Before I Forget

I've been trying to get a post out on this here digital crap fest for about 4 days now. Several posts are started and not finished. I guess I could say I will do them in the next day or two, but that might be a lie.

I had a few short crap rides last week, but nothing to velosturbate too much over. Today however I got out with Maltby (on his singlespeed road bike) and Seaman (on his super fly new Jamis road bike) for 80 miles of road riding. This is the longest road ride I've done in years. The roads Mike took us on were pretty mellow, and it was nice to spin along, talking and burning calories for 4.5 hours.

The ride was a pretty easy pace, but still 4.5 hours is 4.5 hours and I was happy to feel as fresh as I was at the end. Gotta give props to CarboRocket for providing the calories and to Mike for sharing that big pack of ghetto fig bars he bought at a hick gas station/cash advance joint out in the middle of fucking nowhere.

I think we passed about 300 farms and about 6 different lakes during the ride. Mike took great pleasure in me not knowing where the hell we were. I mean there as NOTHING out there at times. It was great.

Gotta get some sleep.

Later

You May Have Noticed

You may have noticed that I'm back writing The Soiled Chamois (yet again) and have ditched the "fresh" Tumblr site I started. Why? Not sure. I think it was just that I realized I like typing this endless dross more than I often think I do. 

I do want to attempt some redesign 'cause now that I am used to working on with WordPress with my xxcmag.com site, I have grown to hate the look of Blogger. But I've invested enough in host and domain names already, I don't feel like doing it again just to host some stupid blog about written by an aging (part time) cyclist with a penchant for bitching, complaining, gaining weight, being depressed and coming in 50th at races.

So what will change with The Soiled Chamois?

1. The posts will not always be about cycling. I will not "review" anything, but I may talk about things I dig and or lust after at length, and this includes: bikes, parts, music, cars, art, design, photos food, football (soccer) cooking and women (especially bosomy red heads). But in the end it will be MOSTLY about cycling. Given that I run a fucking bike magazine it's hard for it NOT to be.

2. As I said I hope to do some simple design changes. They may change often. No one cares.

3. I will still do my race reports (when I race, which probably won't be that often). 

4. I still aim to make the blog LESS about me. There's nothing to be said about me that I haven't (for better or worse) said already - former fatty, medicated depressive, beer lover, bike racer, bike rider, magazine publisher, graphic designer, dim witted buffoon, etc., etc.,

There now that I have come crawling back to the blog, it's time to get this thing going again.

Later.

The Salsa Spearfish

My Salsa Spearfish has been my "go to" bike for singletrack over the past 1.5 years. Recently I had to have the Rock Shox rear shock replaced with a "new to me" Fox RP23. I also finally got around to making a much needed ghetto mod to the water bottle cage. I have always found the cage way to low for easy race pace access. I moved the cage up using the top mount screw as the bottom and using a super white trash zip-tie to keep the top in place. So far the mod has been aces: it stayed in place over a recent 23+ mile XC race, there's plenty of room for the bottle and much quicker and comfortable access.

I also continue to wonder if I can even ride my hardtail anymore. I tried recently and it was disappointing to say the least. While I wish my Spearfish could lose about 3 pounds or so, I would be better off with ME losing about 25 pounds.

Later.

A Fresh Start

It’s 2:45 a.m. You’ve been racing for almost 15 hours and you’re dead on your bike. You’re cold, wet, muddy and hungry. You approach your pit along the trail. You need a break and something to eat before you head out for yet another lap on that godforsaken race course.

You gingerly dismount your bike trying hard not to cramp. You feel your wet, sweat soaked, mud encrusted chamois pull at your tender bits as you hand your bike off to your buddy who has kindly agreed to wrench for you.

You want to quit. Bad! Your buddy senses this and tells you up front he will not let you quit. Although he does find a reason (most likely made up) to work on your bike for a few extra minutes while you get some of the hot soup that he has warming on the camp stove.

While you sit, your friend chats to you about the race, you grunt short one and two word responses wishing that he would just shut the hell up and let you close your eyes, to just let you be done. But he is wise, his annoying chatter keeps you awake, the soup he prepared gives you hot, salty nourishment and washes away the thick baby puke taste of sports drink that has coated your tongue for the past few hours.

