Iconic Metal

My grandfather used to commemorate all of his major landmarks in his lifetime by the car he happened to be driving at the time. He loved his cars. He’d make references like, “I remember when…that was when I had my 52’ Plymouth”.

This past week, I ceremonially built up my 1999 custom painted Titanium Kona Hei Hei. Every year I pull this bike out, I fall in love with it all over again. There is special meaning and emotions connected to this bike.

I have been blessed with great sponsors and help with a sport that I otherwise could never afford to have the latest and greatest. I am very thankful for every new bike I’ve attained each season. However, despite their pretty looks and high performance, these days my bikes have become more of a tool rather than a jewel.

I had worked all summer to purchase the Hei Hei frame. I carefully tallied my hours and calculated the exact day I could get on the phone and order the fine steed. I spent countless hours thumbing through the QBP catalogue reconfiguring my dream build and meticulously piecing together the most finely matched anodized pieces of flare, down to the crimp caps and bolt kits.

Every year I pull this bike out I am reminded of what bikes meant to me back then and how they made me feel. I had never crossed the line before the rest of the field yet, I hadn’t ever ridden a hundo before, I didn’t realize how therapeutic bikes could be, and I certainly had no clear concept of just how far a bike could take a person. The bike simply represented unchartered potential, hope, and aspiration. It was the infancy of my love affair of man and velo machine.

This winter season, I have a few frames in my stable worthy of being relegated to winter riding. However, last week I reached for the Hei Hei once again when it came time to coble together this seasons “winter beater”. The more I think about it, the more I realize there may have been some deeper sub conscious underlying psychology as to why I did this.

The day before I built up the bike, I heard a few dreaded words that had never really crossed my mind before. “Tim is getting old enough, that even he is starting to get a bit outdated in the racing world”.

Since my involvement in the sport I have always been driven by personal progression. Besting previous years has always been something that has been consistently achieved. I must admit, at first I was a bit taken back by this comment. Are my best years behind me? I’ve always thought I still have races to be won that have not yet been won.

I was quickly soothed by the idea that whether or not I am outdated, there will inevitably come a day when I do become outdated. A day when much like my grandfather, I look back and say; “I remember when I won…that was when I was riding my 2005 Trek…”. When this day comes, will that be it for me? Will I hang up my bikes permanently and let them collect dust for the rest of my life, leaving them with nothing more than the stories of adventures had in the past? What soothed me was that I realized I would never let this happen. There will always be a race for me despite whether it’s an elite race or not. You are never “at the top”; there is always someone capable of besting even your greatest form. I have learned to play the game. Even more importantly, I have learned to love the game of bike racing.

So perhaps this is why I built the Hei Hei back up. I wanted once again climb atop the bike that really helped to start it all for me and represented hope and aspiration. After all, this was the first bike I had ever won a race on, raced a 24hr race on, and rode 100miles with. Everyone has that one bike they'll never sell, this is it for me. I've probably had around 20+ bikes since this one, but I'll always come back to it.

Winter riding is a ritualistic time to set new goals. It's a time to be driven by your dreams. Next season I plan to continue to play the game.

Cross Training

Paramount Barely

This Iceman report is not so much a race report, but rather the description of one ceremonial and annual instance that has now become engrained in my season as ritual each year.

For those who know me, you know I like my beer. I drink it often, and for several different occasions. However, there is one specific beer I have each year that I can always clearly identify as my absolute favorite beers of the year.



Iceman is a funny race…perhaps it is its timing, maybe it’s the allure and mystique it has gained over the years, and maybe it’s because it is the largest mountain bike race in America. Whatever makes this race what it is, one thing is for certain, it is a race that always perpetuates months or preparation and months of provoked thought post race. What makes this so funny is that it is simply a 28 mile race on an extremely technically neutral course.

Iceman takes place at a time of year when the road racers season has ended, so they end up racing it. Also, cyclocross racers are in the thick of their season, so they race it. The mountain bikers are always up to race, so they travel cross country to race. The combination of such an eclectic race demographic creates something special that other races just don’t have.



Not only does the race itself cause for elevated heart rates but the anxiety of the preparation alone has many people going anaerobic just thinking about the start gun. A good showing at the Iceman gives you hope and sparks unparalleled enthusiasm and dedication for the following race year. Likewise, failed expectations at Iceman cause you to deeply look introspectively at what you can do to make next season your best one ever. Regardless, this race is always held as a metaphor of where you will guide your future drive and focus.



