Noodle just sent in a video of her 100 Miles of Nowhere, which definitively answers the question, “What would happen if someone who knows what she’s doing with video documented her 100 Miles of Nowhere?”
I demand you watch this, right now:
That was so awesome. Noodle, thanks for taking the time to make that. Obviously, that took some work.
I’ll post more race reports tomorrow.
I just got a video race report from frequent commenter BuckyTheDonkey, who — along with friends Peter, Tom, and Colin did The 100 Miles of Nowhere on the Inner Circle of Regents Park in London.
Here’s what BuckyTheDonkey had to say about the event:
The course was 160 laps of the Inner Circle in Regents Park, one of the main parks in central London. Tom figured out a vertical gain of 7 metres a lap, so a surprising 1120 metres in all! ;-)
We had a great time in perfect conditions although I think we all underestimated the mental challenge of doing something so repetitious – the 70-90 mile period was pretty tough (every kilo a prisoner!). Very glad it’s over but we’re unanimous in being very glad that we took part!
The real reason I wanted to post this right away, though is that the video is so fantastic:
I tell you, BuckyTheDonkey makes riding around in a circle 160 times look like fun.
If you did the 100 Miles of Nowhere, be sure to send in your photos, stories (keep ‘em short), and videos. I won’t be able to post all of them, but I will definitely do my best to get up some representative samples.
Nice work, Charlie, Peter, Tom, and Colin!
A Proud-of-Sister Note from Fatty: Be sure to take a look at my sister’s blog post today. In one day, she’s went from $0 to $755 for her LiveStrong Challenge. All by not being afraid to ask people. For those of you who have signed up to be on Team Fatty but haven’t gotten up the courage to start raising funds, take a lesson from Jodi and get started. You’ll be amazed at how generous and helpful people will be when given an opportunity.
A What-We’re-Doing-Makes-A-Difference Note From Fatty: You all know Heather Gilbert as the person who came up with the cool “Cadabra” name for the new Kona bike, and is now giving it away to raise money to fight cancer (it’s not too late for you to enter that contest, by the way: click here to learn more). Well, Heather’s also a doctor who fights cancer full-time, and she just sent me this e-mail:
I [just] had the opportunity to interact professionally with the Lance Armstrong Foundation today. I’ve got an unfunded patient whose cancer has recurred. Her only chance for survival is a bone marrow transplant — which, of course, she can’t afford. The good folks at LAF are going to see if they can help her. They responded immediately to my request and have been incredibly helpful. It was a nice confirmation that the money we are raising is going towards a great cause.
It’s great to be reminded that the money we’re raising is going toward helping people fight cancer right now. And it’s really good to know there are people like Heather who are making this fight their life’s work.
Tomorrow’s the Big Race
I hope you’ve all been properly tapering and carbo-loading, because tomorrow is the big day: The Second Annual 100 Miles of Nowhere. Personally, I’m pretty nervous about the event, but am hopeful that I will be able to ride my own race, keep my head in the game, and stay focused.
If I do all this, I think it’s possible — probable, even — that I will win the “Fatty’s Upstairs Spare Bedroom” division of the 100 Miles of Nowhere.
Although I wouldn’t be surprised if it comes down to the sprint at the finish.
Prediction for Fastest Time
I’ve been getting email from some participants letting me know what their courses are going to be like. There are some I think are definitely worth sharing.
I think the person who will turn in the fastest time — while simultaneously expending the least energy — will be Erik B, who has programmed his Tacx Fortius T1940 with a course that is downhill for all 100 miles.
A good an conscientious citizen, Erik contacted me asking if this was legal. I of course responded that it is not only legal, but pure genius. I did, however, make the following stipulations:
Because he will be traveling tomorrow to go to a real race his wife is running, Erik’s downhill-specific heat of the 100 Miles of Nowhere will not begin until Monday. I will be interested in his results.
Prediction for Most Dizziness and Nausea
Will Swetnam is a LiveStrong fundraising powerhouse. He’s one of the driving forces behind Cyclists Combating Cancer and is the creator of The Cancer Mosaic.
So when Will heard about the 100 Miles of Nowhere, he had a completely insane idea: Do it in a velodrome. And better yet, get a group of friends together and make it an event.