Just as your body starts to relax and your eye lids start to close, your bike is miraculously ready. You plead for just a few more minutes, but your friend is having none of it. He could be home in a warm bed sleeping instead of under a pop up tent in the cool, damp woods of West Virginia helping you stupidly race your mountain bike for 24 hours. Because of this, you somehow find the will to rise and get ready to head back out on course.

He wants you back on course, but he also senses that maybe your aren't ready just yet. He produces some warm water and a towel and suggest that you clean things up “below the equator” and put on some fresh shorts while he gets you a fully charged light battery.

You are cold and the last thing you feel like doing is taking off anything. But you do it, because right now you are a zombie and would pretty much do anything you're told.

Stripping down hurt (of course it did, even thinking hurts) and you were indeed cold, but the warm water felt amazing and was only outdone by the feeling of pulling on fresh bibs. While you’re at it you find some dry socks and gloves. You start to feel almost human again.

You tighten the sweat soaked chin strap on your foul smelling helmet, turn your lights on, make a few adjustments and find your bike. Some parting words of encouragement and a painful slap on the back from your “pit boss" and the 10 minute break is now over and you’re back on the trail. The new chamois has you feeling refreshed, or at least as refreshed as someone who has been riding since noon the day before can feel.

"You gotta love a fresh chamois," you think to yourself  as you pedal on, trying to wrap your head around the idea of riding for another 8 hours.

Later.

_____________________________________________________

For the record the above is a true story based on my Solo race at the 2005 24 Hours of Big Bear. This was also published at xxcmag.com.

Something Fresh

As I mentioned in my last post I need to take a bit of a break from the Soiled Chamois, but I don't want to not blog. It helps keep my creative juices moving. I have created a new site that will be place for me to embrace my ADD for short blurbs, photos and sounds. It's call A Fresh Chamois. It's more about cycling and riding in general than ME. Hell, I don't even like me, why the hell would someone ELSE want to read about me?

As I said the Soiled Chamois isn't going away, I just need to take a break and do something that fills the gaps between my real life, my work life at XXC Magazine the stupidity of Facebook and quick creative bong hits of Pinterest. 

Fuck it, the other blog was stupid. I'm the Soiled Mother ****ing Chamois. Updating this blog with what I like and moving on as usual. I hate me.

Later.

Making A Break For It

One of the best/funniest recent conversations I had about my bike racing came last night after Zandr and I finished recording the XXC Podcast. We were talking about today's Pros, sponsorships, etc.,

Z: So you actually had sponsors at one time?

Me: Yeah, a few.

Z. No offense, but you always say how you're a "mid pack at best" racer, how did you get sponsors?

Me: Ha, well I wasn't ALWAYS as bad as I am now. I had a couple years that I actually got on podiums or came at least close. Age caught up with me, had a kid, had some health issues, started a magazine and gained some weight.

Too funny.

I believe I'm gonna take a break from the Chamois for a little while. With my focus on the xxcmag.com Blog content, it's hard to find anything worth talking about. We're not breaking up.... we're just taking a break.

Later.

The First Real One

After two lackluster (for me) gravel road races, Saturday brought the first REAL race of the year. By REAL (all caps not necessary, but desired for effect. Or is it affect? Either way...) I of course mean that it was a full on mountain bike race. You know knobby tires, singletrack in the woods and all that jazz.

The race was the Rust Shaker XC race at the Mid Michigan Community College. I just started racing XC with any regularity last year. I found that while I am not that great at it (not sure I'm actually good at ANY sort of racing), it is sort of my Cross. Know what I mean? No? Well, some folks race XC or XXC (or road races. UG!) races all year long and look forward to the fall, skin suits, barriers, cowbells, and a chance to sport Wellingtons and not feel like a complete douche. I look forward to the fast pace of XC racing.

