue cards, and stuff myself full of food until the coma was induced. We left the window open overnight and I was awoken by a rapid drip-dripping. Crap, my Camelback must be leaking...oh no, Tuscobia nightmares all over again! Ah nevermind, it's just the rain gutter draining right outside the window. Crap, it's raining...and, it's kinda cold. I closed the window for some peace and quiet, but with race jitters up the wahzoo I didn't sleep very well after that. The 5 am wake up call rang - I bounced right up, threw on the kit, loaded the bikes, and we were on the road to Spring Valley by 5:30. This was perfect as it allowed a solid 45 minutes to let the jitters settle, and I got to ride around and loosen up a bit. I realized it was a cold and wet 42 degrees and the forecast wasn't any better. I would be needing every article of riding gear that I brought with me. Looking around the parking lot, scoping out the scene, bikes etc., I recognized some dudes from all of the blog-reading-internet-creeping I do. I introduced myself to a few guys. Everyone was very friendly, welcoming...and a good vibe of mutual respect was present. We were all meeting guys just crazy as ourselves. It was great.

I toed the line about 15 minutes early and just waited. Along came Farrow, Meiser, Pramann, Buffington, and many other very strong looking riders. Being that they are finishers, winners and record holders of races such as the Arrowhead 135, The Tour Divide, The Tuscobia Ultra, The Trans-Wisconsin, Trans-Iowa, The Iditarod Trail Invitational...and the list goes on...these are the big boys here in the mid-west. I felt surprisingly comfortable. I was ready.

A quick run-down by Skogen and the guided roll-out began. About 1 mile down the road they cut us loose as we hit the gravel. A slightly unexpected mud splattering ripped the tightly knit pack apart. Everyone quickly spaced out a good 10 feet apart as our faces, bikes and teeth became covered in grit. The first thing that came to mind was...Holy crap this is a major game changer. Leading up to the race I felt I was well rested, well fed, and well prepared, but now I had no clue how the day was going to turn out. This was ridiculous. I would try to hang. Just hang, for as long as I can.

Sticking up front near the first 10-15 dudes I was hanging at best. The pace was quick. Not redline quick, but they were pushing the hills pretty hard. As the strong guys warmed up I could tell it was getting even easier for them to push up the hills. Easier than me at least. I started slowly drifting back. I saw Joe Meiser ride way out front...I thought,Damn, there he goes already...but he pulled over to the side of the road for a bathroom break. The group passed him and so did I, but about 1 minute later he effortlessly muscled up the hill and fell right back in with the lead group. I was impressed as I was suffering up that same hill, getting gapped by the leaders. I let them go...about 12 of 'em. I managed to keep 'em within about a 1/2 mile for quite a while, but I really didn't want to chase hard and pop early, especially on a day with bad conditions. Rain, mud, high winds...and it wouldn't let up all day. There wasn't much for drafting, as you would simply be eating the mud right off the dude's rear tire. Here's a shot of the lead pack in the 100 mile race taken by Kyia Anderson. This basically sums up the conditions.




I looked back and noticed a few stragglers between me and what looked like another group of about 8. Why am I just sitting here out in the open wind half-ass chasing down this lead pack? Screw that, I'm slowing down...I'll go back and sit with those guys for a while. Slipping in the second pack I was surprised to see Farrow and Pramann in the group. Pramann mentioned before the race he was recovering from something medical (I think), but Farrow threw me for a loop. I already lost the lead group, and I knew for certain that we had some tough guys in this group as well. Where the heck do I fit in? Am I over-exerting already???

By the first (and only) designated rest/drop/refill stop we had picked up a few guys who dropped off the lead pack, and we also lost a few of ours. 7 of us were now coming in to Preston, and Pramann says "I gotta stop in Preston and regroup or something". I asked, "Anyone else going to Preston?". Nope. The course and the group took a right...so did I. Wow, we lost Pramann, I thought to myself. Something wasn't quite right if that was happening. Charlie Farrow however, would not falter. In fact, I don't think I would have finished the race were it not for this guy. He's a 52 year old teacher from Duluth who has spent a lifetime on a bicycle, and has seen more miles than everyone in our group combined. The revised goal: hang with Farrow and you will finish strong.




I saw the photographer early enough to photobomb a Bruce face. A few cronies know what this is all about.