He got additional sponsors, additional prizes, and even made an additional event t-shirt. Since the local velodrome was already scheduled for tomorrow, the “Superdrome Century: 644 Laps of Lunacy” will be held next week.
I’m looking forward to photos and a race description, and I love the course pre-ride GPS track Will sent me:
Seriously, I can’t even imagine doing a velodrome century. That is going to hurt.
In a completely awesome way.
My Plans
I’m afraid that my own 100 Miles of Nowhere is pretty pedestrian in comparison. I’ll be on my rollers, watching episodes of 24, season 7 I have saved up. And if I get through those, I’ll watch some episodes of BBC’s Robin Hood I’ve downloaded.
From time to time, I will go to the fridge and get something to eat.
Send Me Stuff
I’m sure your plans are more exciting than mine, though. Or maybe they’re not. Either way, post a comment here about your prediction for what your personal 100 Miles of Nowhere race is going to be like.
And make sure you get someone to take pictures of you during the race, write up a brief race report, then send ‘em in. I’ll post a bunch of them over the next several days.
Good luck. I’m sure you’ll win your division.
When I heard that Jill Homer — the hardcore endurance cyclist of Up in Alaska fame — was going to be in town, I naturally pestered her to please please please come on a ride with me, so I could find out how I stack up as a cyclist against someone who has raced the Iditarod, ridden the Kokopelli and White Rim self-supported and back to back, and is prepping to go race the Great Divide.
What a huge mistake that was.
What nobody realizes, from reading Jill’s blog, is how incredibly imposing she is. And I’m not just talking about her incredibly overbearing, outrageous, obnoxiously loud personality, either.
What you can never tell, from her photos in her own blog, is how incredibly big she is.
Check out this photo I took of her and Kenny during the ride:
Seriously, she must be 8′11″ tall.
Of course, that’s not the only odd thing this photo reveals, either about Kenny or Jill. For one thing, I wish Kenny would stop always taking off his shirt whenever I try to get a photo of him. More importantly, though, it was about 78 degrees (Fahrenheit) outside, and Jill was still outfitted like she was heading out snowcaving or something.
“I’m not comfortable unless I’m wearing six or more layers,” said Jill.
The next thing you probably don’t know about Jill is that she’s incredibly mean. I mean, about halfway through the ride Brad was starting to drop off the pace Jill had set (and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t about to barf myself).
“Pick it up, Keyes,” said Jill, tersely. Jill calls everyone by their last name.
“I can’t. I’m totally maxed,” whined Brad.
Neither Brad, Dug, nor I would have ever expected what came next from Jill: a blindingly fast spin-kick to Brad’s larynx, crushing it and sending him writhing to the ground.
Dug rushed to give first aid. “Don’t,” said Jill, in a voice that brooked no dissent. “He wanted to whine; now he’s got something to whine about. Let’s roll.”
It’s possible that Brad’s still on the trail. I hope he’s OK.
My Strategy
Knowing that I had no chance of surviving the ride without using dirty tricks, I came up with a brilliant strategy right at the parking lot: I would loan Jill one of my bikes.
This is more brilliant than it sounds, believe me.
Here are the handicaps the loan of the bike provided:
And yet, Jill rode fine. She fell a few times but — unlike Brad — never made a peep. In fact, I think she smiled biggest whenever she hit the ground. In other words, for her first singlespeed / clipped-in ride ever, she rode up Clark’s, up Jacob’s, down upper and lower Jacob’s, then down Ghost. Without particular difficulty and without breaking a sweat.
Then after the rest of us — exhausted — went home, she went on another ride, climbing a mountain pass.
Something’s wrong with that girl.
Evidence
As proof of everything I have disclosed here, I present the following video:
See what I mean?
PS: Don’t believe anything Jill says about the ride. Especially the picture she has of the two of us. That’s totally Photoshopped.
PPS: Song credit for the video: “Rough Boys,” by Pete Townshend, from the album Empty Glass.
A 100 Miles of Nowhere Update from Fatty: I got a note from Twin Six yesterday; all 100 Miles of Nowhere kits are boxed and shipped! If you’re in the U.S., they should arrive by Friday. (If you’re outside the U.S., you will probably need to wait a little longer.)
