2011 Almanzo Royal 162 Race Report- the race

The Royal 162 course

The results

After tossing and turning most of the night, I awoke to the sound of water dripping through the gutters outside our room. I quietly dressed and pondered what lay in wait for me. I headed off to try to eat some breakfast. As I nursed a cup of coffee and choked down a danish, the weather flashed across the screen. 44 degrees, scattered rain, windchill of 37 and a steady North wind around 15 mph. I went back to the room to finish getting ready and snapped a quick picture to set the tone.

Ready or not:

I finished my gear prep by loading my bottles and camelback with water before setting off for the start line about 3/4 of a mile from the hotel. The wind had a sting to it with the water hanging in the air as I hopped on the bike to ride. A few minutes later and I pulled up to a lot starting to fill with fellow riders for the Royal 162. I nervously alternated between chatting with some friends and riding my bike around the lot trying to stay warm and beat back the trepidation. As promised, Chris rolled us off with little fanfare escorting us to the start of the gravel. I'd estimate we rolled roughly 60 or so of us out of 90 odd entrants.

Finally, we were off and it was time to start clicking off the miles and relieve the nerves through solid strokes of the pedal. I found a semi comfortable spot around mid-pack of the main group and worked to try avoiding the gravel soup that was flying off the wheels in front of me. We were holding a steady but manageable pace to start. I fell back slightly on one of the first uphills and caught a face full of the wind. I knew it would be a mistake to lose the pack right away and start fighting the wind so soon. I hit the gas a little harder and latched back on to the pack so I could set in the draft for a bit more. All too soon though, I gauged the lead group of 20 or so was moving a bit harder than I wanted and I slowly drifted off the back along with single riders.

I mixed it up riding with a few people here and there starting around 10 or so miles into the race. My whole focus going in had been to treat this as a ride rather than race so my focus was solely on moving forward at my pace and syncing up with other riders as it made sense without taxing myself in the process. Soon, I found myself with 2 and then 3 guys. Andy (I think was his name) was the strongest in the group wearing a CRC kit and he soon rolled off the front leaving 3 of us riding but not really working together. Ian who appeared to be wearing a Little Guys Racing kit and Aaron from Angry Catfish dressed only in bibs, short sleeve jersey, and arm warmers kept rolling. Ben went down as we made the turn from flying descent to 180 degree uphill. We actually all made the turn, but the weird cross slope of the gravel laid him down, but he managed only a few scrapes.

The first 90 minutes or so we lucky in the fact it wasn't raining on us. We were just dealing with the cold wet air and sloppy gravel. I started contemplating taking off my rain coat or shedding my vest as I started heating up as we hit the various climbs. Being a 3 time veteran of the course, I knew the climbs were there and didn't sweat them. I'd just grind them out at a comfortable pace without digging too deep. It was part of my plan for the full day. Work when I needed to, but conserve energy where I could.

Photo by Crag Lindner:

The 3 of us rolled through Preston and kept right on trucking without a stop as we didn't need anything only 38 miles into the course. It wasn't until mile 46 or so that we made any stops and it was for a quick pee break for the other guys. I took the opportunity to stuff my pie hole with a Stinger waffle while we made a sub 1 minute stop. Aaron and I slowed dropped Ian off as we rolled along feeling pretty decent even though we were pretty thoroughly wet by this point. On the plus side, my shell was wet from the rain along with my legs and feet, but my hands and core were relatively warm even if they were damp from sweat and some moisture seeping in. Score for my gear choices!

Chris had provided us some information that there would be an offroad portion of the course somewhere along the way. The cue cards noted that we'd hit this about 56 miles in. I was due to reload my nutrition box and Aaron and I decided we'd hit the offroad section and make a short stop to rest and reload. As we rolled up to the private property we were about to ride through, we could see some of the lead groups coming back on the tail end of the off road loop. It appeared we were maybe 15 minutes or so back of some pretty strong riders including Charlie Farrow. We rolled the first grassy section of the course and were greeted by a full on CX course including run-ups, barriers, riding through a cornfield, and about every other surface you can think of. Pure mad genius for Chris to throw that in there. It may have been my favorite portion of the course. Aaron and I kept our plan and after the 1st run-up we stopped for a short nature break and reload. I stuffed my face with half a salted nut roll and filled my top tube bag with an assortment of goodies from my camelback before we rolled the rest of the course. Ian had caught back up as we were resting and the 3 of us rolled out to enjoy the rest of the offroad portion.

Back to the gravel we stayed together and rolled on. We still didn't really work together, but the shared suffering somehow seemed to make it better as it was still raining and we were all wet and cold to varying degrees. For some reason, I had it in my head that our last pass through town with any food/service available was coming around 90 miles in. In reality, we hit Harmony at 65 miles just a scant 7 or 8 miles after we'd just taken a relatively significant break on the CX course. We didn't have a choice other than to oll up to the gas station to reload on water and any fuel that we needed. At this point, it became pretty apparent that Aaron was suffering mightily with his gear (or lack thereof). As we started to warm up, it became very clear we were in a dangerous position. I had all ready reloaded with a liter of water and 2 glazed donuts and knew it was time to go. Aaron was figuring his options of dropping or continuing and Ian seemed like he could hang out for a bit longer. I made the call it was time to go, lest we all succumb to the dryness and warmth of Kwik Shop.

3 rollers with a hundy left to go:

Sadly, Ian and I rolled on while Aaron stayed back. With the rest of the conditions hammering us, I think he made the right call for himself. Ian and I started trading a few pulls after a short while, after a long pull I looked back and Ian had drifted a long ways off the tail. I made a judgement call to roll on my own as I was still feeling good and didn't want to pull in the reigns at this point. I feel a bit bad as I don't see Ian on the finishers list, but I had to ride for myself to maintain my plan. I started clicking off the miles thankful for what seemed like a brief respite from the serious climbs and just hitting the rollers. The tunes were flowing from the Ipod, my nutrition was still going well, and I felt as good as could be expected given the mileage and conditions I'd been dealing with. Beyond hydrating and eating, I kept my mind busy with the cue sheets trying to figure out where on the horizon the next turn would be coming from.

Over the next 30 odd miles, we'd get a fresh treat of being out of the semi-protected valleys and thrust into the rolling farmland where the wind could tear at us with abandon. I started closing on another rider at this point. I distinctly remember the absurdity of "chasing" him on a gradual incline while doing 8-10 mph due to wind and road conditions. The hilarity wasn't lost on me so at least my spirits were still as high as could be expected. Finally I caught up to Ben from Northfield around mile 90 or so. He was climbing equally to me or perhaps a bit better, but I was rolling the flats a shade faster and would really gain ground by pedaling the downhills in my big ring. We passed each other back and forth a bit, but ended up working together to conquer some of the headwinds.

The only real issue of the day sprang up for me in this section. My cue cards had been slowly getting soaked from the backside due to the road spray even though they were in my Banjo Brothers map case/cue sheet holder. The elements were just a bit too much for it to match. As I went to pull out the cue sheet I was done with, all I came away with was a chunk of that sheet and the next couple below it as they were stuck together and soaked through. I stopped to assess my options and pulled the wad of 5 or so sheets out of my holder. Carefully I managed to peel back the sheet I was done with and also separate out the chunks I'd torn off to piece my remaining sheets back together. Lest they get any wetter, I pulled a ziplock from my pack and stuffed them inside before returning them to the map case. I hadn't done this earlier as I didn't want to have to stop every time I was done with a cue sheet just to change it out. From this point on, my only stops would be for cue sheet changes and I'd address any other issues at those times.

As mile 100 appeared on my garmin, Ben and I had been working together again. We passed a random truck parked by the side of the road and were offered pizza, beer, coke, etc. Initially I refused and rolled right past while Ben stopped to take a look. The guy called after me that it was all neutral, so I turned back to verify as I really didn't want to operate outside the rules of the race, no matter how bad the conditions were and how tempting the opportunity was. The guys from Pirate Cycling League had gotten approval from Chris to set up the oasis as long as they offered it up to everyone on the 162 route. Woohoo! All I ended up taking though was half a Coke to down some more ibuprofen for my aching back. We chatted for a few minutes as I waited for Ben to wade through a couple hot slices and then we hit the road in under 5 minutes.

