Yeti With A Flashlight

At the end of a dead end street,

a small path weaves into the trees.

It's a place that keeps me sane,

A world of both pain and gain.

Escaping the drone of car tires on tarmac,

I descend into a snow filled sanctuary.

They say there's a yeti out there,

I'm not sure exactly where.

A marginally plowed dirt road to myself,

An occasional car, you'll hear from afar.

Two eyes watching, blinking intermittently.

I'm pretty sure that's the yeti.

The eyes are trail markers

Bobbing behind maple stems,

Here's my turn,

Time to feel the burn.

I look forward to what some may call a frozen hell.

A climb I know well,

The hill continues into the night

Never completed without a fight.

Mentally I'm in the zone.

Is this what the yeti calls home?

Off to my left hear a tussle,

Just the wind, causing some beech leaves to rustle.

As legs begin to ache.

I convince myself pain is fake.

Sprint for the peak,

Anything else would be weak.

The pitch has begun to mellow.

Excited I may meet this yeti,

He should be a nice fellow,

Shouldn't he?

Still sweating from the ascent.

I layer up with high speed intent.

Hood pulled up, and pit zips zipped

Double wheel drift corners will be ripped.

Face goes numb, and my muscles twitch.

A glittering glow shines through the forest.

It must be a yeti with a flashlight.

Or simply cold nerves, affecting my sight.

I see his light from behind me,

He's going to catch me soon,

As I turn to check,

It's only the bright full moon.

The sweat, the descent, and now rolling hills,

My body is filled with chills.

I find myself alone

On my ride back home.

I know he's out here,

Perhaps hidden with fear.

Wish he'd come out to play.

No yeti today.

Trans North Georgia.

I am splitting where I post original pieces, my Trans North Georgia write up is on Northatlanticdirt.com.

Winter Update, a Cloudride count down.

I haven't died, I still ride, and I still write. My computer did die, my tablet is on its last leg, and I don't have any internet other than on my phone, which is new.

 

So where has the winter gone? It feels like yesterday that I began training again in preparation for the Monaro Cloudride. The truth is, I've been in this training swing for nearly 3 months already. This winter has been very cold, very snowy, and far less than optimal for bike riding, especially for long hours. The snowmobile trails have been pretty well groomed, allowing for decent riding, but these temps have had me limited to 4-5 hours on most days. I've been getting a lot of 2-4 hour rides in after work under artificial light. Several times I've consideredgoing for over night winter bikepacking trips, but after long days in the cold on ski patrol, sleeping outside is amongst the last things that sound like fun. When the weather truly pins me inside, I spend as much time as I can tolerate on the trainer. Typically not much more than 2 hours before I go stir crazy. I've been pretty good about getting out to ride in the mornings as well, although lately most mornings have been spent on the trainer. I definitely have a few mornings each week where I just can't manage to get our of bed at 4 am to get a ride of any sort in before work.

 

"Winter training is finding the fine line between improvement and not killing yourself before the race season. It's like roasting a marshmallow. Light golden brown and delicious, or bursting into flame. Once you see the flames., there is no going back..."

-Seamus Powell

 

The snow has been great, for skiing. The soft layers have been kind to my knees, although the combination of riding and skiing constantly keeps me on the edge of painful tendinitis. If I didn't have a race planned I think I would put the bike away for a while and spend more time hiking for fresh turns on skis. I'm not saying I wouldn't ride, but I would change my priority.  Vermont hasn't seen temperature above freezing for already a month now, and I am certainly ready for spring.

 

The anticipation is rising, time is counting down quickly. For a shake down ride I have chosen to ride the Trans North Georgia Route. 350 miles, with considerable climbing. At this point I am only planning on riding it one direction, and getting a shuttle back, but a down and back is not out of the question if everything goes extremely well. After the TNGA, I come back to work for two weeks, and then move out of my apartment, and fly out to the land down under on March 30th, starting Cloudride on April 4th.

 

I wouldn't say I feel as good as I could, but I've stayed pedaling and fighting, against the will of old man winter. As Greg LeMan said, "It never gets easier, you just go faster." I'm not looking for easy, I just hope it's fast enough.

A search for the limit.

Mostly just questions I ask myself, and some numbers:

How far can you push yourself before you break? When you think you break, did you really just brake? As I struggle to motivate myself to push harder in training, I cannot help but imagine how far I can actually push myself. Im pretty sure that at this point in my life, it is clear I will never be a true 'world class' athlete, or someone who makes a living off of a sport. That may sound grim and like I'm giving up, but I'm just trying to keep it real, I have every intent to continue to push myself and improve my own strength, pace, and skill.

