I'm ba-ack!

I had to be.  I signed up for a very high profile 10-miler.  But, I'm getting ahead of the story.  To quote one of my favorite movie characters "Dennis would have hated that."

I've been meaning to travel to Washington DC ever since they signed the Constitution and two good friends settled there post-college (one clearly precipitated the other).  But, let's face it.  Oregon is really far form DC... well, now that I am in St. Louis, no excuses!  Plus, my performance/ pace at the St. Louis Half Marathon finally, finally qualified me for the Cherry Blossom 10-mile seeded runner entry.  I had to prove that I could run 10 miles in 64 minutes.  Ouch!

That race is April 3.  Counting back, that means I should have started training two weeks ago.  Ooops.  No matter, that's why I train all year long to maintain a convincing level of fitness (remember the marathon in four days notice?).  I thought that "convincing" was a relative term, until I motivated a 12-mile long run with a trail race this past weekend.

The Wildwood City Council put on a running race to highlight all the work (and moolah) they have put in to developing the trail system around the Meramac River Valley (Moochas-grass-ias).    The first annual Wildwood Frozen Feet 12-miler was held on a rapidly warming (from 20 degrees C, so describing it as a "warming" might be a bit of a stretch) Saturday morning.  The trails, though, were still covered in an ice/slush mix.  I lined up on the front line, though only planning to run ~7min/mile.  It was a tight start on the bike path and I did not want to get tripped up in the take-off. There was a lot of joking around about the pace I would put on and I suggested that I was planning on running backwards to work on my toe-heel strike (ha!)

First couple miles were on bike path and then we hit the rails-to-trails.  The footing here was less "footing" and more pockmarked, ice-holes with the occasionally bare patch.  I fell into a pack with four or so guys setting that sub-7 min/mile pace (it was a race after-all).  We actually did hit a little bit of single-track down around the Stinging Nettle trail.  I practiced my single-track pass and got my stocking hat ripped off by a branch.  The hat flipped up towards the sky and the guy in third plucked it out of the air like professional baseball outfielder and tossed it to me without missing a beat.  Within 20-steps, I was back in front.

And then there were three: me, Tony, and Andrew.  Still holding that pace, we came upon the two-mile uphill.  Tony expressed the opinion that he might not be able to hang on the uphill but we better watch out on the downhill.  Up and up, steeper and steeper we climbed up on the Rock Hollow trail. Thankfully, most of the ice was gone and only a few patches remained. At the top, cones marked a turn around with a water table and a shout-out from a friend (thanks Andy!).  Andrew and I went stride for stride down the hill, picking our way around the rough parts to step on the saltiest bits.  Andrew commented that he wondered if Tony would catch us at the exact moment we heard his rapidly approaching footsteps.  Forced to pick it up by Tony's pace, we hit the now quickly melting slush path turned slip n'slide for the final stretch.  All three of us kept it tread-side down until we hit the concrete.  By then, it was just me and Andrew, as Tony had made his gallant play for the win and faded a bit.  With a half-mile to go, Andrew and I were going back and forth on whether or not we were going to sprint for the finish (Me -"Are you going to be that guy who out sprints the girl at the finish?" Him - "Well, I am a winner".).  And then, in a split second, the last patch of ice before the finish line, reared its ugly blackness beneath my foot and I hit the ground patella first-followed by a hip, an elbow, a shoulder, and, finally, my back.

Andrew, in a chivalrous, and decidedly good guy move, helped me up and jogged with me 600 yds to the finish line, crossing in sync.  In the end, our times are identical, but some how I got the top line on the results.  But, what a great way to get a long run in!  I'm hoping he might want to join me for a non-race long run in the future.

Here's to the start of my legit race training!  My knee wound/bruise is healing nicely... but my brand new Brooks Running half tights have some new air conditioning in the knee (giant hole).

Race Report(s): Cyclocross National Championships

Grab the coffee, turn off the phone, and snuggle into the couch, this baby is a verbose one!