At mile 49 the 162ers left the Almanzo 100 course and began our own little adventure down to Iowa. As we were coming up on a small section that was an out & back loop, we were wondering what this note on the cue card at mile 58 was all about:

"Follow marked course through "yard" and into woods."

Approaching said section, this ended up being the last time that we would see the lead group for the day...off in the distance I counted 6 remaining, with two or three stragglers hanging between us. "There they are!", Farrow proclaims..."Why are they riding so slow???". Someone else says, "I bet they already completed the out & back loop...must be rough".

Coming up on the private driveway Skogen was standing at the entrance with a cigarette in hand. "Welcome to Hell" he says, as we make our way down the driveway past a few beautiful horses who are nearly jumping the fence antsy to run with us. Riding down the hill across a bumpy cow pasture riddled with pies, I chased Farrow and one other fella. Forced to cross a dried out ravine peppered with rocks, I rode through it right behind the two in front. In to the woods, up a steep hill requiring a dismount and some jogging, then back on the bike to ride a bumpy jeep trail for a few hundred yards. We then approached the same ravine further "upstream". The ravine being about 30 feet deep and crisscrossed with dead trees like a game of Pick Up Sticks, another dismount was required. After a hustle down in and back out of the ravine I looked back to see the gap increasing on the others. We rode through another field or two and Farrow, Ben Doom (I think), and myself came back on the road smiling. Farrow yells, "Man that was pretty fun!"..."Now we gotta ride another 100 miles though!". Nuff said.

Quick break- Here's a pic of my buddy Brent chipping away at the 100. He bagged it at Preston then rode pavement back to the start. Prior to Saturday, he had been on 1 ride this year, so I'm sayin' 60 miles for him is pretty damn good considering the day.




So anyway, Farrow, Doom (eventually Farrow would refer to him as Doomsday) and myself kept pushing along. Mile 64 approached and the cue card reads:

"You will soon be entering Harmony. This is the last city of any size for the day".

At this point I had drank both of the water bottles in my cages. I had a Camelback with another 2 liters and a smaller bottle in my jersey pocket, but for the remaining 100 I played it safe and refilled the bottles. I told Farrow I was running in to the gas station to refill, and he says "I'm gonna keep going, you'll catch me man!". "Uhhh....ooook" was my response. "NOOO man, you will!!!". I bolted straight for the Gatorade, grabbed 2 liters, straight to the register....swiped my card and I was out the door. By this point my wind-proof fleece gloves were sopping wet, and my hands were so cold I couldn't open my water bottle...I didn't think I screwed it on very tight, but maybe I did. I wedged it between my legs, took my gloves off, wrung them out like a sponge and used both hands to reef the cap off. Back on the bike, and here's Farrow and Doom (I think, unless it was another guy and Doom was out front...) riding by the gas station again. They took a wrong turn! We pushed along.

By this time the field was pretty thinned out. The lead group had one hell of a gap on us, and we had a solid gap on the crew busted by the cyclocross course. We slowed our pace to a more comfortable level, and casual conversations commenced. Farrow on several occasions, "You're riding pretty strong, man! Great job!". Constant confidence boosts. "Man, way back there even Pramann said you look strong! And Pramann knows man!". For the next 50 miles or so I was on cloud 9 listening to Charlie's antics and war stories from various epics. Things like, "You gotta do the Arrowhead man! That's the big one around here! I look forward to that one all year! It's like 30 or 40 below sometimes, and some people hardly finish, and a lot don't finish at all! It's so fun!", or "Maaan, the life of a worm...that's gotta suck man...I mean you survive the whole winter underground, then you're just crossing the road one day and SPLAT!" When someone is still this positive regardless of the fact that we're covered in mud, soaking wet, and freezing our b's off, you realize it's really not all that bad. I guess there's truth to the old adage: "A bad day on the bike is still better than a good day at work". Either that, or this guy is just one tough old feller...




At mile 100 we came upon a truck serving pizza, beer, and coke. A few buddies of Skogen got the OK to set up an "unofficial" aid station at mile 100 on the Royal course. This was awesome. We stopped briefly to chow a slice, then kept moving. The pizza must have helped Doomsday, as he caught a second wind and dropped us in the end. The pizza also helped John from Fargo - he caught us (after initially being in front of us and taking a wrong turn). The pizza didn't sit too well with me. I was suffering again. By the last "checkpoint" at mile 110 I told the guys I had to stop, get off the bike, and eat the rest of my Clif bars as I was starting to bonk. Charlie and Doom pushed on, but John from Fargo seemed fine with stopping. He was also a good guy, so it was nice to have someone to chat with for the remaining 40. We were both in survival mode at this point, so we paced it out.


