The Calm Before the Storm:

The Objective: Get away from it all, relax, and clear the mind.

The Destination: Charlevoix, MI

The Plan: Arrive late Wednesday night; get a big ride in on Thursday, preview the Boyne Marathon course than go fishing on Friday, race the Boyne Marathon on Saturday and head back home.

In short, we achieved three of the above descriptions.

As I ventured up north late Wednesday night I found myself cool, calm and collected. I have pretty much done all I can for physical preparation for the 24hr Solo World Championships. I have stayed safe, healthy, and put my time in. And although I know there is much to be determined/established in terms of mental and equipment preparation, I have found myself in a good serene place. As I reflected on my surprisingly relaxed demeanor, I quickly realized this is simply the calm before the storm.

We arose on Thursday, geared up and set sail for an undetermined adventure on the North Country Trail. The route started in Charlevoix, headed to Boyne Falls, rode trail to Petoskey, and then linked up with a group ride out of Latitude 45 later that day. I had been coming off an already epic mileage early week and today was simply the last hoorah for absurd hours in the saddle.

As we hit the trailhead, my riding partner Alan commented, “Do you think we have enough water? You know, there is a good chance we are going to get lost.” I simply let this notion roll over my shoulders and thought; we’re fine…it’s not that far of a distance. Inevitably, 20 miles into the trail we both were almost out of fluids and starting to panic as we were quite far from any form of civilization. Thankfully, a few miles later we came to a dirt road crossing with three houses off the road. One of which happened to have a hose lying in front of it, which we used to refill our bottles.

So often, when I ride the trails I am riding lines that are so memorized and engrained in my head. I compare lap times and use that to gauge where my fitness is. Essentially, the trail is used for a training tool. However, there are very few moments anymore where I just roll out on an undetermined/uncharted adventure. The North Country Trail served as a great way to simply explore the landscape of Northern Michigan and gain new perspective as to just how beautiful our state is as well as how fundamentally fun simply riding a mountain bike can be when there is no objective other than to explore. It reminded me in a comforting way, that even without all this racing and training, I simply love to ride my bike and this alone is my main reason I continue to do it season after season.

To further continue the calm before the storm, Alan and I headed out to fish on Friday just after we previewed the Boyne Marathon Course. After conceding to the fatigue onset from nearly 400 miles in 4 days, I decided it would be counter productive to race on Saturday as it would only burn me out more. Fishing became the focus for the rest of the trip. It was at this time, I officially deemed myself in “taper mode”. Admitting to “taper” can in and of itself is a bit mentally tormenting. Essentially what it means is that you are accepting that you have done everything physically possible to prepare for the race and now you are succumbing to the waiting game. It is calming and nerve racking all at the same time.

There was no time to change out of our bibs...we were too excited!


So this brings us to the adventure of Saturday morning. Allow me to simply give you the cliff notes as it is a bit of a long story. We got out on the lake early morning, pulled in two 4lb lunkers, and headed into shore to start the trek back home. Just as we were about 3 miles from the dock the boat engine started sputtering and quickly cut out. We immediately realized that despite the ¼ tank reading on the fuel gauge, we were bone dry for gas. After some failed attempts at flagging someone to tow us in we realized we were going to need to tie the boat onto a buoy and swim it to shore. So we tied the boat up, swam to shore, hitchhiked to town, bought some gas, swam back to the boat, and finally set out on our venture home. All in all, the debacle set us back about 2.5 hours…not bad considering.



I returned home with a calm, collected aura.

However, now I’m starting to feel anxiety weighing on me. I always have to remind myself that the reason I love these races is the sheer epic nature of them. A 24hr race truly brings about a full spectrum of emotions during the preparation phase, the race itself, and after the race. This experience really reflects everyday life: a spectrum of emotions, choices, and circumstances…how you react to these variables truly shapes who you are as a person. A 24-hour race breaks you down to your simplest being. Throughout most of it, you are fighting your body’s natural biological make-up. Lets face it, we are not designed to do this sort of thing. It is the most potent litmus test of mental fortitude and toughness. In retrospect, it’s like living a lifetime in 24 hrs.

If I start to dwell on the suffering this upcoming event will ensue, it becomes overwhelming and impossible to deal with. If I dwell on the potential jubilation that results from it, I will start to not respect the enormity of it all and could potentially go into it destructively over confident. Keeping a clear head, and a sharp view of it all is quite challenging but necessary. Once again, I always have to remind myself that this is the dynamic that attracts me to this unique form of racing. None of this is for the weak minded.