Due to my crash on the ice back in March, my mountain bike season was off to a bad start and the Rust Shaker would be just my 5th time on a mountain bike (dirt roads don't count) in 2012. Oh well, I have little expectations from racing anymore other than the want to ride my bike and suffer for the fun of it. So let's get to this so called "fun."

There was a nice turn out for the race with over 115 folks. In my old man class I think there were about 16 or 17 racers. Not a lot of wiggle room for my lofty mid pack goals. Damn. But that's racing. My class went off and soon we were flying down a long paved road to the singletrack. As per usual I dropped to the back of the pack like a lead balloon thrown off the Sears Tower. Damn.

The race would be a prologue lap of a mile+ , followed by two 11+ mile laps. Other than the initial pavement and what was in the lap transition area the course was 98% singletrack.

I felt pretty good in the initial lap, but sadly I did get stuck behind some slower folks in the prologue lap. I ditched a couple on the short power line climb, then just settled in, passing when I could.

I was feeling good on my first lap and the bike was feeling swell. The new to me Fox RP23 was working fine, the ghetto mod I made to the bottle cage on the Spearfish to shorten the reach was proving to be a good move and I was keeping a good pace.

I passed a couple more folks from different classes but really lost contact with anyone from my group. As I headed out for lap 2 I was by myself and pretty much rode the entire 2nd lap solo. Occasionally I would see some folks through the trees, but I was on my own. Shit.

Not that I mind riding by myself, but it is REALLY hard to push an XC pace when you're alone. With about two miles to go my friend Chris who was well ahead of me racing in the Expert Open class on his singlespeed saw me through the trees and yelled "C'MON MAHOKEY!!!" My responses was simply a loud "WOOT!! WOOT!!" Funny thing was, I knew I was not in any sort of contention, but hearing some words of encouragement from a friend really helped me up the pace.

With less than a mile to go I was feeling the effects of the unexpected sun and heat of the day and from being slack bike racer, but then I heard my friend Renee screaming for me as she snapped some pics. That got me to the line happily and ready for some of that free pizza.

I completed the 23+ miles in a time of 2:03:fifty something. Good enough, err I mean BAD enough for 11th place out of 16 or 17 40+ Expert old dudes. Vile.

11th place, back of the pack, but a damn good time. Great trails, with a bunch of good friends. Plus there was free, all you shove in you fat face, pizza afterwards. What more could you ask for? Ha!

When I got home it B-Man and Wifey had JUST left for a movie so I cleaned up and met my buddies Chris, his dog Blue and Ryan (who raced Expert Open on their singlespeeds) for a few Founder's Pale Ales in the sun over on the deck of the Blue Gator. A pretty sweet day of riding and hanging out with friends capped off by pizza at The Bird that night with Wifey. Good stuff and a pretty boss weekend. Life is pretty good when I don't let my fucked up mind convince me it sucks. I guess that's why they made the medication? Ha!

Later.

Post Ride/Pre Race

No week is complete around my house without SOME sort of bike issue or physical ailment. That's my cross of suck to bare. And so I did again this week.... BUT with good results.

As mentioned previously I found that my Rock Shox Monarch rear shock on the Spearfish shit the bed and was blowing oil all over the place. Epher!! OK, shit happens, but the shock is less than a year old and I was of course planning on using the Fish at tomorrow's Rush Shaker XC race. The MMCC course is the perfect combination of lumpiness, fresh trail, no climbs (except for some short grunts) and embedded rock that screams for an XC full suspension bike. Drat.

BUT WAIT!

A call to Napper at my shop (Terry's Cycles in beautiful downtown Alma, Michigan) had me thinking that the problem MIGHT be able to be solved. If not, no big, I'll just race the hard tail. So I went down to the shop to pick up the El Mariachi, get B-Man's bike and have him take a look at my Fish.

As luck would have it, he had a box of gently used shocks that he has accumulated over the years from various sources (warranties, etc.,). As MORE luck would have it he had a Fox RP23 that fit my Fish. SWWWEEET! Thank you my bearded, bald headed friend!

A few minutes later I was out the door with a shock that by all means SHOULD perform better than the Monarch.

