The 24 Hours of Rodney Dangerfield and that God Foresaken Lap

When I took off for my fourth lap at Granny Gear's 24 Hours of Landahl, the spirit and feel of the race were already well set. From Evil Unicorn perspective, we were rolling with substantial minutes in hand leading the Expert field, but were seven minutes behind first overall. It was a gap that likely wouldn't have existed had I not already been fighting with my tires and, frankly, I felt responsible for it.

From Granny Gear's perspective, the EU and other teams at the head of the race were a bit of a sideshow. The drama and storyline coming from the PA was the story of "The Toast," Josh Tostada, who was ripping through the solo series and the battle between the two series leading teams, The Athens Wrecking Crew and City Bikes from DC. In many ways, this was rightfully so. The series was potentially going to come down to this race after four races and the Evil Unicorn were only throwing a wrench in the works (but, we were happy to try and do so).

What ended up somewhat lost though were some great rides by some other teams. The Bike Tek team rolled us all in the end, posting consistent times and getting labelled as "concrete baggers" by a few of the other teams. There was also 4 Fast Over 40, a team of Masters riders including Cameron Chambers' Dad Doug, ripped the place to second place overall as well. As we sat at the awards ceremony, I thought of the Rodney Dangerfield line. The guys that killed it weren't getting the sweet swag, but did deserve and earn some respect. (Not to mention, another rockstar single rigid team, PC Load Letter, which included Craig Stoeltzling rocking the joint on a fixed gear.)

Which brings me back to my fourth lap, our 16th as a team. As I've documented to the point of overkill, my skills in the rocks are suspect and my first three laps were full of dabs. I had gone from trying to save my energy for the rocks each lap to just making my way through them and then trying to unload on the open and flowing sections of the course. As I rolled out though, I decided to bash my way through the rocks, no dabbing, no unclipping, just trying to ride through mistakes and go.

Through mile four, things seemed to be going well, I was nearly out of the first highly technical stuff and had, despite pinballing around, ridden nearly the whole thing without a foot down. Unfortunately, on a quick uphill left, my back tire found the edge of the large rock and rolled my tire completely off the rim. Knowing there was no way to reinflate it, I threw a tube in and stayed on the march. The tire was a touch soft due to my hurry to get rolling again, but nothing crazy soft so I stayed with the plan and kept hammering.

I felt good in the circumstances as I hadn't been passed, even during the flat and was entering the portion of trail where I could wind it out. Just before entering the last section of rocky single track, there was an open field where I regrouped, spinning out the gear and drinking a little water to hit a mental reset.

I rolled the hard left into the trail, kept pushing past the "shooting range" sign and flow well until the somewhat rocking stuff turned to the truly technical. I knew I had about a mile left of the rough stuff and was looking forward to emerging on the open plateau again. I should have never considered it. PSSSTTT!!! There was no question now. I didn't even look at it at this point. I just started running. I passed another guy working to fix a mechnical and he said, "That's the smartest idea I have seen all day," referring to my running the section. I replied something about the wheel and the running not being by choice and he wished me luck.

As the trail openned back up, I ran to the top of the short climb and then did something fairly stupid. I tried to pump my tire back up. Tubeless with a handpump insist going to work, of course, and about half way through tilting at this windmill, I got my head out of my ass and started running again.

Four guys passed me as I ran. Tostada asked me if I needed help, which was cool. I pulled off to the side as he passed which may have save me from puking, then resumed the position, flailing along trying to keep a good pace.

The final section of each lap was through an open field toward the start/finish tent and I felt like a complete dumb fuck running in. As I neared the table, I saw Mark anxiously waiting, mumbled something about my rear tire, and tossed my bike about 20 feet to the side in frustration (it, of course, pulled a 'ghost rider' and simply rolled through the tent, coming to a soft stop in a completely anti-climatic fall). I got the baton and card out, got Mark on his way and collasped against a pole, waiting to catch my breath.

I sat there for quite a while. In some ways, it was simply to recover. Primarily though, I was waiting for the other Expert teams to come through. We ended up keeping our lead by about 12 minutes in the class, but our chance for the overall was shot.

As you all know, Mark, Nate and Sam then shot down the reemerging dreams of the other teams by closing things out in the finest style. It may have shone most near the end of the race, but it was obvious throughout that the Evil Unicorns had each other's backs. We met each guy coming in as a team, took bikes, cut oranges, offered help, and did what we could for each other.

Sometime in the late night MOD looked at me and said, "Nine Mile, next year?"
"I've got some unfinished business there solo."
"Yeah, I get that."
"Let's find another one."
"Absolutely."
It turned out to be a unanimous feeling.