I have a lot to race for this season. When I reflect back to last years race, that was simply all about me. This year is much different. If I ride bell to bell and put my entire soul into this race than I will know that I have fulfilled what I came to do regardless of the result.

Stay tuned…

18-Day Countdown

I just got back from the 140-mile trek back from my parent’s house in Port Hope. I hammered out the brutally windy, dirt farm road route in 7hours and 53minutes. I felt strong the entire ride, it was just what I needed. I know I am ready.

While I was visiting my parents I attended church with them on Sunday. The Pastor’s message was that suffering is good for you, if it requires you to seek strength within. It was an opportune moment for me to hear these words.

In 18 days I’m going to need to find strength I never knew I had, I am ready.

From Motown to Marquette: Superior Bike Fest 09’

Close your eyes and imagine a velo-inspired weekend consisting of a three-day celebration of all things two-wheeled in one of the most beautiful landscapes of Michigan. I’m referring to none other than the Superior Bike Festival, which I am now nominating as the “Sea Otter of the Midwest”. If you have a passion for self-propelled two-wheeled contraptions, than SBF is the venue for you. This festival left nothing out; downhill races, XC, Criterium, State Championship Road Race, and Circuit.

It’s sheer irony that we watched RAD, what I regard as the greatest story ever told, on our venture up to the U.P. on Friday as the SBF could be paralleled to Helltrack coming to Cochrane. It was impressive to see a community of people who were all engaged in the weekend’s festivities and took great pride in hosting it. Being submersed in The Motor City, I tend to sometimes forget what a town that embraces the ownership of their land and trail systems looks like. I’ve been to many destination races out of town/state that the city simply regards a race coming to their town as a bit of an inconvenience to their everyday course of function. I’ve also been to many races where the hosting town completely embraces the events and takes pride that many elite athletes have made the trip to race in their backyard; Marquette unquestionably fit into this category. For every race, the spectators far outnumbered the racers and the roar of the crowd served as fuel for the fire and added to the recipe for great racing.

Weekend Objectives: (In order of importance)
1. Stay safe, healthy, and injury-free=accomplished
2. Have fun bonding with my teammates=accomplished
3. Get a long road race and take another crack at a State Championship=1/2 accomplished
4. Get a good short MTB race in with some hard efforts=accomplished

With the big show being less than 30 days away, I was a bit discretionary as to which races I choose this weekend as to not put myself in any situations that could potentially jeopardize my main goal with an injury. So after taking a look at the Crit course, which entailed four downhill corners and a healthy helping of elevation change, I decided to simply spectate that one, likewise with the circuit race course. So I spent Day 1 simply previewing the MTB course and exploring some of the most perfectly constructed single track I have ever ridden in Michigan.

After taking in a copious amount to coffee and breakfast at a local diner Saturday morning we rolled over to the Road Race. The course was 100miles and featured a defining climb a mere 3 miles into the race. The story was that last year the winning break went on the first hill of the day and was never to be seen again. So my strategy was to be ready early this year. As we hit the base of the climb, attacks started and I ensured that I never left the top 5 positions the entire way up the first hill. As we reached the summit, I glance back and realized over half the field had been shed and we only had a group of about twenty remaining. However, little did I know that the worst was yet to come. For the next twenty miles or so, calculated and relentless attacks streamed from the Bissell Boys. With only two other teammates remaining in the group with me, we were seeing stars trying to cover as many moves as we could. Eventually, the cord snapped and 10 guys got away without any WSC teammates. Amazingly, one of my teammates Corey who had been chasing for miles caught us at this point and we engaged in a team time trial at the front of our chase for the next 20 miles. After much effort, we brought the break back in close sight only to watch them roll away again when they realized they were being caught.

The remainder of the day in the saddle was pretty uneventful and somewhat miserable as the clouds rolled in and we were forced to finish the race in a 60-degree downpour. I ended up rolling in at 14th for the day. Despite another failed attempt at a State Road Championship, I was simply content to have gotten a good ride in and looked forward to an evening of shenanigans with my teammates that only a road trip could bring about.

Sunday’s Mountain Chase XC Race boasted a healthy field size of 44 racers, much larger than some of the local MTB races back home. The course compiled a brilliant mix of climbing, single track, dirt road, and some pavement…it was super fast and rolled really well.

