Geek Like Me

Is That It?... Uh... I Think That's It...

As Corey and I were riding on Saturday, he asked me a simple question which, I was suprised to find, I had a pretty simple answer for.

"So, are you done racing mountain bikes for the year?"
"Yeah... I guess I am."

It seems to early to say that. In fact, I almost feel guilty. A road trip for work shot down the Dakota 5-0 and with the Evil Unicorns on hold until Old Pueblo, there's nothing staring me in the face and challenging me to turn the pedals over.

I think Corey has some plans to break me in half getting ready for cross so I might as put my neck in the noose and let the fans cheer from the gallows.

In other news, we have a few pieces of War Axe kit left over and open for public consumption. Visit the War Axe blog for more details.

On a note of Assorted Snobbery, is there a rule at National Political Conventions that a certain percentage of attendees must wear a ridiculous hat?

High and Low

The Low: Late last night, as Mrs. Snob and I watched Superbad, Johnny sent me a text message reporting that he and Carrie had just had bikes stolen. Shortly after, John and I were on the phone burning emotional energy on both ends. Apparently, their steeds had been locked with two other bikes, but those bikes had been left against a tree, apparently not worth the trouble.


The High: The RadMan rode Wilderness single track from 14th West to the bridge with Mrs. Snob and I today. I have a general rule about keeping posts about the kids to a minimum but the smile across my face has me breaking that rule today. There's nothing quite like hearing, "This is FUN!!" from behind you and having to speed up because your little man is on your wheel.

Assorted Snobbery: "There's Blood in My Mouth...

... 'cause I've been biting my tongue all week."

It's not often that the office leaves me ready for the weekend, but that's the way things went for the last five days. The outside world then decided to yell, "Pile on!" so now it's even more appropriate.

Of course, it's nothing that the saddle won't cure in very short order.

This also came out of my mouth a few minutes ago and I think that I'll stick to it. (I am sure it was Johnny inspired but hardly mother approved.)

"Some people will tell you to live life like you have a million dollars in your pocket, but I think it's a million bucks and a bottle of whiskey. Sometimes you just don't have time to go to the store."

Rats On The Sidewalk

Occassionally, I just need to get out of the office. Those times often find me downtown for a coffee and trip into Monkey Wrench for a little mental refreshment.

Yesterday, I had just started down the last block when I noticed a Rock Racing Escalade across the street from the shop.

"Okay," I asked, "Who signed the pro roadie contract?" Neither Nate nor Eric had transferred teams or donned high end fashion though, so the mystery remained.

On a side note, for those of you who can see through my references and puns like a broken window, yes, I was listening to Rancid this morning.

Out on a Lark

With the exception of the fact that I dropped into some Wilderness single track for a few miles, I might as well have ridden an hybrid today with a big basket and a orange safety flag flying off the back.

Proof I need a haircut.

While the fixie did make me pay some attention, the fact that Cross season is really just around the corner preoccupied me most of the ride. No dismounts or run-ups on the day (I still feel pretty sah-lough) but the thought of cowbells and an hour's worth of everything you have sounded pretty good in concept.

Trying a different angle.

With Nationals in KC again this year, I'd like to take the line instead of watching from the sidelines like last year.

You may be wondering why black and white. Why? Because that's the way the settings were when I took off. Boring, a bit lazy, but true.

Eroded

My last post's enthusiasm has been balanced over the past week by the feeling of being a fuzzy, half step behind on all things having to do with the bike. Slow commutes, late reactions and the bare desire to simply go to sleep have held court.

Instead of a long gravel ride with friends or trying to race around like a hamster for three hours, I think I'll likely be putting around on the road bike or low-tailing my way around Wilderness.

In the spirit of my spirit, Luna's Bewitched is keeping me company this evening. 'Sleeping Pill' will likely prove exactly that.

Pass the decaf.

Motivational Speakers...

... are best when pumping out solid punk rock, at least for me.

