06.3.2011 | 11:27 am
A Note From Fatty: As I’ve mentioned before, I’m supporting and even involved in organizing the upcoming American Fork Canyon Marathon. In the next few days, I’m going to post about it again, because there’s some cool new stuff about it that I think is going to make you want to join The Runner and me on this run.
Or, you can go over to RabidRunner’s blog and read — right now — everything that I have to say about this race myself. Except she’s a much funnier and better writer than I am.
Plus she has some info about what The Runner’s going to be doing on my birthday.
Check out her blog here. Now.
And I’ll see (and talk to, apparently) you at the starting line.
Yikes.
The 100 Miles of Nowhere: This Weekend!
Tomorrow’s the official day of the Fourth Annual 100 Miles of Nowhere.
Of course, some of you went ahead and did it a little early, which, I’m pleased to say, is totally cool. And frankly, it wouldn’t matter very much if I thought it was cool or not anyway.
Still, I daresay that there are not many people who have used it to raise as much — or as adorably — as little Charlotte here (I’ll be posting her whole story next week):
The amount of awesomeness here is nearly too much to take.
And at least one person is using it as a wake-up call to get re-started on her exercise. A reader emailed this in:
[I] haven’t actually ridden a bike for something like 25 years. I’m fat (kinda) and old (kinda) and have pretty serious respiratory problems (recurring collapsed lung and asthma, even though I’ve never smoked). Inspired by your really great blog and by some really great guest posts, I have gone and selected my bike. I’ve already registered for 100 Miles of Nowhere and, although I’ll be NOWHERE near to 100 miles, I hope to go a little ways, at least.
Honestly, I have no illusions about myself: I’m just a goofball. I’m cool with that. But getting email like this makes me really happy that I’m a goofball with a blog in which people sometimes find a reason to go biking and maybe make their lives better.
Other folks got roped into doing this, and then made it into an awesome adventure. Check out Max’s blog post (great story, great pics) from the ride he and a friend did looping around a park in San Francisco.
Or check it out: we even got some press coverage, when Tom Wick and his team motorpaced 100 miles in the Marymoor Velodrome (I get nostalgic whenever I think of the Marymoor velodrome).
And there are other stories. Already.
And after you do your 100 miles of Nowhere, please be sure to send in your stories. I’ll post as many of them as I can throughout the week. And believe me, the week of 100 Miles of Nowhere stories is becoming one of my favorite blog traditions.
And please, allow me to wish you good luck as you ride your 100 Miles of Nowhere. I’m sure you’ll win your division.
You’re a lock, really.
Locals: Join Me Tomorrow for the 100 Miles of Nowhere at Suncrest
If, by chance, you live in Utah County or SLC or anywhere remotely near Alpine / Suncrest, may I humbly suggest you spend your tomorrow riding with me for the 100 Miles of Nowhere at Suncrest? (Even if you have not signed up for the 100 Miles of Nowhere — just make a donation at my LiveStrong Challenge page and we’ll call it good [plus you'll be entered to win my {other} Superfly 100]).
I’ve got reasons you should, and they’re compelling:
- PAIN: You’ll get a heck of a workout. Like 12K feet of climbing (or more) in a day’s worth of riding.
- BRATS: Starting around 3pm, I’m going to start grilling brats for anyone who wants them. I think it is safe to say that this is sufficient reason to show up right there.
- PIE: Mark Albrecht’s wife — you know, the one who’s a trained professional dessert chef — is going to also be there around 3pm, and she’s going to be bringing dessert. And while I have not presumed to tell her what she should or should not bring, it is my fervent hope that there will be pie. And if reason 2 above is good enough to make you want to come over, then this reason is doubly good enough. Seriously.
- SUPPORT: Steve W and his family are going to set up a table at the top of Suncrest with some Coke, water, and stuff to reward you for getting to the top, once again. (Otherwise you ought to plan on being self-supporting, with your food and drink stationed at the Park in Alpine [I've got the pavillion reserved], and buying stuff at the Chevron.) Or those of you who are Suncresters can just leave stuff at home and drop by your own kitchen to pick stuff up once in a while
Plan on showing up at the Park across from the city building in Alpine on Saturday 5:30 AM (or later — start whenever you want, really, it’s not like there are any prizes or like anyone’s keeping track or anything).
The Courses
Once you begin, you can do the 100 miles in a variety of ways:
- Easy: Ride from the park to Westfield road, then along Westfield to the T intersection where the road goes up to Suncrest, then back again. A lap this way is about four miles long and has 200 feet of climbing per lap. Which means, over your 25 laps, you’re going to do around 5000 feet of climbing. So the “easy” route is still far from easy.