Ben must've felt pretty good as he tore up the following grade and left me in the dust. Shortly thereafter, we were back into the flatlands with the wind and I'd catch, pass, and drop him. We finally were back on the Almanzo 100 course around mile 105 and could see the increase in tire tracks. I knew the checkpoint was coming up and started really beleiving I could make it as I remembered how well I rolled the section after the checkpoint from the previous year. A scant 10 miles later I rolled into the checkpoint alone. I chatted with the workers for a few seconds as I peeled back my jacket to reveal #53. They asked how I felt. I really hadn't given it much thought until then other than I knew I wasn't really hurting. In all honesty, I felt many times better at that point than I had at any of my previous 3 Almanzo checkpoints. It was an amazing thing.

After the checkpoint, the rolling terrain starts again in earnest. I also knew there would be a good number more miles into that dreaded wind. I had passed a few tail end charlie's from the Almanzo 100 a few miles before the checkpoint, but now I could see more in front of me. Typically I'd catch site of them walking the small rollers that I was still grinding out and before I knew it, I'd be passing them. Even though I was only rolling 12 or so mph, the speed difference was amazing as they were barely pushing on having given it their all. I tried to say a few words of encouragement to each rider I passed. Hopefully it made some small difference to them.

I started my countdown at this point, 30 miles, 20 miles, 10 miles to go. With 20ish left to go, we hit the water crossing. Having seen it last year, I knew what I was in store for. My plan was to actually take the time to remove my shoes and socks, roll up my leg warmers, and to walk across barefoot. My plan worked beautifully! Until I stumbled about 2/3 across the channel and steadied myself by dunking my shoes and socks in my left hand completely under the water. Son-of-a-bitch!!! The two guys that had waded across just before I got there had a good chuckle I'm sure. I tossed my gear onto the bank as I stumbled out the other side with the sharp rocks poking my barefeet, taunting my decision even further. I sat down to wring out my now sopping socks and dump the standing water out of my shoes. This was the wettest my feet had been all day as well as the coldest, but I was 20 miles from home and it was going to take a bullet to stop me from getting there.

Water crossing:

2011 Water Crossing from Chris Skogen on Vimeo.


The guys from the crossing were long gone, but as I was gearing back up, Ben caught up to me and waded straight across. I really wasn't in the mood to be caught and passed by anyone at this point so I bid him adieu and started cranking up the quarry climb on the far side of the crossing trying to catch back to the other 2 riders. I finally caught them another couple miles down the road as we hit some more steep rollers. I made a pass and the stronger rider grabbed my wheel. He then came back around and started spinning up the climb as he was on a mountain bike with some smaller gears. I decided to have a little fun as I was feeling good at this point. The grade dropped and we were still climbing. I sat in his draft for a minute or two and then came around to take a pull. Once I got in front of him, I hit the gas. After a minute or two I looked back and he was all ready a couple hundred yards back.

We were getting close to home by this point and even though my knees were aching along with my back and right hip, my legs still had power. I was down to the last 10 miles, then BAM! Chris throws in the most devious climb of the day. Oriole road. That name is burned into anyones psyche that rode the course. It was new for this year and I wasn't expecting it. Last year we had backtracked nearly the last 10 miles of the course and I was expecting the same as we'd all ready hit some of it. Now with 7 miles left, here was a wall of a climb. I hadn't walked any climbs to this point and pride sure wasn't going to let me do it now. I geared down as low as I could (since my baby ring up front hadn't worked all day) and let 'er rip. 4-5 mph was all I could muster and I flipped to check the grade seeing steady sections of 20% with some as high as 23%. The climb lasted close to a mile as near as I can tell on my readout. Finally at the top, the road actually dipped and I could build up some speed on the rolling terrain.

I passed a couple more riders about mile 150 and had just caught another when it came time to change out the last cue sheet. Reluctantly I watched the 1 then the other 2 riders roll back past as I stopped to change out the sheet. Not willing to risk any possible missed turns at this point meant letting them go. As I flipped to it, I was overjoyed to see I really only had 3 or so miles left and that our mileage was done at 155.8 rather than 162 which I'd had in my head all day. Fueled by a gel I'd taken in prepping for the last push and the euphoria of realizing how close I was, I lit it up. I hadn't ridden that fast since rolling out early in the morning. Not realizing we were actually rolling south now, I had picked up a tailwind push too.

I powered past the two riders on an uphill section that I stood and powered through. Now onto flat roads and coming into the last pavement, I caught and flew past the final rider in my sights. I sprinted out of the last corner and down to the school where Chris was waiting with open arms and the remaining people were clapping, cheering, honking, and making any noise they could. It was spectacular. 13 hours and 24 minutes for 155.8 miles for 16th place. I was a finisher! I felt fantastic.

One happy camper:

I'll see if I can come up with some thoughts and feelings about the whole ordeal in another post, but suffice to say, this was a near perfect race for me in planning, execution, and completion and I can't ask for anything more.

2011 Almanzo Royal 162 race report- gear and prep

I'm not sure where to start, but I figure you can never go wrong by thanking those that got you to where you are. I know I pedaled every mile of the race, but without these people and products behind me, I wouldn't have had the opportunity to try. My thanks and gratitude go first to my wife and girls. They've spent hours and days without me being home so I can ride and train. They may not always understand, but they love and support me and thats what matters. Greg, Sterling, and all the guys at Rasmussen Bike Shop for equipment, nutrition, and repairs. These guys "get it" and that's just the way it is. Genuine Innovations for my CO2 needs (which thankfully I didn't need). Oakley for my eye gear that I eventually had to relegate to my helmet. To Chris "Almanzo" for daring to dream big and coming up with such a killer event along with his army of volunteers who have a firm grasp on what it is to have a dream. And finally to all my buddies that are out there training, racing, and riding with me, no matter how crazy the conditions or off the wall my ride idea is, I can usually con at least one of you suckers into joining me and that's saying something!

Bike Selection:
Bianchi Axis CX bike, Specialized Captain front tire, Kenda Small block 8 rear tire, Banjo brothers cue sheet holder and seat bag, and FSA K-wing carbon flat top drop bars, clip on rear fender, and down tube protector (aka crud cutter). The group is an eclectic (but stock) collection of 3x9 Tiagra brifters, Sugino touring crank (48-38-28), Deore LX rear der, and 11-32 cassette.

Riding gear (head to toe):
Specialized S-work MTB helmet, Oakley Radar with orange lens, Rasmussen bike shop cap, Pearl Izumi rain jacket, Rasmussen wind vest, Rasmussen wool jersey, Nike sleeveless base, Specialized deflect gloves, Rasmussen bibs, Specialized leg warmers, Swiftwick 5" wool socks, and Specialized S-works MTB shoes.

OK, now that all the gear geekery is out of the way, here are the ride stats for the Royal 162.

I signed up for the Royal 162 in January wondering what I might be getting myself into. As a veteran of 3 previous instances of the Almanzo 100, I knew at least part of the challenge that lay ahead in getting to the finish line of this event. However, adding 60 more miles of gravel and surpassing my longest ever ride of 125 miles (on pavement), would be getting me into completely new territory. My training wasn't exactly spectacular as I started the year strong and then hit a small burnout after my failure at CIRREM this year. That carried through most of March before I really got back on track and started logging some decent miles again. I mixed both cardio efforts doing fast MTB rides along with long steady rides on the CX bike plugging away miles fully loaded and into the wind. Those long windy rides really helped to pay off in the mental fortitude game. About the only hole in my plan was the lack of a really long ride. My planned 120+ ride got canned when I broke a seat clamp bolt at mile 40 and rode 22 miles back to a pick up point standing. So the longest ride for the year ended up around 70 miles.

