Signs of Life

As I stumbled through my morning routine, I looked over to our window bench and saw the slice you see below.  Aside from the Wii Sports Pack, which failed to impress either of our kids, the rest answers the proverbial question, "So what's been going on" in a short of Cliff's Notes version that gets you most of the way through the plot even though it's not quite carrying all the details.

Those cranks are going on eBay

Staying Driven

I was writing off getting much done in the fitness arena today and then I saw Johnny's facebook status:  

"... Lunch, then finish building Skip's back up wheelset aka, my new wheelset."  

Started shoring up the core immediately afterward.  John's got my back in many more ways than one.

Cuts and Trails

Today's foray to Wagontrain was really about one thing, trying to get some flow going on the mtb.  I took the Niner and headed out it a overcast day and enjoyed cooler temps and even a touch of rain which was welcome compared to the upper 90 degree temps of the week.

Delays... Delays...

The gravel on the way out had me thinking about the 'connect the parks' ride that I often hear discussed but I am not sure that anyone has ever really done.  I may see how the calendar looks and throw the date out there for the masses in case anyone wants to ride it too. 

Talk about a groove killer

One of the few negatives aspects of the whole ride was that I kept throwing my chain.  Unfortunately, I found one of the bolts holding my eccentric was stripped and I could get it loose to tighten everything else down (though, I did make the bolt worse.)

Wagontrain proved to be a combination of seldom ridden trails and cuts that might become trails is they got a bit of tire time.    At present, they're pretty rough and not a ton of fun, but the potential is certainly there for the place to turn into something very, very nice.

Cuts...

and trails.

PSA: Keep the Pedal to the Metal

Remember, when pedaling a fixed gear, be it track bike, mountain bike or hack in-between, coasting is not an option.  Please keep those feet turning over and concept of a freewheel firmly locked in the off position.  Otherwise, you may pause, jerk, rip an ankle and end up in an sweaty heap at the side of the road.

This message brought to you by Dumbass Snob's on Bikes and the How to Truly Feel Like an Idiot Society.  

Enjoy your weekend.

From "Tailored" to "Bespoke"

Mrs. Snob has always fought with exactly how to describe the process behind Snappy Caps.  "Custom" and "hand-made" have been the two words most-used but never seemed quite right, never "Le Mot Juste."

As so often happens, after months of mulling over how we talk about her caps, a mental update struck with a spark yesterday as I strolled into Hy-Vee to grab some lunch.  "Tailored" arrived sight unseen and shortly afterward, "Bespoke" followed.

Of course, 'spoke' stuck out of that like a neon glow.  Tres Bonne.  So, in my English major geekdom, I walked around pretty pleased with myself for a good portion of the day and thinking...

"I've got your Gustave Flaubert right here."  

Of course, I said that to Susan and she said, "What?  Oh...  That's not that funny."

Ramping Back Up

Brought the fixie Niner out of the stable today to enjoy our 100 degree heat.  A sweat-filled commute in, gravel lunch and return home gave me ample time to mull over tweaks to the 9 Mile equation.  Perhaps a simple 'ride for 24 hours' would be a good place to start.

Really?  There are signs for this now?

Corey and His Ideas

Last week, Corey stopped by to get chat and grab his hitch rack off of the back of the War Wagon.  It wasn't long after the general 's'up dawgs' and chit chat that he threw out was really on his mind.

Tour Divide.  Rock the whole thing out together.  It would be a lie to say I'm not tempted.  Years ago, I wanted to do an expedition length adventure race but it never happened.  The Tour Divide is probably as close as I could ever get to that.  Damn you and your idea, Corey Godfrey.  Damn you and the stupid questions we could toss at each other during a ride that long.  

Of course, I may have to watch out for Sam riding in the opposite direction, just to kick me in nuts for doing it.  He's made the threat before...

Happy Father's Day, Now Let's Get Riding Again.

Obviously, I took the week off from the blog.  Not only did I not want to push the Lincoln Continental Ride post down with random nonsense, I also needed a bit of a reset.

Have a Drink?

With that button now firmly pushed, it's time to start thinking about 9 Mile and returning to the dirt. 

Rapha's Lincoln Continental

After MW waited for me to change a flat, we got rolling again and I made a joke about bridging back up.  He responded with, "I think our work is done.  We've shown them we're the shit."  I couldn't wipe the grin off of my face and still can't.

Please read and enjoy the Lincoln Continental Post and Video on the Rapha Continental page.