If, by chance, your kit doesn’t arrive by Friday, it should get there sometime soon after. As I consult the official rules which I am making up right this second, I see that if your kit arrives after the race, you are automatically awarded a time bonus of 48 hours! Which makes it almost certain that you will finish the race several hours before you even begin. Congratulations!
Also, I am hard at work designing the Winner’s Certificate, which means it’s going to look every bit as good as everything else I make in Photoshop. which is…not very good. So when you frame it and hang it on your wall and people ask why you have such an ugly certificate, I’d like you to please respond that it’s an ironic, post-modern thing, where one intentionally displays things that are intentionally ugly, in defiance of conventional aesthetics. Hence, by displaying your certificate, you will be simultaneously demonstrating your keen sense of irony and your willingness to do something entirely pointless. I’d make it the centerpiece of my household, if I were you.
Information and instructions on how to send me the info that goes on your certificate will be available early next week, because by then I should have it figured out.
And if you haven’t ordered a bib yet, you can still get one. Just donate $5 to Clay Frost’s LiveStrong Challenge page here.
Important Guests
Once in a while, a neighbor will ask me to show them a favorite trail or road ride. And once in a separate while, someone who reads the blog will email me, saying they’re going to be passing through the area and would like to go on a ride.
You have no idea the state these kinds of requests throw me into.
It is not easy at all to figure out what ride I should take them on. Apart from the question of road vs. mountain (I usually know the answer to that), I have to consider what they’re most likely to enjoy — something relatively easy, or the very most challenging thing I have to offer? And which of those trails / roads are in good shape? And will result in a ride of the right length?
It may sound like I’m just an anxious-to-please host (possible), or perhaps it just sounds like I’m a hyperactive dork (probable), but it goes much, much deeper than that.
You see, what I really want is for you to like, admire, and hopefully envy me.
Pride of Ownership
You see, when I take you out on one of my favorite rides for the first time, from my point of view we’re doing much more than going on a ride. I’m sharing an intimate, key component of my identity with you, and anxiously awaiting your verdict.
If you love the ride, I take it very personally. You have just validated me as a human being. You like something I have chosen to spend hours and hours and hours with, so I can sigh a deep sigh of relief. We’re going to be friends.
Likewise, if you seem ambivalent or unimpressed, I’m going to do one of two things:
Special Circumstance: The Home Ride
This puppy-like anxiety I experience in sharing a ride is magnified tenfold when I choose to show off a ride I can do from my house. Right now, for example, I love to show off the fact that The Alpine Loop (road), Lambert Park (dirt), and Hog Hollow / Corner Canyon (dirt) are all rides I do right from my front door, without needing to get in a car at all.
I expect, though, that the folks living at Suncrest might feel that way about Corner Canyon even more intensely than I do. Last Saturday, for example, I drove to Dug’s house, from which Rick Sunderlage (not his real name), Sam, Dug and I embarked on a three-hour singletrack tour of Corner Canyon, starting with the new freeride trail.
I captured the freeride part (and at the very end, the part where I nearly overshoot a corner, narrowly avoiding flying off the trail — you can hear Dug laughing at me as he goes by) on video:
Yes, Dug (and a lot of other people at Suncrest) have mile upon mile (and many new miles on the way) of singletrack within seconds of their homes. My guess is that this probably would accomplish the “envy” objective of showing off your trail rather nicely.
Double-Extra Special Circumstance: Showing Off a Trail to Someone Who Can Crush You
I’m currently working out timing to show Jill Homer — yeah, the Jill who rides Kokopelli and White Rim back to back, who rides the Iditarod, and who is planning out a Great Divide attempt — a home ride or two.
And I am fretting like mad, trying to decide which of my rides is going to be challenging enough to interest her. ‘Cuz, when someone like that offers an opinion on your trail, you kinda have to take it seriously. She’s got some context.
I shall wear the helmetcam, though that won’t do any good once she rides away from me.
So I can’t help but wonder: is this anxiety about introducing a trail / ride to someone common? Or just another neurosis?
I’m leaning toward common.
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