First, the who, what, when and where.  I arrived in Portland, OR on Thursday night, plane predictably late, hopped into a rented Ford Escape (pronounced ay-'sca'-pay), threw the ginormous but surprisingly light bike box into the back, and headed over the snowy roads around Mt. Hood... destination: Bend, OR and the USAC National Cyclocross Championships.  I had two races, one the Masters 30-34 on Friday and the Pro/Elite(!) Women on Sunday.  Also, thanks to Peter, I had a fabulous homestay for the weekend (a cyclist and all around nice guy).

Off to the races....

If there is one thing you can count on for a cyclocross race in Oregon, it seems to be mud.  Going in to Nats, I was a little concerned that I hadn’t ridden in the slop yet this year.  And I was hoping that my past year’s experience with the unpredictable, quad-busting brown stuff would still be with me and serve me well.

The lay of the land:  I only raced in good old MO this year; I didn’t race the Women’s Masters 30-34+ race last year; and I skipped out on the seeding time trial on Thursday morning.  All adding up to the reality that I was going to be starting in the back of the pack, with lots of opportunities to pass and crash!  The course was really tight.  Lots of hairpins, four spots that required jumping off the bike and running, and, of course, the mud.  How muddy are we talking?  Bend was slammed by a snowstorm the week before the race.  Then unseasonably warm weather melted almost all of it.  Followed by torrential downpours, high winds, and broken by schizophrenic sunshine and you have the makings of a mudfest.

Race Day #1.  Surprise, surprise, I got a late start out the door, misplaced my numbers at race registration, and realized that I didn’t pack my warm-up pants.  Late is not too late.  The numbers were easily retrieved.  And who needs warm-up pants when the fine folks at Lemond Fitness generously set-up wind trainers on the outdoor theater stage for anybody to use for a pre-race spin?  I was bound and determined to show up at the start with my twisted Lynskey clean.

I was lined-up at the start in the last row, maybe five rows back?  Hard to tell from my vantage point… practically needed binoculars to see the first row!  No big shocker there.  Nope, the big shocker came 15 ft. off the start-line (barely enough time to take four pedal strokes).  A woman went down hard, right in the middle of the group from maybe the third row and took out most of the field behind her.  I applied the brakes so hard, my front wheel lifted off the ground.  I slid/jumped off the back of the saddle as the woman next to me landed side-ways bodily on my bike.  I leaned over, lifted my bike and her up, extricated her leg and her bike from frame, and hopped on the bike to see if it worked.  It didn’t, the front wheel had come out of the drops and I had to reseat it before finally “starting my race”!  Check out the video (I’m the Jolly Green Giant in the black Maplewood Bicycle kit #391 and the tall socks trying smile off my misfortune).

I rounded the first turn, finally hitting that mud I might have mentioned earlier.  I immediately starting playing the “pass” part of this game in the tricky lines.  Lucky for me I got right on a woman’s wheel right before she went ass over shoulder.  I had no way of maneuvering around her… all I could do was take all my weight off the handlebars as my front wheel rolled over her face.  I almost threw-up right then!  Except that I miraculously stayed clipped-in and rubber-side down.  I churned through a virtual swimming pool on the course (a 40 ft. mud puddle so deep, my shoes disappeared in it) and continued on my muddy way.

On my muddy way...

The course followed like this – rutted and tricky off-camber turns, a downhill bump, a short-run up that could best be described as a 4ft mud cliff with a semblance of footholds, an uphill bump, a rest-your belly-button-on-your saddle dipper, and that was just the first half. 

We wound around onto the beer garden/vendor side where the course was temporarily marked by a line of beer barrels alongside the Deschuetes Brewery and followed by a set of barriers that came right after a sharp little blind downhill.  These were almost immediately followed by a quad-busting, chain-breaker uphill.  I almost ate it in the barriers on the first lap, and I never got up that hill with out sliding my butt off the back of the saddle and running up it (always getting stuck behind somebody).  What goes up, must come down, and without clipping-in, I barreled down a somewhat treacherous downhill followed and onto a  pavement lip, holding my breath on each go around.  And, we’re not done yet! 