Broken seat much?

The Gents Race in early April left another smoldering question in my mind. Would I physically be able to survive that long? 60ish miles of relatively flat gravel on a dry sunny day with a rotating paceline of teammates left me cramped and bonking hard by the end. How would I last for another 100 miles on my own? Was I getting in over my head?

Forced smile/grimace after the gents race

The week before the race, I knew I had done whatever I could training wise and there wouldn't be anything to change that. I spent the week with one eye peeled to a steadily worsening forecast and fretting about nutrition and what gear I'd need. I finally decided to pack an early spring type of ride kit and throw in a few optional pieces that would be a game time decision like my wool jersey and lightweight winter gloves. I also decided to toss the fender and crud cutter in "just in case" I wanted them. I don't think I'd be remiss in attributing a fair amount of success/failure by everyone this weekend to good/not so good selections of their gear. Finally, I was packed and on the road to pick up my compatriots for the weekend: Squirrel, Courtney, and Skids.

On the way

Feeling pretty good as we jammed to some tunes going down the road, I got a call. I'm notorious for leaving various gear behind, but this time I was confident my list was double checked and I was locked and loaded. My wife's voice came on the line, "Umm, honey, did you know there's a gallon ziplock filled with gels and stuff sitting on the couch?" "F#$k!" I believe was the expression that came out first. Nothing like heading off for the wild unknown and leaving 95% of your nutrition behind. I started grabbing salted nut rolls and candy bars at gas stations as we stopped along the way and would see what I could grab from the bike shop in Rochester.

Left at home

We got to Rochester and swung by the bike shop that was closing at 6 (but thankfully still let us in at 6:02) and I stocked up with some Stinger waffles, Accel gels, and Cliff shot blocks to hopefully keep me moving. At the packet pick-up/check in we tossed a couple beers back and chatted nervously about the expected race conditions for the morrow, before we headed off towards Spring Valley to find our hotel and some dinner. We each gorged on foot long subs and then rolled to the hotel where we were greeted with the fact that we'd somehow scored the jacuzzi suite for the next 2 nights.

We spent the rest of the evening futzing with our final gear and nutrition selections, but maybe me more so than the others as I wanted EVERYTHING in its place and ready for the morning. Since I'd be starting 2 hours early than the others, I didn't want to have to chase anything down. It was at this point I made the decision to go with my wool jersey and more winter oriented gloves. Sometimes it pays to have ultra endurance geek friends that like to blog. I've seen it elsewhere too, but basically George put it out there not too long ago and it stuck in my head that while you may will get wet, at least if you've got wool gear on, you're still going to retain some warmth from it versus most synthetic fabrics that today's gear is typically made from. Warm+wet > cold+wet! I headed off for a fitful nights sleep wondering what lay in store for me the morning.

Cirrem- what went very right and really wrong

Sitting here post 24 hours after the first race of the season, I'm contemplating a number of things. 62.5 miles of hilly, sloppy gravel is one helluva way to start off the race season for sure. Cirrem didn't disappoint in the least with the suffering. We may not have had the epic conditions of 34 degrees, rain, sleet, snow, and wind of last year, but the remnants of a historically snowy winter left it's own indelible mark on the course for the year.

I tried to get a bit of cheating bastard advantage on Friday by driving out on the gravel south of Cumming. I was second guessing my initial plan of riding the cross bike. Indeed, I found extended sections of slick hardpacked snow interspersed with wet gravel that would be frozen come Saturday morning. So, last minute, I changed my plan and moved to the Superfly as my weapon of choice. I knew I'd be giving up some overall top end and rolling resistance, but I felt being a bit more comfortable on the slick sections would be a good trade. After all, I was out to have a good hard ride, and didn't really expect to be near the top finishers, so why not reduce my risk of crashing out and get on a bike I knew would be a solid choice no matter the final conditions. All told we had some 70+ starters enjoying a balmy 15 degrees and a solid 10+ mph wind from the NW.

The start:

After riding last year, I knew the course would bring on plenty of pain in the form of hills. The wind almost always has to factor in this time of the year as well and is predominantly out of the northwest making many sections seem that much longer and harder. I was quickly dropped out of the pack last year. I didn't even make the first hill with the group of leaders and had dropped to nearly the back of the pack within a few miles of the start. My riding and training has progressed through leaps and bounds since 365 days ago. That being said, I felt great at the start. My legs were sharp, my mind was good, I was excited to see what I had in the tank. I had no real delusions of grandeur, but I thought maybe a top 10 finish would be a great finish for me considering the growth in the number of participants over last year which was sure to include to serious racers coming from far away exotic locales like Missouri, Kansas, and Minnesota.

I managed to hang on long enough to get warmed through quickly as the pack was fairly well flying along. I think we were hanging out with about 25 riders through the first few miles. I got slightly shuffled on one of the first bigger hills, but the leaders made a miscue going past a turn and I was the first to make the correct turn, thereby finding myself right off the front for a few seconds.  We powered the climb up and over I-35 with a few guys looking to make a move off the front. I hung back for a few seconds of indecision and bridged up with a few other guys. The road race tactics were definitely playing big time in here. Somewhere about 15 miles in, one of the lead guys powered through a long false flat and fairly well blew the remaining group into a small pack of contenders. I was hanging by a shirt tail at this point and got a little boost from Wild Bill Fanter that got me right back into the group.

Riding in the lead pack early on:

After the push from Bill, I knew I was going to be out the back sooner rather than later. I felt good making it down to the selection of roughly the top 10-15 guys and was ok with staying at that point. I'd been hydrating with my usual Accelerade, but the first nutrition I got was in the form of 3 mostly frozen FRS chews roughly 45 minutes in. They went down relatively well and I didn't think much of it. But they were something I hadn't eaten during training or racing before and while there's got to be a time to try something new, training is probably a better time. That's enough foreshadowing, now on to the race. Around 20 miles in, I was displaced from contender to pretender. I got gapped off the back and just couldn't quite find the legs to catch back on. I kept the group in site for close to another 5 or so miles. The gap stayed pretty steady, but I could tell it was slowly increasing. I could also see another couple riders that were tossed off in the middle ground. I had high hopes of slowly reeling them in over the rest of the course and maybe picking off a few more casualties along the way.

About 90 minutes into the race, things went to hell in a handbasket to put it mildly for me. I'd taken in another gel, was still working on my first 24 oz of Accelerade and suddenly the combination of an early high pace and untested nutritional choices came around to bite me in the ass completely and thoroughly. I looked back at my readout from the Garmin at my heart rate to see what it would tell me. There's a pretty clear line where I went from averaging 170's (low zone 4) to averaging 140's (top of zone 2). My stomach was doing flips and I my legs turned nearly instantly from feeling good and solid to crampy and no power. I knew I was bonking and tried my best to back off quickly in hopes that I'd recover.

I'd love to say that happened, but alas it wasn't meant to be. I soldiered to the checkpoint feeling like hell. A 30 second stop to refill one bottle and I was back on my way. However, I spent the remaining nearly 3 hours struggling to gain every mile. I watched rider after rider trickle by in ones, twos, and threes. I was resigned to finishing whenever I could and in whatever place I could. I knew it was game over at this point. I kept hoping that my stomach would stop turning and I'd be able to get more food in. I munched on a cliff bar that was akin to eating clay and got about half of it down before my stomach said "no mas". I kept hydrating with plain water. Something had to give. Unfortunately, that thing ended up being my strength. Any effort that raised my heart rate more than a few beats brought along a wave of nausea that quickly reminded me I'd be stopping to hurl if I didn't back off. Thankfully, I didn't leave any piles on the side of the road, but I tested my resolve to the limit finding my way to the finish.

