08.10.2011 | 8:55 am
I’m headed toward Leadville today. Not exactly to Leadville, because we’re leaving after work and going halfway today; we’re staying in Grand Junction with my mom tonight.
But still. We’re packing and leaving today.
And that includes packing a bike. Either the Trek Superfly 100, or the Specialized S-Works Stumpjumper 29er.
Which was not an easy decision, at all. And — I should have expected this — getting everyone’s opinions on what I should ride only made the question more complicated.
But — finally — I’ve picked a bike, and it’s ready to race. Here it is, at the top of Lambert Park, as I did a final-check ride yesterday afternoon after picking it up from Racer’s:
I’ll be riding the Specialized S-Works Stumpjumper 29er. With a few important modifications.
Those of you who don’t get into self-absorbed bike geekery may want to stop reading now, because the rest of this post is all about why I selected this bike, along with what the spec is, what changes I made from the stock bike, and why.
It will be very self-absorbed, and maddeningly geeky.
What Has Changed
First off, this bike is no longer stock. I asked Racer to make some changes to this bike in order to make it be just a little bit more awesome.
The big one: it is now equipped with the new Shimano XTR. Specifically, the drivetrain and brakes are both now XTR.
Why XTR? Easy. I love it. Honestly.
The braking is just perfect. Great modulation, more than enough power for easy one-finger braking with no fade I ever noticed. For the first time since I have been a mountain biker, I have no wish list whatsoever for how my brakes could be better. These are it.
And the XTR shifting. Oh mercy. It’s just instant, and I can do any shift, under any circumstance (including hard climbing), as light and easy as you please. It’s like shifting on a road bike.
I tell you, XTR is just freakin’ elegant.
The next change? Wheels. I’ve put my Bontrager XXX Lite TLR Disc 29 wheels on. Mainly because they were already set up with the Shimano Ice Tech brake rotors, but also because I love these wheels; they’re strong, light, and stiff. And they have white spokes, which look super-cute with the frame.
And, just for those who are curious about things other people aren’t curious about: I’ve put a Selle Italia SLR saddle on (I use the SLR on all my bikes, both mountain and road), Time ATAC XS Carbon pedals, and Arundel Dave-O bottle cages.
Oh, and my answer to the all-important tire question? Fast Trak LK Control. I’ve been riding them with them since I got the Stumpy. They feel like they roll fast, but I’m still cornering without sliding.
Why the Stumpjumper?
Suppose you asked a couple of guys who are pretty well-respected for their cycling accomplishments what bike you should ride in Leadville: the full-suspension 29er, or the hardtail 29er.
And the guy who has won Leadville six times (that would be Dave Wiens), answers:
And then the guy who has won the Tour de France seven times and Leadville once, chimes in with this:
By the way, I was also planning on asking Levi Leipheimer his recommendation for what I should ride, but honestly, I was afraid to. That guy can just be mean sometimes. (Has anyone else ever noticed what an angry, aggressive person Levi Leipheimer is? That guy needs to seek help.)
And, while I was at it, I went ahead and ran a poll. Here’s what the results looked like:
Of course, my good friend Dean Cahow had an interesting alternative suggestion:
The idea has merit. (Shame it’s specifically forbidden by the rules.)
The Real Reason(s) I Went With The Stumjumper
All other reasons aside, if I wanted to ride the Superfly, I would have disregarded the poll. Would have disregarded Lance. Would have even disregarded Dave Wiens (though I would have prepared an excuse for how I must have misunderstood his reply for the next time I saw him).
But I want to ride the Stumpjumper.
From the very first time I rode that bike, it felt right. I feel good on it. I feel fast on it. I feel comfortable on it. I feel in control of it, and often I don’t think of it at all.
The Stumpy feels fast (I think I may have mentioned that already). Lively.
Oh, and it doesn’t hurt that it’s a really beautiful bike, either.
I feel like a better climber on it, and feel like I’m at least not a terrible descender on it (for me, “not a terrible descender” is as good as it gets).
I just really, really, really love this bike.
And in general, It’s the bike I found myself choosing to ride. Which I think may be the metric that matters most.
In addition, there were these factors that came into play:
- It has two bottle cages. I just don’t want to wear a Camelbak during this race. And while a single bottle cage might be enough, it also might not.
- It’s light. This is a very light bike on a course with a lot of climbing. I think that might be worth a few minutes, and that few minutes is very likely going to be very important to me as I get near the finish line.
- I’m hardtail-accustomed: When was the last time I had a full-suspension bike? Back in 2002, I think, when Gary Fisher made the Sugar. Nine years is a lot of time, and my riding technique has definitely hardened while riding a hardtail. Which is not the same as saying I will never become a FS rider, just that I don’t think my riding style takes advantage of suspension yet.
Starting tomorrow, plan on short, frequent posts here as The Hammer and I get into Leadville. And you might want to consider following me on Twitter, too.
Comments (42)
08.9.2011 | 10:15 am
A couple weekends ago, I was with my half of my big ol’ extended family — sisters, their husbands and kids, as well as parents and their spouses — on a vacation at Bear Lake, UT.
Naturally, The Hammer and I brought bikes along.
What was different, though, was that the twins brought their bikes along, too. See, they’ve got themselves 26″-wheeled mountain bikes now, and that has made an enormous difference in how much ground they can cover, not to mention how much they enjoy biking.
On one of the mornings, we took them for their first ten-mile bike ride, along a nice quiet road and bike path at the edge of the lake. Ten miles, of course, sounded pretty intimidating to them before we began, and so they were a little bit startled when it went by fast and easy; they weren’t tired or sick of it at all.
The Hammer and I started talking with them a little about how if they work at it, maybe in a couple of years they’d be able to ride a hundred miles.
The twins fell in love with that idea.
And so, last weekend, we started working on that goal, by heading out on the twins’ first twenty-mile ride: ten miles along a bike path out to Vivian Park in Provo Canyon, and then ten miles back.