Next, we swung around back on to the “grass”, navigating a dip-turned-creek before hauling up an over-pass that spectators could walk under to get their beer (and coffee, burritos, and frites! Oh my).  This is where the course got even trickier and more funner (and slightly rerouted for later races in the week-end to make it less treacherous…this section will figure in a later race).   It snaked along the expo side and then there were STAIRS… at least 15 of them.  I, of course, took them two-at-a-time for three of the four laps!  And then finally, and thankfully, the lap ended, and it was off to do it again.  The course was so long that in the 40-minutes of our race, we only got to do 4 laps.  That’s good for the ladies at the back; they get their money’s worth!

Coming down from the overpass.

So, that was the race pretty much.  After my two snafoos, I was effectively last for all intense purposes.  I gruelingly worked my way back up to 14^th (5^th Cat2) before the end!

Guess what the crashing did to my baby (the newest addition to my bike fleet)… I spent most of the race in two-three gears as I kept slipping in and out of them each time I tried to shift too far one way of the other.  I figured the hanger was bent (need to get some spares).  What I didn’t figure was buying a whole new rear derailleur.  Upon later inspection (by my excellent friend-of-a-friend home-stay – and hopefully my new friend, Eric, if he can still stand me still- who incidentally put me up, fed me, cleaned my bike twice(!), and entertained me above and beyond anything I would have ever expected) the rear derailleur was toast!  Yes, the hangar actually was impossibly bent, but the B-tensioner screw on the derailleur was ripped off, the arm was bent in, and the barrel adjuster was destroyed.  Practically the only thing it’s good for now is spare sprockets.  How did I ride this bike for the whole race?  Oh, not to mention that the rear wheel was a little out of true (very sorry Stewart).

Thankfully, the guys at Hutch’s Bike Shop in Bend helped me out with the new part and at least my bike was race ready for Sunday.  I discovered all the new scrapes and bruises in the shower, not to mention the late-onset soreness that night.

Racing with the big girls.

I chilled and worked out the muscle kinks with a five-mile trail run, and just enjoyed the unseasonably warm and spectacular weather that arrived in Bend on Saturday afternoon.

The sun was out early on Sunday and I went to watch my friend Blair Bronson rip it up in the Div. 1 Collegiate Men’s Championships (I think it was only his third ‘cross race ever).  It’s funny watching a cross race fully clothed.  Seeing all the mud and pain face out on the course, I had little desire to get out onto the course myself.  But later, as soon as I put on my shorts and jersey (need to get me a skinsuit for next year) and pulled up my tall socks, it was game on.  I warmed up on the stage again (that was so key!) and went to await my call-up.

And, I had to wait a long time.  In a field of over a hundred women, I think my start position was 95^th.  So, much for “randomly” getting screwed.  With women 8-wide on the line, you can do the math and figure that I was in the 9^th or 10^th row.

I am indicated by the yellow arrow... I might stick out in a crowd.  Just a little bit.

This time, it was clean..which is to say that there were no crashes that I was involved in.  And thanks to Bob’s Red Mill, the swimming pool on the course had been reportedly soaked up by a timely application of pounds of steel cut oats.  However, the rest of that section looked like a herd of cows had gone through it, and I found it best to dismount and run this entire thing.  My strategy for the whole first lap: get off and run it!  I did that in three spots, passing an amazing number of women in the process.  I even ran about 50-60 yds leading up to the stairs.  The advantage of running while carrying your bike in that muck?  A free hand to guide the women on their bikes out of your way!