My longest single day ride to date is 210 miles, about 140 paved and flatish, and 170+ mile days before and after (Pie Town day in TD.) Just 2 years ago I had never ridden a century. Bikepack racing has so many more factors than mileage, and time in the saddle for that matter. Terrain, climbing, sustainability, fuel and water supply, etc. I must sadly admit I have never raced a 24 hour race, but it is certainly on my list. Lets take it a step farther; do 48 hour races exist? What length of race must riders start to plan to sleep or camp? I haven't looked at specific names, mileages and times, but bikepack racers everywhere are pushing the envelope with sleep deprivation and impressive durability. With so many ultras* having nothing but bragging rights for prizes, what is motivating riders to push so hard?

Let's throw The Munga into the discussion. 1000k, $1,000,000, yes, One MILLION Dollar purse. I'm not saying I can win it, I may never have the opportunity to try with a $10,000 entry, but I am pretty sure that given another year of training with motivation, I could ride 1000k without sleeping. It is exciting to think about pedaling essentially continuous for that long, but I'm not convinced that would be the fastest tactic. Does the turtle or the rabbit win this race? Safety aside (yes riding 620+ miles non-stop could potentially cause some bodily harm) a few hours rest in between two triple+ centuries may be the solution, or maybe take two brief naps and split the race into double century segments.

With Cloudride 1000 as my current goal, I am trying to train as though it has a 6 figure podium payout, but I can't even wrap my head around that kind of money. My motivation is purely unfounded. I got into this stuff for the same reason we all did: we love to ride our bikes for a really long time, and we like to find our limits, and see how our limits stack up against those of others. My mind has just shifted from chasing double century weekends to double century days, back to back, (to back?) What about the triple century? On a road bike I can honestly say I think I could do one without too much struggle. Its not hard, all you need to do is pedal farther, right?

*Ultra: My definition: Multiple day, single stage race

Training plan, in a nutshell.

It's a great day to stay alive!

November 19th, 2013. That's a day I'll never forget. Life changing to say the least.

I watched my best friend, co-worker, and employer fall 89 feet in tree work accident. Chris doesn't remember it, but hey, against all odds he is alive, and recovered, virtually 100%.

I could write about the saga; the sadness, the scariness, and the hardships endured by those close to the incident, but I'd rather stay positive. A mere 2 months after flirting with death, the invincible man was skiing. I have never met anyone with as much passion and drive. He did ski a few more times throughout the season, but due to both physical and cognitive limitations, for a guy who skis well over 100 days a year, it was basically a lost season.

By the time April rolled around, I was back to doing tree work, something I thought I would never do again. (Climbing is a labor of love, and if you don't love it, you won't do it for long.) I was over snow, ready for dirt. I was training hard for Tour Divide, and stoked on MTB season in general. Chris played along, but you could tell, he just wanted ski season again. All year we've talked about the count down to snow, often ending a sweaty 90 degree work day with, "I'm pretty sure it's gunna snow tomorrow." He's not bitching about the heat or summer, he's just genuinely psyched for snow and winter.

Before the accident he was no different. Aside from the drive for skiing, Chris's positive outlook on life is second to none. He posseses the rare ability to remain calm in situations where I would snap. We could be sideways to a gate in a nice yard, stuck with the truck and chipper, every wheel burried to the axle, you can tell he's not happy, but he won't lose his cool, it's not gunna help us get out anyway! Those positive vibes are usually contagious, and make for a lot of great times, on and off the job.

Instead of dwelling on the scariest thing I've ever seen, I am going to take the Treeman approach, and just  be thankful to be alive, and still have one of my best friends still here, to spend the day with. Life's too short to be mad, and sad, live everyday to the fullest. Getting so close to the edge is a reminder of how great life is.

If you've taken the time to read this, make today a positive one (make them all positive). Spread the word, November 19th is "A Great Day to Be Alive"

"Don't fall in the brook, eh!"

These days, a bowl of cereal could be considered "epic."

The word "epic" was reborn in the language bro-brah just a few years ago. A word once used to describe things that would last for a very long time, or the great journey or quest of a lifetime. Upon the rebirth of the word, it's definition has rapidly degraded from, say, the best day or storm of the year ("We just skied Tuck's in 3 feet of blower pow,") to anything that may be, but probably isn't, worth of a Facebook status, ("I just had some epic coffee!") Yuppies ruin everything....