This route was ingenious, for the following important reasons:
- It’s well-shaded, thanks to a lot of trees.
- While there isn’t much climbing, what climbing there is (600 feet over ten miles) happens on the “out” part, so that by the time you hit the turnaround point, you’ve actually done way more than half the work.
Oh, and since we’ve got a race coming up, having the twins along was also a great way to ensure that neither The Hammer nor I turned an easy ride into a sufferfest.
Easy Start
First, let me make an observation that every parent who has ever raised a child will agree with: age 9-11 is wonderful. The kids are big enough to be independent, but young enough that they still like you.
Which is to say, The Hammer and I got zero pushback when we suggested going on a long bike ride.
Here’s the three ladies just a mile or two into the ride:
And one with the twins and me:
A quick aside here: believe it or not, that snazzy-looking bowling shirt I’m wearing is actually a biking jersey the good folks at Club Ride sent me, with three rear pockets full of Salted Nut Rolls and everything. A very nice jersey for when you’re not in the mood to look like a bike geek.
The twins quickly fell in love with how quickly miles went by, and asked how far we had gone every few minutes — not so much in a “how much furrrrrrtherrrrr?” way as in a “We are rocking this ride” way.
A Difference Emerges
As any parent of twins will agree, watching the dynamic of your twins as they grow up is one of the most awesome experiences a parent will ever have.
In my (identical, by the way) twins’ case, it’s fun to watch how they are so similar to each other, but are finding ways to be different. They both draw, but in different styles. Both are prodigious readers, but one loves to write, too.
And one of them loves to race ahead:
While the other likes riding along at a mellow pace.
Just so long as the invisible rope that keeps them from ever being more than 50 feet apart never gets stretched.
Breaks Are Good
About five miles into the ride, we stopped for our first break at Bridal Veil Falls:
Then, a couple miles later, we took a break to take a hike to another waterfall:
And then a stop at the turnaround point in Vivian Park to eat some salted nut rolls.
And then a stop halfway back to where we started, to buy lunch.
And then — almost too easily — we were back.
Twenty miles. Easy-peasy. Keeping it fun was the key. Who’d have thought?
Evidence of Success
We stopped on the way home and bought gelato for everyone. After all, we had just been out for four hours in 90-degree (or warmer!) weather.
As we ate, one of the girls said, “I think we should ride forty miles next time.”
Honestly, I don’t think she could have said anything that would have made me happier.
PS: After we got home, we cooled down by riding our bikes to a nice little spot about a mile from home and doing this:
Yeah, not a bad day.
Comments (41)
08.8.2011 | 10:26 am
[UPDATED: The suite is now spoken for. Thanks for your interest!]A “Get a Room” Note From Fatty: If you are going to Leadville for the Leadville 100 this weekend and need a room, well, maybe we can help each other out. I have a suite — bought and paid for — at the Delaware Hotel, that I no longer need. Just in case you don’t know, the Delaware is the hardest hotel to get a room at for the Leadville 100, because it’s across the street from the starting line. So you don’t have to worry about parking, or using porta-potties, or fighting through a giant crowd to get to the race. And after the race, you’re just a few feet from your bed. Which is unbelievably wonderful.
This suite has one bathroom and two bedrooms: one with a King-sized bed, one with 2 Queen-sized beds. Check in this Thursday, check out Sunday. $650 total, for all three nights. If you’re want it, email me. Thanks!
The story I’m about to tell you has a lousy ending. There’s simply no other way to describe it. So if you don’t like stories with lousy endings, you should perhaps stop here and read something else. For example, you might want to look at Dug’s video of a recent ride he went on in American Fork Canyon. Sure, it’s nearly ten minutes long, but it’s a pleasure to watch (Dug is an exceptional road descender), and has a happy ending.
This story, on the other hand, has a lousy ending, even though you might be fooled — briefly — into thinking it has a happy ending.
OK, I think I’m done making disclaimers here. Here’s the story.
Two Minutes Too Soon
Every year, the tiny town I live in holds a mountain bike race as part of its summer festival: The Alpine Days Race. Until last year, I’d never done the race, because it falls on the same weekend as The Leadville 100. Last year, though, the Alpine Days Race was the weekend before the Leadville 100.
And this year — last weekend, in fact — the Alpine Days race was the weekend before The Leadville 100.
But The Hammer and I were unsure whether we wanted to do it.
“Remember how you crashed last year,” The Hammer reminded me. “You don’t want to mess yourself up like that — or worse — again.”
She was right. The fact is, I had already crashed while mountain biking once that week. It amounted to nothing more than a scabby shin (I’ll spare you the photo), but still.
Then, literally at the last moment — for no good reason I can remember — we decided to do the race. I wanted to do the Expert division, because I really like the fourteen-mile course.
I promised, however, that while I would hit the climbs hard, I would just relax and enjoy the descents at a recreational pace. No reliving the injury of last year for me!
The Hammer, on the other hand, wanted no part of the Expert course. She opted for the relatively less-technical Sport course. She texted The IT Guy and asked if he’d like to race. “Sure,” he texted back.
Unfortunately, we made this decision to race during an early dinner on Friday, which meant we needed to rush back to the city hall to sign up if we were going to do this race; no race-day registration for this event (and no online registration, either).
We knew the city hall closed at 7:00pm. We got there at 7:05, right as they were — literally — locking up.
“You here for rodeo tickets?” The man asked.
“No, for the mountain bike race,” I replied.
Without even rolling his eyes, the man re-opened the door to the city hall and let us in, then took care of our registrations.
I don’t even know how many times since then I’ve thought to myself, “If only we had gotten to the city hall two minutes later. That guy would have been gone.”
Big Climb
The race started with Expert class — all ten or twelve of us — facing toward Hog Hollow, and Sport class facing the other direction, toward Lambert Park. My friend Rick Maddox was at my side, also wearing the Fat Cyclist kit, making a total of four of us flying the Team Fatty flag.