- Hard: Ride from the park to the top of Suncrest and back. This lap is 12.5 miles and has more than 1200 feet of climbing. So, as you ride eight laps, you’ll find you’ve climbed approximately 10,000 feet in your 100 miles. Wow. The Runner will be doing the Hard course.
- Ridiculous: Ride from the park to the top of Suncrest, then down the North side to the Chevron, and back. One lap of this is 20 miles, with 2500 feet of climbing. Which means that at the end of the day, you’ll have done five laps, 100 miles, and you will have climbed 12,500 feet. It’s my intention to do the Ridiculous course.
- Impossible: Just do the North side of Suncrest over and over. 15 laps should give you 100 miles and 18,375 feet of climbing. Honestly, I can’t imagine doing this course. I hope someone proves me wrong and shows it is possible. Kenny?
How You’ll Report Your Progress
There will be a banner at the park pavillion. At the beginning of the day, on the bottom of the banner, write your name.
Then, every time you complete a lap, take one of the strips I’ll have printed and cut and fill that strip in with the following info:
- Your cumulative distance
- Your cumulative climbing
- Your cumulative time
Then make the strip into a ring and staple it to your previous rings.
By the end of the day, you’ll have a nice souvenir of your 100 Miles of Nowhere: a chain that tells you how many laps you did, how much you climbed, how far you went, and how long it took.
I know; it’s almost too clever for words.
Oh, and bring your own GPS / bike computer, to track your progress.
Other Stuff
- Bathrooms: There’s one at the park in Alpine, right by the pavillion we have reserved.
- Clothes: After you finish your 100 Miles of Nowhere, you’re going to want to stick around and have a brat and some dessert, right? So you might want to bring something to change into.
- Cash: I’m going to carry a card and plan to use it pretty much every time I get to the Chevron to buy myself a Mountain Dew. If you’re doing the Ridiculous version of the course, I recommend you do the same.
- Food and Water: Apart from Steve’s family providing some much-needed refreshment at the top of Suncrest, your food and drink needs are your own to take care of. I recommend bringing an ice chest with what you need and leaving it at the pavillion. There is a water fountain you can refill your bottles with at the park, though.
And you know what? Even if you don’t ride all of the 100 Miles of Nowhere, you’re still welcome to come have something to eat with us afterward (from 3 – 5pm).
I do need to get a headcount of how many brats and how much other stuff to get. So please, email me if you’re coming. ASAP. Like now.
I don’t want anyone to go hungry. That would be sad.
Good luck to everyone — whether local or whereever — with your 100 Miles of Nowhere!
Comments (28)
05.10.2011 | 12:36 pm
A Note from Fatty About a Cool Way to Do (or Just Watch) Your 100 Miles of Nowhere: NYC Carlos, one of the most awesome Friends of Fatty, has taken out a Parks permit and rented the Kissena Velodrome from the City of NY, June 5th, 8am – 5pm for anyone in the area who wants to be join him and some of the Philly Fatties for 100 miles of Nowhere. And if you’re not riding the 100MoN, they’d appreciate spectators too.
I’m a very lucky person. I’ve got a wonderful wife and great friends, and we all like doing the same kinds of things (biking and eating, not necessarily in that order). In particular, The Runner and I ride and hang out a lot with Kenny and Heather. After all, all four of us ride, both mountain and road. The Runner and Heather are both medical professionals. Kenny and I are both bald and very, very handsome.
Really, the four of us have a fantastic friendship.
So it’s a shame that, just a few short weeks from now, we’re all going to learn to deeply loathe each other.
Why?
Because, on June 10-11, we’re signed up to race The Rockwell Relay: Moab to St. George together.
Oh, you don’t understand why I think this race will demolish our friendship? Allow me to explain.
Meet The Rockwell Relay
The Rockwell Relay: Moab to St. George (which I’m just going to call the Rockwell Relay from now on) is a four-person, 516-mile relay race from Moab to St. George, Utah, from June 10 through June 11. While one teammate bikes to the next checkpoint, the other three carpool to that checkpoint and wait for the baton handoff.
Which means, essentially, that each of us will get three turns at biking around 45 miles, while spending the balance of the 30+-hour race in a minivan with the other racers on our team (Team Fatty, natch), under the stress of race conditions, fatigue, the cascading stench of multiple riders and their increasingly stinky gear and selves, and — this is the biggy –sleep deprivation.
What could possibly go wrong?
Honestly, though, I’m really very excited to do this race. For one thing, while I’ve done endurance relays before — the 24 Hours of Moab — those relays are always around and around and around and around in a circle. This race, on the other hand, will take us from one cycling Mecca to another, and — at least during daylight hours — we’ll get to see some parts of Utah I’ve never seen before.