"When it finally gets dark, like pitch black and absolute, with five miles to go before Ponca, the van drives behind the group and lights our way because nobody is not going to finish one of the best and longest rides of the tour."

Old News Report: Dirty Kanza 2009

At this point, the Dirty Kanza seems like it was eons ago, but I almost feel like races are unfinished if I don't type out a "report" and so away we go.

Kanza basically started for me in a rush.  I landed in Lincoln from Michigan, spent a couple of short hours at home, then loaded up with Corey, Troy, Jim and Aaron.  I then proceeded to nearly fall asleep for four hours, never quite getting there, while forcing everyone else in the car to listen to exceedingly mellow music.  Not much of a car mate.

Dorks

The pre-race festivities went as usual.  I floated around and 'chatted' with familiar faces, but was anxious to get back to the room and sleep.  I finally got to bed, got about five hours in and awoke feeling pretty good.

Single Speed Champ Michael Beck Rocks the Socks

One of my favorite parts of Kanza is the start.  The rollout through town gives everyone a chance to cruise around together for a bit before hitting the gravel and "getting all racer like."  

Just After the Start

Of course, Corey and I were the dorks that kept taking photos after we hit the gravel.  The pace started to ramp up and we were still riding one-handed, snapping photos and generally openly admitting dorkdom through our actions.

Geeks at Work Times Two

The race strung out fairly quickly with the average speed floating somewhere around 18mph.  I was pretty comfortably tucked up near the front and just watched everyone for several miles, just used Troy, Corey and Dan Hughes as barometers for the race.  I didn't know how I'd feel as the race went but my thought was, if I hang around those guys without breaking, I couldn't go too drastically wrong.

Euro Trash (Me, not Steve)

We hit the first initial climb, which I like to think of as 'MW Photo Op Hill,' crested at the front of the group and felt pretty confident.  Not that I would stay in the front, but that I was 'on a good day.'  Shortly after that, we hit some rollers that left me spun out on the downhill and a gap opened up between me and the lead group and just like that I was basically solo.  I could see a few riders here and there, but riding in a group was over.  Once in a while, I saw the leaders and could tell I was catching back up, but then we crossed the interstate, climbed up and onto a gorgeous view and, just like last year, hit the long downhill that spelled the end of any chance of staying with the leaders on a single speed.  In fact, this year there was as tailwind so it was even more hopeless.  I sat up, let the wind hit my back and just enjoyed the county side for a while.  A few people caught me at this point, but the rollers renewed later and I was again just riding at my own pace.

Urban Struggle

Somewhere around 45 miles, I felt some small twinges in the legs and started downing Clif Bloks to avoid cramping.  It's nothing unusual for me to get crampy in a race so I didn't really feel panicked.  I simply tried to take care of it.

Cottonwood Falls

Leaving Cottonwood Falls, I still felt good.  I ended up taking a few short detours by calling Mrs. Snob and missing turns in the process but the benefit of one miscue was linking up with Joe Fox.  He'd flatted early and was reeling people back in as he got going again.  I couldn't quite match his pace, but he would pause for me once in a while and we essentially road together for pretty long time.  

Joe Fox

Despite the good company and early confidence, I started melting down near the last checkpoint.  I stopped sweating, started getting the chills and everything felt 'heavy' in quick succession.  Joe helped me get to a farmhouse and I sat in the shade pouring cold water on myself to cool down.  After what seemed like forever, Joe had found a ride in for me and was able to head back out.  I owe that guy a big thank you.

Exposure

Done

I waited at the last checkpoint for a while.  Joe came through in fourth shortly after I arrived and, aside for trying to recover and aid other racers, that was really it.  I'm still a bit disappointed in how things turned out, but that's racing.  

I guess we'll just have to do it again next year.

Exceptional Morning

As Americans, we often bastardize what we seen occurring in other
countries to fit our needs. Johnny and I took part in this time
honored tradition this morning as I played the role of Maastricht
resident and rode on the rack of his Long Haul Trucker to the light
rail (spread eagle, not "underlined," side-saddle).

We made a quick stop at Mini-ha-ha (sp?) coffee where the owner took
an interest in our approach, commented that the boys at One On One
would always help me out if I had flight issues again, and was having
an 'exceptional morning' because he'd bought a trailer and could now
pickup his bakery goods by bike.

Exceptional morning indeed.

Urban Velo Review Snappy Caps

I am a few days late to this but it turns out Jeff Guerrero wore a Snappy for a while and delivered his thoughts.  I am not sure Mrs. Snob could ask for much more.  

http://urbanvelo.org/snappy-caps-cycling-hat/

Beautiful City...