Look for the Evil Unicorns again in '08. Maybe we can even get MOD to run rigid. We've got the whole off-season to work on him.

Partridge Racing Transitions In Lincoln

As many of you know, Partridge Racing is moving to Portland. With Lincoln roughly 12 hours into the drive out, Joe stopped over for a spin, a good beer and slice at Yia Yia's and an evening in the new and improve cycling lounge at the Casa de Cronin.

Corey joined us as we took off for some limestone cruising south of town. Corey rocked his newly built Bianchi Roger with Joe rolling a heavily geared Quiring. As we pulled off of 14th the timing worked so that we met JB, MW and MG heading South. We cruised along chit-chatting at a nice tempo and I thought, "Damn, there are a lot of miles in this collective." Between, TI, KZ, 24s and 12s, it would be interesting to put a total to it.

We split up after a time with JB spinning with us to Yia Yia's and Jeff meeting us there. Slices, Suds and a great night made it hard not to close the place down, but with Joe wanting an early start and work the next day, we headed home.

Congrats Portland. Class Act coming your way.

"This post is impossible to write... ": The 24 Hours of Landahl

I'm finding posting about the 24hrs of Landahl a bit difficult. It was too rich and too dense for a single post. Today, I thought I would share some pictures, along with some thoughts I had post-race. Most of you know the times and a few details, so I'll just fill in the blanks throughout the week.

I noticed throughout the 24hrs of Landahl that the Granny Gear folks liked to get the microphone in front of people. Primarily, these were short interviews to add a little color to the race and, for the most part, we're all pretty enjoyable. As we waited for our turn to head up to the podium, I realized as team captain I might find myself on the sharp end of the mic and thought about what I might be asked and what I might say. It ended up being an Oscar speech that sat in someone's pocket, but I think it's worth saying here.

I feel lucky. Lucky to have three great guys want to go hangout for 24hrs to ride bikes. Lucky they like riding single speeds and lucky that they happen to ride them really fucking fast. Thanks fellas.

Just in case we forgot, we wrote our team name down.




"One of these things is not like the other."

Reservoir Dogs? Nope, Evil Unicorns. (As soon as I pulled the camera out, all three of these guys turn their heads away.)

MOD in the operating room, explaining why I need to learn to properly tighten chain ring bolts. (I sheared mine off during our preride.)

Brats make Mark happy. He stayed very happy in our tent city.

"Prefontaine" drops the hammer on the Lemans start.

At some point Sam switched us to military time, which caused us dumbasses to do more 'mental math' than we could handle in the wee hours of the night. Not to mention it looks like I did a 13hr3min lap.

Here's to running with your bike for three miles in a gonzo attempt to keep your lead.

I love you, but I hate you.

Hot Lap Coming Through!!! (Fastest lap of the event. Rigid. Single.)

MOD rode his ass off all weekend.

My Goodness Indeed. Sam closed the deal in high style.

Guinness Kit. Two Fisting Schlitz.

Athens Wrecking Crew (l), Evil Unicorns (c), City Bikes from D.C. (r)

Not to shabby

Evil Unicorns - 1st Place Expert, 3rd Overall.  (The Locals Owned) 

Three Mile Run

Another frustrating lap mechanically.  Burped all the air out of the rear roughly halfway through the lap.  Threw a tube in an kept jamming only to flat again.  Made a desparate attempt to refill the tubeless and then took of running.  A little over three.  I'm cooked.  I knew we had a buffer so I went as hard as I could.  Frustrated to the point of tears.  Mark took off with the lead still intact.  Nate's being super positive.  Sam has slept through the whole thing.

This is Snob.  Snob can't keep air in his tires.

Harden the fuck up, Snob.

Forward Momentum

We seem to be back on track here in the land of the Evil Unicorns.   We moved up into second overall having made up ground the last few laps.  The Wrecking Crew keeps closing in though and on the team to watch slidding up the leaderboard.

Nate's out now, Sam should roll around 3:15 and I should be out again a bit after 4:20.

Case of the burps

Lost a lot of air out of the rear about halfway through the lap.  Lost about minutes to end place.  Fuckin' pissed but there are more laps to come.

I just heard we are first in expert, fourth overall.

5 Hours Into Landahl

Things are going well for the Evil Unicorns. They are currently winning the Men's Expert Class.


Skip is not able to post via his Blackberry as he had hoped.


Nate scorched his first lap the fastest lap time of anyone at the race. He is out on his second lap right now.


You can catch live results here.

-Mrs. Snob

Approaching Game Time

It seems not all of my posts are going up, but I'll keep trying.

An hour until start.  MOD replaced the chainring bolts I sheared off during my preride, Sam's tweaked his rig and we're ready.

