London in 60 Minutes

Immediately following the end of my work obligations which took me across the Atlantic in the first place, my travel companion Josh Ferguson and I were in full Amazing Race mode with the goal of getting to Harwich International on England's east coast for the overnight ferry to Amsterdam.  Despite jumping on the wrong train momentarily in London's subway system, we ended up queued and ready for the train to Harwich with an hour to spare; an hour to run around London.

Josh.  Wondering why I am throwing gang signs when he snaps a picture.

After jumping out into the street and discovering that Starbucks does indeed cluster everywhere, we just started walking.  Frankly, I had no idea where we were in relation to anything Chevy Chase might have yelled back to his kids in European Vacation.  Big Ben, Parliament?  I had no idea.

Wait... Wait... Okay, subtract two... YES... We have time!

After spying Dirty Dick's across the street, we crossed and I started looking for narrow streets.  The logic: the more narrow the older and, likely, more scenic.  Yes, clueless.  I was just starting to think we should have just grabbed a beer at Dick's when we turned the corner and things got more interesting. 

Narrow Street Theory

Bikes Shops!  One had just closed as it was a bit past 6pm, but the second was open and, just as I started to go in, saw this opportunity to change career paths...

Too bad my attitude sucks.  What's a CV anyway? (Yes, that's sarcasm.)

After taking some time to explain a fixed gear and subsequently a fixed gear freestyler to Josh, along came Simon to sell us a bike.  (Insert "Hello my name is Simon" cracks here.)  Simon, however, was more than happy to chat about riding in London and our little excursion.  In fact, it turns out Simon is somewhere on the West coast this week having planned a Portland to LA trip himself.

This handsome lad is indeed Simon

After that teasingly too quick taste, it was back to the train station for a ferry ride over the English Channel and across the North Sea.  For the record, London is also in the midst of the fixed gear trend, but they wore it well, at least in the minute timeframe I was floating around the city.

Gold

Some times you need reminded to remember to live life out loud.  Stay tuned for the long version...

Twenty yards from the finish of the Amstel Gold

Waiting at the Finish/ da Cauberg

Along the Walk to the Finish

Watched lap one come thru and then started toward the finish.

Awaiting the Start

Team Saxo Bank's Bikes at the Ready

Team Car Parking

Hell Yeah!

Border Crossing

Step off the ferry in the Netherlands and at passport control, I am
asked, of course, "What will you be doing in the Netherlands?"
"Attending a bike race."
"Pardon?"
"Going to the Amstel Gold."
"Ahhhhh.". And with that, a big smile crossed his face and we were on
our way.

So far, I love this country.

No, It Never Ends

In London

My Kind of Name

"It's The Little Differences"

I wasted a lot of thought on this little trip to Europe.  Thought primarily around the idea of continuing to ride and workout while still staying disciplined regarding the fact that I am here for work first and foremost.  However, instead of posting pictures of the English countryside and laughing at myself for struggling with the fact the English drive on the opposite side of the road, it has only taken one "delayed" bag to turn all of that thought into nothing.

Once letting go of the fact that I would have just the clothes on my back for an unknown time, we made our way to Hatfield via 'tube' and train, then strolled through the confusing streets until we needed to ask for an assist and a man literally walked us to our destination.

Often, cliches are founded in fact and I've enjoyed the extra bit of politeness that seems to come from interacting with people here.  

I also watched Manchester United in a pub full of people last night.  It seemed like a wonderful display of self-abuse given that with soccer/football the scoring is so few and far between that you heard far more ewws and oohhhs than actual cheers.  Everything is a near miss and a wince.  However, after several rounds of Bulgers cider and a 1 - o MU victory, everyone went home happy.

According the the airline, my bag should arrive tomorrow, which will be nice considering we head to Amsterdam via ferry the following day.  I've been holding off buying clothes under the hope that my bag will arrive and I'll be covered.  We shall see.  Of course, in the back of my mind continues to sit the fact that I haven't ridden at all and will likely end up going well over a week without any saddle time.  Perfect prep for TI.

Maybe I'll just go find a McDonald's and order a Royal with cheese.  Hell, I may even go in a Burger King.

Mmmm. Cup of Corn

Wonderful

Not the way to start things off on arrival.

Packing for a Classic

I pack for business trips in the same fashion that I pack for races; lay it all out on the couch and then stare at it until I realize what's missing from the pile.