While I have heard SOME bad things about the RP23, I have heard JUST as many bad things about the Monarch. Do yourself a favor and NEVER read MTBR.com reviews. Just go with your gut and word of mouth. If you read those review you'll never buy anything. Basically people want their shit free, want it to NEVER break and if it does they want it replaced no matter HOW it happened. Pffft, if only.

I tested the shock out with a rare (for me) 20+ mile evening ride on the MMCC Rust Shaker race course. The bike felt great, I felt great, the shock felt great, the whole f*cking lot of us felt great.

Soon I was home. I ate, kissed Wifey and B-Man good night at bed time and then met some friends down the block for a beer or two. What a great way to spend pre Friday the 13th. 'Cause God knows, with MY current luck I was NOT getting on a bike to ride today.

Looking forward to tomorrow's race. If for no other reason than I am going to try to talk the director into a 4 lap (40+) mile XXC event for the summer race. We'll see. More to come tomorrow after the race. C'MON MID PACK!!!

Later.

Sorry, no pics, I was hammering hard to get home before the B-Man's bed time, etc.,

Later x 2.

A Change Of Pants, I Mean Plans

With the XC race at Mid coming up this Saturday I wanted to head up to the trails and get my final pre-race roll on.

Independent Struggling Cycling Magazine Union rules mandate 1 to 3 hours of cycling be offered to employees daily. Not being one to go against the Union rules, after I got enough work done to ride guilt free I headed down to air up the Spearfish, etc.,

Upon airing up the rear wheel I noticed that there was oil on the wheel. Whaaa? In fact there were multiple oil stains around the wheel. Whhhhaaaaaa?? Then my thoughts went back to Saturday and riding Hanson Hills. After the ride I pointed out to Chris how odd it was to get so much travel from my rear shock (according to the O ring). DOH!! I must have blown out a seal or something. FRIG!!

So with the TiE.M. already at Napper's and the Spearfish's shock on the fritz, I was forced to the roads. NOT the plan, but a plan.

I planned on a normal dirt road loop, but ran into construction blocking the road on one road (construction on a dirt road?? Ha!). Soon I found myself on the crap pavement, but wide open, rolling-ness of Blanchard Road...

That was feeling OK, so I stayed on it, opting to not take some right turns back to dirt (whaaattt??). After a brief stop to deside if I wanted to get some deer process, pick up some fruit or pick up a bent hickory bar stool I head on to Jordan Road.

Most of Jordan Road is awesome (at least between Blanchard and M-20). Some nice, long, large(ish) for this area hills, great pavement and low to no traffic. Good stuff.

After crossing M-20 I continued on Jordan until I spied the right for River Road and more gravel. Once I ran out of River's gravel I turned left on Johnson to get back to the smooth rollingness and wide shoulders of Baseline.

6 or 7 miles later I was back at work, I mean home.

The ride was about 75% pavement, which is WAY more than I thought I was going to ride today, but ending with 42 miles on the nose made for a nice union mandated ride.

Thursday a.m. will have using my Union ride break time to head to beautiful downtown Alma to drop off and pick up bikes. Then maybe trying to squeeze a ride in come evening time. Maybe.

Later.

Been A While

It's been a while since I last posted the tales of woe that make up The Soiled Chamois. But alas, here I am, back for more...

When I last posted I was coming off a very disappointing day at Yankee Springs and a better day at Mid. I am happy (enough) to say that things got a bit better on Saturday when I once again with Chris, this time at Hanson Hills. I really have grown to dig the trails at Hanson and was glad to return to them.

While the first climb had me wishing that I wasn't feeling the tops of my legs bounce of my belly and sucking some air to try to keep up with Chris, things soon leveled out and got better. While I'm pretty sure Chris was not putting the hammer down, it was fun to chase him around for 20+ miles.

Easter Sunday I took my first day off the bike in a week, laid around, ate ham and welcomed B-Man and Wifey back from their trip back to PA.

Monday saw a return to the dirt roads for a short ride and of course, wind. Loathsome. vile wind. The only good thing is that at SOME point, even if it's for just a little while, you get a tailwind. This day was no different and I found myself barley putting any power to the pedals, spinning out and still going 28 mile an hour on a CX bike with 700 x 40 tires.