... But I am ready for home.

Fading into the Background

I've been drinking way too much espresso, even for me.  I've spent a few extra minutes, usually at Peet's, just taking in the city's sights and white noise.  I'm a little numb and ready to head home, and be home, for a while.

In the meantime, Jeremy recounts his crash, but I would still ride with him again (until I got dropped.)

Rapha's Lincoln Continental

I really thought it was over and done.  Coming off of the minor disappointment of the M-22 ride and the major let down of Dirty Kanza, I considered a recharge to be in order.  However, at approximately 12:10pm on Monday, that all changed.  Kevin left me a message that kick started another whirlwind of events leading me to my second Rapha ride and third ride of more than 100 miles inside of a week.  As I found out during the ride, Daniel Wakefield Pasley had suggested to Kevin that perhaps they should see if I could come along.  What was I going to do, say 'no?'

It was an interesting change coming into the second ride because I had met almost everyone before.  Aaron Erbeck was the lone new Rapha rider and with Nate, Kevin and MW there, I was feeling comfortable as we sat down to enjoy some food at the oven and chat.  With Sam having already come to my rescue by reconstructing my boxed bike, the evening's chatter was stress free and, aside from wondering how my legs would feel, I was excited to ride my first Poncha ride.

Matt Covers the Route with Dave

With an early start at the Coffee House, we met, lubricated and took off into a wet and grimey day.  The forecast called for it to clear and, as we set off through town, I found myself hoping the route would firm up sooner rather than later.  Not to mention, there was the headwind that would stay with us the entire day.

Tony explains an emergency jet plane landing

Nate was able to join us for the first fifty

Tony and Nate mid chat

Ironically, our way out of town followed a good portion of my commute to work and then transitioned into the route I take when I ride gravel at lunch.  Unfortunately, my legs felt like as dead as they may have ever felt when starting a ride and it wasn't long until I was well, well off the back, wondering if I should just turn around with Nate and ride home.  We were sinking into the gravel fairly deeply and I tacted like a drunken sailor having no snap or power to show for myself.  So, as the group regathered at a turn, I decided to keep moving, knowing they would just catch me again and I wouldn't slow things down quite as much.

Early on in a wet morning ride

MW always looks incredibly solid and balanced on his machine

Ah, the familar early gap

MW and Kevin talk route with Piers and Nate.  I love this picture.

It's early, but a little bit of suffering starts to creep in

Dave sells 'sexy' with that hat

MW keeping the news of the impending 'B' road to himself

Sometime around the 60 mile mark, MW literally dropped into our first 'B' road of the day.  He wheelie into it, the rest of us followed and, I think mainly out of Paris-Roubaix like excitement, punched it.  I smiled the entire time.  Not to mention, one handed the entire section to take video of it which I will post later.  The highlight for me was when I went around Tony and heard him say, "This is so absurd it's fucking awesome!!"  Awesome?  Absolutely.

Unleash the hounds!

The North Bend diner stop soon followed.  It was a case of culture shock for some of the residents while others seemed to know of the Poncha ride and considered it like some bizarre sort of yearly migration through their town.  Even the local press was called into duty.  The climax was when the local reporting, holding a cheap digital camera and struggling with it, asked if anyone happened to know anything about cameras.  Uh yeah, we might have someone who can help.

Aaron displays the route

Ready for more

Aside from a flat after shortly after we left (the only one on gravel all day), I began to feel like myself after North Bend and managed to stay roughly with the group.  It was becoming a nice day out, the gravel was firming up and spirits, as they say, were high.

Aaron takes on the tank

MW had to point this out to me.  I am glad he did.

Kevin makes sure we're on track.  He was strong all day long.

I couldn't give you a mile mark, but not terribly long after 'Tank-City,' we started to encounter incredibly sandy gravel.  Think European cross, but miles of it at once.  Pedalling downhill at eight miles an hour, focused on not washing out, grinding.  It was something that took a lot of concentration (at least for me).  At one point, Kevin and I did about three miles together, but I didn't say squat because I was so focused on keeping it straight and not going down.  It was incredibly fun though, despite the toll it took.

Kevin and Dave consider alternatives to the sand

Smiles everyone!

Clif Bloc?

Prepping to head back out

My memory hasn't really preserved many of the next several miles.  We hit some road, kept grinding our way through the headwind and generally kept moving.  Grind, regroup, grind again.  As we moved through the last fifty miles, the climbs got a bit more severe as did our separation from each other, but everyone had a smile, enjoyed the scenery and enjoyed their own little island of suffering.