We sniffed each other’s bikes (him on a tricked-out Superfly, me on an S-Works StumpJumper), and then I told Ricky my plan: I was going to go as hard as I possibly could and see if I could be first to the top of the big climb — the top of Puke Hill. Then, once the descending started, I was going to treat the ride as recreational and drift back as far as I, well, drifted.
The race director yelled “Go,” and the Sport class took off.
Those of us in Expert looked at each other. Did that “Go” apply to us, as well? Hard to say. So we assumed it didn’t.
The race director yelled “Go” again, and this time we went. Immediately, one guy attacked. putting an end to the “neutral rollout ’til we hit the dirt” idea some of the riders had. I jumped after him, further putting an end to any thoughts of going out easy ’til we hit dirt.
Ricky was right on my tail, along with two other riders in UtahMountainBiking.com (UMB) kit. The four of us quickly dropped the original attacker.
Then Ricky fell back, leaving me with the UMB guys.
Then I fell back, and the UMB guys got to the Hog Hollow climb first, and started gapping me. It looked like my idea of getting to the top first wasn’t going to happen.
Then, about a quarter of the way up, I reeled in the first of the UMB guys. “I thought you might catch me,” he said.
Chewing on my tongue and seeing red, I simply marveled that the guy I was passing was able to speak.
Then I saw the leader. Probably one minute ahead of me. I resolved not to step up my pace; to just see whether he would drop back, or drop me.
Then I changed my mind and went full-bore at him, hoping that a fast pass would discourage him from trying to follow.
Amazingly, it seemed to work.
For the rest of the way up Hog Hollow, I did not look back. I just rode my heart out, figuring that if he could pass me when I was going this hard, it didn’t matter because I had nothing more to give.
But he didn’t pass me. I was pretty sure I could hear him behind me, but he didn’t pass me.
I hit the saddle of Hog Hollow, took a drink during the short relatively flat section before Puke Hill, and then got into a low gear for what I knew would be the hardest climb of the race.
Still, I did not look back.
I got up what we ordinarily think of as Puke Hill without much of a problem — it’s amazing how much easier climbing can be when you have a low gear. Then I saw the nasty little surprise the race director had for us.
Instead of having us turn right on the jeep road as we normally do, the course had us continue straight up the mountain.
Nobody takes that route. Nobody. Ever.
Except we had to.
I rode as much of it as I could, then got off the bike and started pushing. Which seemed to be a good moment to look back and see how close the other racers were.
To my surprise, they were just coming up onto the saddle. I had earned at least two minutes during the Hog Hollow climb.
I pushed on, got to the high point of the course, and looked back. Nobody in sight.
I had done it. Achieved my goal for the day. From here on out, the race was going to simply be a pleasure cruise, and I’d take whatever finishing place came to me.
I Keep My Word
And for the first time ever, I actually stuck to my plan.
I rode the downhill at a casual pace — not too slowly, because that’s even more dangerous than too fast — and had fun. When I hit climbs, I went at them hard, and then backed off again when I got to descents.
From time to time, I’d look back, certain I’d see somebody.
But I never did.
I dropped into Lambert Park, where the Expert class was to do what amounts to a loop and a third of the Sport course. And still, I stuck to my plan. Climb hard, descend easy.
Amazingly, nobody passed me. Still.
As I passed the start of the loop, I looked around, expecting to see The Hammer, The IT Guy, and one of the twins (the other twin slept in) cheering me on, having finished their race.
There was nobody there. Oh well.
I did the loop, looking back more and more frequently. Surely, I’d hear “On your left” soon.
I never heard it.
I finished the loop and crossed the finish line. First place. My first first-place finish, ever. Finally.
I stopped, turned around, and looked for The Hammer, The IT Guy, and The Twin. I was excited to share a moment-by-moment account of my victory.
I couldn’t see them.
And this is a good place to stop reading, if you’d like to pretend this story has a good ending.
Now The Story Turns Bad
The race director walked up to me and said, “I’ve got something for you.”
I assumed it was a prize of some sort, which would have been surprising, since the Alpine Days Race doesn’t have prizes, or even publish results.
The Race Director handed me my phone.
What?
I was baffled. I was sure I had not brought my phone on this race. So I couldn’t have dropped it. But there it was, obviously my phone.
“Your wife gave this to me. She said you should call her as soon as you can. She’s on her way to the hospital.”
He continued, “The IT Guy crashed and broke his collarbone.”
Oh.
Oh no.
Not a week before Leadville. Not a week before the race he’s spent the past ten months training for. Not during a silly, goof-off nothing of a race!
As a rule I don’t swear. It’s not my way. But this time I did.
At The Hospital
I called The Hammer; they were just walking into the emergency room. I told them I’d be over as soon as I could.
By the time I got there, they were already in a room — early Saturday morning is a good time to have an accident, apparently.
Mike Young — one of the fastest cyclists around, an incredibly nice guy, and an ER doctor to boot — was looking him over.
The IT Guy had had an X-Ray, which made the obvious even more obvious:
The IT Guy won’t be racing Leadville — or riding a bike, sleeping on his back, or putting shirts on by himself — for quite a while.
Heartbreaking.
Perspective
Sure, as far as accidents go, this is not as serious as many. A broken collarbone will heal, and if there’s got to be a surgery (unlikely), it’s one they know how to do.
But still. The Hammer and I had been talking about — more than our own races, our own hopes for our finish times — is how we thought The IT Guy would do. Where we’d set up to watch him finish.
And now Leadville won’t be quite as much fun.
Next year, IT Guy. Next year for sure.
What Happened
The thing about crashes is, you usually never really learn how it happened or what they looked like. The person who actually has the crash mostly just remembers chaos and pain, and very likely has a confused recollection of what caused the wreck.