OK, need to do some work.

Later.

Back In The Saddle (Again)

Thursday I took the day off work and went down to Yankee Springs to ride with my friend Chris. Once there we met up with another friend of mine and XXC contributor Bill-K. This would be my first time on REAL dirt, meaning NOT dirt roads, but REAL rooty, rocky, sandy singletrack) in 2+ months, maybe more. First the weather was a bitch, then I of course fucked my shoulder/arm up preventing me from handling a mountain bike proper on singletrack. Boooo!

Annnnywhoo.... It was time to pull up my chamois and test the dirty singletrack water again. Oh boy...

After the drive down, it was pretty much game on as soon as we topped our bikes. Chris and Bill took off and I entered the singletrack like a fat, blind, deaf, mute with a bad perm. It was bad. I felt like such a fucking nancy-pants. I mean I was ALL over the trail, in the brush, feeling like I was gonna eat a mouthful of sand and fuck my shoulder again at every turn. I was so embarrassed with myself, and like WAY more than usual.... I mean I rarely leave the house that I am not completely ashamed and embarrassed with myself and the way I act, look, am, etc. , but this was fucking worse(r).

After a brief stint of feeling sorry for myself, I pulled up my sack and said "who gives a fuck" and just did what I could to get my semi-good enough-singletrack mojo back and let Bill and Chris do their thang.

Mentally it was hard, the thoughts of crashing would enter my mind at every corner, and believe me I suck at cornering anyway, but on Thursday I REALLY sucked.

I was pretty pissed with myself, but the trails, the weather and the friends were great, so I can't bitch too much. With a few miles left of Lap 2 I told Chris to just keep hammering and get in 3 laps and I was just gonna head back to the xB, clean up and what not.

Sad to say, the above trail litter was the highlight of my ride. And egg. A fucking egg. Bill believes that is was a REAL turkey or some such egg and he hit it (FUCKING MURDERER!!). Bill is a very, very, bad man. I just laughed and took a photo (See what I mean? I'm an embarrassment to all).

In the end I wasn't real happy to driven two fucking hours for just 21 miles of singletrack, especially since gas is like $10.00 a gallon and last year I went down, turned out a 3 lap pre-ride and felt like I could have done more. This day I was happy to end it at two and thought even harder about giving the whole mountain bike thing again. But no...

Less than 24 hours later, I had the Spearfish on the xB heading out to ride singletrack again. In the time betweenst rides I lowered my stem in hopes of getting lower and gaining some control, let some PSI out of my tires, added some to my fork and rear (shock) and prayed to the Bike Gods. Yeah, those fuckers.

The result?? MMMMMUCH better. I mean it helped that there was less climbing for my hulking lycra clad ass and that I KNEW the trails, but sill I felt WAY more myself on the bike and suppressed all those "oh, I think I might be a 10 year old girl, who's afraid she might lose her retainer" thoughts.

I was pretty stoked to have had a better ride today. This is the ride that I SHOULD have done prior to the trip to Yankee so as to get some mojo back. But I didn't and I paid for it by riding like a pre-teen chick on a Huffy.

At this time I can't imagine that I will race Yankee, I'm just not feeling strong enough on the mountain bike for those trails. I will however race the Rust Shaker at MMCC for shits and giggles (and because I somehow signed up for it the same day I entered the Lumberjack, which I may bail on due to sucking like a dime store hooker). In any even the MMBA folks that have done some nice work on the MMCC trails and I feel the least I could do is pay them back by racing it. Not to mention those trails are my "home" trails. Sort of what Boyce Park was to me back in Pee-Burgh.

Side Note: Damn...... two days of singletrack REALLY reminds you to slather on the nut cream. Not to be TOO graphic but as I age I'm starting to feel like I'm smuggling a chamois full of clammy chicken skins for the Colonel. I mean my junk is ALL over the place down there. UG! NEED.... MORE... LUBE...

Later.

Better? Tomorrow Most Likely.

