I've hit a new level of soreness this week.  Mike split it and I'm the official stacker. When I come from work it's there mocking me. It's everywhere and the piles are not getting smaller.

I love posting unflattering photos on myself on the web...

Lucky me that we have flood lights so I can work in the dark.

Terror of Teaberry: Fail

I started to think the universe was telling me not to go to PA:

1. Pulled out and realized I forgot my wallet 15 minutes later and had to go back to the house.
2. I was in a dazed state and took the wrong way on 78 and drove to Newark. Ummm...I've driven 78 west about a gazillion times. Tack on 45 minutes to the trip.
3. Had to pee so badly and every time I got off an exit the gas station or McDonald's was 3+ miles away. They should have to tell you this while on the highway so you can make an educated decision, but I digress. I ended up peeing behind a dumpster of a bank. Twice.
4. While opening up a bag of almonds, they exploded and scattered across the truck.
5. The little truck does not have Sirius. Once in PA, all I could get on the radio were Jesus stations. When I found a decent station, the Jesus stations kept coming through. Creepy.
6. Got to hotel, was unpacking stuff, bag fell off arm and I grabbed it to catch it and there was an open safety pin on the strap and it went through the webbing between my thumb and index finger. That felt lovely.
7. Somehow the skewer bolt and spring worked its way off my wheel in the bed of the truck. I was crawling around with a cell phone light like an asshole in the parking lot trying to find them. A senior couple was perplexed by my behavior and did chat me up in the parking lot and asked me to go to the Bonanza buffet with them. I declined. Not sure how a buffet would feel on the bike. Gag.
8. In the morning, I made my coffee in the room and proceeded to drop the full glass carafe on the bathroom floor. Coffee and glass everywhere. That required some clean up.
9. The check engine light came on as soon as I pulled into the venue.
10. Put on my riding shoes and realized something was in the toe of my left one. It was an almond and the evil safety pin.

I felt good at the start. Michaux is raw and technical to say the least. It's hard to do it justice in a blog post.  I knew I had the fitness and technically I have been riding well. I was confident I would finish. In the first 20 minutes I saw 7+ guys with flats. I shook my head and secretly judged them. Poor guys. How does one flat in the first 20 minutes? Maybe if you wouldn't ride like an out of control idiot down baby head and razor-rock down hills that wouldn't happen. As soon as I got all judgy and stuff it happened. Karma's a bitch. Pssssssss. I kept riding and pretended the noise was a leaf stuck between the fork and tire. It wasn't. Things got squirrely in the rear fast. Fudge. But I didn't say fudge. I saw there was a sidewall tear and got out my tire plugs or "stabbies" as I like to call them. Put in a stabbie and got my big air ready. Turned chuck to crack CO2 and there was chuck fail. Blew big air every which way but in my tire. I was done. I had nothing. Nothing until my drop bag at the aid station. I yelled a few obscenities, kicked a tree and turned around. So pissed. My computer said 30 minutes. Riders passed me. No one wants to give anything up at Michaux. Self preservation is key. I walked my bike in anger back up towards civilization. 15 minutes later, after a few dozen more colorful words were strewn around the forest, I came upon a guy with a pump. He pumped up my tire and it held. I helped him out and used some stabbbies on his hole. That sounds oddly inappropriate, but you know what I meant.

I wasn't sure at that point if I should try to go the way of the course or continue back. I had lost ~25 minutes and I had gone backwards. 25 minutes at Michaux is huge. Computer said 55 minutes. I turned around and tried to make it. I busted my ass. I felt extremely defeated because I couldn't see or hear anyone. Flat tire guy had fallen off behind me. I felt my tire getting softer and I could feel the rim hitting the rocks. Fuck. I had to baby it until the aid station. Made it to the aid station. It only took me 2 hours to go 12 miles. Ugh. I rolled in and used their pump rather than waste another C02. I felt pretty defeated. Grabbed my bottles and went on. I started to bust ass again and finally I caught up to some guys on singlespeeds. They looked like they were pulling the plug and asked if the motos were coming. I told them that no motos were coming. That's the fun part of Michaux races. Motos start taking down the course after the last rider and follow.  I have succumbed to the motos before. I think part of the attrition rate is because of this. It's awful and humiliating.