A couple of months ago I was invited to the "5th Annual Oneonta Epic Mountain Bike Ride," by my friend Sam who recently moved to California. I had been invited previous years, but never made it. I am not a big fan of group rides, as they are typically slow, disorganized, and generally more frustrating than enjoyable. The stats from previous years were impressive, and I knew a few other riders going to the event, all of who were strong riders, so I figured I'd give group rides another try. Also, Sam had planned his vacation to NY to coincide with this ride, so it must be a good time!

I decided to split up the 3 hours drive a bit, and visit my good friend Allan in Albany area on Saturday on my way to Oneonta. We decided to go the AIR (Albany Indoor Rock climbing center.) I had been there a few years ago, and enjoyed it, but I wasn't much of a climber at the time. In the past few years I have been climbing more, and working out a bunch, in Rutland's Green Mountain Rock Climbing Center. AIR's walls are short, and have very few routes that actually need a rope. The gym had a few 5.8's and 9's, two 5.11's and a 5.13. When I flashed the 5.11a near the entrance, the employee's were amazed. I began to realize that this was more of a rock climbing family fun center than a rock gym. Before leaving the gym, I usually get in a good burn out with various body weight exercise. The looks I received while doing push ups pull ups, sit ups, etc, confirmed it was not a "gym."

The drive to Oneonta on Sunday was, well, wet. I got to town over an hour early, and I couldn't find any decent looking restaurants open, so Dunkin Dounuts it was, "America Runs on Dunkin." GPS brought me to Wilbur Park...not the right part. I sat in my truck, eating processed non-nutritive egg like product. The rain continued and it was about 40*. I had driven 3 hours, and had not seen a trace of another rider. Thankfully a few more people used GPS to find the park as well and pulled in at about 8:45, as I was putting on my bike shoes and stocking my pack. Well, at least I'll have SOMEONE to ride with. A minute later Sam came by on his extremely bright new Specialized. Que local knowledge. We pedaled to the other side of the park, where the pavilion was overflowing with ambitious riders, still 40 and raining, misery loves company, right? The ride was split into an A, B, and C group with the standard "A and B groups will be FAST paced, slackers will be dropped," speech. The goal was 40 miles, lots of climbing, and be done in about 6 hours. The "A" group started with 14 riders, three who dropped on the first climb, we hadn't even made it into the trails yet!

We had a diverse group with everything from aggressive trail bikes to a steel rigid single speed with drop bars, full lyrca kits to no-brand baggies. Regardless of style, bike, or age, once we were in the trails, one thing was obvious, these guys were real riders. The rain didn't matter anymore, vibes were awesome, and everyone was smiling. A few mechanicals, and flats split our group up, but all involved were locals, and regrouped a few miles later. It's always fun to ride with the people who built, and maintain the trails your riding. The Oneonta crew created a trail system that flowed well, with a great mix of fast and technical sections and features, with a great variety of old school root and rock and new school bench-cut, with berms and jumps.

With the continuous rain, it didn't take long for gloves and shoes....errrrr....everything to be completely soaked. Staying moving kept my core warm, but my toes were pretty chilly. The rain turned to snow. It was actually a welcomed change, because at least snow flakes kinda bounce off rather than waterlog you farther. The snow started dumping! Between the mud from my tires, the tires of the rider in front of me, and the snow, I could barely see without squinting my eyes. When snow began to accumulate, I was wondering if I should have brought my fat bike! The leaves, mud, and abundant moisture kept all the rocks, roots, and bridges extremely slick. It isn't often I get a chance to ride with high-caliber riders outside of races, so descending amongst rippers on new trails, in these conditions, was keeping me on my toes. We came across a feed table in what seemed like a random field. After a short break, the breeze began to cut through my wet base layers, and I was happy to get riding before a chill set in any farther.

We cycled (double meaning there) back through the park. There were some snacks and coffee in the pavilion. That coffee really hit the spot! I had packed dry socks and gloves, and took the opportunity to change them. I have a few pairs of riding gloves that are exactly the same, unfortunately the "pair" I got, was EXACTLY the same...two left gloves. Putting wet gloves on was depressing when I even thought ahead enough to pack a dry pair. After lunch our group began to disperse more than before. Other commitments, exhaustion, desire to ride in the rain, and more flat tires eventually left five riders. Sam's proposed route was designed to crush us, and it did a good job. The last 10 miles had just as much climbing as the first 30. The last climb split the last five into three and two. I rode back into the park with Seth and Jud. 39.5 miles. Seth, who had done an awesome job of keeping everyone moving all day, was not about to stop short of 40. With a short section of flat single track in the park, we hit 40 miles. "Yeah, this is our best 1/4 mile of trail," Seth claimed. "It's pretty awesome, I'm gunna write about it in my blog," I replied. I am not a liar.