With a recorded Roubaix running in the background, it occurred to me that one item conspicuously but appropriately absent from my travel wardrobe was a superfan costume in which to run climbs during the Amstel Gold.  So, while I will take a pass on making an idiot of myself in such a highly particular fashion, it does seem to me the costumed superfan has to be a fairly easy field to break into.

Fat guys with syringes aside.  The superfan view from the States generally revolves around two guys.  The horned Upstart and classic (and consistently horned) Devil.

Downside:  You need a neck like Mike Tyson

The horned upstart has rolled a few Euro campaigned, but really stood out during the Tour of California this year.  He definitely has a unique schtick, which is key, but those multiple costumes require a lot of overhead.  Plus, let's face it, he's set up to hear comments like, "I wonder what's he's compensating for?" due to the size of his horns and it's probably not his VO2 Max.

Lack of vertical aside, he's the standard... but sandals?

The man they all look up to, the Devil.  Consistent costume, calm reserve (excepting the above) and able to place himself at key moments of a race as well as Armstrong places himself at the tete de la course, he is the pinnacle of superfandom.  (Yes, 'superfandom.'  I'll be brutalizing Dutch soon enough so I might as well start with my own language.)

Downside.  Ruler of Hades or not, he's not getting any younger.  The timing is right for a young upstart, new blood on the rise.  It's just not going to be me and, hopefully, none of the guys who tried out during the ToC.  

I think we have a reality TV show in the making.  See you from the road.

Another One Bites the Dust

Saw it coming but didn't quite make it home.

This...

... Is the scotch my buddy Matt brought into my office. Happy Friday.

The Backward Slide

One on the many time proven peculiarities of my personality is the ability to pass judgement against myself and then do everything in my power to prove myself wrong (and therefore be wrong in the end, no matter what the result).

Case in point:  My upcoming trip to Europe. 

Somewhere during the return trip from Arkansas, likely nestled somewhere between conversations about Corey's swollen knees and D St's EW(TBD) rides, we realized that the next event on our shared horizon is TransIowa.  

Unfortunately, my lead up to gravel's longest day includes a week spent in Europe for work and, at least during the pessimistic post-script to Ouachita, therefore a week without mileage.  Last year it was illness, this year, I had decided, would be travel which colluded to damper the day.

Never mind the joy of travel or the fact I will be going to the Amstel Gold race.  Let's just focus on the fact that riding miles will go to hell, shall we?

Of course, like with any largely fictitious problem, the solution was already being put into place as I enumerated the "problems."  And, as I was typing this in fact, helpful souls were already extending a hand.  

Hopefully, the mileage will stay intact, the blog will highlight pictures from the English countryside and I can suppress the number of challenges I invent to get in my way.  

Riding ~350 miles of gravel should be challenge enough.

Bigfoot Lives in Arkansas!!

The MonsterQuest team has been sent to investigate.

Enter SuperFan

After pre-riding the beginning of the Ouachita Challenge on Saturday, my main concern was to start conservatively enough not to blow sky high in the first few miles of the race.  So, instead of spinning like a hamster on crack, I was content to let the typical gap form between the single speeds and geared guys, with the idea of cracking things up gradually once the road turned up.

Initially, things went well.  I chatted a bit with Josh P (who rode very well) then started working my way forward up, trying to stay controlled even when standing out of the saddle on the steeper sections of the initial climbs.

After bobbling when a limb hit me in the face and having to then push the bike to the top, I got my rhythm,  tucked in with a couple of more singles and started weaving my way forward again.

On the fist slightly sustained downhill, the side of the trail was littered with guys already working to change flats when I found myself joining them.  Suddenly there was that familiar sound of air and Stan's releasing from my rear tire.  

For a moment, the Stan's caught and some guy said, "Hey, that sealed fast."  Of course, then it started spraying again and I was off on the side of the trail working toward a diagnosis.  I'd managed to gash the center of my tire in a way that created three little triangular flaps of rubber that the Stan's could never seal together.  I through a tube in, which simply pushed out of the tired and, after it lasted about thirty seconds, resigned myself to a seven mile race.

After walking out with a guy who was having the same experience himself and getting a ride back to the race start, I grabbed a map and went to find Corey at the second feed station.  

The guys running the station were dressed for fun with Pedro, an ape, a banana and other costumes were worn with an eye on fun.  They topped all of that though with the way they supported the riders.  After the lead rider came through, Cameron cruised in minutes later and, while I went to somehow assist, the boys at the checkpoint had him covered and, though an Ergon rider came in after Cam and left before him, Cam seemed much more prepared when he left.  

