It was the second rest day of the Tour and I was on my way home from work when I passed him going up fifth street. We had started the morning together, but I had to get to work after the second lap. I was proud of myself, 30lbs of messenger bag on my back and I just climbed on past, asking how far along he was. He grunted “nine” and I offered up some lame encouragement like “you can do it” or “just keep pedaling” or something. He mumbled about wanting a cigarette. My mind was already back at SMC though- could I make it to the shop in time for the last lap? I crested the hill and sped down, hoping I would catch the rest of the crew that had dropped him quite some time back.

I rolled into SMC where Beth took one look at me and without even asking, she told me I missed them. Crap. Oh well, I went inside, peeled off my sweat-heavy clothes and changed into something more casual. I felt a little awkward sitting there not knowing what to say to anyone. I fumbled around looking for something to eat or drink when Bowman said he was going to pace Army Jay for his tenth lap. That sounded good to me for some reason, so I went back in to put my now cold and sweaty cycling clothes back on. I chatted a bit with A-ron…the kid had just come back from racing MTB nationals and was now doing 2-5-10??!?! Wow..his legs definitely have more in them than mine, but then again no one ever questioned that. Now then, where was Army Jay?

5 minutes. 10 minutes. Ok, about 25 minutes passed and most of the other folks were off for some poolside beer, but Bowman and I were steadfast- he was just about to finish nine but he needed ten. Finally he rolled in. Jay is one of those people that is both hard to miss and hard to forget. His bike is a Surly Long-Haul Trucker built with whatever parts he could afford and cobble together at the time, complete with a rear rack (which often sports an ammo box) red bar tape, and flat pedals. He needs flat pedals because he rides in army boots. And MTB shorts. And a faded blue-and-orange SMC jersey that carries the aroma of many, many miles. His dirty blonde hair is pulled into a tangled pony-tail, and his spotty facial hair frames his upper lip and jaw like the grass of an abandoned city lot after they have bulldozed a condemned building. Bowman begins his pep-talk to get Jay back on his bike and Jay lights a cigarette and sits on the apartment steps between Armettas and SMC. Bowman runs back into the shop and emerges with a Coke and some gels to sugar Jay up, and once he finishes his cigarette Jay agrees to ride the final lap of the 2-5-10 century.

We roll up second street- Bowman starts to pour ice water on Jay immediately to which Jay asks him to knock it off.  Pedaling up the road, we give him encouragement but are more just acting like rolling traffic cones so Jay can just focus on his own pedaling and not on traffic. Im behind him and even though you can smell the effort he has put in for the day at ten yards it doesn’t matter- he is doing something only 19 other people have done to date. You see, 2-5-10 is 102 miles with almost 15000 feet of climbing. And its his first century, ever. Cresting over the top, Bowman says ‘1/3 done!’ and we begin the descent. Jay descends carefully, and with caution- a good move considering the amount of fatigue he must have been experiencing. Hanging a right towards fifth st, Bowman again cools Jay off. This time he seems more ready for it. We pass the sprinkler set up for the riders and then begin the ascent to the main part of fifth street mountain. Jay picks up some strength from somewhere and the pace actually increases. I follow behind, watching his combat boots go up and down with each pedal stroke, and his rear rack swaying slightly from left to right all of which result in forward motion that only a rider can fully appreciate.

We make the turn onto the fifth street itself, and in the steep hairpin Jay lets out a howl, stands on his pedals and uses every gear-inch his cranks and cogs can give him. The sun is starting to set now and the crest of the hill glows with golden hour. Some sweat drips off Jay and Bowman cools him off again. We descend into town avoiding the potholes marked with white paint and make the final approach on the hardest climb of the day- tenth street.

On the first lap of the day, tenth street was decorated with chalk, much like riders in the tour see on the greatest climbs in cycling. Cheers, encouragements, jaunts, and jokes are splayed across the tree-covered blacktop section that approaches 22%. Jay puts a foot down, breathes a little and comments about wanting another cigarette. Bowman reminds us that there is a bench at the next turn if he needs it. We check the bench out and then pedal on. Mother Mary welcomes us with open arms. A dog barks happily, as if encouraging Jay- and Jay actually thanks him for it as if he understood every yap. One more foot-down rest, and we finish the last push to the top. There are no cheering fans. There is no big cheque. There is simply a pat on the back for Jay, and the promise of some food at the Strickland’s new pool. So with a smile on his face we roll down, grab a slice and a beer, congratulate Jay along with the other finishers of the day and quietly ride back to SMC.

I dont know if I could finish the 2-5-10 century. I didn’t know Jay had that in him. Apparently he knew he did- and it was both humbling and an honor to be there with him on his final lap.  Nice job Army Jay- combat boots and all.

Marysville. Swimming. Running. Time trails. Commuting. Fatigue. Joy. Surprises. Hidden strength. Realizations.

Its been a long week, and with a new weekend rapidly approaching my mind begins to wander. It wanders in retrospect of the Marysville stage races, with excitement for the Steelman triathlon, and with the satisfaction of a week that I can honestly say blew my body apart in the best possible way.