I rolled back to the tap just shy of 5 hours. The goal time in my head was 4.5 hours knowing I'd rolled the course that fast last spring during a training ride in some nasty headwinds. I think I had that in me had I not sidelined myself with strength sucking issues. I'm still not sure if my early efforts of staying with the lead pack hurt my overall effort or not. I've been working a lot on my strength this year without much endurance riding so I think it showed in being able to hang in for as long as I did. Beyond that, I think if I'd started out slower (and not had other issues), I may have been able to finish a bit stronger. I typically figure myself as more of a diesel engine finding that I work better metering out an even effort over the long haul versus sprint, recover, and repeat. All in all, I feel pretty good about my fitness level at this time of the year. I was a bit disappointed that I seemingly took myself out of finishing where I'd have liked, but better now than later on in the race season.

I do have to give a big shout out to Kent and Jed for putting this thing on. Sponsors like Rassy's and Oakley Rob also have a huge part in making these races possible. Thanks to Rob (and a bit of luck) my suffering was more than justly rewarded with a sweet pair of Livestrong Flak Jackets in the schwag giveaway. I also have to give one more shout out to team sponsor Ergon grips. With the bonk I had going on, I was putting way more pressure on my hands and arms supporting my whole upper body than reasonably prudent. Even with all that, I wasn't feeling it at all today in my arms and shoulders.

After the pain:

The aftermath:

Photos borrowed from Julie Goodman and David Carpenter

Happiness and Heckling

The weekend was packed full of fun and frivolity. I kicked off with Friday night spent enjoying the arts festival with Miranda and Corley before heading down to the longest yard to enjoy some food and beverage with the shop guys as a thanks for working the triathlon. Saturday found us up and at 'em for a quick stop at Gray's lake to enjoy story time with the family before heading off to my prescribed volunteerism at the tri. Fuller and I worked the wheel pit for the pro athletes races setting up on 35th and Grand at the far end turn around. After a bit of convincing the various police and volunteers that we really were supposed to be there, we finally got things set up and began the afternoon of waiting around. Luckily we had a few additional revelers stop by to keep things lively.

It was pretty awesome watching the various packs of pro men and women fly by us as we cheered them all on. Trading a few hours of easy work was well worth the front row access we had. About the only regret is that the single request for help we fielded (a woman needing a 4mm allen wrench) had to be left unanswered as we had only brought wheels and no tools. From then, it was time to pack up and hopefully get some relaxation in before the evening activities commenced.

Rumors about a gravel overnighter started flying around a week or two back. It seems the loose plan was to start around 10 in the evening, ride enough gravel to last through the night and then end up heckling the tri people somewhere on course. Sounds like a great plan to me.

Kyle Sedore, Oakley Rob, Kurt Benson, Fuller, Joe from BW West, and myself took off from Legends on 60th and Ashworth and the crack of dark Saturday night which equates to roughly 10:20 PM after some food and liquid fueling. Heading west on EP True we went baja style riding through the dead end past Jordan Creek and eventually worked our way down to Booneville road and over to Booneville proper by 11. We briefly debated the first beer stop of the evening, but eventually bypassed the Waveland in favor of heading to the Cumming Tap for our first round of the evening. We hit the tap somewhere need midnight and split a pitcher between us while Kurt also thought it was necessary to bolster our spirits with a round of Red Bulls as well. Most everyone chugged theirs down, but I wisely packed away that gem for a later pick me up.

From Cumming we decided to try for last call in Martensdale. A mile or so out of town we had our first flat of the evening on Joe’s trusty La Cruz. Now here’s how you can tell you’re in Iowa. Here we were at 1ish in the morning, a group of 6 guys standing around working on a bike and 2 separate cars happened to roll by, both checking to make sure we were good to go and offering to shine their headlights on the situation to help. We got the flat repaired in time to make last call.

After another pitcher split, we headed back from whence we came. Somewhere about halfway back to Cumming we decided to stop and break out some food. I think we were all feeling a bit punchy at the time as the stop also included a rousing game of duck-duck goose played in the midst of the gravel road in the wee hours of Sunday morning. We wound our way back through the Booneville loop and made our final break at the Waveland west where we enjoyed their great hospitality. Of course they weren’t actually open at 4 in the morning (who knew?), but we did find the patio furniture to be quite inviting. After a bit more snacking on processed meat sticks aka Slim Jim’s, we headed back towards town only to stop for the 2nd flat of the evening.

Rather than run through the bigger rollers on Booneville road, we opted to head back out to Grand and roll it double file paceline style clear down to Raccoon River Park to let the heckling and shenanigans begin for the Hy-Vee Tri. We actually started off with some varying congratulations to friends at the swim start where roughly 1 billion people were milling about.

From there we headed up to heckler's hill which ended up being just west of 35th street going up Grand. We scoped out our spot in time to head off to Kum and Go/McD's for food and supplies aka beer. Apparently there is some conspiracy going on to keep people from thoroughly enjoying themselves on Sunday mornings as beer sales don't start until 8 AM. Alas, we were relegated to various energy drinks which, at that point, probably wasn't a bad call. When we got back to our spot, Kyle showed us all how to properly get in the spirit of heckling.

All told, I showed 68 miles and change with 3000’ of climbing for our overnighter along with more laughing, fun, and folly than I can remember having for a long time. One punctuation to the evening was experiencing flying down the various hills at 25+ mph in the pitch of night which was thrilling and terrifying at the same time. I finally rolled back home and to bed around 10:30 after having eclipsed the 26th hour of awake time before dropping like a ton of bricks for a few hours nap.

Almanzo Race Report (the unabridged addition)

Sorry for the delay in getting a race report posted, but a week's vacation had to be enjoyed and that surely didn't include typing out a full fledged novella regarding the trials, tribulations, and depth of emotions that surround racing through 100 miles of the most beautiful gravel Rochester, Minnesota has to offer. The plus side to 1900 miles and 30+ hours on the road is that you get a lot of time to repeat the entire experience in your head and develop some interesting thoughts about it. For those with ADD in the crowd, you can skip off to the brief recap here. For those interested in sharing the journey a potty break may be in your best interest if you don't like to stop in the middle.

Onward and upward. As I laid out in my pre-race planning, I set a few goals for myself before embarking on this years Almanzo 100. After all was said and done, I took my preset plan, conditions of the day, and worked them to the point that I was happy with the outcome.

Race packet extraordinaire


As most entrants of this year's iteration will tell you, the wind was nothing short of brutal. Roughly 25 mph sustained winds out of the northwest with gusts nearing 40 were the bane of most come race day. The early morning cool weather didn't really seem to affect me. I rode with my full finger lightweight gloves, a sleeveless base, short sleeve jersey, calf height socks, leg warmers, shorts, wind/water proof jacket, and a sweat cap. I never was cold during the ride even considering the 35ish degree windchill for the start. I assume riding throughout the winter has conditioned me pretty well for temps and I was happy that I also had the experience needed to pick out pretty much the perfect gear selection. The only change I made during the day was at the checkpoint I dropped the full jacket for arm warmers and wind vest out of my support bag. I have to give a huge thanks to Annie (the race director's wife) for agreeing to tote my support materials out to the checkpoint along with the materials she was hauling for a friend of hers that she was crewing for. I could have made the race running the setup I had on including nutrition, but it was nice knowing I had a little less thinking on my plate by having a crew, so thank you sincerely.

The Rassy death squad 5000 jersey of the day.


We rolled through town with a neutral start provided by Chris (the race director) himself who lead us to the first gravel of the day. I knew even with the rollout that I wanted to be up front in the pack when we started into the gravel as the first climb would be a selection process. As expected, the lead group made a breka this year, the same as last at the top of the hill. The difference being this year I was within spitting distance of them as they crested the hill. Unfortunately, spitting distance is not within drafting distance and they kept the hammer down to help shake off chasers such as myself. I soon found a strong pace and was keeping the pack pretty well in site for quite some time. Eventually, Dennis and a few others worked up to me and I joined in on their paceline with some yo-yoing on and off. They were still riding hard and eventually I worked my way off the back as the pace was putting my heartrate higher than I planned in order to survive the back half of the race. I eased off and started the long journey of riding mostly alone.