Rider's came though at a regular tick and I was just talking about Corey to a guy in a marching band costume when here he came.  Corey looked like he was just out for a ride, all smiles, fresh and ready to keep moving.  I gave him the proverbial shove off and took off to find the next feed zone.

After reaffirming that the Prius isn't exactly an off-vehicle, I skipped to the final feed-zone and chatted with a local volunteer for a few hours while I waited for folks to come through.  We were sitting at a point where riders rode off of gravel and up into the last section of single track.  It was interesting to watch tired riders handle what would normally be an easy transition to clean.  There was a lot of stopping and starting until the leaders of the 80 mile race rolled through.

The leader came through looking fresh and, while I expected riders to continue to come through, it was 20 minutes until another 80 mile rider came through.  Cam shot through in 3rd, then I played a waiting game for Corey.  Unfortunately, he'd fallen back from seventh after a bad crash.  He was followed closely by the 360 guys who were rocking and seemed to be having a great time.  

From there it was back to the start line and prep for the ride home.  Corey rode a great race.  After he crossed the line, he revealed knees that were swollen to the point where it looked like his knee caps were three or four times there normal size.  In fact, he spent most of the ride back with a bag of ice across both knees.

Though I'd personally like a mulligan, it was a solid trip and I had a good time watching Corey and the KC crew ride so well.  Next time, I may just have to join them.

Corey in 12th thru last CP

He said he had a bad crash earlier and had lost some spots as a
result. Cam was in third and two other 360 guys were just behind
Corey and looking strong.

Cam 3rd, Corey 7th leaving CP 2

Seething

I made it about seven miles, then everything went sideways. Time to
become Corey Godfrey super-fan.

The Perfect Number

Corey and I prerode the race start today and, in short, it's going to
hurt.

As Corey and I spun the road heading toward the gravel roads which
marked the beginning of the meaningful part of the course, I commented
that the gear I had might not be enough. However, once we hit the
gravel and neared the ATV trails, I knew I could let go of that idea.

The road kicked up pretty hard and my legs were not happy. From the
things rolled their way skyward while we bounced off rocks all along
the way.

We dipped into some single track to take us back and somewhere along
the my legs relaxed, I remembered how to ride a mountain bike and I
started looking forward to tomorrow.

It's still gonna hurt though. (and Mr Godfrey looks damn strong.)

Breakfast in Joplin

Corey and I rolled down to Joplin, MO last night on our way to Mena,
AR and Ouachita. After a brief David Lynch-like cultural event at a
convenience store, we settled in with some old school rap and made
great time. Thanks to all for the calls and emailed well wishes. A
few more ours and it's time for a pre-ride.

So, There's This Ride I Know...

Rapha has updated the Continental Calling rides and hosts for their summer tour of the US.

Your friends have some rides to share with you (and many of you in the 402 have ridden one of them.)

Ready

Well, Sam made sure the bike is ready. The rest is tbd.

What? What Time Is It?

Suddenly, the impending season seems very real.  Like getting engrossed in something only to discover that hours have moved by, the preseason has seemed to become the race season overnight.

With Ouachita looming this weekend, I am in that proverbial position of wondering exactly how things might turn out.  The only thing that seems certain is that I'm a bit lighter and that packing the things needed to race is nearly automatic.

With Sam readying the BKB IF for action, my often used tactic of showing up with a creaking chain is probably out the door so I will have to find some other reason to be worried right before the ball drops on 80 miles of Arkansas fun.

I think the biggest difference between my ride this year and almost every other in years past is my fork.  I'll be running suspension for Ouachita.  I'm actually feeling mixed emotions on the idea.  Sam's point, "You should save your hands for the bigger races later in year."

True... but I'm not sure I'll like it.  We'll see soon enough.

39x16 Meets 38x17

Sunday, Sunday, Sunday.  Weather, perfect.  Gravel, dry.  Wind, a bit.  Sam and I rolled for a touch under four on our respective singles today.  Sam decided to out mash me with a 39x16, while I took baby steps with the 38x17.  For much of the ride, I hadn't taken notice of the difference but finally, as Sam pedaled by me through the bottom of a roller as I waiting to be able to spin, I realized the score.

Fork in Action

"What are you running?"

"39x16."

"Oh... well that explains it."

"Yeah, I used to live with Tony Wilhelm, so it's all good."

On a related note... Don't look now.

Are You Thinking What I'm Thinking?

Apparently, a few people were.