The loamy freshcut trails were leg sapping to put it mildly. At on point, the course was just arrows through the woods. No trail to be seen. Just riding through saplings and bushwhacking by way of the arrows. Again my tire got a little soft. And no, I would not put a tube in. Not yet. I stopped on an off-camber singletrack section to fill it again. The trail was uneven, so to get my balance I braced myself against the tree. While I was tending to my tire I heard a loud crack and what I now know was a dead tree gave way and I toppled over backwards down the hill, slammed my head and hip into the downed tree and my bike toppled on top of me. Really. I can't make this shit up. That was the most painful crash I've had all year. The good news is my tire held.

I got myself together and carried on. I climbed a long gravel road and drained my bottles. I looked at my mileage and I was at 25ish miles. The next aid station was supposed to be around mile 27, so I wasn't too concerned. Fast forward an hour + later. No aid station. It was not good. I thought I missed it and I wasn't the only one. I felt awful. Dizzy, clumsy and nauseated. I couldn't eat because I had no fluids. My body was not my own. Not good. I felt drunk and was moving backwards at one point. I made it to the aid station at around 32 miles. There were only 4 more miles to go and I got pulled. That sucks. As I was coming out of the singletrack I saw a woman riding up the road. She had just made it. FUCK. I sat and talked to the moto guy who was going to corral the others behind me. Before I left the moto guy told me to hold still and he pulled a inch long twig that was embedded in my arm.  He held it up and asked how I didn't feel it. Delirium I told him. I got my marching orders and directions back. To say it was demoralizing is putting it mildly. It was the ride of shame back to the parking lot.

In trying to find the bright side of my experience, I convinced myself that I was lucky all year with flats and technicals. I was due. It was better that they happened today. I guess. I was then told that during the last 4 miles a few people were stung by bees. Someone pointed out that maybe it was 'luck' that I didn't make it because I'm allergic. The universe? Maybe. I think it's just fudging Michaux.

Camels

Finally, fallish weather has come and my body digs it. So much so that I wish my race season was in the fall. Sure I still have bad days, but everything always feels a little better when the cool comes and the humidity goes away. Even with some snottiness, I was able to finally ride this past weekend. I haven't been on my SS since Shen and took it to Waway for a post-Shen shakedown ride. Sure,we did some maintenance and cleaned it up after the mud bath. However, I was still worried that during the first ride some undiagnosed issues would materialize. The concern was justified after about 20 minutes and my drop-outs started creaking so loudly and obnoxiously that I almost rode back home to tend to the creaking. I stuck it out. Shockingly, nothing major seems wrong with my bike. A little lube and tightening when I got home made the sliding drop-outs quit whining. Just another reason I prefer track fork ends. Less fuss.

The whole weekend was pretty spectacular weather wise. It was hard to make myself go inside. There was some time to find a new trail in the works and explore just where exactly it went or was going to go and where the hell the line was or may be.

Sunday, I did a local bike tour organized by the OCBC. I had planned on it being a relaxing and chill ride. A ride where I could take in the beautiful day and scenery and drink and eat at my leisure. I could even stop and take pictures. I imagined myself smiling, laughing, chatting and taking in the scenery with the chill group I decided to ride with. Somewhere my plans went south and it ended up being an extremely painful and slobber knocking experience. I don't think I got in a drink for the first part of my ride. I got in with a group of guys that were way too fast for me and I was holding on for dear life. In hindsight, I'm not sure what I was thinking. I almost made it to the halfway point and then I popped magnificently and had to limp through for a bit, recover and gather myself until I could latch onto a kinder, gentler group. I was wondering why they looked at me the way they did when we finally rolled into the parking lot and everyone could finally get a good non-rolling look at one another. I caught a glimpse of myself in a mirror and there were snot streaks across my glasses and crust all over my face and nostrils. My hair was flapping out of the top of my helmet and it was crusted to my neck in places. I was flushed. Sure, this is normal after races and hard rides. I wasn't expecting this on my peaceful Sunday looky-loo ride. I looked like a deranged mental patient with hygiene issues. I haven't come home from a ride, not showered and passed out on the floor in a long time.

