07.15.2008 | 8:42 am
Last Sunday was Brad’s 40th birthday party. In the invitations, Tasha, Brad’s wife, had asked us to be sure to bring tales about Brad to tell. Sadly, I had to leave before we got around to the story-telling part of the night — I felt bad leaving Susan to get the kids ready for bed on her own — so I promised Tasha as I left that I’d post my Brad story on my blog.
I call it:
“The Day I Hated Brad”
Ten-or-so years ago, Brad, Rocky, Alan (a friend of Rocky’s) and I planned to ride the Kokopelli Trail as a two day ride. We planned to ride from Moab to Dewey Bridge the first day, camp there, and then continue to Colorado the second day.
Unfortunately, it rained the night before.
A lot.
Waking up and looking at the standing water in the parking lot, I recommended we forget the epic, go back to sleep, and in a few hours go for a ride on Slickrock, which would be dried out by then.
Rocky and Alan were right with me. In fact, I think they admired my courage. I had been the brave one, saying what everyone else was thinking — that riding a big mountain bike epic after a big rainstorm was not a good idea.
Brad was astounded. We had planned this ride for weeks! We were prepared! The trail was probably fine!
And then, finally, he said, “Let’s just try. If it’s no good, we can always turn around.”
Rocky, Alan and I caved. In the face of such enthusiasm, how could we not?
Had I known what the day held in store for us, of course, I would have simply murdered Brad on the spot, hidden his body, and gone back to bed, and then gone for the aforementioned ride on the Slickrock trail later this afternoon.
And I would have been justified in doing so.
The Beginning of the Climb
The Kokopelli trail begins at the Slickrock trailhead. With three of us (i.e., everyone but Brad) casting a wistful look back at the ride we’d prefer to be doing, we began the ride up Sand Flats Road.
Here’s the thing about Sand Flats Road: There’s a lot of it that isn’t sand at all. Oh sure, there’s plenty of sand, but it’s not all sand.
There’s also a considerable amount of clay.
Usually, you don’t even notice the clay, because it’s all hard and baked and easy to ride on. In fact, it’s much, much easier to ride on than the sand. So, on the 362 days of the year that it doesn’t rain in the hot Moab desert, clay is an awesome riding surface.
On the other three days of the year, it’s a bad riding surface.
I need to be clear, here. By “bad” riding surface, I don’t mean that it’s suboptimal. By “bad” riding surface, I mean that it was actually wicked and spiteful. And quite possibly evil.
And in short, we each had to frequently stop, scraping mud from our bagel-esque tires, scraping mud from our deraileurs, scraping mud from our pedals, scraping mud from our brakes.
You get the picture.
After an hour or so of this — during which we had traveled perhaps a dozen yards — I announced that this seemed like enough. We could turn around now and still get in a good ride on the Slickrock trail, then go get dinner at the Moab Brewery. The day was not too late to salvage.
Brad — who, I’d like to point out, had never done this ride before and had no idea of what was ahead of us — insisted things would shortly get better, and we should go on.
Brad must be a Jedi or something, because his mind trick worked. We went on.
Wherein I Become Mentally Scarred for Life
About 90 minutes later than we had originally planned on it — which is to say, we were going about half as fast as we had expected to — we got to the point where you turn off Sand Flats road and onto singletrack.
Ordinarily, this is one of my favorite parts of the ride. While almost all of the rest of the Kokopelli Trail is on wide dirt roads, this feels a little more like mountain biking.
But not this day. After the night’s rain, this trail — no, let’s call it what it really is: “ravine” was in some places a soupy mess. In other places it was a running stream. In still other places, it was the exactly perfect material for making adobe bricks, complete with straw already mixed in, so as to make the binding compound stronger, as if that were somehow necessary.
Within yards, our bikes were completely immobilized. The only way to continue was to shoulder our bikes and trudge on, hiking for four miles uphill in alternately slippery and sticky mud…in our bike shoes.
“This,” I told Brad, “sucks.”
“Are you kidding?” asked Brad, brightly. “This is a total adventure! I’m loving this!”
We eventually reached the pavement part of the ride, which I have never been so glad to reach. On previous Kokopelli rides, we’re usually just getting warmed up — been out a couple hours, just getting into our endurance groove.
This time, we had been out six hours.
“The math is impossible,” I told the group. “We won’t make it to camp before dark. We need to turn around.”
Rocky and Alan nodded their heads, a chorus of consent. Brad, however, said, “We don’t even know if it’s been raining on other parts of the trail. It could be totally dry. Besides, this is fun!”
Seriously. He said it was fun.