As we rolled into the first pass through checkpoint I was greeted by a woman excitedly telling me to turn left in lieu of right at a particular turn. Then she was saying something about the next turn and it was lost on me. Luckily I happened upon another rider waiting for traffic to clear and followed him through town with nary a missed turn. As we headed out of town, we hit the first hill worth remembering in my mind. The 4 lane super gravel highway that climbed for 3 miles out of town last year had now been paved over and rendered useless for our purposes. As luck would have it, there was a turnoff to a nice steeper yet shorter climb out of the valley. I approached the hills with less gusto than normal as I knew I needed to hold something back for the wind that lay in wait on the back portion of the course.

Nearing the 50 mile mark I decided to answer the call of nature that had been ringing for a bit. I hopped off the bike with nary a rider in site and was soon enough rewarded by the site of 4 or 5 riders working their way past me including Steve who I admit was riding well and closer to me than I'd anticipated. Damn, there's 5 spots down that I was going to have to push hard to get back.

As I remounted the bike and felt the wind pick up around me, my plan started to fray heavily around the seems. I suddenly had lost my legs. While I admittedly was having a bit of stomach churning before the stop, I had been pressing long enough and fast enough that it hadn't really been on my mind. Something was going wrong with my nutrition in very short order. My stomach began to do flip flops as I made every effort to keep the pedals turning. I was 15 miles from the checkpoint. I latched back onto another rider I had passed earlier as he now churned slowly past me. I vaguely remember the screaming rutted downhill where we were jumping the rain ruts repeatedly as the road serpentined down into a hollow.

I'm a bit fuzzy about the order of the climbs and places in this area, but somewhere we hit a beautiful stretch of Minnesota level B road which just means the gravel isn't as fresh as the rest of the roads, we rode more steep hills, and we passed the Masonic park in the middle of nowhere. The significant things that stick out for me in this stretch are started to completely lose my shit as I passed the Masonic park. Something snapped in my psyche and every emotion I'd been keeping in check to that point blew up. I was hurting, crying, pissed off, contemplating a DNF, and sick all at the same time. Then came the hill. I ended up in my granny gear and saw a 2.XX reading on my speedo. I literally wobbled and weaved my way to the top. As each corner passed, the pain in my legs was only surpassed by the grumbling in my stomach. Each corner poised the question in my head of whether or not I should stop to try throwing up. Each corner posted me closer to the checkpoint.

I'm sure this won't be the first time for me as long as I continue to push my endurance and boundaries, but diving deep into your own black hole of despair isn't a whole lot of fun. I sincerely considered DNFing at the checkpoint in Spring Valley. I knew what lay ahead if I furthered on. The wind would be worse and quite possibly there were new hills to be tackled as well. I made the checkpoint in 21st. Other than the nature break, I had yet to be off my bike even though at some points I was barely moving. My speed average had plummeted from almost 19 mph in the first 25 miles to barely 14. I reached Annie in the support vehicle and she informed me that Steve had only arrived a short time earlier and was still at the convenience store.

I was admittedly shell shocked at this point. I was surprised I'd made it to the checkpoint in 21st. While I hadn't seen too many people pass me, my mind was telling me that I was failing miserably and way off the pace. Every turn of the pedals had yielded nothing but protests from my legs. I grabbed my cooler and proceeded to lose my shit completely and thoroughly. It was dark, ugly, and spiraling downward at breakneck speed. I later apologized to Annie for what had to be a pretty unsightly showing of raw emotions in front of she and her daughter as I sat nearby on my cooler and contemplated my life that brought me to such a point. Steve came back from the store and stopped for a minute to check on me. Something as simple as asking how I was doing proved to be impossible to answer. I simply couldn't speak. I opened my mouth and no words would come. It was a new and somewhat intimidating place to be in. I finally croaked out that I was shelled and not sure what lay in wait for my continuance. Steve voiced a few words of wisdom to get some rest and respite from the wind and then figure things out before he headed off to finish out the race.

Feeling I was making something of a spectacle at this point I spied a sunny spot next to an adjacent building that would give me some relief from the wind. I picked out a spot and flopped to the ground. Some of the thoughts I found at that moment are more personal that I can really share, but suffice it say that I thoroughly questioned my sanity, my abilities as a man, and my failures as a father and husband. It had been quite some time since I'd been to these depths and not something to really aspire to hit on any regular basis. I munched on a quarter of a PB&J I'd packed as solid food in my support bag. As I rested, I slowly regained some composure and felt a bit better. Apparently PB&J has restorative powers that I was unaware of. In what felt like much longer than it really was, I slowly got myself back together, packed my support bag up, and bid adieu to the checkpoint.

I headed back into the grind. I knew it would be windy, but wasn't quite prepared for that level of ferocity. Soon enough I did find my form and my legs, though tired, were actually pacing along surprisingly well. I could make out a couple of riders in front of me and eventually I met up with a local Rochester rider by the name of Drew. At first I passed him and started opening a gap. Then we came upon Steve who was emerging from his own roadside stupor. I slowed my pace to try and work with him, but alas he was facing his own demons at that point and waived me forward. Drew had passed me back at this point and slowly I crept back to his wheel. Quite literally it would take a mile or two before I could close a hundred yard gap at the pace we were riding. 10-13 mph into the wind was about all we could muster at this point. We were leaning hard into the cross wind and literally hanging on for dear life during the gusts. At one point I had a gust move my front wheel sideways across the gravel even as I had my weight on it.

As I clawed my way back to Drew, we decided it was time to partner up and hopefully share some work. We actually worked out well drafting each other without guttering and sharing pulls into the wind. I began to look forward to our turns in this section as at least it would change the side of my face the wind was scouring. As we worked together, Drew and I exchanged some pleasantries, but mostly settled in for the grind. We managed to reel in another rider or two along the way and similarly one of us would drop and reattach from time to time as well. The finally time left me out in front of Drew and nearly catching 2 riders in front of me. Strangely enough, one of them was Dennis, who I assumed was all ready drinking chocolate milk at the finish line and hanging out.

I crept to within roughly 100 yards of the riders before we hit the pavement section. That was it as they both turned on the afterburners with the pavement and tailwind and were gone. My pace doubled and tripled at points as I too enjoyed the smooth tarmac knowing we were a stones throw away from being done.

The last cue sheet.


A funny thing happened as I neared the finish line. I felt great. I was definitely tired, but my legs still had more left in them. I was able to finish and enjoy the post race beers, schwag, and festivities of cheering for other finishers. I made it. I managed to battle back from a massive bonk/funk/failure mode and finished relatively strong. I was 20th across the line with a total time of 7:57:35.

The bike computer showing no bonus miles this year!

I'll post my afterthoughts separately, but a huge thanks go out to Chris, his wife Annie, and the rest of his family, friends, and sponsors that help make this race something truly special.

Almanzo brief recap

Considering we're heading out for a week tomorrow on vacation, I thought I'd be nice and jot down a few notes for all my slavering minions. I'll get a full on write up going when we get back. In the meantime a few shots and a few words.

The beginning

The middle

The end.

Even short stories have to have the 3 requisite pieces- beginning, middle, and end. In the beginning it was good- tailwind, chilly weather, and fresh legs. In the middle I couldn't decide which was most important- puking, crying, DNF'ing, or completion. In the end it was hard and the headwinds sucked, but it was worth it. I've got a lot to say about my 8 hours "out there" (since when don't I), but that will have to wait for another time. Preliminary placement was 20th out of 84ish starters and 64ish actual finishers (based on what I heard since actual numbers aren't out yet).

Almanzo race craft

As Fuller and I head off for Almanzo tomorrow afternoon, I thought I'd hash out my thoughts for the race. I have no delusions of grandeur. I have no reason to believe I'm going to do more than hopefully finish faster and closer to the front of the pack than I did last year. So, the discussion is really for my own benefit in figuring out how to make that happen by using what I learned last year. In no particular order, here are the things I'm planning to change up:

1) Better bike. I'm going with my Bianchi Axis CX bike versus the Giant Rainier 26" MTB this year. I'll have a huge weight savings (8+ lbs) and skinnier tires. I'm sure I won't be as fast on some of the loose sections, but overall, I know I'll be rolling at a higher average speed.