The best part of the day was not the ride, it was the camels. Camels are a big theme in the Warwick Valley. Since a portion of the money from the tour was going to an animal rescue that many camels call home, they had them front and center and accessible throughout the route. I stopped to get some camel loving from four or five of them. As I was taking a picture one was chewing on my helmet, one was nuzzling my leg and this guy below ate my watermelon out of my hand while my head was turned. One lady screamed bloody murder like they were going to eat me. They were like big mushy dogs and were definitely attention whores, but they were going to "eat" no one.

I want one. I really want one. I love them.  I think our yard is big enough for one.  I have already began Googling all things related to getting and keeping a camel. I was on the "I want a goat kick" for a while. More realistic, yes. Not nearly as much fun as I imagine having a camel would be. 

If you know (or have learned) one thing about me it is that moderation is not my strong point.  Doing 5 hundreds this year after 3 years of not doing so much kind of fell into that category. On Wednesday night, I started to think I was kicking my cold and decided to go behind the house for a 'light hike'. My light hike turned into an hour + of trail running on pretty rough terrain. The only walking I did was when I feared I was going to bust my face open on a rocky descent or boulder field and I probably would have gone farther had I not feared my headlamp battery was on the brink of death. I haven't run in a long time. Okay, so I'm a SSer and I am off the bike and walking/trotting/dragging the bike a lot, but it's not the same. My engine felt great and it wasn't enough time for my tendons and joints to scream at me. Thursday, I didn't feel so awful. I even bragged about it a little because Mike told me I was going to be crippled. Today, well that's another story. I feel like I am going to pull a hammy getting in and out of the car and my cold seems to have come back with a vengeance. On the bright side, I covered more ground in that time than I ever have. So I'm gonna say it was worth it.  I will never learn....and maybe I don't want to. 

Sickety Sick

Where have I been, you ask? Well, I've been in a post-Shen/hundred cold/flu funk, that's where. Not feeling so bloggy lately. I had a feeling the night sweats I had the two nights before Shen were not a fluke. Looking back, my snot rockets during the race were more productive than usual. I thought it was allergies and my body reacting to some flora that we don't have in Northern NJ. I've been out of the office for a few days and today was the first day I showed my face and I have to say that I didn't get rave reviews. I was told I still look and sound like crap. Actually, I was told I sound like a man. At least they didn't say I look like a man. It's a tough crowd. If you ever want an honest opinion about yourself I'll give you the address to my office because they'll tell you. It may hurt a little, but sometimes it's good to know where you stand.

I've really not done a thing that resembles any sort of activity since Shen. I've wanted to, but couldn't get my sweaty, snotty self off the couch to do so. I did go with Mike to the Riedlbauer's Round Top Rally in NY. It's one of my favorite courses and I was really bummed I couldn't race it or bring my bike to even ride a lap. I had delusions of running a lap. That grand plan was kiboshed when I carried Mike's bottles to the feed zone and I was wheezing and hacking. I had to sit down and rest. I was better off just sitting in one place and feeding Mike. I'm hoping I can kick this soon and that it does not go into my chest. My immune system isn't the best ever and for those of you who have or know people with certain auto-immune diseases, well, our bodies sometimes like to go from a common cold to pneumonia with the awesome bronchitis label in between. The doctor and hospital visits have been kept to a minimum this year and I'd like to keep it that way.

I have a few things I'd still like to do this year. I'm not used to this whole setting and completing a goal thing so I've been pretty content and not too worried about having some forced rest time. I'll probably do a local road metric on Sunday and hopefully, learn a new route or two from the house to keep the winter more interesting. There probably will be some Iron Cross in my future and maybe, just maybe, the Terror of Teaberry. I may even tag along with Mike and attempt a few cx races. That'll be entertaining and horrifying for all parties involved. I'm also just looking forward to being on my bike and enjoying the fall. There will definitely be some bike squatchin in my future. The good bike stays home and the old faithful beat up ss will come back out to be thrown, dragged and hiked across Northern NJ. Can't wait.