Brad Strikes Out On His Own
So, in a testament to how weak-willed the rest of us were, we pressed on. Things weren’t so bad as we rode on the pavement for several miles, climbing up to Beaver Mesa. The only difference, being, of course, that we were much more exhausted and demoralized than we had ever been before.
Except Brad. He chattered on happily about what an awesome time we were having.
I believe Brad may have been on drugs.
When we reached the top of Beaver Mesa, the paved road ended, yielding to a good gravel road.
This good gravel road lasted for nine inches, approximately. It, in turn, yielded to brownie batter.
We were instantly jammed up. Wheels wouldn’t turn. Drivetrains were completely obscured. And since we were about to begin another climb, followed by a descent that would leave us committed to a night huddled in mud — because, as I mentioned, there was no way we were going to make it to camp — I decided to try convincing Brad, one more time.
“Brad,” I said. “We’ve got another climb here, in horrible mud. This will be followed by a treacherous descent, with cliffside exposure, through mud. Then we’ve got to ride through Fischer Valley — which will be muddy — and climb and descend Seven Mile Pass. In the mud.”
“Brad,” I pleaded, “This is the last place we can turn around and make it home and still have a chance of not sleeping in the mud tonight.”
“I’ll tell you what,” said Brad, cheerily. “I’ll ride on ahead for a couple miles and see if the trail improves.”
“Whatever,” I replied, exhausted.
So Rocky, Alan, and I waited, dejectedly trying to get our bikes into rideable condition. Then we waited some more.
And then, just to mix things up a bit, we continued waiting.
Finally, I — as the person responsible for bringing Brad out on this maladventure — rode on, hoping that I could catch up with him.
As I rode, I bellowed, every few seconds, “Brad! Get back here!”
The Sensible Thing
And what do you know? It worked. Brad came back. “Is it still muddy?” I asked.
“Yep!” he replied, brightly. “But I didn’t finish the climb, so I don’t know if it’s muddy on the downhill.”
What Brad didn’t understand, of course, is that the climb continued for another six miles.
“We’re going back to Moab,” I said.
“But,” he replied.
“Not another word.” It was high time I took a stand. “We’ve got three hours of light left and the most technical part of the whole ride is in front of us. And it’s muddy. We’re going back.”
Dejected for the first time that day, Brad agreed.
We took the pavement back to Moab. Rocky, Alan and I, relieved at the certainty we would not be huddling together for warmth in a cave built of mud and sticks that night, were much happier.
Brad was glum. He had been having a great day, until this sad reversal of events.
Afterward
It took Rocky and me years to forgive Brad for cheerfully dragging us through 80 miles of mud. I don’t know if Alan ever forgave him. Alan’s not the forgiving type.
Of course now, Brad and I are about as good of friends as friends can be. In fact, ten years later, Brad and I still both tell this story.
Brad, of course, tells it a little bit differently than I.
PS: 2009 Fat Cyclist Jersey Pre-Order Week Continues: This is Day 2 in the 2009 Fat Cyclist Jersey Pre-Order week. Get details on the jersey here, then order the men’s jersey here, or the women’s jersey here. Thanks.
Comments (33)
07.14.2008 | 10:38 am
I love all the designs Twin Six has done for the Fat Cyclist jersey. I really do. I love them all just the same.
I don’t love this new jersey any more than any of the other designs. Even though the primarily black jersey is almost unbearably cool. Or that the Clydesdale silhouette on the back makes me start singing Johnny Cash every time I see it. Or that every single one of them has the "WIN" mark, in pink, big and bold on the right sleeve, and the "Team Fatty Fighting for Susan" in the collar.
And then there’s the accent color stitching.
Oh mercy. I can hardly wait for this new jersey to arrive.
Pre-Ordering: One Week ONLY, Starts Today
If you — like I — want to make sure you get the new Fat Cyclist jersey, you definitely will want to pre-order yours, and the pre-ordering starts today. As in now. As in, you can click here to order a men’s jersey, or click here to order a women’s jersey.
Why pre-order? I’m glad you asked.
Last year, we didn’t do a Fat Cyclist jersey pre-order. We just ordered a bunch, and then when they came in, we put them on sale.
They sold out almost instantly. A lot of people had a hard time getting the jersey size / gender combo they wanted.
This time, I don’t want that to happen.
So, for this week only — July 14 through July 20 — you can pre-order your jersey, ensuring you get exactly the right size / gender combo you want.
On July 21st, the Twin Six guys will place the order. Sure, they’ll order some extras, but I wouldn’t count on getting one of those.