2) Less crap. I hauled a plethora of stuff last year on my back. I had extra clothes, a ton of food, and a bunch of extra water that I didn't need. This year I'm paring it down significantly. While I'm going to haul the Camelback up to the race, I'm not sure if I'll use it or not. I'm pretty sure I've got someone lined up to haul extra bottles to the checkpoint at mile 65 so I think I can survive on a couple 24 oz bottles in the cages and everything else in my jersey, bento, and seatbag. Weight off my back will be huge when climbing. I really hate the up down jerking of a pack even when its cinched down. I've also got a lot better grasp of what I need for this type of ride after having another year under my belt.

3) Don't get lost. I had 6+ bonus miles last year that were simple mistakes of not following the cue sheet and mileage indicators. I'll be paying a lot more attention to that this year.

4) Find a drafting partner. Last year we got our asses handed to us with a steady NW headwind on the last portion of the course blowing roughly 15-20 mph. It's forecast for the same this year. I rode mostly alone last year. I'd like to hook up with someone at the checkpoint to see if we can draft together and help kill off the monotonous parts of the wind. If not, I'll be employing my strategy from the past weekend. Set a steady pace and don't blow up fighting the wind. Wait until you can make use of it.

5) Don't blow up. I went hard the first 65 miles to the checkpoint last year. I felt pretty crappy by the time I got off the bike and had a hard time finding the energy to get moving again. It cost me time at the checkpoint and I bonked as I headed north into the winds. I'll be keeping myself in check by watching the heart rate monitor and pacing. Hopefully I can find some kind souls to draft with on the first portion of the course as well. With an additional 40 or so people riding this year, I'm thinking it's a lot more likely. I rode probably 80 miles by myself last year and hope I don't repeat that this year (unless of course I'm in the lead...)

6) Less time at the stop. Last year the leaders blew through the stop in roughly 30 seconds or so the story goes. I don't anticipate being that speedy, but I'm not going to spend the 40+ minutes I did last year relaxing and trying to talk myself into the last 35 miles. With hopefully having support this year, I'd really like to be in and out in 5-10 minutes at the most and just eat/fuel on the bike.

7) Eat/fuel while riding. I tried last year with some Hammer products- Perpetuem and HEED, but as I figured out late last year, those products weren't working for me and left me more bloated than anything. This year I'll be eating mostly gels and that type of stuff for the first portion of the race. I'll have something solid I can eat while riding for the start of the 2nd portion and continue on with the gels and other snacks. I'm also planning on running Accelerade for most of my liquids and probably a single bottle of water mixed in along the way. I'll be keeping my food handing in a bento box on the top tube. I'm much more likely to eat if I have it sitting in front of my face rather than in jersey pockets.

8) Ride my own race. It's a century ride. I've done it before and I know I can do it on my own. If it works out to hook up with some other riders and share some drafting/work, sweet. If not, I'll be going it on my own rather than attempting to alter my own plan of attack to try to hang on or wait for other people.

Goals:

I might as well publicly throw out my goals for this race. They're not exactly lofty, but considering I'm just starting my 3rd year into riding and 2nd year into racing, I'll take small gains as a sign of progress. Considering I really just want to ride my bike for 100 miles and enjoy the scenery, most everything else is a bonus.

1) 7 hours total time. This would be nearly an hour off last years total. Considering my average speed last year, I only need a very minor improvement in my moving average and to not get lost or spend more than 10 minutes at the checkpoint to achieve this. It should be pretty reasonable unless the course conditions conspire to kick my ass (which is entirely possible too).

2) Top 30 riders. With a field of 100+ this year, that would put me in the top 1/3 of the class. Last year I was 31st in which was basically the middle guy of the field. Who knows what the skills are of all the new riders this year, but I don't think its entirely unreasonable for me to think I can make the top 30 as long as most things fall into place.

That pretty much sums it up. Chris puts on one awesome race and I'm looking forward to having a blast again this year. I might even be able to snag a post ride beer this time. I was so strung out last year that a Coke was all I could think about nursing. See you on the dark side.

CIRREM's Revenge

In an attempt to get some revenge on the race course that kicked a large percentage of asses in March, I headed out for some gravel flavor this weekend. I was shooting to be out the door by the time 6 bell rang, but a little dawdling and listening to the wind howl outside pushed me off until a little closer to 6:30 before hitting the road. I opted for a mix of pavement and gravel to get me out to the ride start about 11 miles from home.

A quick stop for a pic and to relieve a bit of pressure and I was off just before 7:30.

As I headed south I enjoyed a nice bit of cross-tailwind which was coming out of the NW at 17 according to the forecast. Soon enough I turn right into a cross-headwind though and started the battle. For some reason, I'd pretty much kept it in my head this time that I was going to stick to a certain game plan. I wasn't going to put in any monster efforts, I'd eat often, and just keep the pace respectable when it came to headwinds and hills. My first actual stop of the ride didn't come until the halfway turn onto Cedar Bridge road and that was so I could get a shot of some of the grades we hit on our rollers. Now granted I have slightly tilted the camera for the shot, but the road does actually pitch up that much after you round the corner.

The next stop was for a quick shot of Old Portland Hell Hill. I'm sure anyone that has ridden the route south to Winterset will cringe when thinking of this hill. Short, steep, and no run-up is pretty much the name of the game. Quite fitting that there's a cemetery at the top as most of us feel like dying by then...

Once I nailed down the northern stretches that gave me fits and were the scene of my first bonk during the actual race, I was off to the races. I was still feeling good, hydrated, and fueled. Oh and I had the tailwind with me now. I started cranking up the speed a bit as I worked back east on 105th. Most of the giant rollers were now behind me and it was just the 40-50' climbs left. I starting pushing the pace and actually standing to climb these with the wind at my back. Finally with about 3 miles to go both legs decided to cramp almost at the same time. A right quad cramp and a left outer thigh cramp had me gritting my teeth, but so close to home, I just kept on the bike and fought through them. Finally I hit the last little stretch of headwinds for the last couple of miles back to the tap and I was done.

Time for a bit of R&R in the form of a PB&J and a frosty pint of Fat Tire. MMM. I had gone out hoping to knock at least a half hour off my time from March. As it was, including 10 minutes of stop time not reflected on the computer, I knocked an hour and 10 minutes off my time. That would have been good enough for the "W" against the March times. Obviously weather was a huge factor in this, but it still felt great to get the ride I was hoping for in March.

A few postscript thoughts about what went right compared to March:

1) Weather- even 17 mph headwinds don't compare to 35 degrees with rain, sleet, snow, and mild winds. No question about it.

2) Equipment choice- I rode the Axis CX bike versus the 29'er this time. I felt a little slower on some of the really loose gravel sections, but the overall weight and speed of the bike more than made up for that little bit of loss.

3) Nutrition- I had all my nutrition tucked away under my rain gear in March. Add in heavy/wet gloves and I barely ate anything. I bonked twice in March. This time I ate pretty freely- 3 gels, 1 fruit twist, and 1 pack sport beans along with 40 oz of accelerade. I also had my nutrition in a Bento Box where I could grab on the fly and then used my jersey as a trash can for the wrappers (I'm not a fan of just tossing your excess on the road).

4) Pacing- I went out strong and steady, but never nailed it hard. My heart rate average was 157 for the ride, but I don't think I broke 180 BPM for more than a few minutes the entire ride. I don't think this was much different than March, but I definitely felt like I worked a lot harder on the hills in March. I also kept my head in the game by accepting the wind and waiting for my chance to use it to my advantage rather than thinking how much it was slowing me down.