After a morning spent supporting Mrs. Snob through her first running event, then watching Seven battle it out soccer style, I took the Fixed Niner to the park in order to remove some of riding skill rust prior to Ouachita next weekend.

With the trees providing a nice break from another Nebraska Spring wind and the sun pushing through in the afternoon, it was easy to push the tempo occasionally, visibility permitting, and see how the legs feel about racing next weekend.  (I am not sure they're down.)

Along the way, I saw Kevin B, Jay, MW and few others at various times out rolling dirt as well.  

As Ferris would say, "If you have the means, I highly recommend it."

"I don't wanna stay at your party. I don't wanna talk with your friends..."

Lucky Thirteen

As in years Mrs. Snob and I have been married as of today.

I had planned to post one of my favorite pictures for a commemorative update.  The X-Maxx party at D St was in full swing and as Susan and I talked, me with a hat made of balloons upon my head, someone tried to snap a clandestine pic but I caught them out of the corner of my eye and tossed up the middle finger of destiny to ruin the shop.  The shot captures Susan just beginning to laugh and that smug look of satisfaction of a job well done.  Merry fucking Christmas...

... and Happy Anniversary.

She-Devil

Dude... Cute Derringer

As in, not bringing enough weapon for the job.

With the family schedule forcing an early rise today, I joined the D St congregation for the Sunday 8am ride.  Unfortunately, it didn't take long to realize that I wouldn't be riding with the crew very long.  As we headed South into a brisk headwind, I often found myself close to being spun out and knew that as we turned away from the resistance, I would hear the familiar clicks as everyone shifted and I would be off the back.

So, I checked the time on my phone and decided to give it an hour then go solo.  The hour itself was nice enough, I chatted with JP a bit, hung around a few different rear wheels and tried to remember how my NCAA bracket was fairing after yesterday.

Then it was a quick see-ya-later to Jesse and a turn onto gravel.  Next time, I think I'll show up with at least one less tooth on the back.  I probably should have known better anyway.  The derringer is a cute pistol, but I can't imagine it's the right tool for most jobs.

Flats, PB&J and Modern Technology

It was a good Saturday. I bet Corey has the long version.

Express Lunch

Nothing like a quick 26 miles over lunch. I could have done without the headwind back though.

My New Favorite Band

The Plain White Hipsters...

or

Death Cap for Cuties

or...

Irish Eyes Are Smiling

Despite a string of flats that would normally leave me bent out of shape and reaching for a Irish stout, the weather of the last two days has kept everything a batch of smiles.  Imagine a photo showing a bike laying at the side of the road, a tire removed and the contents of a saddle bag strewn across a strip of grass, all drenched in warmth and sunlight.  

Now imagine four of those same photos.

Yet, the guy whose now running low on tubes still has a stupid happy look on his face.  Such is the impact of Spring.

Closer

The Morning Flat

We've all had it happen.  You've enjoyed some coffee, donned leg warmers and stroll to your bike only to find that, while it was put away in seemingly fine working order, now you have a flat to change.

Sunday morning was that morning for me.  After discovering no suitable tubes on hand, I sent a quick text to Sam letting him know we needed to switch to cross bikes.  With an already dead set of legs, the idea of smooth pavement and shifting to more teeth was hard to let go of, but I quickly resigned myself to the typical single speed ride and headed out the long way to Sam's place.

With a nice mix of road and gravel, we saved the headwind for last and capped the day with a Belgian style ride through headwinds and rain.  Plans for world domination sat on hold as we ground it out until the very end.  It's always a telling sign when the discussion ends with the food you're thinking of as you part.  

Sam was thinking chowder and, of course, I just wanted a mocha with a extra shot.

Hmmm... How to Describe My Legs Post Ride...

Perhaps with a picture...

Colonial Uprising

Why?  Because naming this post "London Calling" or "Anarchy in the UK" would have been too damn easy.

As life would have it, mid-April will find me in Hatfield, UK, just North of London proper.  From the looks of things, it looks like an off day will also be in the mix, so if anyone has suggestions on cycling related activities in the old empire, let me know.

If only Three Peaks were this time of year...

Feeling 'Euro'

Tick Tock

It hit me sometime today that my first race of the year is essentially three weeks from now.  Corey is over-trained as usual and I am probably under... we'll know soon enough.  

Tick Tock... Tick Tock...