The best he could remember, The IT Guy was in second place for the Sport class, with a good likelihood of making a pass and finishing in first. Then he came to this little raised bridge going over a little creek:
Thanks to a lost contact lens early in the race and a badly-adjusted front brake, The IT Guy didn’t realize how much of a lift there was to get to the bridge, and then locked up the front brake once he was up on the bridge. He endoed down the other side, landing on his shoulder and then smacking his back into a rock embedded in the trail:
The Hammer, less than a minute behind The IT Guy, found him walking and immediately abandoned her race. They walked together for a minute, and then she took off to go home (less than a mile from the finish line) and get a car to bring him to the hospital.
Notice, though, that I say you usually don’t ever learn what happened in a crash. This time, though, we have a pretty good idea.
Thanks to the magic of the Internet.
Additional Details
While waiting in the hospital, I tweeted a photo of The IT Guy’s X-ray (this was, by the way, such a poorly-phrased tweet that everyone naturally thought it was my collarbone that had been broken).
Greg Schauerhamer, however, replied with this tweet:
Naturally, I replied, asking if he’d send me a description of the crash. Greg, however, did better than that. He wrote a complete story — and in fact, one of the most hilariously perfect race descriptions I’ve ever read.
Good enough, in fact, that I’m going to post the whole thing here.
The IT Guy Takes a Dive
by Greg Schauerhamer
I had the opportunity to be just a few feet behind the infamous IT Guy when he did a sweet endo over the handlebars and did substantial damage to his collarbone. But rather than go straight to the crash, I thought I would give a little background on what led up to said event.
Earlier that morning, just before the start of the small-town mountain bike race in Alpine, we were all standing around listening to our race official give us the rules, talk about the routes, etc. I had a hard time listening as I scanned what appeared to be a Fatty family reunion.
Daddy Fatty was there (straddling the Stumpjumper…poor sap still can’t make up his mind…although we all know he’s going to ride the Superfly), Mommy Fatty was there (aka The Runner), the little Fatties were there (aka The Twins and the IT Guy), and another guy who I will assume was Dug [Ed Note: This was actually Ricky, but I'm going to leave it as Dug for the rest of the story, because I'm too lazy to edit] was there in a FatCylist jersey (I think 50% of Dug’s body weight is in his legs…there is no tapering below the knee).
Anyway, I have to admit that this all felt really weird, considering that I knew so many members of the family but they had no idea who I was. Is this what a stalker feels like? Always looking in, but nobody looking out? Should I say hello? Should I say something snappy like, “Hey dude, got any waffles you wanna share?”
Or maybe I could take the “I’m cool too” approach and say “Hey Fatty, I have a nickname too, they call me “The Hammer” (this is a wordplay on my last name that is pronounced ‘hammer’ but spelled Hamer. And I know that recently Fatty gave that nickname to The Runner, but I had first dibs).
I opted to just act cool and pretend I didn’t know any them. After all, I don’t.
The race started up an asphalt hill that proved to be a great tool in sorting everyone out before we hit the single track. I decided to hang on the rear wheel of a friend that was also racing that day. As the climb progressed, I could see that The Runner & IT Guy were not going to be satisfied at the current pace and they began to pull away. So I pulled in behind The Runner and was content to hang out and draft.
When we hit the dirt The Runner continued pushing a fast pace and I continued to follow. We climbed for some time until we hit a top and prepared for some downhill. At that point, the Runner did the most selfless thing I have ever seen in a race. She simply pulled over and said “Go ahead.”
She must have seen the utter shock on my face because she quickly followed that up by saying “I’m slow on the downhills, just go ahead.” So like any self-serving male, I obliged and plunged ahead.
I lead the race for quite some time. This is a new thing for me. It’s really nice to not have anyone in front of you in a race on single track. It’s your pace. Your race. Your way.
I almost felt a little guilty as I rode whatever line I wanted and thought about everyone behind me still jockeying for position. I must have let this newfound euphoria get to my head though, because just as we approached the top of the hill, I noticed that two racers had caught me. Bummer.
Should I just hog the very middle of the single track so they can’t pass? How could I be so selfish after The Runner was so unselfish? So, in the spirit of love and harmony for cyclists everywhere, I pulled to one side and let the two riders by. The first one was the IT Guy and he was cruising. It looked like his pre-ride caffeine had kicked in. The second rider I did not know, and he too passed quickly.
Less than a minute later we were on the downhill portion of the course and the home stretch of the race. Towards the bottom of the trail Rodeo (on the bermed section in the gully for all you locals) I caught the other two racers. The unknown racer had at some point passed the IT Guy.
As we came out of the berm section, the unknown racer disappeared and I didn’t see him again until after the race. At this point, I just stuck behind the IT Guy. He was going pretty fast, but not fast enough to lose me…after all, I am the Hamer.
We finished Rodeo and turned on to the River trail. The trail snaked through the trees, over a dirt road, and then over a small wooden bridge.
As the IT Guy hit the bridge, something happened. He may have had too much speed as he hit the bump up onto the bridge. I watched in shock as his rear wheel became airborn and his arms outstretched towards the ground. In a fraction of a second he did a somersault right over the handlebars and into the dirt.
It is my opinion that if I had filmed the crash and could have played it back in slow motion, we would have seen something similar to the old cartoon “Speedy Gonzales.” In regular time, we would have just seen a crash.
But in slow motion, we would have seen something very different.
The slow motion view of this crash would show a very confident IT Guy feeling awesome that he was in front of me (The Hamer). He was so confident that he was going to ditch me, that he decided to pull his signature move…and moon me. He reached back, pulled his shorts down, exposed bare skin.
And that’s where things went wrong.
He pulled his shorts too far down and they snagged on the back of his saddle. When he leaned forward to put his hand back on the handlebars, his snagged shorts pulled the saddle and rear wheel off the ground and began the somersault from which he could not recover. I think I can prove that this is what happened. Just ask him if he had dirt down his pants when he finally got to take a shower. If he did, he’s guilty….
His bike landed right on top of him and they both skidded and rolled to a stop. There was a cloud of dust that exploded up and out and everywhere else.
I couldn’t believe what I just saw.