2011 Water Crossing from Chris Skogen on Vimeo.



There was one creek crossing on the course. It was the same as last year's, but it was now at mile 138 on the Royal course. Approaching it I didn't hesitate to hop off the bike and trudge right through the knee deep water, as I knew we were near the finish. It felt like "room temperature"...so it was probably pretty friggin' cold. John and I muscled through the remaining miles. We had to walk up 1 hill - it was steep and long! The walk actually helped refreshen the legs quite a bit. I actually wanted to hammer the rest of the course, but John's cue cards were shot, and cruising it home wouldn't be the worst.

The course is no secret anymore, so here you go: http://www.gmap-pedometer.com/?r=4515955

12 hours, 22 minutes of riding nearly 100% gravel roads. 10,000+ feet of climbing. I came in 4 minutes behind Farrow. I wonder if I could have caught the old man...




I think most would understand if I said this was the worst day I've ever had on a bike, but that would be dead wrong. On the contrary, this day was in fact by far the best.

You can check the "Read" section of my blog for any other relevant blog posts or links, and view more pictures here: http://www.flickr.com/photos/craiglindner/sets/72157626605224693/

Thanks for enduring the race report! Cheers!

Tuesday, May 17, 2011

Recovery Hike

I called up my folks after work yesterday to see what their dinner plans were, to find out that they were just heading out the door for some Ice Age Trail maintenance. I was still feeling pretty stiff from Saturday's big effort, so I figured a hike in the woods would help shake things loose a bit. I grabbed some rubber boots, gloves and a shovel and headed out to meet them on the trail.


This was actually the section of trail I built for my Eagle Scout project in my younger days, and since I haven't hiked it in a few years a little nostalgia kicked in. It turned out to be a pretty nice "active recovery" day shoveling out the dammed (pun intended) swampy section, and hikin' with the folks.


Outside of that I'm still mulling over The Royal epic last weekend and slowly working on a write up. Meanwhile, the May 21st Apocalypse (better known as the Chequamegon 100) lingers in the back of my mind.

Monday, May 16, 2011

Spent

The Royal 162 will be an epic to remember. A fully embellished race report coming soon...

Sunday, May 8, 2011

100 - 162

The Almanzo 100 hurt enough. This year, I'll attempt the Royal 162.





After getting tangled up in the crash last year that put me out of commission (as if I make money riding my bike...), I was intimidated by 500+ riders coming to this year's Almanzo 100. With hopes to reduce my chances of crashing, I haphazardly requested to ride the 162 with fewer riders, most of whom would be more experienced than many of the riders in the 100. When I read the response from Chris that upgrading wouldn't be a problem, a strange "oh yes!", "no way...", "oh shit" type of adrenaline flushed through my body, nearly causing me to jump out of my seat from the immediate restlessness in my legs. Remembering the course from last year, noting to myself that I'm tacking on another 62 miles of leg-braking, hill pounding suffering...a deep, calm feeling of reverence and respect for the course began to sink in, the exact opposite sensation. I skimmed the email a few more times in disbelief, and started realizing that I would once again be attempting another longest distance ride/race yet. Being an active cyclist for only a few years now, it's still a strange and humbling feeling each time I raise the bar on these types of events. I sank further in to the chair, body freezing up...I started writing this post, and began honing in on preparations for the upcoming epic.

....Holy crap this will be wicked. What the hell am I going to do? Why did I ask to upgrade again? That was pretty stupid. What if I crash anyway? What if I don't even finish? Which bike should I ride? Which tires will be best for the conditions? Hmm...I wonder what the weather will be like? How long is this actually going to take? 10 hours? 12 hours? 15 hours? That depends on the weather I guess. Well how much food will I need for the day then? Water? I guess that depends on how long it's going to take. Are there any refill stops? I can't plan on it. Self-supported race. Do I need another big training ride before then? Have I trained hard enough? Am I better off just resting? Have I rested enough? Why am I even doing this? It's not a monetary reward. There aren't any prizes. What's the reward then? What the hell am I doing?...

Some of these questions will need to be answered by Saturday morning. I can guarantee the rest of the answers will be delivered in a very painful package by Saturday evening.