And since we’ll be racing in what I assume is the relatively obscure “Coed 140″ category (where the combined age of all racers is between 140 and 199 [176 in our case]), we may in fact have a pretty decent chance of owning our category.
Our Race Strategy
Really, our strategy for this race is simple: Have Kenny go out first to build up a nice, big lead. Then the remaining three of us will slowly let that lead erode over the course of our turns…until it’s Kenny’s turn again. Then he’ll get to build that lead back up.
Rinse and repeat. Three times. Simple!
Actually, we’re still discussing what order we should do the relay. Here are the stats for the distance and climbing each racer will do over the course of our three turns:
So, yeah, Kenny will probably go first, because he’s the fastest and strongest climber — true even though he rides this incredibly heavy, single-speed road bike that is geared way too high.
I’m likely to be Cyclist 2, mainly because I’m densely packed (i.e., fat) for my height and therefore build a ton of momentum on the downhills and can knock smaller objects (i.e., other riders) out of my path once I get a head of steam.
The Runner’s probably going to be Cyclist 3, because she is a TT machine and can rip the legs off anyone on long, gradual climbs, the flats, and on descents.
And Heather’s probably going to be Cyclist 4, because she’s happy to do whatever.
Of course, that’s just our on-bike strategy. Our in-van strategy is equally important, and consists of the following sacred rules:
- One must always roll down the window prior to farting. This is rule #1 and cannot be violated.
- Treats must always be shared.
- Nighttime hours are quiet hours. Unless the conversation is interesting. Or the song playing on the radio is really good and has to be cranked loud to really be enjoyed.
- No snoring. I’m looking at you here, Kenny.
- No peeking. Hey, we’ve all got to take turns changing, and a lot of those changes are going to happen in the back of the van. So all eyes forward during these changes. I’m looking at you here, Kenny. But not literally.
As team captain, I also reserve the right to create additional rules on the spot.
Things About Me I Expect Will Start to Grate on My Fellow Racers
As a beloved and award-winning hall of fame cycling blog megasuperduperstar, I of course am a pleasure to be with. Always. And yet, I can’t help but worry that some of my charming mannerisms might start to irritate my teammates after they’ve been in a van with me for 25 hours or so. These behaviors include (but are not limited to):
- Suddenly falling asleep while driving.
- Singing very loudly to keep myself awake while driving
- Yodeling to keep myself awake while driving. This is extremely effective and I wonder why so few people do it.
- Needing to pee every twenty minutes.
- Sleeptalking
- Accusing others of farting when I am in fact the culprit
- The “pull my finger” gambit. I’m just kidding, of course, because that joke never gets old.
- Chewing with my mouth full. Oddly, this behavior grosses me out in others, but doesn’t bother me at all when I do it myself.
- Suddenly bursting into tears when fatigued.
- Eating Funyuns. I love Funyuns, and can’t understand why anyone would think they’re an incredibly stinky snack.
- Smelliness. I’m just kidding here, again. My sweat doesn’t smell. At all. And I certainly don’t start to stink after I’ve been sitting in dank, sweaty clothes for hours.
Hey, Come Ride the Relay With Us, and Get Free Stuff
Are you local? Maybe even just kinda local? As in, maybe you live in the Western half of the U.S.? If you are, why don’t you alienate some of your friends and/or family and register, too? Then we could hang out together at some remote checkpoint in the middle of the night as we wait for our respective teammates to roll in. That would be awesome.
Oh, but there’s more. If you register a team and answer the “Did someone refer you to the Rockwell Relay” question with “Fat Cyclist,” everyone on your team will get a free pair of Rockwell Relay socks, not to mention a free Mexican dinner at the Torrey, Utah checkpoint. That should make the ensuing several hours in your team van more entertaining, right?
Plus, $20 out of every person’s registration fee goes to teamgive, a charity to raise awareness and funds for the treatment of rare neurological diseases in children.
And in conclusion, I’m really looking forward to racing the Rockwell Relay, and regret in advance destroying the good relationship I have with my teammates.
PS: Tomorrow’s the last day you can enter the contest to win a Pereira custom SS 29er and a trip to Portland to get fitted for the bike, not to mention help Jeff Bates in his fight against cancer. Click here for details, or buy your ticket directly here:
Comments (27)
05.9.2011 | 11:52 am
I’d like to be able to claim that forgetfulness is something I’ve recently developed, as one of the more entertaining (to others) aspects of middle age.