I pulled up to the now very dirty, completely shocked, IT Guy. He hopped up very quickly and smiled. I could see dirt on his teeth.
I said: “Whoa, are you ok? That was a heck of crash.”
He kept smiling and said he was ok as he pulled his iPhone out of his jersey pocket.
I thought “Hmm, more concerned with his iPhone than his own body. He must no be too hurt.”
So what’s a guy to do? Stay and comfort the crashed and shocked, or ditch him and finish the race? So once again, like any other self-serving male, I just said, “Okay, well, see ya.” And took off to finish the race.
I hung around the finish line for awhile, catching my breath and waiting for IT Guy to come down. He didn’t come and didn’t come. The next racer to finish was The Runner. She rode right past the ambulance and me and yelled out, “I think he broke his collarbone.”
I wasn’t sure where she was going, but I assumed she was going to get her car (the race ended at a different place than it started). I rode over to the EMT guys and told them what happened. A very gracious race volunteer put me and my bike in his truck and we drove back up the course to find our injured racer.
We found him in no time, walking down the dirt road. He was stooped over, holding his arm bent and cradled into his chest. Ahh, the classic symptom of a broken collarbone. I should know, since I shattered my right collarbone several years ago. We got him in the truck and off the hill. I did not get confirmation of the break until Fatty sent out a tweet showing the x-ray of the broken collarbone. What a bummer.
Here’s to quick healing for the IT Guy. I’m here to tell you, very few things are as painful as a broken collarbone…especially when you get a clean break and have floating bone. I think that if you wiggle your little toe, it is somehow connected to your collarbone and will make it hurt. Looks like cycling for 2011 is over for the IT Guy. Maybe now that he has tons of free time, he could come to my house and fix my home network. I still can’t get the upstairs computer to print to the downstairs printer.
Maybe one day I’ll formally meet the Fatty family. But for now, I guess I’ll just keep following the blog and practicing this legal form of stalking.
Greg Schauerhamer
aka The Hamer (don’t forget I had first dibs on the name)
Comments (67)
08.3.2011 | 2:11 pm
A Note from Fatty: If you want to tweet or Facebook or otherwise link to this page so friends of yours can join the conversation today (3:00pm ET / 2:00pm CT / 1:00pm MT / 12:00pm PT), a nice short URL you can use is: http://fatcy.cl/LT100chat.
Today at 3:00pm ET / 2:00pm CT / 1:00pm MT / 12:00pm PT we’re gonna have a nice little chat, right here on this site (and in fact, on this very page). Kind of in the same vein as the one we did with Johan Bruyneel, or the one we did with Twin Six.
The Rules of Engagement
The people in this panel are my guests and friends. They’re doing this on their own time, and I’m not paying them a cent to do it. Because I’m a cheap bastard, that’s why.
So here are a few rules to keep in mind:
- The “Living Room Rule” is in full effect. You and the panelists are both literally my guests here. In the same way I would not tolerate one guest being rude to another at my house, I will not tolerate one guest being rude to another here. And since this is my virtual house, I get to decide what “rude” means. And just like in real life, if I find you rude I’ll either ignore you or send you away. But it’s not going to come to that, right?
- Question moderation is on. When you enter your question, it appears in a box that I can see. Until I “promote” your question or comment, nobody else will see it. It’s possible that one of the panelists or I will answer you privately.
- If we don’t answer your question, don’t feel bad. There are going to be a lot of people asking a lot of questions, all at once. We can’t possibly answer all of them. That doesn’t mean we don’t like you. In fact, please start from the premise that whether or not we answer you, we still love you. A lot.
- Be nice. Every single one of the people on this panel is a great guy who just happens to also be a strong endurance cyclist. Treat them well. And treat other people well, too. Because nice people are better than mean people. It’s a scientific fact.
What This Live Panel is About
This Q&A session, really, is for me, and for people like me. Specifically, it’s going to be a walk down memory lane. A BS session. A hobnobbing about a race with a few guys who have — like me — done the Leadville Trail 100 race a bunch of times.
We’ve all got stories to tell, and — if you happen to be planning for the LT100 or another MTB endurance race — this may not be a bad time for you to ask a question or two.
Specifically, I’ve asked the following guys to join the panel, :
- Dave Wiens: Six-time winner of the Leadville 100, and with the possible exception of me, the nicest guy in the entire world.
- Ricky McDonald: One of very few people who has raced — and completed — every edition of the Leadville 100 Mountain Bike Race. Ricky rides a piece-of-junk bike with the same old tires every single year, and regularly cleans my clock at the race. With the possible exception of Dave and me, Ricky is the nicest guy in the world.
- Dean Cahow: Dean and I are a lot alike: we’ve each tried to do a sub-9 finish many, many times. Neither of us have ever succeeded. But we keep trying anyway. Dean is every bit as nice as the rest of us.
- Cole Chlouber: The son of the race’s founder, Ken Chlouber, Cole now works for Life Time Fitness, which owns and promotes this event. Cole and I have ridden side-by-side on singlespeeds doing the LT100 together, but last year Cole busted out an 8:20, so I find myself envying him. Even though he’s (arguably) just as nice a guy as Dave Wiens.
I’m very, very excited for the group of people who will be joining me on the panel. I asked them each to send a bio of themselves and a photo. Take a few minutes to get to know them, in their own words:
DAVE WIENS
Dave Wiens has been well known in the world of professional mountain bike racing since the late 1980’s. Paralleling this competitive career has been continual involvement in trails and trail advocacy, in both professional and volunteer capacities. Wiens is the founder and director of the non-profit advocacy organization, Gunnison Trails. He first raced the Leadville Trail 100 in 2003 and 2011 will be the first year since that he will not be lining up at 6th and Harrison on the second Saturday in August.
A second-generation mountain biking pioneer, Wiens raced professionally for nearly 20 years, visiting numerous countries on four continents. Retiring from the pro circuit in 2004, he continued racing occasionally for fun and for the challenge and the Leadville Trail 100 was on his calendar every August.