For those of you who missed it, Marysville is the premiere stage racing weekend on the MASS schedule that includes three days of racing in five different formats. The weekend started off with a dreary drizzle and fog, perfectly slimy conditions for a night time trial. A 3.7 mile course was laid out around the Oesterling farm and at 9:15 the race began with Kuhn taking the opening run. Every 30 seconds another rider saddled up, lit up, and rode into the foggy night. Lights reflected back to your eyes in the misty-mess, tires squirmed around for traction, and in the humid night air people rode the ‘race of truth’  through a tunnel of wet darkness that led both through the forest as well as through themselves. I loved every second of it. Saturday morning clouds opened the racing for the beginners and endurance riders, but were soon burned off for sport and expert. Heat was high, humidity was higher, and the race became one as much about survival as it was about speed. My first lap was fantastic with a low time and a strong feel. My custom tires threw the mud off perfectly and when leaned far into a corner clawed at the tacky earth to find a wonderful amount of grip. And they made fun of me for cutting knobs. Amateurs. My second lap started just as strong, but about 2 miles from the finish I cramped. Hard. Both sets of quads and both hamstrings decided I hadn’t had enough to drink and outright stopped me from riding for about 10 minutes. Ouch. Again I am reminded that my body doesn’t perform well in heat. Oh well- I refused to take another DNF so I soft-pedaled the rest of the race and didn’t come in DFL. Sunday started early with the hill climb so knowing this wasn’t a strong event for me my goal was to just get some finish points and save myself for the short-track. Im glad I did because by the time the STXC came around I was fired up and ready.

My legs ached on the fast start. Mike Melnick yelled for me to pace myself. I hung onto the lead group. We made our way down the soft grassy area and into the only real climb of the course which was just long enough to sling me off the back of the lead group. No worries, dig in, corner well, and make power in the flats. Each lap the leaders got a little farther in front of me but it didn’t matter- we had 20 minutes to suffer and I was going to pour everything I had left into the pedals no matter where I ended up. I learned more and more about the course and how deep I could corner, where I could accelerate, and what was going to make me suffer a little more. I kept losing time on that climb, but was enjoying the corners more and more each lap. On the last lap, the leaders came around- Matt needed some passing room going into the big downhill sweeper turn right in the main spectator area and I knew we could go two wide in it. I told him to take the inside line (the grippiest part) so if I slid I wouldn’t take him out. We hit the corner at full speed and I went to the outside- my front wheel washed out a little so I pushed the bike over kicked the ground hard and kept pedaling. It was sweet!  I chased them as long as I could but they pulled on me again on the hill. I finally got my opportunity to pull on someone else in the last corner where I knew my tires would stick and he was unsure, so I sprinted for the line and took it. It was a great end to a great weekend.

After coming home and unpacking, it was time to settle into the training rhythm again since the Steelman is only 5 weeks away. With the confidence of two open water swims under my belt and a rest day on Monday I took to the pool on Tuesday over lunch. I was able to swim the entire 800 yards in one go- plus some. I totaled 1100 yards in a single session and then followed that session with a 26 mile bike ride that included about 13 miles of TT/LT effort. Surprisingly my legs still felt like they had power in them and I was able to maintain 22mph average over rolling terrain. Wednesday was a four mile run, and then Thursday was my day to bike commute for the week. I took the long way, but by then my legs were screaming ‘uncle’ and my body longed for some real rest. So here we are- into Friday, resting today and tomorrow….but still contemplating a century on Sunday.

Something that a week like this does for me is makes me realize how lucky I am to be doing this, as well as realize that my strengths seem to lie in different areas from where I have been focusing. That said, it looks like next year will be pretty different from this year yet again with endurance races early, then transitioning into short events in the fall….we will see how it goes, but Im sure it will bring a smile to my face.

Ride fast, take chances,

/Dan

Race report will be coming, but for now enjoy the show! Pics are around the farm, Beginner and Expert XC plus Enduro from Saturday, and Expert STXC Sunday.

My head has had another reset. Im not sure if its because of Matt kicking me in the ass, or if it’s the time of year (I had a similar reset about this time last year) but whatever it is, Ill take it. Last night was the third Bear Creek STXC race of the series, and I showed up ready to go. I forgot about any expectations but did resolve to push myself into the red-zone (read::puke) and ride with everything I could muster. The course was layed out on both sides of the road and the start would take us around about ¾ of the lake to separate us out before hitting the singletrack. I don’t know how many starters there were, though. Maybe about a dozen. It didn’t matter becaue when Chuck said go, I went. My start could have been better with a different gear, so I snapped a few up and stood to get a few good cranks in to hang with the front group. Matt, Gunner, Luby, Evan, Dave and I took off with the remainder of the riders behind us. I tucked in behind Luby and Gunner when the lead group split off and hung on his wheel. Luby is one strong dude who knows how to choose lines. I hung onto Luby and Gunner as they traded spaces a few times for two and a half laps but eventually started drifting back when I bobbled a little in the climb up the back of the lake area. No matter, I wasn’t gong to pass those two anyway but in any case I noticed someone trying to bridge up to me. With my HR pegged and some verp in my mouth I stomped on my pedals to clear the parking lot to give myself some breathing room up the final climb and rock garden sections. I don’t know how close he got to me, but what I do know is by the time I was crossing the road for the second time I was away, and felt like I was flying with a great big smile on my face. Jess and Gray cheered each lap and I was proud to have put on a good show.

Round two was a gravel-lot miss and out with a kayak finale and was pure win all the way around. We had a staggered start to give everyone a chance and somewhere in there my front wheel washed out. I made my best cross-remount and kept going but my knee/foot got a little jacked up in the crash so I just didn’t have much left. Matt tried to pass me, but hung up on my rear wheel and went down himself. Somehow he thought hugging my rear wheel would keep him upright, but all it really did was give him some good raspberry burns on the inside of his arm. Ill need to make sure I hook him up with some tasty beverages at Marysville to ease that pain.

All in all I don’t really think I was much faster than I have been all year, but my head is good and the fire is definitely lit for cross season. Now when I ride I will honestly remember the words of wisdom given to me by Vegan Rob- “I don’t think you’ve found the next level of sufferning yet.” I still don’t think Ive found that level, but now Im feel like Im ready to try.