The race started with a neutral roll out until we hit the first climb. Mike Anderson, of The Bell’s Brewery Race Team, was the returning champ and the one to keep an eye on for the day. As we hit the first climb I stayed as close to his wheel as I could. A few miles of trail later, he out-muscled me and another rider and was off. For most of that lap I kept him in sight in the open sections but was inevitably losing time. I wound up racing in third for the remainder of that lap until the second lap when a Wisconsin racer rolled up on me. We decided to work together for the remainder of the race trading pulls in the road sections. However, as we approached one of the last climbs of the day, he attacked and I simply did not have an answer after yesterday’s road race still lingering in my legs. I held him to about 15 seconds and rolled in at 4th overall and first in the Men’s 30-39 category. I was pretty happy to have survived this race with tired legs, as a 24mile MTB race is a bit short for me and not really my discipline.

As we jumped in the car to head back to Motown Sunday afternoon, I couldn’t help but get excited for next year’s SBF. I highly recommend this race to anyone who wants to bask in an environment of shared passion of all things two-wheeled with a community of great people. The organization was top notch and the promoters are dedicated to further improving/building on this event. Also, I like to give a special thanks to the Chase Family who so gratuitously invited in twenty-plus racers to their home for the weekend…I hope we can come back next year!

The Gift of Flight

Although I am not yet a parent myself, as an educator I think I have a pretty clear view of what the job of a parent entails. When I reflect on it, the concept is a bit overwhelming.

How can you possibly thank the person who molded you into who you are today, instilled the values you have, passed on your genetic traits, supported you no matter what a bonehead you were, and submerged you in the fertile soil necessary to grow into a person that is content with himself and thankful to wake up everyday and interact with the world? I suppose walking in a path he finds pleasing is most likely the most honorable thing you can do to repay him.

This past Father’s Day was a bit of a bittersweet feeling for me as my family had to face their first Father’s Day without my oldest brother. I found that it left me yearning more than ever to try and do something special for my Dad as he mourned the loss of his son and continues to try and figure out where to go from here.

As an educator of students with Emotional Impairments I often observe that the etiology of many of their struggles/problems stems from the lack of a stable male figure in their life. This was not the case for my own childhood by any means. I cannot imagine achieving what I have today without the love, support, and nurturing of my parents. Although my parents continue to grieve over their oldest son, I have observed the contentment they have that he lived a life that was pleasing to them and adhered to the values they wanted for all of us.

Jerry Seinfeld may have bought his Dad a Cadillac but I think my gift for my Dad this Father’s Day was far superior. Just as my Dad did for me when I was 17 years old and helped me attain my first wings of flight by buying me my first Gary Fisher, I now have 13 years later, reciprocated the favor.

As my interest in cycling/racing developed over the years so did my Father’s. Often times when I converse with him I find that he keeps up on the pro peleton more than I do. So what better way to compliment his fandom for the sport that to get him involved himself. Also, after building The Eagle Wing Loop earlier this year we’re going to need a trail manager.


The image of my Dad’s eyes lighting up as he asked, “is that for me?” will forever be captured in my mind as I had my nephews roll out his new Gary Fisher and present it to him. Being a retired engineer, my Dad took a good 30 minutes to luster over the technical aspects of the bike from its hydro-formed aluminum tubes to the metal flake paint. After his intricate inspection, he swung leg over the top tube to propel himself for the first of many rides on his shiny new steed.


I rolled around the block with my Dad as he commented to me, “Now I know why you can ride all those miles, this bike is so smooth!” It was at that moment that I got my first clear realization of how it must feel to receive vicarious joy from watching your own child do things that amaze you. In that moment, I didn’t see my dad, I saw a child that was filled with excitement and enthusiasm just as if they were trying something for the very first time.

For me the gift meant so much more than simply giving him the material object of the bike. A bike in and of itself is simply a tool, and unridden it is an unused tool that will never take flight. My dad gave me many tools growing up that helped me become who I am today. He never told me what to do or who I had to be, he simply gave me the right tools to soar. Although I am grieving over my family’s loss, nothing hurts me more than to see my Dad grieve over the loss of his first born son who he shared his own name. It is my hopes that the gift of this bike will serve as an effective tool to allow him to take flight and embrace the joy that I have felt through two wheels.

After recently talking to my Mom, she had exclaimed how much my dad loves his new toy. In fact, I haven’t really had much time to converse with him this week because every time I call home he is out on the bike. His goal is to ride a century before the end of the summer…stay tuned for more updates on his progress.

Racing is the Best Training.

It’s amazing how one’s perspective changes given time, distance, and experience.

I’ve been getting a bit behind on my blogging as things/events continue to pile up on top of me and snowball.

This past weekend consisted of a calculated plan of attrition preparation for July. Adhering to the Walden philosophy that training is the best racing I decided to attempt the 8 hours of Cannonsburg MTB race on Sat. and Le Tour de Mont Pleasant 105 mile road race the following day. My hopes were to be competitive at both venues.