CIRREM revenge on Saturday

For anyone interested in pounding out some gravel miles and hills on Saturday, feel free to join me on the CIRREM route. Weather looks to be light years ahead of the rain/wind/snow/sleet/cold we had back in March. The plan is to leave my place on the south side at 6AM, route to Cumming (not sure of gravel or road), hit the route at a good solid pace, and then back to my place (possibly stopping for a refreshment at Cumming tap first). Figure 85ish miles total and try to be back by 1ish. No support or stores on the route so plan on carrying your water and food with you. Temps should be great. Leave a comment or shoot me an email- buckshot77@msn.com if you want to join in on the fun.

Meet George

Wow, who thought a day and a half on and a weekend could be packed to the gills with being busy when not too much was really on the plate to start with.

Thursday afternoon I took off a half day (mostly because I could) and also to pick up George from the airport. I'd been following his ultra-cycling blog for a while and happened to note that he was planning on coming to take part in Trans-Iowa V.5 I offered up some assistance in familiarizing him with gravel and whatever else he might need. As it turned out I played host and lent him a bike as well in the form of my Bianchi Axis cross bike. Or should I say, I lent him part of a bike...

As is understandable when planning on riding 300+ miles of gravel, you want some comforts of home for sure. So add in a pile 'o' parts

And you get something like this when all is said and done.


We grabbed a good dinner Thursday night courteousy of George and met up with Fuller as well for a quick drink so they could shake things out for the weekend as Steve was providing the transport and possible contingency plan for bailouts if needed in the form of his wife and son who were also joining in on the adventure.

Friday dawned a bit overcast and misty, but we suited up for a spin to loosen up the legs and get George a little Iowa flavor...

Ever the considerate host I dropped us into some gravel rollers down towards Summerset park giving him a bit of an intro into the finer points of gravel and along the way we stopped to check out a Level B Road! George wasn't quite as excited about the condition of the B roads considering he walked the bike about 50 feet into the road and pretty much clogged the drivetrain and his shoes in that span. Gotta love Iowa mud!

We took the flat route back to town and even managed to find some freshly graded gravel (as in we were riding behind the road graded). A short 30 miles and 2 hours later, we were back at my place with just a bit of time to kill before heading out to meet up with Steve and family at the shop. We headed over and Sterling was kind enough to hook George up with a bit of Iowa hospitality (thanks man!) before they headed off to Williamsburg and I got on with the rest of my weekend.

I spent a good chunk of the weekend checking on the various updates posted both by the competitors and Guitar Ted (the organizer). I also tried to shoot some text messages to both guys giving a bit of encouragement only to remember later on that Steve doesn't have texting (doh!) Sadly I learned Steve pulled the plug at roughly halfway, but at least George was still trucking along. He ended up making a well earned finish just under 32 hours after the start. The Axis came back no worse for wear with no mechanical issues during the ride and just a bit of dirt caked on.

Shoot, that's about how it looked before I washed it up on Wednesday night in prep for loaning it out. I was happy to hear it held up as good as it did since its going to be my ride of choice for Almanzo 100 in a couple short weeks. I just need to check over the shifting, pop the bottom bracket out for some well earned greasing and slap her back together. Oh ya, and ride my ass off to get some mileage in my legs.

Dropping George back at the airport this morning, we parted ways. What can I say, he's a great guy and I'm glad that he made it out here to hang with us Iowa boys and he's a good friend to have made. Just another reason I love this sport. For his full race report, check here.

Photo credits to George as well.

Weekend rewind

Shooting back to the weekend here since there were some bright spots of note. Friday night we took off to Kansas City to visit some friends. With Bone Bender having been moved to April 18th, we had all ready scheduled to go down and stay so we just kept our plans. Luckily the construction on I-35 in downtown KC wasn't nearly as bad as expected and we still made it to our friends place on time even though we left over an hour later than we anticipated. From there it was a quick turn around to a killer BBQ joint called Oklahoma Joes. Great food and cheap for the amount of food you get. We met up with a few old friends that are holdovers from my car racing/playing days and had a great time catching up on things. Back to our friend's house after that where we put Corley down for bed and then killed some time with a few drinks and playing a couple games before hitting the sack.

Saturday had us up at a relatively tame hour and off to breakfast to join up with another couple friends that couldn't meet for dinner. Chatting and catching up ensued as usual. On leaving the restaurant we got a great compliment. The friends that we stayed overnight with made the observation that we'd done a pretty good job of raising Corley in regards to her speech, manners, and general disposition when paired up against the other 2 kids in her age range that had been present at the meals. Made Miranda and I pretty proud.

After we bid our friends adieu, we headed off to Union Station in downtown KC. We hit the Science City which is similar to our own Science Center, but personally, I thought this was way cooler. They had a larger variety of activities and just cooler things in general for the kids to try their hands at. Corley had a ball checking out the various attractions.

After Science City, we finished wandering around Union Station and headed over to Crown Center which is connected by skywalk to do some shopping and grab some lunch. While at Crown Center, there were definitely a few things of interest. There was an OZ display going on celebrating some anniversary of the movie release. It was crawling with people, but we managed to wiggle our way through. Corley thought the trees were pretty interesting.

There also happened to be an anime convention going on at one of the connected hotels. There was every type of costume you could imagine and what appeared to be an overload of scantily clad underage tweener girls and a number of older-creepy guys. You make the call, but I think one group probably attracts the other. I didn't have the stones to straight up stop and shoot some of the costumes, but I'm sure you can imagine.

The afternoon was really nice when we headed out so we opted to walk outside through a couple park areas on our way back to the car.

A few short hours later and we were back at home grabbing some much needed rest from the beginning of the weekend.

I got up early Sunday to join a few roadies for a "zone 2" ride out towards Van Meter. Apparently Zone 2 is code for kill it as long as you can and then back it down a bit from there. As we hit the hills out towards Grand on UTE rd, I thought seriously the coffee and bar I'd had for breakfast would be making it's second appearance of the morning. Luckily we swept through a housing area to take a look at Tony Nichols latest project house and I got my wits back about me. After that it was mostly a game of sitting in and watch Tony show off. The highlight of which was him passing us uphill while pedalling with 1 leg, showoff.

After almost 2 hours in "zone 2" it was time for something a bit more relaxing as I met up with the gravellers for a jaunt out on the Booneville loop. The pace was much more mellow as we rolled out and having been properly warmed up all ready, I hit the hills with a little more gusto than the rest and got to Booneville with enough time to make a quick pit stop at Waveland West.

MMM, warmth, gravel, and sun. How could you not be smiling?!
I parted company at this point needing to head back in time for Miranda to get to work. I cranked up the wick a bit and managed to add a full MPH to my average by the time I got back to the truck. 60 miles and a shade over 3 hours of riding for the morning. I was one happy camper.

Not one to waste a gorgeous afternoon, I took Corley out to the park for the first time this year. It took me forever to find the park entrance since I'd only ridden to it before, but eventually we made our way in and she played for close to an hour before we packed it in. A great way to cap off the weekend.

CIRREM recap

What a way to kick off the race season. CIRREM was a kick in the nuts to say the least. I remember thinking a couple of times throughout the course that if I made it back to the finish and had enough energy, I wouldn't mind sharing that kick in the nuts with Kent or Jed who organized this suffer fest. OK, so it was all in good fun, but the thought made me smile a bit.

I made it down for the free breakfast burritos and other goodies provided by the Cumming Tap, but a late night run back from Omaha left me running on about 4 hours of sleep all told. I wasn't quite up for stomaching a burrito though so I managed to eat half a cinnamon roll and half a Clif builder bar. Not exactly the breakfast of champions or the hopeful endurance racer, but it was as best I could do. We gathered about 25 strong for the start of the race in the rain and slop at 9 AM. While it was raining steadily, the gravel was in better than expected condition with a solid base and overall it was pretty firm considering the 1.5" of rain we'd had on Saturday.

Right off the bat I didn't feel that buzz in my legs. I stayed with the lead pack for about a mile and then slowly worked my way backward until I was pretty much last man standing. I knew it would be a long race and as I warmed up the engine, hopefully I'd real in some of the people that cooked it right out of the gate. I kept the pace reasonable and slowly I did real in a few people. the most notable thing in my mind was where I was gaining ground. Rolling the downhills and flats I maintained, but on the hills I seemed to gain the majority of my ground. I really think I'm a pretty weak climber, but my sitting down and cranking the hills seemed to garner me a lot more speed than those climbing out of the saddle.