As the hands return to 100%, I am finding myself wanting to tie a number plate to my bars and race again. I have also researched the Payson Stampede more than I might care to admit.

A week of eating whatever I like has now dissipated into a strong desire to get back on the bike and finding an event to throw myself at with aplomb. What that is, I don't know yet. I haven't even explored the options, but there is always something more, something better on the horizon and I want to be apart of it. Whatever 'IT' may be.

2009 already looks strong with G-Ted committing to TI.V5. recently and Nationals backing up into September. Add Kanza (hopefully) and a dash of garlic, a 24 yet to be chosen and it's game-on.

One thing I have never been very good at is sitting around. Let's fucking GO!!

War Axe Update

Seriously... Check it out.

24-9: So, About That Fork...

It's not often that I go to write a race-recap and sit and watch the cursor blink and blink, unsure of how to start or what exactly to say. Generally, for better or worse, I write without premeditation and close the laptop without pause. This recap is proving to be quite different.

During the race, I felt a sort of confirmation that the work I have put in over the last three years has systematically been paying off. Sunday morning, I was a small mess and as disappointed as I have ever been after a competition. Sunday post race was full of 'what might have been,' but Monday morning had turned to thoughts of redemption and 'what's next?'

For roughly 14 hours or so, I held second place during the 24hrs of 9 Mile. Sam and Johnny were outstanding as a pitcrew and, as usual, friends. While I fought cramps for laps two, three and four, they helped me adjust and readjust my food and fluids on the bike. I was also cleaning nearly all of the technical sections on the course so a quiet confidence settled into my mind. We weren't discussing where I actually was in the standings, but the guys would say encouraging things like, "Dude, you're flying" and "Way to keep the laps consistent." For my part, I just tried to be smooth and steady. I remember telling Sam that I felt like I could ride faster but didn't think I should and we just rolled with that into the night.

Looking back, a couple of moments standout during that first 14 hours. The first was passing Constantine. Not because I felt embolden, but because I was surprised to see him, then I just assumed he would rally and come back. (Way to keep keeping on, Gus.)

Another was having Josh Tostado come flying by me in a tight tree section. It was memorable for two reasons. The first was how he handled the bike. He danced his rig in and out of an awkward zig-zag scar of a trail that was a thing of beauty. The second was simply what time it was. I knew it had taken the geared leaders a lot longer to catch me than they had taken in the two previous years, so again, I felt more confident.

The Wicking Snappy Cap Prototype. Passed the test with flying colors.

Finally, someone broke the ice and mentioned I was in 2nd place. I am not really sure who or why. It just happened naturally. 45 minutes out of first and about 15 minutes ahead of my pit neighbor and friend, Joe Partridge. I can't remember what lap it was, but do remember thinking that I still felt good and started to plot out how I could try to make time up to first. I was also a little concerned about whether or not I had eaten enough calories and wished I had brought a wider variety of food. Nothing sounded good.

On the course, the only thing that had changed was that I was walking a few of the technical sections. It seemed sensible as, while I felt good, I knew I was a bit more sloppy and wasting energy fighting my way through them. I'd also nearly gone down hard on the last rocky technical section and that likely made me a touch conservative for a while.

Hopefuls

The end of lap 9 or 10 was when Constantine passed me back. I was a bit shocked and a little proud of how fast he passed me at that moment. We talked a bit and I remember him saying the adrenalin had him driving but I have no idea what I said back. Probably not much that made sense.

My hands had started to disintegrate but were also recovering on smoother sections of the course, so I hadn't really gotten concerned. Just plotting how to handle it and when to try to 'go xc' and run some hot laps.

Thundering herd

There was really no going from bad to worse, in regard to my hands. The end came within the course of a lap. There was a long gravel section roughly a third of the way through the course which occurred after the longest section of rocky single-track. My hands had previously fully recovered during this section but didn't seem to come back this time. So, while my legs still carried me up the climbs, my hands, and therefore my control, were fading fast.