Prepping for a racing binge of this caliber proved to be no easy task as I took three hours to pack Thursday night. In addition, my homeroom class on Friday spent most of their time premixing bottles, and organizing all of my nutrition for Saturday’s race. I could of left straight from work on Friday to head out to Kalamazoo to get a good night sleep prior to a stacked weekend of racing. However, I stopped by my Sister-in Laws house to pick up a bracelet someone had made in memory of my brother, I needed to have it to get through my weekend of attrition binging. This jaunt set me off schedule by about an hour after getting stuck behind a bad accident on M-14 and having to reroute my trip. I learned later that it was a multiple fatality accident. Although I was frustrated that my plans had been derailed a bit, I couldn’t help but feel blessed that perhaps if I wouldn’t of made that extra stop to pick up the bracelet I may have been caught up in the accident.

A large appeal of mine to 24 hour racing is the sheer mental and physical preparation that goes into it. If you want to be successful, you can’t just wake up a few days before the race and decide you want to take a crack at a 24hr MTB race. There is something comforting in knowing that your dedication to one event will be your single hardest effort of the season. I often analogize it to being like a boxer getting ready for a title bout. A boxer never really puts the effort forth that it takes to step in the ring until fight day, simply because it takes so much out of you. There is no race simulation when it comes to 24hr racing, only when you line up and ride bell to bell will you ever have any idea of what it takes and what your mind and body go through. This being said, preparing for a 24hr race must consist of very calculated stints of riding/racing with even more calculated recovery.

When I finally arrived in Kalamazoo, I checked in with my long time friend Ryan, and headed out for a quick hour spin to get the car legs out. I decided to roll through my old stomping grounds of academia, Western Michigan University’s campus. So often I get so caught up in the present and the future that I neglect to take time to reflect on the past. There is something about nostalgia that really gives you perspective on how far you’ve come. I rolled by several different residences I lived at and waves of memories came rolling over me. I realized that my life pre-cycling and post-cycling have been two different worlds. It felt like I was looking back on another person’s life other than my own. Pre two wheels I lacked any defined direction. Although my addiction/dedication to this sport now leads me in different directions, my ultimate focus is straight and narrow. As I’ve stated before, riding my bike has proven to be the single most effective catalyst of self-improvement in my life.

After my recovery stroll down memory, I settled in at my gracious host house to some warm pizza, a few beers, and a spectation of some slow-motion Redwing hockey.

As morning rolled around, I woke up with that familiar giddy feeling that one only gets when you know you are going to get to ride your bike hours on end for the day. I arrived at the race with ample time to spare and set up my cornucopia of self-support. This was my virgin attempt at self-supporting myself in an enduro event. Despite having a successful day, I must say, it was quite lonely.

As we rolled around the course warming up I spoke to several riders/racers whom I had never met before but were commending me on my ride/victory at 12hrs of Boyne. It seems that most everyone there had learned that I was training for this year’s 24hr Worlds and took time to wish me their best. The added support from local riders was great motivation!

I’ll keep my actual race report/description short, as it is pretty uneventful. We started as a mass start. As the gun sounded, I took the wholeshot and never saw anyone again until I started lapping some of the other riders. I managed to get in 17 laps for the day, take the victory in the solo category as well as stay on the same lap as the winning teams for the day. Although the competition at this race may not of been at the caliber I will be facing in Canmore, the value of the confidence a victory instills is worth a lot.

I’ve been viewing these races much like ladder rungs. They are all steps I need to take to get to the top of the ladder come July 25th.

If racing my MTB for 8 hours was not enough, when I finished I quickly hoped in my car to roll over to Mount Pleasant to join up with my skinny-tired WSC teammates and participate the next day in the 105 mile last stop on Le Tour De Mont stage race.

Tour De Mont Cliffnotes: I had a feeling that this race, being a flat course, would cater to an early successful break so I was quite attentive early on. I put myself in a few early gaps but nothing materialized. Then a break containing the heads of state rolled off the front and I instantly knew that was the equation I needed to plug myself into. I jumped and got about 25 feet off the back of the break and started to waiver. I had a few riders that followed me up. However, after I slowed up a bit, the remaining riders jumped hard and left me to suffer out the last bit of the gap. I have no excuses, I didn’t have it. That last 25 feet may as well of been a mile, my top end was shot after the prior days race. Eventually I was scooped up by the field and held on for a 105-mile day of moto-pacing.

I ended up rolling into town with the pack. Although I didn’t post a result, I was content that my legs still felt strong and that I had engaged in a weekend that was well spent and was a great training investment.