I’d like to, but I can’t. Because I’ve always been forgetful. In fact, in my late 20’s, when I first started biking and going on biking trips with friends, I became pretty well-known for my exhaustive “to-bring” lists. Before going anywhere, I’d write down everything and anything that I thought I should be bringing on the bike adventure. By the time I got to the evening before it was time to head out, I’d have something much more reliable than memory or common sense: a thorough, categorized (things to get from the garage, things to get from the kitchen, things to get from the bedroom) list.
During the past several years, my list has become simpler: food, bike, bike clothes, bike gear (helmet, shoes, gloves, glasses, bottles), tools and tubes. I have a bag or box for each of these items. When those bags and boxes are full, I must be ready to go.
By having a simple and consistent routine (and, yes, a checklist for critical things), it’s been a long time since I’ve forgotten anything.
Until last weekend.
As usual, I packed everything into their appropriate bags. Helmets, shoes, gloves, glasses and tools in one bag. Clothes (including bike clothes) in another. Food and bottles in one more.
But I made a mistake. Specifically, when it was time to load the energy bars, chews and gels into the food bag, I deviated from my normal routine of leaving the bag in the center of the room (I like to call it “the staging area” because it sounds very left-brained, and I sometimes wish I were left-brained), and instead brought the bag to where I keep all the energy food stashed. You know, divert from the routine a little, to save time.
Thus, when it came time to take everything out to the truck and I — like I always do — carried everything that was sitting in the center of the room to the truck, the bag containing all the food and bottles for The Runner and me remained where it was.
And in short, we all prepared for our outing to do a 100-mile one-day ride around the White Rim in 85-degree weather, except for not having anything to eat or drink.
Convenience
The Runner and I didn’t discover my little (!!!) goof until about 10:30pm that night in our Green River hotel room, as we started doing final prep for the following morning: putting our individual piles of what what we’d be wearing and bringing the next day.
“Where’s the food?” The Runner asked?
“Grey Banjo Brothers tote bag,” I replied. But even as I said it, a mental light went on, and I knew for absolutely certain where that bag was. I.e., sitting atop a chair in the nook in our bedroom, conveniently close to the shelf where we keep our energy bars. And not very conveniently close to Green River.
I went out to the truck to verify what I already knew, and then came back to our room.
“We have no food. We have no bottles,” I said.
The thing is, Green River isn’t exactly a big city with lots of 24-hour grocery stores. No. And our route to White Rim wouldn’t bring us by a grocery store in the (very early, before a grocery store would open) morning, either.
So we refactored our plans a little. “Looks like we’re going to be eating convenience store food for 100 miles,” said The Runner, in what I’m happy to say was a totally non-accusatory voice.
Half an hour and $31.74 later, we had acquired the following:
That — along with the two Subway sandwiches, the water, and the half-gallon of chocolate milk we had in our ice chest — should take care of a couple people for 100 miles, we figured.
A Side Note to the Good Folks at Gatorade
Until this trip, I had not realized how perfectly the twist-top gatorade bottles fit into a bike bottle cage. Now that I have, though, I’d like to extend my kudos and gratitude to the good folks at Gatorade, because considering they were a “no other option” option, these bottles worked just fine. Clearly, they were designed to fit snug in a bottle cage, and they worked great.
I’m probably the last person on earth to realize those bottles were meant to be used in bottle cages, aren’t I?
Riding With Youngsters
We got up early and drove to the top of the Horsethief climb, the same place we always start the ride from during one of Kenny’s annual RAWROD trips. The Runner, her son The IT guy and I would be starting the ride from there. Zach — The Runner’s eldest — and his wife and their little boy (yes, I am a grandpa, or at least a step-grandpa which is close enough) would drive the sag wagon truck and meet us at Musselman Arch, where Zach would get out his bike and join us for the ride.
You know what’s nice about small groups? Agility. For whatever reason, a group of three people can get rolling much more quickly than a group of 30. By 6:45am, we were rolling.
Unlike a couple weeks ago, the day started warm and beautiful. I wore arm warmers, but only for the first half hour. After that, it was shorts and short sleeves. I tell you what, after a long and cold winter and a cold, wet spring, it is so nice to be out in the sun in the desert.
We got to the first stop — Musselman Arch — in good time, everyone comfortable, everyone feeling good. Everyone glad to be spending a beautiful day in a beautiful place doing a very cool thing.
I swear, sometimes I love mountain biking so much it makes me almost unbearably cheerful.
Musselman Arch
Musselman Arch is the traditional first stop for White Rim-in-a-day riders. For one thing, you’ve covered a nearly a third of the distance (though not a third of the effort) for the day and it’s a good chance to refill bottles.