I kept working my way up the whole race.  It was painful and fun.  I traded places with a couple of women for four out the five laps, eventually working my way up into 37^th!  It wasn’t the best display of bike-handling skill and acumen, but it was a major improvement on my result from last year!  And I managed to stay ahead of the Comptonator, which meant I got to race all the laps (she again lapped half the field).  I did have one incident… I was aiming to cut somebody off (my bad!) and she managed to cut me right back on a sharp turn.  In order to stay upright, I swung my right knee out and caught a beer barrel square, tearing a flap of skin off the point of my knee… it bled pretty impressively, and mixed with the mud, I looked really tough.  Not so tough now though, going to have to ice when I get home.   Going to have to ice a lot of things when I get home, actually.

Avoiding the barrels on this lap, but the bloody deed has been done!

MUCHOS GRACIAS to Eric for letting me invade his life for the weekend.  Stewart and Maplewood Bicycle for the opportunity to race out there on probably the nicest (and coolest) bike I have ever owned (I’ll make sure to “own” it soon.  And don’t let my other bikes hear about that; they are a jealous bunch, especially Tigger).  Travis for the used (new) groupo, the bike box, and the heckling from afar.  Stacie for taking me to and from the airport.  My Corvegas (you guys rock!), PacNW/West, and Missouri (that was a cool surprise) peeps for cowbell and pics.  Friends who were sending me telepathic high-fives and goo-oo-ood vibrations.  All the Bubba ladies and Mens Bs who provided fun racing opportunities this year.

Time to let my bruises heal.  Cyclocross done!

Fall Tails

I love Fall, but occasionally I fall.  Some of my decisions are made through a complicated "Heads and Tails" process that ends up leading to Tails... lot's of 'em :-)  Here's a story about the last three weeks in pics and quips.

First, a friend came to visit!  Maybe because she was curious about what goes on the middle of the country under the guise of coming to see me (love ya, Cary!), it's anybodies guess (and probably a little bit of both)!  Either way, my doors are wide open, the towels are clean, the coffee is good, and diversions are a plenty.

Cary (and me, still!) was excited about pumping gas.

There's a TIger in my Trunk!

and then she was treated to an EPIC Mizzou Homecoming Football Game.

Look at those ROTC kids futiley sitting on the goal posts...

See... can't stop the ZOU crew from claiming there trophy.

We also took in a little BubbaCross...

This was before my massive digger (Fall)... I think I might have broken a finger..
It's getting X-rayed next week.  Like all of my injuries, I give them two weeks to heal before I raise the alarm and get them checked out... spoken like a true athlete in denial. 

Ah Vuvuzelas!

And then it was Halloween... and I couldn't let this opportunity pass.  Halloween on a week-end?  Two cyclocross races?  That calls for two fantastic costumes!  And one thing I've learned from past experience riding in costume... one must consider the movement and the "not getting things caught in spokes" rules.  Capes are out, spandex is in... and if you're good, and your butt is as high in the air as mine.... costumes with tails are the best!

Cheshire Cat meets a scarily, squeeky Binky

I'm just too fast for the camera!

My Avatar raced with the Men's Bs... That's right, on the front!

Peter looks concerned that I am leading the race... that's right, the whole RACE.  For a whole lap!

Check out that air!

And of course, what would fall be without a half-marathon.  Last year it was the strangely warm EWEB Run to stay warm at which I set my PR (1:27).  This year was no different... not a PR (that was set last spring in Eugene 1:21), but it was stilly scarily fast (1:22) at the St. Louis Track Club Half-marathon.

I'm the one dressed in Brooks Nite-life (can't miss me), leading the pack!  It's only mile 1....

Bringing it home with one-mile to go 1:22:19

And that's about it... I've got three times the racing fun this week-end and my first weather challenge (it's a very blustery day with a really good chance of rain!  Thanks to all the people (Peter, Stacey, Heidi, Rich, Brent, and Cary) for keeping me in pictures!

Cross this off your list

I've only got one sentence fragment to describe this weekends cyclocross shenanigans:

Three races in 24 hours.