And then, you and I can sit back and wait for our jerseys to arrive in early November. This will be your most awesome Fall-weather jersey ever. And I daresay it will be your most awesome Spring and Summer jersey, too.
Oh, and the jerseys will come in plenty of time for you to give them as Christmas gifts, for those of you who actually think that far ahead (Susan usually has Christmas gifts planned out for the whole family by April; I tend to start thinking about Christmas gifts just in time to fly into a panic).
Details
Here are the answers to some of the questions I’ve been getting about these jerseys.
- Cost: The jerseys will cost $US70.00 during this pre-order event. The price will go up for people who buy jerseys after they arrive. Note: even though your jersey will be shipped when it arrives this autumn, you will be charged for the jersey when you place the order.
- Sizing: For men, the jerseys fit about like a similarly-sized t-shirt, but a little snugger. If a Large t-shirt fits you tight, for example, you may want to go with an XL jersey. For women, plan to buy the same size jersey as you would a women’s t-shirt.
- International Availability: You can buy jerseys outside the US, but of course you’re going to have to pay a little extra in shipping. That shouldn’t hurt your feelings too badly, though, since the weak dollar currently makes buying anything from the US the deal of the century.
- Accessories: Yes, we’re looking into bike clothing that goes with this jersey. We haven’t locked any of that down yet, but of course as soon as we get even remotely close, I’ll note it on the blog.
- 201: The "201" on the left sleeve goes with the Fat Cyclist Clydesdale logo. Since 200 pounds is the traditional threshold for being in the Clydesdale category, this jersey goes to 201.
- Inside the Collar: The text inside the collar reads "Team Fatty Fighting for Susan." This is in support of my wife, who’s fighting metastatic breast cancer (and who is starting three weeks of radiation on her right hip today, by the way). When you buy a jersey, you’re contributing to Susan’s "WIN" fund, which I use to pay medical bills and do fun stuff with Susan and the kids. So you’re not just looking awesome; you’re actually doing something philanthropic. That’s just your way.
As Long As You’re Ordering…
I want to point out that Twin Six really goes out of its way for me when it does the Fat Cyclist jerseys. For one thing, they are really cool about honoring my input into the design process. For another thing, they have basically put their other projects on hold while they prioritized my jersey design. And for the final thing, doing this pre-order thing is kind of a pain for them, but they’re doing it anyway because I asked them to.
So, if I may, I’d like to recommend you support their business. It’s easy. When you buy your Fat Cyclist jersey, look around their site at the other Twin Six jerseys and T-shirts. If you see something you like, add it to your order.
By the way, the other stuff you order will be shipped right away — Twin Six isn’t going to make you wait for the rest of your order ’til my jerseys arrive.
For example, since it’s Summer, you may want to consider some of the new Twin Six Women’s Sleeveless jerseys: The Argyle, The Mistress, and The School Girl.
But only if you’re a woman, for crying out loud.
PS: Since my wipeout on Wednesday, I haven’t been on a bike at all. I’ve decided that, this evening, if I’m strong enough to put the new tire my road bike needs on, I’m strong enough to ride tomorrow. On the road, on the flats where I don’t ever have to stand up and pull on the handlebars.
PPS: I’ve started using Twitter, just to see if I like it. Basically it’s a place where I can leave random one-sentence thoughts. Click here to read it. If I decide I like it, I’ll incorporate it into my blog sidebar. Let me know what you think.
Comments (64)
07.10.2008 | 9:04 am
I didn’t plan to go on a long ride yesterday afternoon after work. I just wanted to get out for 80 minutes or so, because I’d be headed out for a climb-centric road ride early this morning.
I knew just the ride for a quick ride, too. From my house, I’d climb Hogg’s Hollow, then up Jacob’s Ladder. Then — instead of caving in to the temptation of dropping down Ghost Falls and riding the fun singletrack in Corner Canyon — I’d just cruise back along the high dirt road and drop back down Hogg’s Hollow.
I have done this ride or a variation of it so many times I sometimes no longer even think about the trail as I’m riding. I let my mind wander. That’s one of the perks of riding alone; you have time to think.
I Should Just Tattoo The Word “Jinx” On My Forehead
Yesterday, as I climbed, the subject I chose to think about was what I planned to write about for this blog today. Specifically, I was planning to write about how, somehow, I have finally become a fast, confident downhiller, able to keep up with my friends. Heck, even occasionally be the fast guy.
Fifteen years into riding, and I suddenly seem to have acquired a new skill. It’s surprising and interesting (to me), and well worth several hundred words of self-aggrandizing navel-gazing.