For another thing, you’ve got to take pictures.
Here’s The Runner with her two sons:
The IT Guy is on the right. The Runner’s in the middle. And her eldest son — who shall henceforth be known as Kid Rock on this blog — is on the left.
The grandson in the background, chasing a lizard. As is proper.
Of course, I wanted to get in on a group photo, too:
Isn’t it awesome that I’m the tallest one there?
Oh. Um.
Anyway, it’s traditional to get pictures of people standing on Musselman Arch.
Sadly, I neglected to get photos of The Runner as she hollered at her sons to cut it out when they were jumping up and down on the arch.
Oh, and I did a cool 360-degree, zoomable panoramic shot while standing on top of the arch itself using my iPhone and the free PhotoSynth app. Check it out (you’ll need to have the Silverlight plugin to see it):
Simple + Awesome
Based on my Friday’s post, I feel like I’m almost obligated to talk about either how The Runner and I crushed her young, brash sons. Or, if necessary, how her young brash sons defied our expectations and rode like the wind.
But the truth is, it was a group ride, and we rode together. Nobody tried to bury anyone. I was impressed that The IT Guy is doing really well with his Leadville training — I think he’ll finish in under twelve hours, which is awesome — and was impressed that Kid Rock was able to ride as much as he did, considering that he hadn’t been biking much at all and in fact borrowed a (much too large) bike for this ride.
The Runner was just digging having her boys around, having fun doing what she loves to do.
We stopped often, refilling our bottles and loading up on snacks. I felt great and considered the possibility that maybe I should always eat convenience store food while on long rides (though with today’s weight being 173.6 (?!?), I have since reconsidered).
And whenever Kid Rock’s wife stopped the truck, their boy would bound out, immediately becoming a dinosaur. This, then, is a dinosaur, stalking its prey.
Rawr.
Later, at Vertigo Void, I had the grandson lay down and peer over the edge (blatantly ignoring The Runner’s direct forbidding of this action).
“That’s pretty cool,” said the five-year-old boy as he stared down into a pretty good approximation of infinity.
I tell you, kids these days are so hard to impress.
Where Is Everyone?
As the day wore on, The Runner and I wondered: where was everyone? It was a beautiful spring day. There was wind, but it was bad only for an hour or so. But not a single riding group ever overtook us, and we ran across maybe two other groups going in the opposite direction.
The lack of people around reinforced one of the things White Rim always conveys to me: a sense of being a really small part of something really, really big.
Here’s another panorama shot — just kind of out in the middle of the ride — that might help show you what I mean:
Gah! What happened to the Runner’s legs?!
Finishing Strong
There’s a lot of sand to ride through in the last ten miles of the White Rim, and usually it takes a ton out of me. This time, though, I seem to have learned the trick of riding through sand. I just stopped trying to make big turning motions, stopped trying to pedal hard, stopped trying to plow my way through.
And I floated along over the top, with hardly any trouble at all. Even in the biggest, deepest sand pit, I rode right through.
Everyone else kinda got cooked by the sand, however, which is too bad, and not just because The Runner discovered exactly how fluently her two boys can curse. It’s too bad because after riding through the sand, the last thing you’ve got to do is climb up Horsethief. Which is one mile long, and about 800 feet of climbing.
By itself, it’s a hard — but not horrible — climb. After 99 miles, it’s just brutal.
Kid Rock took over driving; with about 40 miles under his belt for the day, he had demonstrated he could pull a pretty serious ride out of his butt.
The IT Guy, however, had something a little more impressive to prove. He was about to finish his first 100-mile MTB ride.
He started up the climb a minute or two before The Runner and I. And it just happened to work out that we passed him (yes, The Runner finished the ride first of everyone, thereby proving everything I said in my previous post), my odometer turned over to 100 miles.
“You just road a hundred miles on your mountain bike!” I enthused. “How do you feel?”
“Not very happy,” he gasped.
A few minutes later, after he finished the cliimb (without, I might add, putting his foot down a single time), I got a photo of him.
That is one salty, tired, red-eyed IT Guy. Who has just ridden 100 miles.
Those of you who have done it know: completing your first offroad century is a big deal.
And it’s a lot of fun to see someone else do it, too.
Comments (33)
05.6.2011 | 10:51 am
A Big Thank You from Fatty, Johan Bruyneel, and WBR : A couple of days ago, Johan and I ambushed all of you with a surprise registration period for the 100 Miles of Nowhere, with the proceeds to benefit World Bicycle Relief. Well, we raised just over $4000, which is enough to buy 30 bicycles for people in Africa. That’s a whole classroom-full of kids’ lives changed for the better, because a bunch of you were willing to do something simultaneously silly and noble.