The after party was hosted by local rider Todd, in his beautiful home a bit outside of Oneonta. Cold beer, tasty food, warm home, great people, and riding stories. I would've liked to have stayed longer, but the drive home took priority. I can't think of better way to end a ride that earned the name "Epic."

Thank you to everyone who made this event happen. Extra thanks to Sam Brown-Shaklee for the invite, Seth for keeping the "A" group moving and motivated, and Todd for a great after party. I hope to see you all next year, or hopefully sooner.

Cloudride, I like the sound of that.

"So Napoleon, What are you gonna do next?"
"Whatever I feel like I wanna do, GOSH!"
-Napoleon Dynamite
"Bam Margera, what's he gonna do next?"
"Whatever the f^(k I want."
-Viva La Bam

So, what is next? For me, all focus is on The Monaro Cloudride 1000. (Cloudride1000.com). 1000k, or 621 miles, and about 24000m of climbing, from Canberra to Victoria, Australia, the Cloudride was modeled after the Tour Divide.  I had the honor to meet this race's mastermind, Steve Watson, when we met online, both in search of a roommate for the days prior to TD, in Banff, AB. Steve, a strong 67 year old, was the oldest starter of this years TD,  and while turning 22 on Grand Depart, I was not THE youngest, but one of. Since leaving the hotel on the morning of June 13th, I have not seen Steve in person, but following the race, he invited me to the Cloudride next April. Realizing this was the opportunity of a lifetime, I was quick to commit to the start list. 

Since my decision to call an early end to my 2014 race season to completely recover from TD, I have still been riding a lot. I have not done any intervals, or hill repeats, or century+ rides, and it has been nice not to be mad at myself for skipping a ride or work out. More important than a few weeks of strength, the downtime has been boring enough to get the urge to race again. In an attempt to avoid burn out, I will hold off "training" until early November. Honestly, the line between training and not is a pretty thin one for me. The difference is mostly in the duration, intensity, and focus of my rides. Unlike preparing for TD, this year I plan to actually hit the gym, put more time into off the bike strength and cardio training.

1000k certainly not a sprint, and not short by ultra-biking standards, but long term sustainability is less of a concern than TD. The bar has been set at 4 1/2 days by previous TD winner, Ollie Whalley, a New Zealand ultra rider. Whalley's rookie, winning, TD time was some 2 days faster than mine. By the math, the Cloudride route will be tougher than the TD route. Shorter, yet steeper and more frequent climbs, will lead to more climbing each day, by comparison. Thankfully, the elevations will be similar to VT, so my East coast lungs will have a fighting chance. The 2015 start list isn't complete yet, but it won't change anything anyway. I plan to race my own race, ride as hard as possible for the duration. The first few days I plan to stick with my tried and true "ride hard, recover well" technique, and push harder in the last few hundred miles.

I was incredibly happy with my equipment set up for TD. I would like to lighten up my camping gear a bit. With all the poisonous critters that call Australia home, I am hesitant to trade in my tent for a bivy. While it would be nice to leave a bunch of gear behind, I would rather carry a few extra ounces than be caught unprepared. I will attempt to carry less water, and refill more frequently, perhaps utilizing iodine purification tablets more frequently. The bike couldn't have been better, with the one exception of my dynamo hub oversight. The ability to charge a good light, or any other USB device with nearly no added weight will mitigate reliance on AA's, and ride longer into the night with decent lighting. I also plan to change up my packing system a bit, and make things more modular to reduce packing time each morning, ie, if I don't need it, it doesn't need to be unpacked.

As the northern hemisphere heads towards winter, some extra challenges are presented. Rumor, and the long patches of brown on wooley bears, say it its going to be a cold and snowy winter. The skier in me is stoked, and so long as the VAST snowmobile trails get packed and groomed, I will be able to keep riding. Chances are I will spend a lot of time on the trainer, just to get in my hours, and I may even break down and join a spin class. Thankfully, if the biking is bad, the skiing should be good, and I plan to say goodbye to the chairlift, and hello to the skin track, which is good cardio cross training. I may even have some ridiculous ideas to bring skis along an fat bike rides to access long approach terrain that would be otherwise tough to access.