Piers and Aaron

Home on the range

Daniel performs balancing tricks during our last stop to reload on food

Smooth as silk, KW

Climbing into Thurston

Realizing we are going to run into a "light issue."

Strung out in the sand

It's beautiful, but we went the other direction (and my legs were afraid of it)

Kevin and I were feeling the day a bit but ready for more

Bottom of the hill works

The fifty miles of the Poncha ride is, to my eyes, absolutely stunning, the roads start to roll and twist, the familar grid of Nebraska gravel replaced by something far more appealling in both challenge and aesthetic.  I was in that mental space where you are just able to keep riding, not too fast, not terribly slow.  The zone, for lack of a better term.

However, I am not sure I really looked that well.  

At one point, Daniel rolled up and asked, "Hey Skip, would you fuck a midget?"

"What?"

"Would you fuck a midget?"

"Well, yeah, I guess... you know if she was cool and... "

"Yeah, yeah, had a good personality, and you were really into her... yeah."

"Would you?"

"Yeah... I'd be surprised it got that far... but yeah..."

Beautiful, but we've got a lot more to go

As night fell, we ended up at an intersection, with twilight turning to darkness and about seven miles remained.  Aaron was ready to go and just bang it out.  He sounded focused and ready to rock.  Tony wasn't sure if he could make it.  His bloodshot eyes reminded me of when I am in a low.  No one else was saying much.  I just assumed we would end up cranking it out.  I think I mentioned to Tony that it was less than our respective commutes and, before you know it, Daniel and Dave had the high beams on in the van and we were off.  Total darkness, gravel roads and seven miles later, the end of an incredibly hard and satisfying day.  One of the hardest I have ever had on a bike.

I really need to say thanks to Daniel Wakefield Pasley for suggesting I come along and to Kevin and Matt for letting me join them.  I loved it all.  It was great way to grind out my first Poncha ride (paricularly since once again, I can't make it to the Lincoln community version.)  Thanks guys.

On the Road. Off the Bike

Rapha Continental Calling: The M-22 Anti-Ride

The Rapha Continental Calling M-22 ride has never happened, not really.  The ride I submitted, envisioned and very much looked forward to fell victim to a number tiny tortures and, primarily, a weather front that took the route from stunning display of great lakes coast line to just a foggy ride in the woods.  

Route "bastardization" team huddled to call an audible

Due to my role as a remote host, Tom Wittman joined us as a co-host for the ride.  Tom had access to a small house in Empire that was a great place to hang out and reminded me very much of places I have stayed in Onekama.  He also proved to be a genuinely nice guy and strong rider as well.  

The Rapha Team included Piers North, Jeremy Dunn, Tony Pereira and Slate Olson (who is the head of Rapha USA), as well as Daniel Wakefield Pasley, Dave Christenson, Adam Klokman and Dylan and Dave R (whose last names I am embarrassed to say escape me). 

That's a lot of people to meet for a guy who keeps things pretty quiet most of the time, but everyone was easy to talk to and, while I wasn't incredibly "chatty," I did hold my own.  We ended the evening at a small Michigan bar and spent much of our time being entertained by drunk young locals who'd taken a distinct liking to Mr. Wakefield Pasley while explaining to us how they loved Portland and the East coast.

The starting point

The drive to Portage Point in was uneventful, save my introduction to Mickey Avalon.  I sat hoping the sun would begin to peek out and that the roadside attraction of lake side views would somehow slide into place before we started out.  Of course, that wouldn't prove to be the case.  The rain had subsided but it remained overcast and wet.

Piers conducting a final check through

We prepped for the ride as any group would, got changed and before I knew it or had really warmed up, we were off.  It wasn't long before we hit the days first climb and my biggest concern for the day came rushing forward to meet me, I got ejected straight out the back of the group.  "Fuck me."  

This as open as the sky ever became

The group slowed and I clawed back rolling down the back side.  We fell into a nice riding pace and, as we hit a short steep pitch that was the days second climb, I knew that the lake sat just to our left, hidden by a curtain of fog.  It was at that point that Tony looked over at me and asked, "Hey Skip, when will we see the lake?"  Ah yes, nothing like a good kick in the nuts.  

Snacks in Empire

Regroup after Tony forgot a bottle and Jeremy and Slate went down after Jeremy battled it out with a stick

"Let's not do the Cherry Republic..."