Today I slept in a bit for the first time in a good while (thank you Jake The Dog!!!), then got up, worked for a few hour and then headed out for a Lunch Time (NOT Brunch Time) Ride on the pavement and dirt in the 989.

I thought the ride was going to be more than it was, but as it turns out it was pretty "blah." 75% of the ride had a strong headwind or crosswind and the 25% that was without it, was some road and pretty boring. Sigh.

Really, all I wanted from today was to burn some calories, get out in the sunshine and get some REAL miles in the legs before me and C-Malt go down to Yankee Springs to ride tomorrow. Yeah, that's right... a fucking COMPLETE day off from work to ride and piss around.

In the end today's ride was pretty, "OK" and got me a ball hair under 40 miles of riding. I've done better... I've done worse... MUCH worse.

On a side not the Co2 inflated wheels are STILL holding air, which is pretty cool. I still plan to buy an air compressor to make changing my own tires/wheels a bit easier, but for now this SEEMS to have worked. Cool.

I would be lying if I said I wasn't nervous about my first time on the mountain bike in about 4 months. Fucking ice!... Fucking pain!... Fucking weather!... Oh well, we'll find out tomorrow how the arm/shoulder performs. God I hope it's swell or it could fuck up the whole sub-par season. UG!

Later.

Slow News Day

The gist of the day, NAY! The week so far has been make plans, have them not develop, make do, hope for the best and carry on. What else can you do?

Wifey and B-Man headed back to PA for spring break. I'm staying here. I am SO far freaking behind on the next issue of XXC I really can't believe it. Plus I really don't know what the hell I would do in White Oak for 6 days with one car. And with gas at like $45.00 a gallon I'm NOT taking two cars, especially since I make about $400 a year.

The plan for the week is to get as much work done as I can and as much riding in as I can in. As luck would have it my friend Chris is on spring break too, so we have plans to hit Yankee and Hanson this week for some riding.

I wanted to get out yesterday, but I was on full time Dad duty all day and had no energy in the evening + we were doing an XXC Podcast with Mizzzz Looney (which was AWESOME, she is an amazing racer and a lot of fun to talk to... look for it on Friday). So, I had to bank on riding Tuesday.

Woke up, got Wifey and B-Man on the road, ate, worked, watched it rain, sucked it up and got on the trainer. 30 minutes later the sun was out. Fuck. Oh well, I could have kept riding, I but I stopped due to being pissed and overwhelmed and aired up the tires on the Spearfish as I am still trying to get the tires to hold air without an air compressor. Today I tried using some old Co2 cartridges to get the tires to seat. I think they FINALLY did. If not I'll stop by Chris' house tomorrow to get them done right. Curse you Stan Muchasheeezkiiiee. Curse you. I love you, but I hate you.

Once that was out of the way, I spent an hour or three looking at porn on the internet without fear of being busted by an 8 year old or a pissed of 40 year old red head broad full of piss and vinegar. I kid of course, it was only 7 minutes and then I did some work.

FINALLY I have mad some progress on XXC #16. Damn, I have had some SERIOUS art block. Maybe looking a porn is the answer? I'M KIDDING! EEESHH!

My plan for the week is as follows:

Wed.: 40 - 50 miles of gravel.
Thurs.: Yankee Springs with C-Malt.
Fri.: Gravel or MMCC?
Sat.: Hanson Hills
Sun. Sleep one off and prepare for the return of the Unit.

OK, so shit fell through today, gotz to make up for it tomorrow with good legs, lots of work on XXC. Lingham crossed.

Later.

P.S. Man this post was lame. But hey, that's me... lame.

2012 Race Report #2: The Lowell 50

After my mega poor (personal) performance at the Barry-Roubaix, I thought I might, or SHOULD give up on racing (again) and just ride. But then a good XXC podcast (thanks J.D.), a good week of getting back on board with my nutritional goals, and some nice progress with weight loss (down 13.8 lbs. since Christmas) had me rethinking all of that and I ended up signing up for the Lowell 50 gravel race. So, here we go...