I'm not going to detail out each race, because, frankly, we'd be hear all day.  Also, it would go something like this: "And then on the next lap... I was wearing argyle socks"  I'll give you a few juicy details.

Race #1 Somehow, the showdown was set.  Carrie Cash Wootten (the all-around queen of Missouri cycling, and current legit cyclocross racer because she does it on a national stage) and I had not raced on MO-soil yet this season to test our mettle against each other and the barriers.  And, when there are "Things that go Bubba in the night", there is the potential for a sweet race under the lights.  She and I were neck and neck, trading the lead through the tricky turns and shadows.  In one particularly dark spot, Carrie missed a turn around a tree, me hot on her wheel.  I braked hard and she rode off course, getting caught in the tape as she rejoined the course.  She grabbed my wheel quickly, but between the adrenaline surge and the lost rhythm, it wasn't long before I rode off the front to grab the Women's A win of Bubba Cross #1 for Maplewood Bicycle.

Race #2 This was between me and future Cannondale Rep Courtney (Big Shark Racing).  Carrie had family business, so I treaded the line with six A ladies and a gaggle (that's about 15-20) B racers.  This course was longer, roadier, bumpier, and uphill, with one more barrier, an infinite number of turns and some choice tree branches for me to run into.  I raced.  I won.  It was a skill clinic for me to see how hard and hot I could take some of the turns.

Race #3.... This was the Men's Bs.  I had no intention of racing this race, but Specialized was there as "neutral" support for the race.  I figured that I could pretend my bike had a "technical" that required me to ride the demo bike... ie my bike was "technical"-ly to heavy.  So, after my Women's A race, I went over to check 'em out.  I honed in on the 58cm Specialized S-works full carbon, with SRAM Force, Zipp 303 tubulars.  It was calling my name.  I took a few turns in the grass and decided that I had to race on it.  It didn't hurt that Carrie was racing the Men's Bs and my competitiveness got the better of me.  She made a good case for it "we need the crowd-sourcing" practice.  Before the start, I asked her what "our" race plan was (I asked what her plan was :-).  Fast and first.  And when the horn went off, even lined up in mid-pack, she and I were off the line first, with her taking the lead of the race for the entire first lap!  I was starting to feel the two races before, and it took a bit for my quads to start firing.

I clawed my way back up to her and around and around it went.  At one point I even found myself in the same pace-line as Peter (Urban Assault buddy)!  I knew he knew I was there and that was providing a little extra motivation for him... "must not let Sunny beat me!"

So, Carrie and I were pretty technically matched, but with the course set-up the way it was, the men-folk could power-quad their way past on the forever-straightaways and then we would get stuck behind them in the twisty maze sections. Back and forth, and then on the last lap I took the lead through the two-pack of barriers and prepared to enter the pain-zone.  I thought "I'm cooked" and retreated into my head, knowing she was going to try and drop my butt on the hill... and then nothing happened.  Was I that swarthy on the hill?  Nope, a technical brought on by a giant hole sent Carrie's bike into malfunction, and I was able to free wheel my way to the line, not that I did that :-)  I managed to out-maneuver a few of the guys on the turns, and heckle them a bit that they were letting a girl beat them!  And, I finished it on that fine bike, somewhere around 10-15th in the Men's Bs.

photo courtesy of Brent Newman

The showdown didn't really happen, the stage was not set up right.  We'll hit a true cyclocross-ers course with mud, run-ups, obstacles, off-cambor downhills, and turns that'll make your head-spin, and then we'll see what's up.  Our next meeting will be another night race for Halloween!  Two weeks, hence... gots to get a costume together.

BTW Major shout-out to Single-speedy, my Maplewood Bicycle teammate, and Stewart, shop-owner, main man, and first-time crosser in 12-yrs (?).

Race Report: Lewis and Clark 1/2 marathon

It was a dark and stormy night....