Little Temptation

Nearly brought this home from NAHBS

The Long Way Home

Saturday.  29er, fixed gear, gear inches in the mid-seventies, temps in the mid-twenties.  Gravel.  Turkey chase.  Wander too far from the city.  Ride home against light sleet and rain.  

Sunday.  Road bike.  Mid-forties.  Highway shoulder to Beatrice.  Wind shifts just before turning around in the Arby's parking lot.  Bypass a Jamocha shake.  Twenty mph headwind home.  Spent on arrival.  Finish with around 80.  Still want the shake. 

"Take Note..."

Urban Velo takes note of Snappy Caps.

NAHBS from the Booth

The Snappy Cap booth at NAHBS proved to be more than a simple platform to spread the word about Mrs. Snob's caps and display the craftsmanship that she takes so much pride in.  It, as Nate pointed out, was a great oasis from the chaos of walking the floor.

The Wall

The coalition that worked the booth at NAHBS would also seamlessly rotate between providing us a break from the booth and strolling the floor to check out those asking to be checked on.  While Susan and I really didn't take in the entire show until the end of Day Two, it was fun to hear the reports come back about what was interesting and what didn't quite make sense.

Where the magic happened

By the time I really starting taking the show in, I found myself reviewing bikes with a scouting report to go along with my own take.  Typically, I would think things like, "that's what Johnny was talking about" or "Yeah, that chain would constantly drop off if you really rode this."

The Table on Day One

In the end though, everything came back to our little ten x ten space.  One of my favorite moments was when Mike DeSalvo took a picture of our crew at, I believe, the request of the Sparkle Ninja, Mrs. Carrie Kohtz.  We were all sprawled out in the booth, perhaps after hours, but maybe not.  Tired from the day, but having a good time just the same.

Two-Headed Monster

Speaking of Carrie, she was fabulous in the booth.  While I was often joking about my status of booth-babe, she was a zen master of booth management.  I found myself thinking that, if I were hiring a rep to travel and handle shows, I would hire her in a heartbeat.  She might not actually make it to the booth until the afternoon, but whatever she gave you would be worth it.

Worlds Collide

Mac|Life reviews the Chrome Soma. I say, good for Chrome.

Memories of NAHBS 09: REO SpeedVegan

One of the more interesting aspects of NAHBS was being across from Vanilla.  Not only did the bikes show amazing attention to detail, but the subtle aspects of the booth did as well, including bike stands make from what looked like stained concrete which held a post a pedal could clip into and adorned with a small tuft of fake turf.  When you're trying to decipher a stand, you know something is going on.  It's a booth that prompted Carl Strong to comment in a seminar that he looked at their booth and thought to himself, "Man, I suck," which was hysterical.

On the not so subtle side, they had SpeedVagan brass-knuckles.  I think at least three of us separately tried to get a pair at some point, only to reassemble and realize we'd all politely been turned away.  

After chatting a few times with Molly, who worked the booth like a champ despite feeling under the weather, we found ourselves referring to the Vanilla gang as the 'SpeedVegans' and genuinely enjoying small breaks in the crowd when we could step across the aisle and chat or laugh about the fact our hat fixtures kept dropping off of our Snappy Cap grid wall.

Of course, there were the bikes.  There are plenty of sites containing photos of the gorgeous bikes Sacha had on hand, so click and drool.  There was one bike in particular that I almost made my own at the show and, frankly, if we hadn't been pretty busy ourselves, I might have been commuting on it today.  

Bike or no bike, I'd still love to have a pair of those brass knuckles.

Whirlwind

Well, it's over. In being so focused on the moment-to-moment, it leaves me having no real idea of how Snappy Caps was received by the general public.  For a first-time, it really did seem to go very, very well.

What I do know is that Mrs. Snob and I had a great time, worked hard and had some great friends who helped us to make sure we put our best foot forward.  Thanks to Nate, Sam, Johnny and Carrie for coming along and helping out.  Having that support made the show much easier and kept the threat level low.

Now, I need to relax, watch Gangland, and get some sleep.

NAHBS Awards

"Everytime a non-functional bike wins an award, an angel gets its
wings" - Nate Woodman

Seven is ready to pit crew in Belgium

Handmade at NAHBS

"Are you guys 'pre-cooling' bags?"

Multi-Functional

Do You Have One's with Smiley Faces?

"No, but we do have some with less threatening skulls." - John Kohtz

Good Morning

Gifts from the Bilenky Gang

Snappy Action

View from Snappy Land

Hilarious

My Vote for Best in Show

The Circle in Indy

Preppin'