Mark's leading us off.  In a moment of brilliance, Nate dubbed him "Prefontaine.". "Pre" has his game face on already.

Mark, Nate, Sam and than I.  Looks like most of my laps will be at night.

Time to "harden the fuck up."

Evil-Unicorn Blackberry Bulletins

KW passed this along. Found on Flickr.

The Evil Unicorns have mobilized this morning and are rolling toward Landahl. SS? Yes. Rigid? most. Haters in the crowd? Some. Great time? Absolutely. The boys and I are taking a page from Stuart O'Grady and carrying, to quote Sam, "a general disposition to 'Harden the Fuck Up.'"

Updates over the weekend here or on Granny Gear's site.

Sometimes, Inspiration Comes Easy

Photo stolen from CreepyFriendly himself.

As a guy who came to cycling late, I've often gotten the "well, it's a little late now" vibe from people both in and out of the two wheeled fraternity. Obviously, I didn't care and kept riding. Then, Johnny helped me put together my first single speed; a bike with "This Machine Kills Fascists" written in white out across the top tube. It was done. I knew within a few rides this "fit" and was how I wanted to ride.

Fast forward to this year and things have gone pretty well. I have some good efforts under me this season but was disappointed that 9 Mile went as poorly as it did. Unable to really ride a lot lately and trying to workout why things went the way the did, I've been a bit unmotivated and a bit surly. (More than usual, smartasses.)

Firing up the Evil Unicorns helped turn that around, running laps that weren't completely sad on Saturday helped as well, but the Top Four from Cheq sealed the deal. Marko and Jesse would be obvious to anyone who reads the blog. Steve Tilford may not be. How long has this guy been at the front of every race he enters? Not long enough, that's my thought. He's got several years on me so I might as well keep rolling.

And Brian Matter? He's rocking the hardcore mullet. What else could you need?

"One Gear is All That is Needed." Jesse Wins Cheq. Marko Takes Fourth.

"Winning the Chequamegon 40 is no easy task. But winning it on a singlespeed bicycle is unthinkable. That is until Jesse Lalonde (Gary Fisher 29/BKB) powered his way up last hard climbs in the closing miles and descended down into Telemark Resort alone in the lead, holding off former champions Brian Matter (PCW/Trek) and Steve Tilford (HRRC/Trek). And he did it with just one gear.
Lalonde rode a 36-16 gear on a rigid 29er, becoming the first rider to win the Chequamegon Fat Tire Festival on a singlespeed. “It was only a matter of time,” Lalonde said about his singlespeed win. Marko Lalonde, Jesse’s younger brother and teammate, finished fourth, also on a singlespeed. Their extraordinary rides in the 25th annual Chequamegon Fat Tire Festival illustrate that just one gear is all that’s needed to win a bike race."

Check the full story here.

Snob's Eye View from Manawa

Satan's Floating Bikes. No exorcism needed.

Skin suits and leisure suits are swingin' baby.

Your first place Male Solo. Cruising.

Sam doing who-knows-what.

Damn Branch. BEEP BEEP!! MOD coming through.

MOD with the post lap endorphin smiles.

Aqua Marine Socks and Winter Cycling Shoes. High Cycling Fashion from Charlie.

Tiki Time.

Start Time. (Lean your head to the left.)

You and MOD's Army

Watch for MOD's more accurate recap over at mtbomaha, but here's what I remember.

MG flowed to the Solo Male victory.  I think he was a couple of laps up by the finish.

Emily was the only Solo Woman and rocked it.  I believe she would have been top five solos man or woman.  Great ride.

Seven Lively Sins had the most total laps but we had a small army at our disposal.  I was lucky enough to ride or last two laps at night.  Really enjoyed the course.

A Duo Team, whose names escape me (sorry), rolled the same number of laps and really rode strongly all day.  Nice work fellas.

Thanks to MOD for the great course and hard work, not to mention letting me tag along.  Not to mention Sam, Scott, Charlie, T-Bone and Anne for a great time.

Time to start thinking about Landahl.

Unicorn-stylie

Just finished rolling two laps for Seven Lively Sins.  Felt good for going out blind on an unknown course.  36x16 felt good.  MOD's out given it now.

MG's now up a lap having unloaded a hot lap after the sign-in spint with Don and extended slowly from there.

2:00pm Gut Check

Don Raske and MG just signed in together in the solo class.  Penmanship wasn't an option.

Satan's Little Helper's continue to lead to "most fun in the pits" category with a Kumbaya lap complete and tiki torch lap on the table for discussion.

Satan Built Our Hotrods

Manawa morning.  Brisk.  Nearly 20 solos had me feeling a little tergiggity.  666 number plates.  Blue leisure suit and I'm over it.

Let the fun begin.