Around 15 miles in, I noticed the rain starting to seep into my shoes as it drained down off my legs and into the neoprene cuff on my winter shoes. Nothing much I could do, but wait for the inevitable cold and sogginess to set in. By 20 miles in, I had water literally sloshing inside my shoes. The nice thing about winter shoes is they're really well sealed on the bottom side. The really bad thing about winter shoes is they're really well sealed on the bottom side. I now was riding in two partially filled canoes with water sloshing back and forth on each pedal stroke. By mile 25, my feet had settled into being uncomfortably cold and nearing numb. I'm not sure where they actually went numb, but I just remember noting that it felt like I was pedalling with two solid boxes attached to the bottoms of my legs. Its a great feeling I tell ya!

Somewhere in here Dennis suffered a crank failure and a couple of us stopped to phone some roving support to get back to the bar. I also passed Chris down from Rochester fiddling with a dropped chain on his fixie. Both would make opt out of the race and head back for the warmth of the Cumming Tap. I would be lying if I didn't say thoughts of pulling out were in my head for a solid 3/4 of the ride. I'd make deals with myself and then renegotiate every few miles until I finally got close enough to the end that I knew there was no reason to quit. Through to this point, we'd been having bouts of rain, sleet (feels great on 30 mph descents), and chunk rain/snow mix along with the varying winds.

A nature stop about midway up a rise put me off the back and chasing again. Trying to pee when your hands and various other parts of your body are approaching critical levels of cold takes a while. I think I lost close to 5 minutes stopped before I could get moving again. I took the opportunity to suck down a gel and got back on the bike feeling much less bloated and overall in better spirits. I could still catch glimpses of the large group ahead of me as we'd hit long stretches of rollers where they'd be a hill or two ahead of me. I was slowly closing in again.

At the checkpoint the group in front of me were stopped to warm up and catch some nutrition. I gave them my number and after digging out a half clif bar and a gel to eat along the way, was back on my bike in just a minute or two. I opted to keep moving and eating in lieu of sticking around with the group. That decision probably saved me from DNFing as just after I left, the group collectively decided to head back towards the start and meet up with Sumpter's lady driving the big black van of salvation. I mistakenly thought the one person I was decidedly racing against was part of the group I'd just passed. Kurt Benson and I have had some fun going back and forth trying to beat each other at a few various races and were engaged in some good natured smack talking during this race as well. In my haste to leave the checkpoint, I hadn't noticed that he'd kept right on going as well. I also made a 2nd mistake at the checkpoint. I'd opted to run with only 2-16oz bottles for the race and didn't take advantage of the refill station. I'll get back to this later.

From the checkpoint on we really suffered the hills and wind even more. A push up the monster hill on Old Portland road was the biggest grunt of the course, but it was the 5 mile stretch headed due north shortly after that where I hit the wall. I finally got off the bike with numb feet, cold hands, and little energy to walk a short stretch. I could see a few riders at varying points up in front of me and wondered if they were suffering the same as I. I also got passed by a way too energetic Kent along in here somewhere and wondered how he'd gotten behind me. Sucking down a gel as I walked, I felt every so slightly better and hopped back on after walking about a 1/4 mile. Eventually, as I rolled north, I realized I was indeed picking up ground on at least one rider in front of me. By the time we'd turned east again, I was pretty close and eventually caught up to Ben who was suffering mightily on his fixie and walking a number of hills. We chatted for a bit and I learned Kurt was actually up the road at this point and I resigned myself that he was in better shape for the day.

We were somewhere around 10 miles left to go when I began to bonk again, I was running dangerously low on water and even lower on energy. I snuck out my last bit of food in the form of a pack of sport beans I'd grabbed from the schwag table at sign up. Never having tried them before, I was pleasantly surprised to find they gave me a nice shot of energy and I was back to chasing for a bit. Up ahead, I could make out a figure all in black. There was my rabbit. Kurt was moving about the same pace as I was, but again, I made up time on the uphills. Ever so slowly, I gained ground on him and caught back on.

Regardless of the suffering throughout the course, the real fun was the last half hour. Kurt and I duked it out for a semi-climactic finish. I caught him a couple miles out of town and rather than attempt to kill each other pushing the pace we reached a gentleman’s agreement to find a suitable sprint point close to town and go from there. Kurt, ever the showman, decided to make it more interesting by wiping out hard not once, but twice inside the last 3 miles. He dropped a wheel off into a crack on a nasty wooden bridge flipping over the bars and apparently didn’t think he’d done enough damage at that point and opted to have me roll over a couple various body parts as I attempted to miss him. Holding to the agreement, I waited while he got himself back together and we let that sneaky Ben Shockey slide past us. I also have to give some major ups to Kurt's chase crew for refilling my bottle at this point as I was out and sinking into a stupor fast.

From there we determined the turn onto 25th street would be the start of the sprint (if you can call 7 tenths of a mile a “sprint”). I did my best to drop him off my wheel as we headed up a slight incline since that seemed to be my strong point of the day. Alas, I had nothing left in the tank and he gritted his teeth determined we would be sprinting it out across the Cumming Highway to the tap. As we both stood up to hammer the last hundred yards he later told me he was attempting to give me the old slide job and cut me off. A slight miscalculation on his part (only by 5 feet or so) had him bouncing off my back wheel and skidding across the highway leaving me to finish out the sprint wondering what the hell just happened. We finished close enough to DFL to taste it, but alas, we weren’t quite that lucky.

I finished 10th, Kurt 11th, and one final finisher rounded out 12 of the 25 starters. 13 DNF's so I feel good just having completed the ride. I did walk away with some pretty sweet schwag in the form of a case of Off Kilter Ale courtesy of Olde Main Brewing!

All in all I great day to suffer on the bike and damn was I glad when it was done. I'll post a few more post race lessons and thoughts a bit later on.

It was a f#$%ing beautiful day!

... and it should be another awesome one today! I can't wait to get out and ride.

Met up with Chad, Squirrel, Conlan, and Gov for our ration of gravel yesterday. Squirrel opted for some easy putt putt action since he's still recouping. The balance of the group followed my lead (the fools!) and we headed on the gravel south of the airport hooking up with old Army Post before hopping onto the Great Western off of 63rd. We actually headed back south again up a mowed path that runs perpendicular to the Great Western and ties into the gravel running east/west at the top of the hill. A nice little shortcut that kept us off of 63rd. At the top of the hill is a parking area and we found a couple "parking" or more correctly, f#$%cking their brains out in the front seat of a SUV. I'm sure it was a little midday rendezvous of a nefarious nature, but hey, who am I to judge. At least they were enjoying the day as much as we were!

We wound our way towards Orilla and further south on a stretch that is getting ready to be converted to tarmac (what a shame). The headwinds out of the south were fun, but nothing major as the beauty of the day was hard to beat. As we topped a nice steep paved hill Conlan, Chad, and Gov opted to head back while I kept on cruising for a little more mileage. I worked a little further south before turning west and heading into Cumming. The gravel was absolutely beautiful and I cranked up the pace with a cross tailwind. You can't tell I'm enjoying the day, can you?!

I briefly considered finishing out the loop by heading over to Booneville just north of Cumming, but alas the sun was still getting ready to head down, so I opted to cut my enjoyment back short and work back east to Orilla. I did make a strategic decision and added the hilly loop portion of the Ritual Ride onto my route by working down to Walnut Woods drive and doing the soccer hill climb. I was starting to get gassed by the time I worked up to the top of it and headed back to Waterworks and onto Conlan's house where I was parked. 2.5 hours in the warm sun with just shy of 38 miles ticked off and I was a happy camper. I'm headed back out at 3 for another day of soaking up the sun. At least it seems to make coming in to work at 5 in the morning worth my while!