Of course, by doing this, I jinxed myself as effectively and thoroughly as if I had gotten off my bike, built an altar, sacrificed a convenient animal (like maybe a small lizard — there are lots of small lizards on Hogg’s Hollow right now), and begged the god of bike crashes (St. Beloki, I believe) to please please please favor me with his attention.
It All Happened So Fast
I didn’t ride Tuesday — lots of doctor appointment stuff with Susan — so my legs felt fresh on the climb and I got to the top of Jacob’s Ladder quickly and still feeling fresh.
I was in the mood to show off — to myself, since nobody was around — this newfound downhilling confidence. So I blasted down the first twisty section, hardly touching my brakes, letting the scrub oak brush against me, feeling good as it scratched my skin.
This opens up in just a few short feet to a loose section, with jagged granite jutting out through the trail. On a rigid bike, I always feel out of control, but have learned that if I keep my arms loose and stay back, the big 29″ bike wheels will roll over practically anything.
Next, there’s a quick drop — no more than 12-14.” Normally, drops make me nervous, but I have done this one so many times I didn’t even really think about it.
I should have thought about it.
Instead of dropping and rolling, my front wheel planted itself, becoming the fulcrum in a catapult. The rest of my bike quickly figured out what my front wheel was up to and happily took on the role of the lever.
And what was my role? Well, I was the payload, naturally.
I flew out and over my handlebars, landing on my head and right shoulder. And yes, my right shoulder is the one that separates easily and really needs to be repaired with surgery.
My primary memory of the moment of impact was of the sound. It was a distinctly ugly sound. A crunch. Like something was giving way.
Of course, I screamed.
Then I stopped screaming, because I realized — quite rationally, I think — that when you’re mountain biking alone, nobody can hear you scream.
I hopped up, adrenaline surging. My helmet felt weird. My glasses were askew. My shoulder hurt so bad that if I had had an audience, I would have resumed screaming.
My knee was a bloody mess. I didn’t have a camera — nor a phone, which would have had a camera but which also probably would have perished in the fall — but I did take a picture of my knee when I got home.
A Little Bit of “Me” Time
What really got on my nerves, though, was that my iPod shuffle continued, during what was clearly a painful and serious moment, to pipe a fast Pete Townshend song into my head.
The iPod should know better. I popped out the headphones.
With the adrenaline rush in full effect, I nearly got back on my bike. But my shoulder stopped me.
My right arm didn’t work. This would make it difficult to ride the 7/8 of the technical downhill still in front of me.
So.
I took off my helmet and sat down, giving myself over to the inevitable adrenaline shakes.
Once those subsided, I stood up, using — without thinking — my right arm to help.
Nearly blacking out, I sat back down.
It was time to reconsider how I was going to get home.
After my vision unclouded, I started thinking. It didn’t take long to come up with a plan. I’d walk my bike for the difficult part of the trail, then ride — if I could — to the dirt road. Then, instead of dropping down Hogg’s, I’d climb up to the Suncrest road and ride the pavement home.
Then, since that plan took roughly thirty seconds to come up with, I had time to think about more things. For example:
- I probably wasn’t going to get that early morning road ride in.
- I may not be a good bet for the Tour de Donut, either. Which is a shame, because I was coming up with a really good plan for it, involving giving the twins turns riding laps with me on it. Give them their first race experience in a really fun way.
- The sound I heard on impact might have been my helmet, because it was crushed.
- I am a 42 year old man with four kids and a sick wife. I can’t afford to be injuring myself like this. I don’t need to be a fast descender. I need to be a safe descender.
I don’t know how long I sat there, giving myself this self-evaluation, but I’m going to guess ten minutes. Maybe thirty.
Eventually, I stood up, lifted my bike, and found that if I moved my shoulder slowly, I could move my right hand up to the handlebar.
I then executed my plan, which turned out to be a good one. Once I got past the part of the trail that had lots of granite poking out, I was able to get back on my bike and gingerly coast down the singletrack, braking the whole way.
Once I hit a branch with my shoulder. That nearly brought out the scream. And once I hit a good bump — a small tree stump — and the jolt brought such a strong wave of pain that I started laughing, causing another part of me to wonder if I was now officially in shock.
Decision Time
I got to the road and then pedaled home, studiously avoiding potholes and bumps in the road. Then I walked in and announced, “I am going to need a camera and a ride to the hospital.”
First, though, I needed to get out of those shorts and jersey. They stank.
I took a picture of my knee and then climbed into the shower, where I cleaned the grime out of my cuts as best as I could, and took a count of everywhere I was cut up: right knee, head, backs of both hands, right hip, all up and down my back, right butt cheek.