It’s at times like this that I really love doing this blog, and love the people who read it and get involved even more.
Group hug, everyone.
A couple of weeks ago, I — along with a big group of friends — went to Moab to ride around the White Rim. It’s a tradition. An annual wake-up call to those of us who have somehow fooled ourselves into thinking that we’ve made it through the winter in pretty good shape.
As I have mentioned, I didn’t do so great at the ride. As in, I hardly got started.
So tomorrow — along with a much smaller group of people — I’m going to do it again. And since the forecast has the day pegged as sunny and warm (though windy), I’m determined to do the whole ride this time, with a smile on my face, a song on my face and — if needed — a daisy on my handlebars (the talisman carried by the person riding sweep for our group rides around the White Rim).
And you know what? I’m perfectly happy to ride with the daisy on my handlebars. I am. I’ve got nothing to prove, after all.
But I don’t think it’ll come to that. Not for the whole day, anyway.
The Strength (and Naivete?) of Youth
Tomorrow, the group riding around the White Rim will consist of The Runner and I — both of us have done countless rides of this difficulty and duration — and The Runner’s sons (ages 21 and 23), neither of which have done any one-day rides of this distance or duration.
And yet, they seem remarkably unconcerned.
Their arguments are compelling, amounting to things like this: “Well, if Mom can do it, it can’t be that hard.”
Or the equally compelling argument: “We’re young and stubborn. We’ll get through just fine.”
They sound so confident. So self-assured. So young. They almost have me convinced.
Almost.
What they have neglected, in their calculations, is the fact that their mom is not exactly an ordinary mom. No, she is The Runner, not to mention a certifiable hardcore cycling badass who eats century bike rides for breakfast.
Furthermore, they might have forgotten that their mom has earned aforementioned badassery by doing countless endurance rides and runs for more than a decade.
So tomorrow should be interesting.
Will youth and determination win the day? Or will mom get a really awesome early Mother’s Day present in the form of her two prime-of-their-lives sons confessing (in whimpering, exhausted, and contrite voices) that she — at approximately twice their age — is stronger, tougher, and faster than they?
I have my suspicions (and, let’s face it, biases) but intend to be as objective as possible. I’ll be interested in reporting my findings of the days events, with both words and photos.
And I have made sure to pack the daisy.
PS: Yes, this is my way of talking trash.
Comments (33)
04.10.2011 | 10:04 pm
A “Wow, That Went Fast, Let’s Keep Going” UPDATE from Fatty: I would never have believed that registration for the 4th Annual 100 Miles of Nowhere would register its 500 slots in one day!
My guess is, there are still a lot of you who would like to register and do the event, but didn’t get time to register yet.
The problem is, I got a commitment from my sponsors to provide swag for 500 registrations, and it would not be cool to strain their generosity by asking them for (possibly a lot) more.
So here’s what we’re going to do.
From this point forward, the registration for the 100 Miles of Nowhere has a few differences.
- What you get: Registration now gets you the t-shirt and race plate.
- New price. Instead of $85, the registration is now $80. This reflects the lower cost of shipping. My suspicion is that most of you appreciated getting the swag, but will survive without getting it, so $5 off the price should be an acceptable — albeit disappointing — tradeoff.
- New registration pages: Men click here to register; women click here to register.
So, throughout the rest of this post, you might find a couple of updates due to the quick signup of the first 500 people. I’ll flag those with a big red bold UPDATE.
I’ve got a feeling this is going to be the biggest, most-ridiculous 100 Miles of Nowhere yet!
Thanks for your generosity.
A Let’s-Get-Right-to-the-Point Note from Fatty: If you already know you want to sign up for the 100 Miles of Nowhere and just want to hurry up and register, click here to sign up for men, or click here to sign up for women .
I’m in Florida right now. It’s Spring Break for the kids, and so we’re splitting the week between Disney World and Cocoa Beach. The weather’s been in the low 80’s; we’re soaking up the sun and loving the strange, wonderful feeling of being able to wear shorts again. Saturday, we went to Epcot. Yesterday we relaxed on the beach and body-surfed. Last night, we watched the fireworks show at Disney World.
The kids are happy; I’m exhausted and a little bit sunburned. It’s past midnight, and there are very few things in the world I’d rather do than go to bed right now.
However, I’m writing this post anyways. Because registration for the 4th Annual 100 Miles of Nowhere starts today (Tuesday), and announcing that is more important than sleep.
Yes, I said it. This event is more important to me than a good night’s rest. And for those of you who know exactly how grumpy I get when I don’t get my 10.5 hours of sleep per night, you know that this event must be very important indeed.