When I ended the lap, Sam and I made the call to switch the switchblade for some squish.

"It'll cost us about fifteen minutes."

"I'm not finishing without it. Not even sure what happens with it."

He got to work and I ate and watched for anyone in my class to go by. I kept expecting to see Joe, then got worried about him when I didn't.

I went back out without having lost a place. Unfortunately, I was still struggling with grip. Not far into the first single track section, the course did a odd-angled 'S' curve and, though I squeezed, the bars left my hands, ending in my flipping into a tree and falling upside down into a hole.

I fumbled my way to my feet and shook out, massaged, and slapped my hands against a tree. Nothing. I'm still surprised at how rational and calm I was at the moment. I just trolled the trail in reverse and headed back toward the pits. It still feels strange to have plugged the plug in third place.

Sam impersonating the top of a track and field trophy

When I got back to the pit, Sam wasn't very surprised to me. "That course is fucked. One lap is enough to jack you up." He wasn't trying to make me feel better, just calling it like it was.

I sat falling in and out of sleep for quite a while at the pit. Sam offered to take me to the hotel. Mrs Snob offered to come get me, but I really didn't want to move. Finally, after the sun broke, I called Susan and asked her to come get me. I walked down to Red Bud road and just kept walking onto the pavement. When the War Wagon came into sight, I could feel the emotion starting to take over and when I climbed into the car, I broke down for a short cry. It only lasted about twenty seconds, but it felt pretty good.

Any 'Mr. Obvious' will comment that I should have ran suspension and I have already gotten both polite and not-so-polite 'I told you so' comments from people, but it is what it is. I made a researched and educated guess I could pull it off and I was wrong. That's racing and props should go to the guys who hammered it for 24. They made good decisions and got it done.

Since the race, Susan's been quick to point out the positives. I had the legs to potentially hit the podium and I have only done three 24 hr races, so I don't completely 'suck.' In fact, she's already suggested adding an early season 24 to another 'Nationals' run next year to get things dialed in.

She's smarter than I am, so I'll probably listen to her.

Running Rigid on Really Rocky Course

When Skip headed out on lap 12, the effects of the rocky course and his rigid fork finally took its toll by taking away his ability to hold onto the bars, steer or even control his bike. After going over the bars, he pulled the plug, very disappointed because he was killing it.

-Mrs. Snob

6:41am

I'm not used to getting this much sleep. Ended up awake well before my alarm and now I am sitting in the Days Inn, kids asleep next to me, with Mrs. Snob out running and well ahead of schedule. I've already wandered over to Starbucks for my grande, extra shot, mocha enima and haven't been able to keep the grin off of my face. The barista took one look at me and remarked, "You don't look like you need coffee," as he handed me my change. "Maybe you do," I replied, "You forgot to put out the tip jar." "That would help," he mumbled, as I set the coins down on the counter and strolled back out into the morning.

So far, the rolling bass line from "I Will Possess Your Heart" is stuck in my head. Hopefully, it's not there for 24. Johnny's loaded the music robot with three versions of "Pay to Cum" by Bad Brains. Maybe I can make the switch around the six hour mark.

To paraphrase Wolfman from 'Top Gun,' "The race must be getting close. I've got a hard-on."

Anticipation

Follow Along at Home

If you'd like to follow along, you will be able to thanks to the folks at Granny Gear.

Real Time Results

The race starts at 10am on Saturday.

Tomorrow Johnny and I will finalize our pit setup while waiting for Sam to arrive, then the three of us will hit a couple of laps to check the course.

Pitted Out

Just passes the start finish. Perfect.

Dopers Suck

War Axe Bicycles/Bareknuckle Brigade rider Skip Cronin has tested positive for huffing paint, the Wausau Daily Herald reported on Sunday. According to the paper, one of the single speeder's urine samples collected by the USADA Anti-Doping Control showed positive traces of a variety of substances commonly found at local hardware store. In addition, Cronin was seen to have pink metal flaked paint the size of a paint can lid covering his face throughout the recent 24 Hours of 9 Mile event.