And then I stood in the shower for a while, trying to make a decision. Should I go to the emergency room?
It’s not an easy call to make. What if I were just bruised? How embarrassing. But what if I didn’t go and something was really badly wrong? That would be stupid.
Finally I decided I’d rather be embarrassed than stupid, so my sister Kellene gave me a ride to the emergency room. There, they asked me my pain number. Oddly, I had just recently re-read an old post of mine and the comments thereto, so decided to go with 7. A strategic maneuver.
Friends in the Right Places
As I got led back to a room to wait my turn, I saw Mike Young, a good guy, very fast cyclist, and — as luck would have it — an emergency room doctor. I called out to him, telling me he needed to fix me up so I’d be good in time for Leadville (just a month away).
Mike was off-duty, but he came and took a look at the X-Rays and grabbed my shoulder in ways that made me whimper.
I have — no surprise — a first-class separated shoulder. Not much can be done about it. Mike says that there’s a good chance I’ll be able to do Leadville.
Kellene took me home, I pilfered some of Susan’s pain medication, and went to bed.
This morning, I’m stiff all over. When I want to move my right hand from the keyboard to the mouse, I have to use my left hand to lift and move it.
Worst, though, is the likelihood that this wreck will get into my brain — all wrecks get into my brain — and my hard-won, newfound ability to downhill is almost certainly gone.
I shall forever be Captain Timid, king of the slow, middle-aged downhillers.
Comments (134)
07.9.2008 | 10:39 am
A Note from Fatty: Nick Abbott is a good friend of mine — a member of the Core Team, Seattle (via Australia) Division. Back when I lived in Seattle, Nick was the guy I always did the big rides with — 7 Hills of Kirkland, STP, RAMROD. And Nick’s made the trip out to Leadville twice (and soon to be three times).
There’s no better company for a long ride than Nick.
So, when Nick and his buddy Tony Meleg did the BC Bike Race last week — as Team Fat Cyclist — and I couldn’t make it, I had to settle for photos and a race report. Reading it now, I’m even more envious.
Here’s his report and photos. Enjoy!
Last week I took on the BC Bike Race with a Seattle buddy, Tony Meleg. Interesting race — dubbed ‘The Ultimate Single Track Experience’ – 550 Kms of racing – lots of Pros, International teams and hard core multi stage racer types. Tony and I were in the Men’s 80+ category (me 40, him 42) along with about 44 other teams of two — Elden lent us the Fat Cyclist name. I wore Pink (orange on one day) – Tony wore Orange (his son’s favourite colour).
By the Numbers
Here are some rough stats for our team:
- 40 hrs of racing
- 20th in our class
- 2 flats
- 1 front derailleur destroyed
- 1 broken chain
- 1 rear cassette busted
It was a very cool race — very well supported. Sure, we had a few hiccups, mainly due to heat, but they were soon fixed up.
Logistics
Here are a few cool details about how a race like this works:
- One bike shop (Obsession:bikes) brought a crew of mechanics and worked thru the night, every night repairing broken bikes. They charged MSRP for gear – plus some labor. They were moving thru the XTR and XO gear like it was Christmas – they sold out of 29er tyres on day one – they were very cool.
- We slept in a tent city of 250 tents, put up and pulled down by the crew every day – these were 4 man tents, with 2 of us in each – very comfy
- They had a mobile shower truck for us – little waiting – but we were camping at Hockey stadiums for the most part – so we used the locker rooms – very civilized
- Food was catered by professionals – a film catering company on the Island (and they were the best) – and another company did the mainland food
- Food was GREAT – dinner and breakfast – great, fresh, lots of it – see photo of menu below.
- We got a wakeup call each day by a guy with a rubber chick and a megaphone – WAKE UP RACERS – SQUAWK – SQUARK
Kudos to my wife Sarah, for putting up with the training, the chatter and the commitment of the race – then driving five hrs, with the kids, and waiting another three to see us cross the line – and then waiting at each aid station on day seven.
Day Zero
we assembled at the Shawnigan Lake school about 45 mins out of Victoria on Vancouver Island. The school was like a cross between Bushwood Country club in Caddyshack and the Hogwarts school in Harry Potter. Great grounds and building – we registered – picked up our swag, dropped off our bikes and assembled for the pre-race briefing. We were told the rules (no rider rides alone - no more than 2 mins from your team mate at all times – what emergency gear was mandatory (bandages waterproof jackets, 2 liters of water, bandages and a whistle) – and what to do in an emergency. Off to bed (I had a nice B+B with the family, Tony was in the dorm) and an 8 am start on Day one.