General Information, Things You Ought To Know, And Whatnot
The 100 Miles of Nowhere is a race without a place. It’s an event in which hundreds of people participate . . . all by ourselves. (Or with a friend. Or with 20 friends.)
It’s a very strange thing where you pay $85 [UPDATE: Now $80] (which includes shipping) for the privilege of riding your rollers, trainer, or a very small course (like around the block or up and down a hill) for 100 miles. And then the profits from your entry go to LiveStrong, to help them as they help people, worldwide, in their battles against cancer.
I did the first annual one by myself, back before I knew it would be annual at all. The second one a bunch of us — from all around the world — did together, and people sent in their stories, many of which I published here.
In the third year, the race went absolutely bananas, and the 500 available spots sold out in no time, and for a few days, I posted a new story from a reader every couple of hours. I plan to carry on that tradition this year, as well.
This year, the “official” date of the race is Saturday, June 4. I’ve made the date a little later, due to the fact that more and more people are taking the 100 Miles of Nowhere outside and making it a fun, strange thing to do with friends, rather than a solitary form of torture you inflict upon yourself and the time is whenever is convenient for you.
And, thanks to the flexibility of the event — i.e., it’s just you, really — if June doesn’t work for you, you can do it another day.
Like in October, if you feel like it. Or later this afternoon if you just don’t have anything else to do. It’s your call, really.
And also, the “100 Miles” part is more of a guideline than a rule. For example, if you would rather ride 50 miles, that’s fine with me. So is 25.
Or if you’re a runner and you want to do a marathon on the treadmill, that would be awesome. If you’re a swimmer, swim five miles. I’m not picky.
And of course, the very best thing about the 100 Miles of Nowhere is that you are going to win your division. You just need to make sure your division is specific enough that there’s no chance anyone else is in it.
What You’ll Get
The 100 Miles of Nowhere is a fake event, but the schwag is real — and it’s better than what you’d be getting at a lot of events that make you get up at horrible hours, travel ridiculous distances before you even get to the starting area, and then wait for half an hour to use an overflowing portapotty.
Oooh, I just had a terrific slogan idea for next year: “100 Miles of Nowhere: No Overflowing Portapotties.”
OK, back to the pitch.
Here’s what you’ll score — shipped to you in late May:
The Event T-Shirt [UPDATE: Late registrants still get the shirt] : My good friends at Twin Six have — once again — managed to come up with a pure-genius design for this year’s event shirt. You saw a small version at the top of the post, but here’s a closer look:
And an extreme close-up, to give you an idea of what the text looks like:
A Race Plate [UPDATE: Late registrants still get the race plate]: My favorite souvenir of races is the race plate I get to put on my bike. The Runner and I like to staple them to the wall in the garage. So this year I’ve asked Bike Monkey — the folks who promote and run the amazing Levi’s GranFondo — to design a race plate you can attach to your bike. You know, so the fans will be able to recognize you. And so when the cops pull you over because the neighbors have complained because this is the 48th time you’ve ridden past their house in the past 7 hours, you can explain, “I’m not a public nuisance, I’m a bike racer.”
PRO Bars [UPDATE: the Halo bars went to the first 500 registrants only. Those are gone now; late registrants will not get these]: PRO Bar recently introduce Halo bars, “The Sinfully Healthy Snack,” which you’ll be getting in your swag box. A week ago, they sent me a box of 12 for each flavor.
All of them are gone now.
The Runner, my kids, my friends, and I descended on these like a horde of hungry yaks.
They’re good for you, but they taste like they’re not. You’re going to love them.
An Issue (and special subscription rate) of Bike Monkey Magazine [UPDATE: the magazines went to the first 500 registrants only. Those are gone now; late registrants will not get these]: Tired of biking magazines that teach you the same 15 tips and tricks, over and over and over, year after year? Or that review stuff you’ll never even consider buying? Then you’ll enjoy Bike Monkey, a magazine that’s about people, bikes, and rides. I dig it, and hopefully will someday be good enough to write for it.
You’ll get a free issue of Bike Monkey with your swag box, as well as a great discount offer in case you decide to subscribe. Which you should.
Leverage [UPDATE: the Leverage coupons went to the first 500 registrants only. Those are gone now; late registrants will not get these]: This is an action-packed show about a group of thieves who run cons to help people who have nowhere to turn. They’re bad guys being good guys.
If you haven’t watched an episode, this is going to be your chance, because you’re going to get a coupon to download an episode for free. And then you can leave a comment telling Paul Guyot — writer for the show and frequent commenter on this blog — how awesome he is. Which is in fact true.