"What Matters Most Is How Well You Walk Through Fire"

Anyone can walk on water or find treasure in an empty bottle.

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The Seven Lively Sins shall be out and about at Manawa this weekend, at least for 12 hours. Is a seven racer team too many? Not if you're looking forward to the hang-out as much as letting it all hang out. Heavy gears and light hearts.

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Evil Unicorn fever continues to grow. Why just last night I was thrown the sign by no less than three excited cycling loving motorists. The love is so strong, like a straight-jacket hug that leads you to pat the offender on the back and say "okay, big fella." I honored their love with a salute of my own and I tap on the hood. Meet me at the cross walk. This is where the Evil Unicorns gather and the wild things grow.

*

And never forget the thought well kept... Hell Rides A Black Stallion.

Apathy Kills...

... but I don't care.

"Let's Go Easy" aka The Kiss of Death

With Corey bowing out of the 155 due to a crankarm failure, we saddled up for some time a little closer to Lincoln and in the process came home with two banged up body instead of one.

From D St, we dropped into Wilderness with plans of popping out of the single track, onto the Jamaica North and heading South for a day of limestone and cornfields. With Corey's much discussed fitness proving all to real and my last year's cross gearing proving all too puny, we were making quick time of the place despite me spinning out all too often. We had also been passed by a small group and, without being dangerous, tempo'd our way back up to them just before 14th. Unfortunately, the fun ended abruptly as I washed out my overworn front tire and cashed it in a dusty loose turn.

The post crash accessment showed both wheels out of true, jacked up bars and brakes levers and one sore Snob.

*

What's a little grass in your rim?

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We don't go straight. We go forward.
*

Shortly afterword, Lonnie rolled by on his way to Roca for some suds and, after a chat, Cornbread and I rolled on toward Cortland. A headwind make it a little tough for chit-chat, as did the pace. The post Cortland ride back proved much easier for conversation even though we both felt like ads for AARP and starring in Cocoon.

Being the bikes geeks we are, talked turned to Landahl and War Axe (geared cross stainless, Corey?). Apparently, Corey is considering bringing a crew of his own to KC.

Let the good times roll.

*

I tried to intimidate Corey by slicing the heads off of grasshoppers. He didn't fall for it.

A Great Moment in Evil Unicorn History

While it may seem I am staying up late searching the web for the best in single digit angry waves, I happened upon this thinking of cross and couldn't resist. (It's too bad that in today's cycling world winning as much as Nys seems like anecdotal evidence of doping.)

The 'real' Evil Unicorns have officially taken it up a notch for Landahl and will be serving one geared goodness in the Expert field. This isn't the Open Pro/Am as apparently that's co-ed only, but according to the Granny Gear staff (who are incredibly helpful) two teams who have hit the podium already this year will be there vying for series points.

We'll see what we can shake loose.

Honorary Evil Unicorn

The Man in Black.

Cold-Cocked

Despite fending it off for most of the Labor Day weekend, the cold which has crept up on me since Saturday seems to have finally taken hold today. Ah, the fun of a runny nose.

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Congrats are in order to Squirrel and MG for their respective wins in Iowa. Nice work, fellas.

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The Dakota 50 seemed to have been a scene. Documentation abounds.

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Over the weekend and just prior to a ride, I found via SiteMeter that someone had reached the blog by searching under the phrase "Evil Unicorns." Somehow, I turned the phrase over in my head until I had concluded that "throwing an Evil Unicorn" was a great euphemism for giving someone the finger, "you know, giving them the bird." One horn. One finger. What's not to love?

As I rode to work today, it occured to me that this will probably end up like my "discovery" of Pangea in fifth grade. After who knows how long of not paying attention to the actual point of class, I was ecstatic when I looked at a world map and could visualize how all of the continents could actually fit together like a puzzle. Of course, Mr. Rhodes blew my visions of grandeur with a dismissive, "It's called Pangea, Skip. Now go sit down." Damn Joy Kill.

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Thera-Flu Time!!!

Barriers to Entry

How boring am I, you ask? Boring enough to start taking pictures of downed limbs and trees on the trails around Lincoln. With everyone else across the country racing, it seemed I should have carried a chainsaw along on my rides.

Wilderness 1. Doubles as a small jungle gym.


Wilderness 2. Removed in about 30 seconds.

Branched Oak 1. The wall of limbs.

Branched Oak Two. The rythmn section just got harder.
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Jeff and I also came across an interesting scene at Branched Oak. A group of ten to fourteen turkey vultures must have been enjoying a bit more than a simple snack in the woods. As we crested a climb we spooked and the sky was filled ever so briefly with impressive wing spans. Hitchcock flashed through my head, but Jeff bitch slapped me to reality.