Day One
91 K Shawnigan Lake – Cowichan Lake District – arrive back at school – usual assortment of shaved legs, expensive bikes, swagger and bravado that you find at any big MTB race. There were real pro’s here as well – Tinker Juarez, Chris Eatough and Jeff Schalk – assorted Olympians and so on.
My kids had some great supporter signs.
8am approached and we were off.
First, we did two or three quick laps of the school ground – including a hundred yards of recently mown, knee deep grass that tangled and ripped derailleurs from a number of bikes.
As usual in a race, everyone went out hard. In this race if you can’t finish a stage both you and your partner get an NOR (Not Officially Ranked). I saw two teams NOR in the first 15 mins. A dislocated elbow and a piece of wood in the knee (the guy tried to do a Rambo – he pulled half of it out – but the rest required a trip to the hospital).
The day flew – we had hike a bike, some big steep hairy downhill, some new single track – it was the hardest day I had ridden up until then for a whole number of reasons. It was also one of the most fun. 91 kms, 100 + degrees.
It was some of the most technical sections I had ever ridden: cramps in quads, hamstrings and calves all at once. If there was anything else to cramp it would have. We did 6:38. I broke a derailleur and ripped the side wall on my tyre, had to replace some bearings on my rear wheel, and bent my cranks- I had one big trip over the handle bars where I think I did the most of the damage to the bike (except the bearings and tyre) – also had an issue with a rib that made an audible POP as I reached for something later that day. All this on day one.
The heat was really nasty – we pushed hard, and got through the day – Tony was really strong and was the main reason we got through it. Good thing we pushed as hard as we did – the heat caused more water consumption than the organizers planned – aid station two ran out of water just as we were leaving – that held up people for 30 mins while more came.
We pulled into camp dirty and hot – but glad to be there.
Day two
80K (Cowichan Lake District – Port Alberni) was nasty. 125 k of fire road in 100 degree heat. We went out way too hard, super fast pacelines – about 1 kph faster than I was comfortable with so I spent all my energy trying to stay on. We hit 60 k after 2 hrs, and things were looking good, then I cracked at about 5 hrs – I was really struggling with the heat and was typically hitting the wall at 5 hrs or so. Day two was pretty boring – not the ultimate single track experience.
Day three
(Port Alberni – Cumberland ) was supposed to have more single track and less fire road. Another 80 clicks, with about 25 single, pretty good day, we went out more slowly.
I had trouble keeping food down and eating. I think the two previous days had taken their toll. I was puking bananas when I tried to eat – all I had all day was a ‘Salty peanut bar’ and some water – I also think I made the mistake of having Cliff Shot blocks on an empty stomach – bad all around.
We were shooting for 5 hrs but got slowed at the end with some new freshly cut single track that was a little too new for 75 k into a hot day. Six hours was the final time. I was (again) so hot that that I had to get hosed down by the medics.
Highlight for me – 300 feet of ladder, 5 feet off the ground, with a 30 foot 4 inch wide log – cleaned it on first attempt.
Ate pizza, sausage roll, bag of chips, nachos, fries, a curry and even a few beer and ice cream to reload.
To bed early and up at 4:30 for two ferry rides to start day three – 60K and more single track.
Day four
65 K (Comox Valley – Powell River – Earls Cove – Sechelt) was the best so far – for this and the next few days we followed power lines, up and over ridges – great trails both up and down, minimal fire road. WE had started the day with two Ferry rides to get back to the ‘mainland’ – although this part of Canada is only accessible by boat or air. Ferry was great fun – late (11am) start and a good day – no injuries yet – a few scrapes on me, nothing on Tony. But the rest of the racers were starting to look pretty battered. Lots of blood, stitches, taping and so on. I even saw a guy ride with his arm in a splint (we had seen him walking the last 5 kms the day before with his arm in a sling – his partner pushing both bikes)
Each day was better than the one before it. Day 5 65K - (Sechelt Gibsons to Langdale Ferry) finished with had the best single track descent I have ridden – 10K or so of swooping downhill – barely pedaling – but really challenging with some ladders and technical downhills. The day was made up (like the others) with some brutal climbs and great downhill sections. Another Ferry at the end of this stage – with some very aggressive cut off times to make sure that we got on the boat. A lot of people missed this cut off (including our friends Volker and Alfredo) and were given NOR for the race.
Day six
was a loop in Squamish – one of the centres for biking in the North West. It was a combo loop of two races ‘The Gear Jammer’ and the ‘Test of Metal’.