SM100

Well, that was a rough one. I knew the day before when we were spinning our legs out and it was raining that Sunday was going to make for an interesting day. 300+ of my closest friends ripping through the wet trails before I got there would make for some mud and slop. The start was uneventful. I didn't remember the flat road section being so freaking long last year. Maybe because I had gears last year. I tried to just chill and not overspin for what I knew was coming. I got to the climbs and my legs didn't feel as chipper as I would have liked for a full day on the SS ahead. I eased off and really tried to chill out. I've been having some left leg-hip-IT band issues lately and a couple of times I had to stop and pull over a stretch it out. It was so tight and uncomfortable that it felt like someone had a string tied to my knee cap and was trying to pull it off my body. I'm sure I looked like an idiot. After a couple of hours, things started to warm up and cooperate.

There were times it was pouring so hard that I couldn't see a thing. It was the kind of rain where the taste of all the crap and funk that has built up in your helmet over the season was now in your mouth. Mmmmm. Sunscreen, sweat and bugspray. I would put my glasses on to act as a shield against the crap getting in my eyes on the road sections, but there was no seeing out of them. I just prayed I didn't hit a pot hole or rut as I rode blind down some of the gravel roads. 



It was pouring as I was riding down US 250 to Bridge Hollow (I think that's what it was). This section is not SS friendly. It felt like it went on forever. As I was riding, there were MANY riders going the opposite direction. They had pulled the plug. Mass exodus. I knew there was an interesting hike-a-bike section coming up. I turned in and rode across the rocky creek, into the trail, dismounted and started my trek up. There was literally a stream coming at me off the trail. It was not an easy walk because it was so muddy and slippery. I remember it being a bitch last year and it was dry then. Soon there were more people coming towards me and trying to get back to the road and call it quits. I negotiated around them on the tight, slick, bench-cut trail one at a time. One guy told me that if I was smart, I would turn back. Luckily, I rarely take advice advice from strangers and slogging through horrible trail conditions is definitely my strong suit. I remember being able to ride a good part of that singletrack after the hike-a-bike last year. Not this year. I couldn't get any traction in the rear and I was burning matches every time I tried to ride. It was a long hike. I got to the last piece of singletrack before the Aid Station 4 and could ride a little more through the slop. I actually was pedaling on the downhills and was on top of the gear. If I stopped pedaling, the slop would stop me in my tracks. I made it to Aid Station 4, got an eye wash (they were gritty and burning), filled a bottle with water and carried on. I knew this was where it was going to get interesting. I only had 2 hours to make it ~20 miles to Aid Station 5 to make the cut-off for those who did not have lights. I could have quit right then. I actually felt pretty good. I decided that if I'm not going to finish it was going to be because they had to pull me off the course. Being conservative early helped and I was able to stay on the bike a lot more than I did last year on the climb all the way to Aid Station 5. I made the cut-off by 10 plus minutes. Some mean man told me I didn't. I fought with him. I had a few violent thoughts about him. A lady working the aid station told him he was wrong about the cut-off time (he was). As they were bickering and calling to verify, I snuck away. Screw him. I felt better than I had felt all day at this point. I knew I was making it home.

I'm not great with trail names, but after Aid Station 5 there is something I like to call the climb to the "Meadow of Death". There were mud holes last year for a dry race. Imagine what it looked like this year. It was a slog fest. It's rolling with some steeps that I had to get off because I was going nowhere. Even on the flats it was hard to pedal forward because of the pudding like mud. It was leg sapping, to say the least. I passed about 10 + people here. Carnage.

Made it to Aid Station 6 and knew I only had 12 miles to go. I had one more climb to go and you could not wipe the smile off my face at that point. I grabbed my bottle with calories out of my drop bag  and carried on for the final push. After the climb I knew what was left. Some false flats on doubletrack and a downhill that drops into the campground and into the finish. I saw two kids on bikes at one of the corners of the downhill and I knew I had made it. I rolled into the finish and my epic adventure was over (until clean-up). Although, lopping off a good chunk of last year's time didn't happen as I had hoped because of the conditions, I still came in a little quicker. That's still a win.


Please note that it is still light out and I'm drinking my celebratory IPA

Wow. It's over. It still hasn't set in that I finished 5 hundreds on the SS. I actually set a goal and was actually able to see it through without my body completely breaking down. It protested, and it's been a rough past month or so, but I pulled it out.

Thanks to my fabulous traveling buddies for a good time! I will apologize once more for the overpowering cat pee funk smell that my shoes emit. Like I said, we don't have a cat, so I'm not sure what that's about...