Saturday me and my friend Mike (a.k.a. "Princess") drove down to Lowell for the race. Mike took me some sort of bum-fuck way to get there, which was cool 'cause I got some insight into the various small towns via Mike along the way. By small I mean, a store, a couple of houses and a grain elevator. Anyway, we got to Lowell, and got ready to race 50 miles of gravel in high 30s temps. UG!! What happened to that warm spring we just had????

This time around I was NOT gonna fool around with the mountain bike and opted to race my Jake The Snake CX bike, that was a good move and felt MUCH better keeping up with folks (at least for a little bit).

One thing I noticed, even before the race started, was that these Michigan gravel races are VERY roadie heavy. I guess the distance isn't TOO long (50 miles) and the roads are not THAT technical, so it REALLY brings out the skinny assed skin suit wearing crowd. Something I really never expected from a gravel grinder. Oh well, it's dirt, I'm on a CX bike, how bad could it be?

We 50 mile folk went off first. After about .5 miles or so things went UP and the pack started splintering. I kept a nice pace, feeling pretty darn not bad, even though the noises emanating from me sounded a bit like a fat wheezing , deflating zeppelin.

Once we crested the hill things got all roller like. This would go on for most of the race. Just like last week I soon found myself in "No Mans Land." The fast roadie types were TOO fast for my fat ass and the slow folks were TOO slow for my fat, faster, ass. So for about 80% of the race I was on my own. Sadly the times that I WAS with someone else I could either not hold their wheel or they could not hold mine, leaving me to do all the work. Fuck! I thought these mid west gravel races were supposed to be all laid back and fun? Ha!

The cool temps were causing some serious phlegm issues and I found myself gagging like an overworked porn star at times and hacking up some nasty ass loogies. Between the loogies and the cool temps I was not drinking as much nutrition as I should. The result of all that was bonk creeping in at about mile 35 or 40. Grrrr!

This pic is a shot from the race. Yeah, that's right, when you're as slow-assed as me you can take pics during a race. If you don't like it, go read some roadie blog about bulimia and carbon wheels or some such shit.

I enjoyed the race but was getting to the point that the wet dirt roads and cool temps had me longing to be back in the bosom of my home. Literally I wanted to be snuggled up in Wifey's substantial, ample bosoms and NOT on the race course. Ha!

BUT I had a race to finish.

With about 10 miles or so to go we went over a covered bridge and then went IMMEDIATELY up a steep climb. I was worried about this climb and expected the worst but managed to sit and crank up the climb with no real issue.

God I was hungry. I wanted FOOOOOOD! REAL FUCKING FOOD!.... AND SOME WARM BOSOMS. (Is there a man alive that doesn't long for the warmth of the lady chick bosoms??).

Sadly there was no food or bosoms out on course, so I opted to just keep hammering along. I ditched the dude on the rigid Niner and aero helmet (I kid you not) and then sort of ditched a couple other folks and plowed on to the cold ass finish line in a time of 3:05. Bad enough for 17th place out of 24 in my class. Not sure what my overall was. I would normally be more upset about such results, but there was such a heavy contingent of skinny assed roadies, I felt pretty content.

There was a really nice turn out for the race (more than 200 I believe) and the course was nice. I could have done without a couple of the out and back sections that made me feel like I was doing the SAME section over and over, but overall some nice climbing and some nice mushy farm dirt roads. I am sort of longing for a race like the Hilly Billy Roubaix that REALLY blurs the lines between roadie and mountain bike race. This race, sort of like the Barry just did not do well enough (in my opinion) at separating the dirt worshippers from the uptight roadies. What, do I have to put on my own dirt hundie?? ;)

All kidding aside, it was a good race and my friend Mike came in 2nd in the 50 mile singlespeed division. That is pretty cool since I pretty much shamed him into racing the 50 rather than the 28 mile race.

The cold and hunger took its toll on me and I was happy to get home, back to those bosoms, some beer and some Jets Pizza (yeah, that's right I LOVE Jet's, deal wit it.).

Right now, there's no more racing until the Rust Shaker XC race in a couple weeks. I guess that will happen. Right now, I am just gooooing with the flow and seeing where I end up.

Later.