Amazing trails both up and down – by this stage I was having trouble keeping my head in the game. One minute I would be cleaning technical ascents or descents – the next I would be riding off the trail on a flat piece of easy stuff – starting to get really weary in the head and legs.
I had a couple of pretty sold falls early in the day which also played with my head a little. I rode some REALLY technical stuff early in the day – and I walked some technical stuff in the afternoon. Interestingly, the 29er showed some of its flaws – great on the technical climbs, and on the steep descents – but on the tight technical twisty stuff or the ever present switchbacks – the turning circle is just too big.
Our families came and met us at the finish in Squamish which was great – and we had booked a house in Whistler for a few days – so we had a good night’s rest out of the tents and sleeping bags, and a great feed before the final day.
Day Seven
was a brutal ride from Creekside to Whistler, only 47K, but some of the nastiest climbs of the week – we were rewarded with (I think) some of the best downhills of the week as well. I had my head on right this day and rode 90% of the technical descents. One memorable trail was ‘A River Runs Through It’ a classic Whistler trail – We pushed pretty hard (I broke a chain and somehow a cassette) and finished right on five hours. All our kids were at the aid stops and the finish – they had a blast and it was great to have some moral support at the aid stations – we blew through the final aid without stopping, which was a bit rough given the kids had waited a few hours to see us – but we were so close to the end.
All in all a great ride – met some great folk on other team – lots knew the fat cyclist blog – lots knew Racer’s store (when I was wearing a t-shirt) – lots recognized the Pink Jersey.
Will I do it again?
If I had the time I would – but it is a huge commitment both cash and timewise – and a big hit on family – so I think I am done – but let’s see next year.
Comments (28)
07.8.2008 | 8:24 am
Look, I know you’re just going to scroll right by this introductory text and go look at the pictures of the new Fat Cyclist Jersey.
I don’t blame you. Heck, I’d do the same thing myself.
So for now, I’ll just give you some general info (which you can ignore), and I’ll put the details later in the post.
- The new black: I told Twin Six I wanted to do a bold, sharp design for the 2009 jersey. And I wanted it to be something Johnny Cash or Batman would wear.
- Sexy: This is the sexiest jersey we’ve done so far. Independent lab tests prove, in fact, that this jersey — in addition to being 20% more laterally stiff, while retaining its vertical compliance — will make you 28% more attractive to whichever gender you prefer. And that’s a lot.
- Attainable: The 2008 Fat Cyclist jerseys sold out in less than one day. This time you’ll be able to pre-order them so you won’t have to worry about the size / gender combo you want being gone.
And now, let’s take a look at the jerseys. As if you haven’t already.
Click any of the images below for a larger view.
Men’s Front
Men’s Back
Women’s Front
Women’s Back
And Now, The Details
I can’t stop myself from looking at this jersey. I love the big Clydesdale silhouette in the back. I love that Twin Six found a way to put both the “201″ and the “WIN” on the sleeves. I love the pink accent stitching.
I really, really hope you are as much in love with this jersey design as I am.
And now, here are the questions I think you might have and the answers I have for the questions I think you might have.
- When can I pre-order one? You’ll be able to pre-order these jerseys next week: July 14 – July 20, from the Twin Six site. I will provide links and reminders as the time gets close.
- How much will it cost? Jersey prices (along with everything bike-related) are going up across the board, but we’re holding the price at last year’s price — US$70.00 — for folks who pre-order.
- Where does the money go? My profits from this jersey go toward my wife’s cancer treatment, as well as toward doing fun stuff with her and the kids.
- When will the jerseys arrive? They’ll arrive — and be shipped immediately to you — in early November. Just in time for Cross season, if that’s your thing, and in plenty of time to give as a Christmas present.
- What if I don’t pre-order one? Can I buy one later? Yes, we plan to order extra jerseys to sell to people who don’t pre-order. Of course, you won’t be guaranteed to find the size / gender combo you want if you do it that way.
- What about armwarmers, shorts, and stuff like that? As you can probably tell, this design will go great with any of the black stretchy clothes you’ve already got, but we are looking at armwarmers, shorts, cycling caps, and other stuff that could specifically go with this jersey. We can’t say yet exactly what we’ll actually sell. We’re not being coy; we just don’t know.
- What does the pink “WIN” mean? For those of you who are new to the Fat Cyclist Jerseys, “WIN” is the goal I’ve got for my wife, Susan, in her battle against breast cancer. Of course, when you wear it, it represents whatever you want.
- What does “201″ mean? 200 is the traditional minimum weight for the Clydesdale riding category in cycling. This jersey goes up to 201.
- What’s the text on the inside of the collar? “Team Fatty Fighting For Susan.”