Late in 2006, the Leadville Trail 100 would be changed forever when Lance Armstrong said in an interview that he would be competing in the race in 2007. While Armstrong wouldn’t race that year, his interest had pulled in controversial cyclist, Floyd Landis, and the competition at the front of the race was ramped up significantly. The long-standing course record went down that year and the profile of the race was raised as the Associated Press, as well as the cycling press, covered the race as part of Landis’ sojourn countering doping allegations stemming from the 2006 Tour de France.
Armstrong made it to the start line in 2008, and Wiens won his sixth consecutive Leadville 100 title in a duel with the seven-time Tour de France Champion. Armstrong would come back in 2009 and crush the course record set the year before and firmly establish the Leadville Trail 100 as one of the premier mass-participation cycling events on the planet. The legacy of top riders contesting the LT 100 continued in 2010 with a race that featured numerous stars of professional racing including Levi Leipheimer, Jeremy Horgan-Kobelski and Ned Overend.
Prior to the Leadville years, Wiens’ other career highlights include two World Cup wins, two US National Championship titles and numerous victories on the professional mountain bike racing circuit. Wiens also competed briefly in the sport of adventure racing, winning the World Championships in 2006. He also likes to ski and play hockey and is still searching for his post bike-racing career.
A Colorado native, Wiens has called Gunnison home for more than twenty years. He lives there with his wife, Susan DeMattei, also a former professional mountain biker and 1996 Olympic bronze medalist, and their three sons, Cooper, Ben and Sam.
RICKY McDONALD
For me, the LT100 is not so much a race as a way of life. My great grandfather was 16 years old when he emigrated from Yugoslavia to Leadville in the 1800’s, he raised 10 kids in a little home down on west 2nd street. Our family still owns a place just a few houses up the street from there. So, i guess i’ve had that Leadville pioneer blood racing through my veins since before i was born.
Before the first LT100, nobody had raced 100 miles on a mountain bike before, the furthest i had raced was 40 miles, but since this was Leadville, I had to try it. I went to the USGS and got enough quad maps to cover the entire course and set off with Merilee’s course discription to find the route. i showed up back in town after dark, 8 hours later, having covered 70 miles of what I had hoped was the race course. As i rolled up to the homestead, my grandmother was standing in the street peering through the darkness towards Mount Massive in one last attempt to locate me before she called search and rescue.
In 1994, there were no guided tours, no training camps, no GPS, no cell phones, nobody to ask advice from, especially that all-important question “what tires do i use?”
That first year, we all had to figure everything out for ourselves. It was quite an adventure!
Fast forward 18 years. 17 starts, 18 buckles, a third of those ‘la plata grande,’ my best finishes were 5th and 7th overall. I work two jobs in the summer now, have a family, a house and a fleet of old cars that constantly need fixing. I begin my training in June, and am lucky to get in a ride once a week.
Leadville is really the only race I do any more. For me, it’s not the race so much as the memories, some of them very personal memories that a very few of my fellow racers have shared a part in, it’s the people I’ve met and raced with over the years, the race for me now is secondary to the yearly gathering of old friends.
DEAN CAHOW
Overwhelming LT100 obsession set in with me as I registered for my inaugural, the 1996 edition. I’d overheard two strangers in 1995 talking abouta way-over-the-top race they’d done that summer. “What the hell are you guys talking about?” yours truly 2nd year neophyte XC racer marveled.
Since then, not one mountain bike ride has rolled beneath me lacking a thought or several about LT100s past or future. That’s no exaggeration, and I ride a lot.
Thru 2010 I’ve pedaled out within the mass hysteria of each new edition; 16 shotgun starts for me. I’m not nearly spectacular in the record of this event; 15 finishes, no sub-9s (9:07 is best I’ve mustered; twice, plus four others under 9:30).
The Leadville experience; the town, the big beautiful hardass landscape, the race’s movers and shakers, the race’s racers (among them my enlightened co-panelists), the on-course training rides, years of Leadville fever, all have been an amazingly fortuitous event. Not 16 events, one event – earnestly and honestly that’s what its been to me, one big fantastic hoorah.
I ride lots of races, shorter and longer than Leadville, some of them multiple times, some of them are absolutely fantastic. Leadville is where my mtb spirit goes so to electrify.
COLE CHLOUBER
First participating in 1996, I now have five finishes and three have been on a single speed. My finishes range from a 12:06 to an 8:20 and only hold one sub 9.
I have also played a hosting roll with the event for 12 years between my racing. The Leadville Trail 100 is a part of who I am, it will never leave my blood.
My father is the founder of the Leadville Trail 100 and my hero. Not a moment goes by that I am not left thinking about him, the race or the wisdom others have shared with their Leadville experiences. Leadville, for me, has been life’s instruction manual.
I have attacked every challenge in life the way I do the race, by believing “I am better than I think I am and I can do more than I think I can”, by “Diggin’ Deep”, and by refusing to not try.
My co-panelists have achieved far more, so humbly, I am here to offer advice and tell you to take theirs. Dave, Dean, Ricky and Elden have all played a large roll with who I am today, thank you.
PS: Be sure to come to this page today at 3:00PM ET for the live Q&A. See you then!
Comments (22)
08.2.2011 | 10:04 am
A Philly-Related LiveStrong-Related Note from Fatty: Folks have been asking if there will be a Team Fatty at the Philadelphia LiveStrong Challenge. Well, Philly Jen has told me she’d like to captain a Team Fatty there, which is incredibly cool of her. As promised, the Davis event was the big push for Team Fatty / LiveStrong this year, but the fact is, not everyone can get to Davis. And the Philly event is amazing. So, EastCoasters, click here to sign up!
A Topically-Relevant Note from Fatty: Today marks the beginning of the annual “Mostly, Fatty writes about Leadville” obsession. Thursday, there will be even more Leadville obsessing, including a liveblog Q&A featuring — along with LT100 fixtures Ricky McDonald and Dean Cahow, as well as Cole Chlouber — 2-time UCI World Cup winner, 2-time US Nat’l MTB champ, and 6-time Leadville Trail 100 MTB Race winner Dave Wiens.