Actually, it was morning, albeit dark.  Not stormy, perfect really.  But, it was the kind of morning where dawn seemed to last forever.  Or maybe it just seemed like forever because I was anxiously watching the minutes click by on the dashboard of the 'baru as I inched my way closer to the race start in a traffic jam caused by 7,000 runners planning to arrive an hour before the start and all choosing to take the same route to get there!

I had left the house at 5:30 AM.  10 miles and 1:45 later, I pulled up to the race start just as the gun went off.  Of course, I was still a ginormous parking lot away.  But I managed to get into my race gear, pin my number on, and consume my pre-race Espresso Clif Shot while waiting in traffic.  So that I emerged from my car and started running.

I crossed the start line (thankfully chip-timed) about two minutes behind the first runners, somewhere among the 10-minute milers.  I used the first 400 yds or so in the crowds to get in a "warm-up" before the course opened wide and I was able to slip to the side of the road and open up my stride.  Wouldn't it have been cool to turn on my mileage counter and start my watch?  You'd think.  In the hullabaloo, I remembered my watch pretty quickly, but it took me a mile or more to remember the counter.  C'est la vie.  The first mile was going to be a weird split anyway.

Streaming through the start line.

I weaved my way among the runners, occasionally talking, encouraging, and asking about pace to one or another.  Starting in the back of the pack like that has some major advantages.  First of all, I didn't get passed the whole race.  Second, I literally "ran" into so many people.  I came up behind a fellow former MU track athlete, Jessica Grider, who would eventually finish third in the marathon.  I also came across "Everywhere Steve".  Why do I call him that?  Because he turns up everywhere.  I saw him at cyclocross practice.  We ran into each other at an aid station on the MS150 course.  And now I was running and chatting with him during mile 5.

And the running, on and on, feeling awesome.  I clicked off one 6:30 mile after another.  Going in to this race, I felt like I had no business running anything faster than 6:50 pace.  But, 6:30 felt so natural.  I kept waiting for the crack... that never came.  Along the way, I had a few other runners challenge me for a half mile or more, but I just kept pushing.  And I lied, sorry.  I did get passed by one guy about 0.5 miles from the finish, but I went for a drink and he didn't, and besides, "virtual me" was actually two minutes ahead up the course.

So, I did run my way into the fast women.  I kept hearing 6th, then I passed two more women and I was in "3rd", then 4th.  And that's the way I crossed the finish line.  But what about the two minutes you ask?  Well, in the official results I am listed as 2nd overall!  But, RTFM, the awards are given according to "the order in which we cross the finish line".  Had I known that I might have tried harder to get there on-time, or at least broken a traffic law or two... maybe not.

No $200 for me, no commemorative framed race poster of the the very last Lewis and Clark half-marathon/marathon (it will be a Rock n' Roll St. Louis next year).  But, a ton of self-satisfaction that I can still rock a half (1:25:04 officially) and compete tops among the womens overall.

Now, back to CX!

I'm very excited to be running!  Or I am calling out for a vanilla gel shot.

Got the shot.  Now let's get this show on the road — five miles to go.

Very happy to be almost finished!

Ride report- the Missouri MS150

48 hours.
202 miles of cycling.
Hills.
Carbohydrates.
and a pink bike.

First off,  I had no intention of riding 202 miles.  I was perfectly happy contemplating 150 for this little adventure.

Saturday morning started off soggy and muggy.  I rode out with the Monsanto Mavericks (getting all mavericky :-) on the bike, rockin' my Pacific Power/Blue Sky Jersey.  I felt a little out of place amongst the 75+ members of the MM team all in their fine "genetically modified" kits.  I don't really need to dress differently to stick out in a crowd!