So that brings us to today. I am now on summer vacation from work until 9/8. I can now live the illusion that I am a full-time racer for about three months. This weeks highlights so far have included:
1. My Superfly cracking
2. My computer breaking
3. Watching two great movies in one day (my rest day) The Hangover, and Gran Torino
4. Winning the Thursday Night Waterford Hills Road Racing Series Race.

In years past, I have been so excited for my last day of work I could barely contain myself. This year everything feels different. I am a bit more ambivalent about the whole thing. It’s amazing how one’s perspective changes given time, distance, and experience.

Stay tuned...

LUST

"It will be mine...oh yes, it will be mine"
-Wayne Campbell

I'm keeping my fingers crossed that this bike will be available by July 25th.

For those of you who have not had the pleasure yet...allow me to introduce the all new Superfly 100 FS. A few noted features:
1. The lightest 100mm travel FS frame to ever come out of the Trek Factory...26 or 29inch!
2. OCLV Carbon. In house baby, not Taiwan
3. Integrated BB bearings. Just like the ones we all love so much on our new Madones.



So there you have it, try not to drool on your keyboard.

The Mohican MAY-hem Denouement

Photo ©: Mark Farmer

Despite some race cancellations (12-Hours of Addison), May-hem (my experimental journey of 24hr solo World Championship attrition preparation) seemed to wrap itself up on what I am going to consider a good note.

After much mental reluctance, I decided to face the big dogs and venture down to Southern Ohio for the Mohican 100. This race boasts 11,000 feet of climbing and 100 miles of gnarly, gut-wrenching single track, large rocks and roots, and some very hilly dirt roads, double track, and a sprinkle of Amish Country.

I deem this one the race of the unknown. I knew no specifics about the course or what was around any corners. In fact, at 10:00pm the evening prior, I didn’t even know where I was going to rest my head that night!

Despite the adversity, I made it to the line the following morning at 7:00am. As I looked to my left I was staring at Tinker Juarez, MTB legend. As I look to my right I see Chris Eatough, 6-Time 24hr Solo World Champion. Over my shoulder is Jeremiah Bishop, National MTB Marathon Champion among many other extremely talented and well-established MTB racers who don’t really have 9 to 5s. This field was chalked with talent and riders as far as the eye could see.

I’ll be honest, I did not go into this race harboring any delusions that I was not in over my head or that I would be able to have a shot at winning a race of this caliber. My main objective was to face some of the bigger names of the sport as well as survive after a 12hr race a mere 6 days prior.

Photo ©: Mark Farmer

As the siren sounded to start the race I stayed as close to the front as possible. After a lung-searing climb out of town we hit the dirt only to be greeted by the first of a few run-up walls covered in mud. As I crested this hill I found myself at the tail end of the front group. I looked back and didn’t see any other riders anywhere; hundreds of riders had quickly dissipated.

In the next miles I simply strived to hang onto the wheel in front of me. About twenty miles in I crashed hard on a slick wood bridge and initially thougth for sure I broke my clavicle. After I picked myself up and gave myself a passing grade on my body part inventory I ventured onward.

The next 80 miles translated to a blur of downright scary, technical descents, lots of climbing, more run-ups, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, dehydration because I was down to one bottle after the crash, and some heart to heart conversations with myself of why I choose this physical abuse as my method for definition. In the midst of all this I found my legs feeling pretty good. As we neared the finish I started picking off riders who had blown up from early efforts.

I rolled across the line in 16th place. If you were to ask me to wager at the start line if I would take top 20 in this race I most likely would have said no. I was content with my finish. Additionally, I was satisfied with my physical state upon race completion. Honestly, if we would have had to go for another 100-mile lap I would have been up for it.

A hundred mile race is a mere sprint compared to a 24hr race. I’m amazed at how the top-notch guys at this discipline start these races like they only have ten miles to race. My hats are off to my fellow Michigan racers who simply killed it at this race, you guys amaze me and I have utmost respect for you (Christian Tanguy 2nd Place, Mike Simonson 4th Place, Greg Kuhn 12th place) Although I was not up there duking out with the heads of state I do feel I was at least competitive in this race. I finished only a few spots back from Chris Eatough and in front of Ernesto Marachin, both names who have done historically well at the 24hr Solo World Championships.

I was worried going into this race that if I performed very poorly that I would start mentally psyching myself out and believing that I don’t belong at 24hr Worlds this year. This race is a huge aspiration of mine, albeit a pipe dream. Tom O’Rourke, a cyclist on the 1956 US Olympic Cycling Team at the age of 17, recently told me some very poignant words, “Well, it all begins with a pipe dream…that’s all it ever was for me a pipe dream.”