This is already one of my favorite shows for while riding the rollers. Now it’s going to be yours.
Banjo Brothers Seat Bag: [UPDATE: the Seat Bags went to the first 500 registrants only. Those are gone now; late registrants will not get these] You know who the first advertiser I ever had was? You know who the first company that ever did giveaways with me was? In both cases, it was Banjo Brothers, a small company making great bags for cyclists. I have their Seat Bags on every single bike I own — both road and mountain.
This year, Banjo Brothers will be supplying a variety of different seat bags for the 100 Miles of Nowhere. Which will you get — the Mini, the Small, the Medium, or the Large? You won’t know ’til you get your box. Regardless, since you’re always going to be getting new bikes, you’re always going to need a new bike seat bag. Then you won’t be that guy who is unprepared when you get a flat.
DZ-Nuts: [UPDATE: the DZ-Nuts went to the first 500 registrants only. Those are gone now; late registrants will not get these] DZ Nuts returns for a third year as a sponsor of the 100 Miles of Nowhere. Awesome. If you use chamois cream, it’s high time you try DZ-Nuts. If you have never tried chamois cream, I cannot think of a more perfect time to begin. As I have noted in my review, this is good stuff.
Seriously, if you’re going to be riding your bike for 100 miles and not going anywhere while doing it, you should at least be protecting your junk.
Right?
CarboRocket “Half Evil” CR333 [UPDATE: the CR333 went to the first 500 registrants only. Those are gone now; late registrants will not get these]: A couple years ago, my friend Brad told me about a new sports drink he had in mind: something powerful enough that you could drink it — and consume nothing else — long term, for however big your ride is.
Soon, had had invented “CR333? — because it has 333 calories per serving.
“You know,” I said, “333? is half the number of the beast. You should call it ‘Half-Evil’ in your tagline.”
In my defense, I didn’t honestly expect him to take me seriously.
Taglines notwithstanding, CR333 is amazing. You seriously can go all day with it. No upset stomach, no bonk. And 100 Miles of Nowhere racers will be the first people in the world to get to try out the new single-serve packets, in both raspberry and lemonade.
Give CR333 a spin during your 100 Miles of Nowhere; I think you’re going to decide it’s your new favorite endurance fuel.
Winchester Bars [UPDATE: the Winchester bars went to the first 500 registrants only. Those are gone now; late registrants will not get these]: What’s the antidote to yet another energy gel or energy chew or whatever? Meat-ergy is, that’s what.
Since getting a couple of boxes of these Winchester Beef and Cranberry bars, both the Runner and I have become huge fans. They’re like jerky, but with cranberry to give both taste and texture variety.
I was kidding when I wrote my original “Meat-ergy” post, but I’m not kidding at all when I say that these are fantastic. And if you’re a vegetarian, you can give yours to someone who isn’t. They’ll be glad you did. (And I’ll leave you to consider the ethical considerations of a vegetarian giving meat to someone.).
How Do You Register?
Registering for the 100 Miles of Nowhere is easy. Go over to Twin Six — this page if you’re a man, or this page if you’re a woman — and pick the size of T-shirt you want, then pay the $85 registration.
In late May, you’ll get your kit, and you’ll be all set to go.
Now, there are a couple things you need to be aware of:
- You can do this race anywhere: One of the nice things about 100 Miles to Nowhere is that it can be anywhere. I’ve had people ask me if they can do the race in Europe and Canada, and the answer is yes.
The schwag is capped at 500: The sponsors of this event have very real costs associated with this event, and since — mostly — it’s small companies sponsoring the 100 Miles of Nowhere, I need to assure them that they’re not going to have to come up with — for example — 2000 seat bags. Last year, this race filled up in about a day, so I wouldn’t dilly-dally.- UPDATE: While it’s too late for you to get the schwag (as indicated at the beginning of the post and hinted at in the now-stricken-out bullet point above), it’s not too late to register. However, registration closes at Midnight (CT), April 18, and when it’s over, it’s over for real. So you’ve got time to persuade your friends to join up, but not much.
Got a question? Leave it in the comments. I’ll answer it in comments — or if it seems like something a lot of people are wondering, I’ll update this post.
And In Conclusion…
This will be a lot of fun, and it will be very stupid, and it will do a lot of good.
Thanks for — for the fourth time — racing nowhere for 100 miles with me!
PS:When I originally posted this — around midnight — I accidentally put the date at June 11. That’s the incorrect date; I have corrected it to June 4. Sorry for the confusion (and that’ll teach me to post when I’m about to fall asleep at the keyboard!).
Comments (116)
« Previous Page — « Previous Entries Next Entries » — Next Page »