How do you sum up 100-miles in a paragraph.  5:15 on the cycling computer... 7 hours total.  I DID take a nap in the middle there.  But, I get ahead of myself.  I went out slow, then I picked it up, then I bonked a little just in time for lunch.  Newly sustained, I fell in with some fast guys who proved way to fast for me.  I stopped at the Amish aid station and ate homemade ice cream (cCarbohydrates) with two women (Kathleen and Carolyn) on the Mavs team.  One of them commented that the ice cream tasted funny.  I thought about that for a second and then looked around for the cow.  Pretty sure the milk coming out of that black and white heifer was whole and unpasteurized.  Brilliant!

That night we sat around and glorified our prospective adventures around the course.  Turns out two Monsanto guys saved someones life with CPR and cool heads.  Another of our number went down hard and had to check out the local hospital.  But mostly, it was sore legs, tired lunges, beers in hand, and big smiles.

Later on in the evening, the band played and Big Shark Cyclery raffled off a bicycle... but not just any bike.  A PINK Cruiser bike!  Here's the short story:

Fred won it.
Brad claimed it.
Travis rode it.

The long story is that, we couldn't figure out what to do with it!  10 people standing around laughing about the ridiculous pink bike and taking turns "safely" weaving around the tents.  Then Travis says "I'm going to ride that bike tomorrow....I'm going to ride it 100 miles!"  The collective fell silent, we came to a telepathic consensus, and then proceeded to enable him.

Day two, the pink bike is ready for Travis.  My Dean seems to be in working order.  My legs wake up slowly with the help of coffee and bad waffles and then we roll!  The pink bike heads out early anticipating a slower pace.  And we intention to catch him before the first aid station.  For me, though, I fully intention 75 miles  at a more moderate pace (notice how it already got 25 miles longer).  But, the pace is fast from the start and the mishmosh of riders on the course is disconcerting.  It is hard to stay in a group, and within minutes, my 75-mile ride partner is missing and I am committed to a faster paced group.

We hit some HILLS!  Along highway 70 out of Columbia, it is nothing but giant rollers.  To break it up a bit, I get a few tractor trailers to sound their horns as they go by (that never gets old).  We come upon the pink bike around mile 15 riding alone!  And, he's holding a more decent pace than the one I had established.  It took all of 1.5 seconds to decide to do the 100 at his pace and get a few jokes, digs, videos, and pics out of the deal.

That was the plan.  But, to make it all the way on the pink bike in a timely fashion, he was skipping aid stations, and Sunny had to go to the bathroom.  So, 50 miles in, Brad and I put a surge on to stock up on water, drink, sunscreen, and munchies and to evaluate the Honey Pot facilities.  We waited at that aid station for well over 15 minutes before getting phone call from Travis saying that he had taken a wrong turn (followed the 45 mile arrows) and was going to ride backwards on the 100 course towards us. ??? OK.

We hauled to lunch at 75 miles in order to quick stock up and meet Travis coming, but my bike was not feeling it.  Apparently the miles are catching up to him, because the mechanism on my right shifter is shot and it took some major arm extension to get my rear derailleur to move.  Not good news approaching the hilliest section of the course.

HILLS... again.  With my inability to shift, I decided to hammer the hills and fell in with a fast couple of the Mavericks guys.  Turns out they just wanted to get off the bike and I was happy to oblige.  We pushed the pace the last 20 miles and finished around 5:30 for ride time and 7 hours again for total time.  And the pink bike beat us!  Turns out we dawdled to long at lunch and he turned around in order to only get 100 miles (he really rode 104 because the course ended up long!).

Post-ride cool down :-)

So, again, all for charity.  I raised $250 dollars for my part.  Not bad for less than a month of fundraising and living in a new place.  Next year, it's on!

Race Report: Urban Assault St. Louis 2010

Is it a bike race? Is it a costume contest? Is it a dance-off and beer-fest?  It was all those and more.