- Why no orange version? This jersey would in fact look great with orange accents, but this year I want everyone riding in a pink “WIN” jersey.
- Will this jersey make me look simultaneously fast, witty, and slimmer? It sure will.
- Seriously, is this the most awesome jersey you’ve done so far? Yes. Except I didn’t do it. Twin Six does all my jersey designs. They’re the awesome ones.
If you’ve got additional questions, ask away. I’ll try to either answer in the comments section, or — if a question seems pertinent enough that I think everyone should see it — I’ll update this post.
Note that I may disappear from question answering for a good chunk of the afternoon — Susan and I will be having a consultation with the radiation oncologist, and he doesn’t take kindly to my blogging while meeting with him. Pfff.
So: whatcha think?
UPDATE 1: Answers to Common Questions
Thanks for all the positive feedback. Here are a few answers to some common questions.
- What’s sizing like? For men, the jerseys fit about like a similarly-sized t-shirt, but a little snugger. If a Large t-shirt fits you tight, for example, you may want to go with an XL jersey. For women, plan to buy the same size jersey as you would a women’s t-shirt.
- Why not a full-length zipper? Because full-length zippers aren’t hidden, and with this design, the shiny plastic stripe going down the length of the jersey, paralleling the much more tasteful off-center stripes, would be tres gauche.
- Any secret messages hidden behind the back pocket? Perhaps.
- Can people outside the USA buy these jerseys? Yup, and thanks to the weak dollar they’ll seem laughably affordable to you. Shipping costs vary, but is generally not insane.
- Will you also be updating the T-shirts? I wouldn’t be surprised.
UPDATE 2: How Did You Come Up With This Design?
Many people have asked me: “How do you and Twin Six collaborate to arrive at these fantastic jersey designs?”
OK, actually nobody at all has asked me that, but somebody should have. So I’m going to answer it anyway. I think you’ll find it an interesting process.
- Initial Design Meeting: I usually call Twin Six and say something like, “Hey, we should do a really cool Fat Cyclist jersey.” They’ll ask if I’ve thought about what I’d like to have on the jersey, to which I’ll reply, “Oh, all the stuff that made the last jersey awesome, but make it look totally different but still recognizable. And it needs to be even cooler than the last jersey.” For some reason, Twin Six’s telephone connection is very poor and they’ll often accidentally lose my call at this point.
- First Design Round: After a few days, Twin Six sends me a batch of around twenty designs, any one of which would be excellent final jersey designs.
- First Round Feedback: I open PhotoShop and take all of my favorite parts from each of the designs, combining them into one glorious jersey design. I email this back to Twin Six, then wait patiently by the phone for their call, offering me a job as the new lead designer.
- Feedback Acknowledgement: Twin Six acknowledges that they received my “hilarious” design. I’m not sure what they mean by that.
- Second Round Design: Twin Six sends me a new set of 5 – 10 designs, each incorporating many of the elements I asked for, yet somehow subtly shifting them so they are now magical.
- Second Round Feedback: By this round, there is usually one jersey that is pretty darned close to perfect, as far as I’m concerned. So of course I make a few suggestions, like, “What if we made the jersey out of hemp?” Twin Six applauds my creativity.
- Third Round Design: This is the same jersey as in second round design, but incorporating the ideas that are not ridiculous and / or impossible.
- Design Approval: I gasp upon opening the email with the jersey design. I call Twin Six, offering to name my next child “Twin Six,” or, if they prefer, I’ll rename each of my twins “Six.” The guys at Twin Six politely decline. And then the phone connection goes bad again. Weird.
- Photo Comp: Twin Six sends me a photorealistic mockup of the jersey design. Yes, it’s true: those cool-looking jerseys above do not yet exist in reality. They’re PhotoShop magic. I have no idea how Twin Six does this.
- Profit! Someone who watches South Park told me to put this step in here because it would be funny. I’m not sure I get the joke.
UPDATE 3: How’s Susan?
We went to the Radiation Oncologist today, and — as expected — Susan will be starting radiation to her right hip next week. More details:
- They scanned her hip today; the radiation oncologist marks this scan up with what parts get radiated.
- Thursday Susan goes in and gets some tiny tattoo marks on her hip. They use these tattoos to help line her hip up precisely with the radiation machine (aka “Giant Microwave”).
- Friday they do a practice run to make sure everything’s in place.
- Monday she’ll begin the actual radiation treatments. She’ll be getting 15 total treatments: 5 times per week for 3 weeks.
We’re very hopeful this will go a long way toward reducing Susan’s right hip pain and hopefully reducing the risk of a hip fracture.
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