I’ve got a Cap’n Ahab thing going with the Leadville Trail 100 MTB Race. I’ve started it fourteen times. Completed it thirteen times (1997, 1998, 1999, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005 , 2006, 2007, 2008, and 2010) and crashed out once, in 2009.
Fourteen tries. No finishes in under nine hours.
A week from this Saturday, I’ll be racing it for my fifteenth time. But for the first time ever, I don’t yet know what bike I’m going to ride.
Choice A: Trek Superfly 100
For several months, I had a pretty simple plan: take the strength and fitness I’ve developed by riding singlespeed for the past few years, and then blow the doors off the Leadville 100 by riding a geared, full-suspension bike: my Superfly 100:
Yes, yes, I know it’s dirty. It’s been rainy lately. Try not to focus on that, and instead pay attention to the fact that I’ve put together an extraordinary bike here: a 24.2-pound full-suspension 29er. Brand-new Shimano XTR throughout. Bontrager XXX carbon wheels.
A beautiful, incredibly functional, race-ready cross-country bike. A perfect bike for racing the Leadville 100.
Choice 1: Specialized S-Works StumpJumper 29er
But then, something happened. Specialized sent me a bike to try out [Full Disclosure: This bike is currently loaned to me, with an option to purchase later if I choose]. And not just any bike, either. They sent an S-Works Stumpjumper 29er. Observe:
Carbon Roval wheelset, SRAM XX components pretty much across the board. 20.5 pounds. A wicked-fast climber of a racing hardtail. A perfect bike for racing the Leadville 100.
So now I’ve got a bit of a dilemma. Specifically, which of these perfect bikes is — somehow more perfect for my goal of, finally, finishing this race with an elite racer’s time: under nine hours.
I know, it’s a horrible choice to have to make, and I welcome your sympathy.
Race it Out
At first, I tried making the choice by trying to decide which of the two bikes I preferred. But that got me nowhere. Whichever bike I happened to be on was the bike I preferred. This may happen to be because both bikes are top-of-the-line, beautiful, meticulously-engineered carbon marvels.
With a retail price of around $7000+ for either bike, you can bet that neither is going to exactly suck.
Then I had an idea: instead of basing my choice on which bike I liked better — a choice I don’t think I’ll ever be able to definitively make — I should base my choice on which bike I can ride faster.
The Course
I decided to take turns riding the course I am extremely familiar with — one I know so well that learning the trail shouldn’t be a factor at all. So I went with riding my favorite out-the-front-door, don’t-gotta-lotta-time mountain bike rides: Home to Hog Hollow to Jacob’s Ladder to Ghost Falls to Canyon Hollow to Brock’s to Hog Hollow to home again.
Unless you’re a local, of course, that will be totally meaningless. So while I’ll be giving a description of each of the major sections of the trail — along with how I thought each bike would do in those sections and then how they actually did — a little overview might be helpful.
First of all, here’s what the route looks like if you happen to be in outer space with a good camera:
That’s still not very descriptive, is it? OK, an elevation profile might help a little more:
There’s about 2,000 feet of climbing in this 14.7-mile ride, and a lot of variety — a very rocky doubletrack you’ve got to climb at the beginning and descend at the end, a treacherous, fast, technical singletrack descent with embedded rocks, forested, as well as buff forest singletrack — some ascending, some descending.
Really, a little bit of everything, all close to home. I don’t think this route plays favorites to either the Superfly or the StumpJumper.
Acknowledgement of Biases
I wanted this experiment to be as fair as possible, so I did the rides a week apart, on the same day of the week, with similar amounts of fatigue in my legs (in both cases, I had done a long, medium-effort road ride the previous day).
That said, it’s not exactly as if I came to this without any riding biases. I’m going to identify the ones I can think of here, so you can add appropriate amounts of salt to my descriptions in the rest of this writeup.
- A Gary Fisher Bias: Between the two of us, The Hammer and I own (Full Disclosure: have purchased) a Superfly 100, a Superfly Hardtail, two Superfly Singlespeeds, a Paragon, and a very old Sugar 2. You might say that we’re big fans of Gary Fisher bikes. So much so, in fact, that I felt a little bit guilty at the thought of even trying a Specialized. But I got over it, because I have a strong spirit, and because the S-Works Stumpjumper 29er is just so darned sexy.
- A Hardtail Bias: Prior to the Superfly 100, I haven’t owned / regularly ridden a full-suspension bike in at least seven years. I haven’t ridden regularly with even front suspension in about three years. So while I have a bias toward Gary Fishers in general, I have a bias toward the way hardtails (in this case, the Stumpjumper) ride.
- A “Type of Rider” Bias: Maybe this is a self-fulfilling prophecy kind of thing, but in general I think of myself as a climber. I pass people in the cliimbs, and get passed in descents. I think it’s likely that I don’t get the full advantage of a full suspension bike because I don’t make it do what it’s capable of doing. I.e., I descend like a sissy.
With all that said, when I took out each bike, I rode as hard as I could, with the intention of being as fast as I could and of making the bike proud to be ridden by me.
Timing Notes
I punched the “Lap” button as I passed certain significant points on the trail, to make it easy for me to see how I did for that section of the trail.
In order to keep me from trying to “better” my previous time on any particular section of the trail — an advantage I didn’t have the first time I did the ride — I set up my bike computer to not show time. Just distance.
OK, now on with the comparison.
Section 1: The Hog Hollow Climb
For the first section of the ride, I’m on pavement for about a mile or so — I expect this doesn’t favor either bike, since I can effectively lock out the rear suspension on the Superfly.
Then the Hog Hollow climb begins. This is a rocky ascent up a jeep road, with a very technical, eroded and rocky section toward the top.