So, on a muggy Sunday morning, while the rest of the world may or may not have been drinking their coffee, contemplating whether to make pancakes or waffles, or finishing a 15-mile run (you know who you are!), I was standing in Forest Park, in the middle of downtown St. Louis, decked out in my best Bike Geek look ( think bejeweled sunglasses baggy shorts, and argyle knee-high socks), ready to hop on Tigger (newly outfitted with cyclocross clipless pedals) and hit the streets for Urban Assault St. Louis 2010 (brought to you by New Belgium Brewing, blingy sunglasses, and copious amounts of coffee).

Me and Peter... he is trying to convince me that there is a gun show somewhere around there.  I am not convinced.

We lined up in on a grass field alongside chickens, boyscouts, Scotsmen, and a Pauly Girl.  Fake mustaches and Pippy braids peaking out of helmets.  Our bikes were positioned 200 yds off with 400 other bikes of all persuasion, mountain bikes, townies, road and cross.  At the sound of the horn, 400 peope in cycling shoes descended on the pile of bikes and then scattered in 19 directions.  Why 19 exactly?  Well, we had six (plus one, mystery spot to be determined later) checkpoints around town that we had to visit in any order and there were at least three ways to get to each one that people had planned and predetermined.  That's 18.  And one guy had to go to the bathroom already.  That's 19.

I did what any self-respecting bike geek would do.  I mapped them all in gmap using the bike route function (google, evil or not, that application is excellent).  Then I moved around the checkpoints to see which one gave me the lowest total mileage.  Here's the end result:

You'll notice the Mississippi river on the right.... and that is all the way to Brentwood on the left.  Far.  All those dotted and solid green lines (?) those are designated bikeways and streets.  Who said St. Lou isn't a bike-friendly town?

We had a plan, we had bikes, we had water and Clif drink.  We had consumed 50 mg of caffeine each (one espresso and one Mocha Clif Shot).  And we were wearing sunglasses.  Hit it!

So, of the 19 possible directions, we headed due East first along with about 15-20 other riders.  Peloton-style, taking up two lanes on one of the busiest streets in downtown St. Louis... and we owned it!  Hardly any cars, and only a few bewildered early-rising citizens.

I mentioned we had checkpoints, these weren't just checkpoints.  These were challenges, and right off the bat we faced a big one.... wait for the elevator at City Museum with the rest of the urban assaulters or run up the 7 flights in MTB shoes?  We are hard-core... we ran up the stairs, after going hypoxic on the bike for 5-miles.  I was dripping sweat and I thought Peter was going to throw-up before we got to the top.  On the way down we were both kind of quiet, and my only thoughts were, I know I am fit enough for this from all my trail running, but I need to get Peter back on a bike STAT.

The next leg was thankfully short, and the challenge was only to pick up our clue for the mystery stop.  This is where the maps came in handy and my 12-yr old knowledge of St. Louis failed us.  We went pedaling through Soullard, by Lafayette Square, Tower Grove Park, Clifton Heights, backroads and bike friendly greenways the whole time.  Seeing these streets and their relative emptiness gave me some confidence and clues for some amazing urban adventures to have this fall (I'm thinking, cycling down to Soullard Market or going and getting coffee and crepes in swanky Central West End).

But, I said that my knowledge failed us.  We successfully found all the mapped checkpoints, excelled at human bowling, piggy-backed croquet, maneuvered a brakeless tricycle through a winding course, and all that just fun.  But, we came within 2 blocks of the mystery checkpoint and passed it on by... having to back-track almost four miles for our fuly-clothed swim in the Holiday Inn pool.  C'est la vie.

Back in Forest Park and the finish line, we got down to business: passing through the jumpy castle, attempting bike limbo (my handlebars are too high), watching some disturbing dancing contests, "tasting" beers, and generally enjoying a community of cyclists and citizens who take their Sunday morning fun factor very seriously.  Thanks Stacey (our new New Belgium friend) and NB brewery for an unprecedented amount on adventure on a "lazy" Sunday.

For pictures of this event, go here.  For results (if you care about stuff like that), go here.  For the event website go here.  For Simon Says, go here.