From there, the ride was like most other rides you can think of.  The only difference was the occassional drive-by photography efforts of Daniel, Dave's 1&2 and Adam.  It was often a scene of watching them scramble as we came rolling along.  They'd set up post, wait, relax, then here we'd come and whether napping or taking a natural break, they would hustle to get a shot or two.

Pulling off after a microscopic stay at the front

We hit Leeland at mile 70, stopped to regroup and I died a small death.  After the call was made to cut across the peninsula and finish in Travese City, we took off and my body decided to stay in second gear, so again I promptly got shelled off of the back.  With the help of nearly everyone at one time or another, I hung around long enough to watch everyone sprint for the Traverse City town sign and then lead the cruise onto Front Street where we stopped in front of a pub and dismounted from a wet and cold day on the bike.

Tan Line Battle

Daniel and Dave C Doin' Work

Tan Legs, Wet Asses

As we all climbed out of our wet gear and the Rapha team answered questions from passers-by, I was struck by a sort of melancholy based on the fact that the ride wasn't really anything like I knew it could have been.  Which, of course, meant it was time for a beer.

Enjoying the Post Ride

The topics of conversation were many but one that stuck with me was when Daniel and I started talking about fixed gear mountain bikes.  He lit up when I mentioned a had one and he explained he had a bike perfect for the application.  His enthusiasm was contagious and I thought of MW and the ride coming up in Lincoln.  Little did I know at that point that I would be going along as well (though, I don't think we ever talked fixies).

Oh sure, now you show yourself

The family and I are scheduled to hit Michigan in early July.  Maybe I will have to do a solo run of my original route.  I'm not giving up on this ride.

Where to Begin?

Generally, I love to post race reports and long-winded updates that would make Jack Kerouac wonder if I had slipped the benzedrine out of his dresser drawer.

The past eight days though have caught up with even my over-driven engine and, though I tried to put something together on the M-22 anti-ride tonight, it simply isn't happening, not in any form I feel happy with.

The timeline ended up looking a little something like this:

Wednesday:  Fly to Traverse City, build a bike on a porch in the rain, meet the Rapha crew, try to sleep.

Thursday:  Awaken, ride poorly for nearly 100 miles in the rain and mist, box a bike and try to sleep (I got about three hours.)

Friday:  Awaken at 4am Central, drive to the airport, fly to Lincoln, have a two hour layover at the Casa du Cronin, climb in the War Wagon with Corey, Troy and the rest of the crew, drive four hours to Emporia, Kansas and try to sleep.

Saturday:  Wake up at 5am, kit and embro up, try to crush out 200 miles of gravel on the single, fall apart around mile 140 due to heat exhaustion while in a great race position in the company of a great riding partner, sit dazed and confused for hours and try to sleep.

Sunday and Monday Morning:  Rest.

Monday Afternoon:  Scramble to get ready to ride 155 again, eat some Indian food, and try to sleep.

Tuesday:  Get up at 5am, ride like a fred for ~60 miles, finally get my act together and enjoy the hell out of the remaining +90 miles in the company of wonderful people.

So now I can't write a decent recap... I'm good with that.

"So, What Do You Think... ?"

This pic of  Tony Pereira gives a quick taste of how the Rapha crew felt about riding in Nebraska

One of the Hardest Rides I Have Ever Done

I am currently riding back to Lincoln in the Rapha van with six spent
riders. 20 to 30 mph headwinds and long stretches of sandy, deep
gravel had us at a crawl. We only average 13.2 mph but were deep
inside of it all day. Sorry for the lack of updates. I had no
coverage.

Rapha Continental Killing Exposé

an artist's interpretation

LINCOLN, NEBRASKA- The Rapha Continental Team is attempting to kill endurance cyclist Skip Cronin by scheduling his Continental Calling 100 mile ride on a date only 2 days prior to the Dirty Kanza race, where he subsequently suffered from heat exhaustion at mile 130 due to lack of sleep, fatigue and dehydration. One day after he returning from Kansas, the Continental Team showed up in Lincoln and enticed him to drag his battered carcass on a 150 mile ride. Glory through suffering.

North Bend - 56 Miles

County Rd K - 30 Miles

Resurrection Ride

As the cliche goes, sometimes it is better to be lucky than good.  Got the call from Kevin today and find myself participating in my second Continental Calling ride tomorrow with Kevin and MW. 

I'll sleep when I'm dead.  (and at this pace... that may not be long.)

It even looks like the weather will be the same, but with Vitamin G.