The team's ‘War Wagon’ Suburban was reportedly stopped by police and searched, and the police were seen carrying paint cans away in a scene that resembled the opening credits of ‘Saturday Night Fever.’

Directeur sportif Sam Rosenau said he was as surprised as anybody. "We only found out ten minutes ago that we weren’t even racing in a true National Championship class. At first we thought the entire team would stop racing in unsanctioned events and reregister in events which will require a license, but then we realized weren’t not even an official a team. The only thing we are sure about is the beer drinking. That stays."

Cronin, who is rather slow anyway, was dead last in the single speed category before the news broke on Sunday morning. The Nebraskan’s less-than-impressive performances have in the past been explained by his naturally low hematocrit level and inability to say no to Starbuck’s Raspberry scones. (Starbucks was not available for comment at press time.)

Cronin, also known as, 'Endurosnob,' was part of a targeted group of riders who it is believed purposefully race in non-sanctioned events for “fun and camaraderie.” Since the TransIowa in April, it is believed that Cronin not only huffed paint, but also consumed copious amounts of Red Bull and caffeinated energy gels. In addition, he has engaged in such erratic behavior as missing turns in races and unsafely low-fiving friends who cross his path on the Lincoln, Nebraska bike paths, according to the Wausau Daily. He has also been known to wear nail-polish during races, which authorities point to as a clear sign of his instability.

John Kohtz, friend and mechanic, described the final moments before Cronin was announced positive. "He just sat in the suburban and was not able to say anything. We didn’t know if it was effects of the race or the fact he had been huffing paint after each lap. There was pink and black paint everywhere, like someone had killed mountain bike Barbie. We didn't want to make a scene with the police, but he was surrounded by paint cans and it made quite a racket when he tumbled out of the truck. It reminded me a lot of Howard Hughes, actually.”

24 Hours of Snappy Caps

24 Hours of 9 Mile is going to present the opportunity to test new Snappy Caps that are made of a wicking material with a little added flair.

OK, the hat is not quite finished but wanted to get some pics posted.

Two happy marriages:

Form and Function

Snappy Caps and War Axe

Now Entering "The Fun-Zone"

When I came home on Friday, I found Mrs. Snob chilling in our bedroom reading a Dwell magazine. Tired from the day, I flopped down on our bed and starting fading out into a nap.
"Are you pretty tired, "Mrs Snob asked.
"Yeah, and I am in that pre-race state of mind where I've decided I suck."
"That's always fun."

I passed on commenting further, then, as I image many people do, we starting ticking off little aspects of our day and I finished up with, "Oh, and I ordered my new gloves."
"You did? Good for you."
"What do you mean, 'good for me?'"
"Well, sometimes when you get into that zone, you have a hard time getting anything done."
"You mean when I think I suck?"
"Yes."
"Yeah, it's a real 'Pre-Race Fun-Zone.'"

With that, I've actually found a much more relaxed state of mind over the weekend. I'm still fat and in dire need of a haircut, but I wouldn't quite say that I suck.

At least, not right now...

Reminder of Spring

Few words for you today. Just a few pics from a Saturday gravel roller. Does that make us gravel rolleurs? (Anyone else surprised Sastre held on? Whoa.)

Gruppo de Gravel




Corey and MG

Refreshing in any language

My Buddy, The Legbreaker

This week's 'conversational' ride with Corey and Jeff started in much the same fashion as last week, right down to the topics of discussion. We passed through Denton covering Ricco, CVV, and personal finance when Dr. Godfrey started to turn pedals in anger.

For a moment, we were even in our own little version of Wednesday Night Worlds, with Corey putting in an effort, a counter from me and then Corey going again. Jeff had yelled something lost in the wind during the 'fireworks' and once I could ask what it was it had turned out he'd yelled, "Are we really going to do this?"

I guess we 'did,' but it didn't last long. That boy can break legs.