Honestly, I expected this section to favor neither the StumpJumper nor the Superfly. The StumpJumper’s lighter, and the Superfly handles the rocky, embedded stuff more smoothly.
And in fact, my times for this section were close. In fact, they were ridiculously close:
- Superfly: 26:13
- StumpJumper: 26:16
A three second difference over the first 4.93 miles. Three seconds. Not a lot.
Section 2: The Jacob’s Ladder Climb
The brief (maybe a quarter mile) reprieve reprieve at the Hog Hollow saddle is followed immediately by a brutal climb up to another jeep road.
You have three choices as to which route you’re going up to that jeep road. The leftmost is easiest (but longest), the middle is more direct and difficult, and the rightmost route is very direct and is guaranteed to make you hurt by the time you reach the top.
For both the Superfly and the Stumpy, I took the rightmost route, and — to the credit of both bikes — made it up to the top without having to dismount and push.
Following this nasty little climb, you…well…continue climbing. But the route becomes less technical and even levels out for a bit, before hitting the final extremely steep mile, an old washed out ATV trail.
I assumed that I would be considerably faster on the StumpJumper than on the Superfly for this section — after all, it’s not especially technical. Not a lot for that full suspension to take advantage of. So a four-pound difference should win the day, right?
- StumpJumper: 11:10
- Superfly: 11:15
Hmmm. A five second difference. And, overall, for the nonstop climb from the lowest point in the ride (4,888 feet) to the highest point in the ride (6,302 feet) — I have a two second difference between the two bikes.
Hoo boy.
Section 3: The Jacob’s Ladder Descent
This next section is short. I figured that if there’s one section where the full suspension bike would outshine the hardtail, this would be it, so I wanted to isolate it.
The Jacob’s Ladder descent is extremely technical, rocky, and often pretty darned loose. A couple years ago, I made a video of it, riding with Brad:
I was surprised by the time gap between bikes:
- StumpJumper: 3:05
- Superfly: 3:06
One second? One? That could be the amount of time I took to find the “Lap” button on the GPS. That’s no time at all. And most importantly, I’m just as fast (slow) on a hardtail as a full-suspension bike when descending rough, rocky stuff.
I’m learning that sometimes, the lack of a difference can be startling.
Section 4: Jacob’s (Singletrack) to Ghost Falls to Canyon Hollow to Brock’s
This is my favorite part of the ride: smooth, fast, twisty singletrack. Some forested, some high-desert. Quite a bit of downhill, some uphill.
There are no more drops or ledges on this part of the trail, so I expected that the StumpJumper would have no disadvantage to the Superfly here. In fact, with the markedly shorter wheelbase, I expected the StumpJumper to maybe have an advantage on this part of the course, since it feels like I get around tight hairpin turns faster and easier on the StumpJumper than on the longer Superfly.
But check out the times:
- StumpJumper: 16:49
- Superfly: 16:49
The times are the same. To the second.
Guys, you are not making it easy for me to make a decision here.
Section 5: Hog Hollow to Home
This final section mostly retraces the first section, but now I’m going down the rocky jeep road. It seems like it would be an easy win for the Superfly.
And in fact, I made a riding error while descending with the StumpJumper and had to get off and get back onto a rideable line, which probably cost me fifteen seconds.
So I was surprised by the results of this final section:
- StumpJumper: 16:42
- Superfly: 17:29
The only (semi) significant difference between the two rides happens in this final leg — one where I’d expect the full suspension to win handily — and the advantage goes to the StumpJumper. 47 seconds.
Is it because I’m more used to descending on hardtails? Is it because I maybe pushed harder on the StumpJumper, trying to make up for my mistake early in the descent? Did I have a tailwind? Was it just a margin-of-error difference?
Or is the StumpJumper just a surprisingly awesome descender?
Conclusions
I started this experiment hoping to find a significant quantitative difference between a very top-of-the-line Superfly 100 and a very top-of-the-line StumpJumper.
And I didn’t. Probably some of it has to do with the fact that this is a short course and so can’t expose big differences that might appear over a long race. Like maybe the efficiency of the hardtail (the StumpJumper) will become important over the long haul. Or maybe the additional comfort full suspension (the Superfly 100) provides will be critical.
Even after doing the Leadville 100 as many times as I have, I just don’t know.
The overall times for the bikes are:
- StumpJumper: 1:14:05
- Superfly: 1:14:54
49 seconds, over 14.67 miles, with ~2000 feet of climbing and descending. That’s not a lot of variation.
Still, there are a few things I have observed by comparing these bikes — not just during this experiment, but as I’ve ridden each multiple times during the past few weeks.
- I love the new Shimano XTR. Riding both the bikes, one thing became clear that had nothing to do with the frames: the new Shimano XTR is sublime. I’ve never had braking that is so perfect. I’ve never had shifting that is so precise, with action that is so easy. I can do any shift, under any pedaling load. It’s amazing. This is not to say that SRAM XX isn’t good. It’s very good indeed. But Shimano XTR is off the charts. It’s a huge leap forward for MTB components. If you can find a way to afford Shimano XTR, you should.
- Perception is not reality. In every case, I felt like I was faster climbing on the StumpJumper than on the Superfly. A hardtail just feels more direct, and you get the sense you’re moving faster. But feeling faster isn’t the same as being faster. It was an interesting surprise to find that I’m essentially equivalent, regardless of what I’m riding.
- I’m in pretty good shape. Ever since I’ve lived in Alpine, I’ve occasionally timed myself from home to the beginning of the saddle of Hog Hollow. It takes me 28 minutes. This year, I’m getting to the end of the saddle in 26 minutes. If it takes about two minutes to get across the saddle (a reasonable guess), I’m about four minutes faster on this climb than I have been before. Maybe this year a sub-9 Leadville is within reach.
So, back to the original question: Which bike should I ride at Leadville this year?
I still don’t know.
I really don’t.
I’d love your opinion, though.
PS: If you’d like to geek out over the data, you’ll find the Superfly 100 ride here, and the StumpJumper ride here.
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