The 2010 Iceman was not good to me at all. Both the legs as well as the machine beneath them did not want to cooperate with my mind’s intentions and expectations. However, this is not a race report…this is a story about my annual favorite beer.

For many people, myself included, the finish line at Iceman is the last one I will cross for that given race season. Every year, I treat myself to a cold one shortly after the line. This is always my most beloved beer of the year because it stands for so much more than its contents. This specific beer gets raised to another full successful season of good results, personal health, and loving family and friends. Not only does this beer celebrate the end of a journey but it also represents a clean slate and a fresh start, full of expectation and promise for the year and years to come. Beer can only taste this good after the arduous experience of a full season under your belt.



Despite what my Iceman result is each year, I am always thankful. This is what will keep me coming back year after year...my quest for the best annual beer I could ever have.

Beer of choice this finish line: Bell’s Two-Hearted
My vote for the Landlord of the Midwest: Brian Matter
See you all next year…

Learning to Suffer

It was a tough race. The field was filled with the “who’s who” of racing. My nerves were high and in my mind, I had already lost the race even before it started because of my mental intimidation. The gun sounded, and my heart rate was pegged within 30 seconds. The pace didn’t slow down, but rather kept ramping up and surging even more potently than it had mere minutes ago. Thoughts of quitting began to seep into my mind and I became comforted by the thought that I could make this all end if I just stopped pedaling. I pushed onward for a few moments longer and gave what I thought was my last best effort. However, it was just that, my last effort. Soon after, I watched the field disappear before my front wheel while I fell off the back.

After cooling down, I rolled up to Ray and exclaimed how difficult the race was and how I tried to give it all I had but it just wasn’t good enough. He replied back to me a few simple words, “You know what your problem is Finkel, you need to learn how to suffer!” In disgust and defense I barked back, “Ray! I was suffering in that race!” He refuted, “You didn’t suffer…I’ll tell you when the first time you suffer is.” He went on to retell a classic Dybo Memoir involving Clair Young, a similar defeated race of his, a raddish, and those all so wise words…you need to learn how to suffer.

Ray was right, I hadn’t learned to suffer yet.

On the morning of October 12th, 2010, the sport of cycling lost quite possibly one of its most unsung heroes. This is something I’ve been reluctant to write about for awhile. The task of honoring a person who gave so much seemed monumental and a bit intimidating.

I had only had the privilege of conversing with Clair Young a handful of times. However, during those times I was able to make the accurate assumption that Clair never really said anything that wasn’t worth saying. I always walked away from my interactions with him smarter and wiser than I had been earlier that day. Despite my minimal interactions with Clair, I feel that I am traveling daily on roads he helped pave. As a result, I feel I have an acute understanding of the person he was, and the person he wanted to project to the world. This has not only given me inspiration but great respect for Clair.

Clair left a clear message with the Wolverines that has become a mantra for me not only in terms of racing but in life in general. This message was simple: you need to learn to suffer. I’ve always felt that our highs can only be measured by our lowest lows. Clair lost his wife at the tender age of 37. However, he kept his family together by devoting himself to his children, speed skating, and cycling. Two of his children Roger and Shelia, went on to attain more National Championships, World Championships and Olympic medals than I have room to write on this page.

I feel very fortunate to of been able to interact with Clair. Moreover, I feel fortunate that his teachings and ideals have been passed along to me through the Wolverine Sports Club. Best of all, I am thankful that through Clair’s words of wisdom I have truly learned how to suffer.

Ray was right. At the time, I hadn't suffered yet. It wasn’t until years after that first race I dropped out of, and several results later that Ray finally pulled me aside and said, “You've suffered…Congratulations…I’m proud of you.”

12 hours of Getting Beat by a Girl.

Although I am still rolling a healthy amount of miles these days, my racing objectives for the season have mostly all been met and I am focusing more toward 2011.

Different racers have different motives for lining up at any given start line. Some may take off at the gun with the intent to decimate the entire field, some may be seeking out something from within they are not sure exists, some may simply be trying to break personal records, some may be doing it to share an experience with other people who share your passion, and some may simply just be trying to finish. I must admit, I have lined up for all of the above reasons at one point in my life.

2010’s edition of 12hrs of Addison Oaks had me lining up for a new motive, to seek out some season-end closure.

For the past few seasons my recipe for success has been pretty concise and simple; pick one audacious goal toward the end of the season and treat everyday/race leading up to it like rungs on a ladder to get to the top and everything else will fall into place. For the most part, it has been a successful equation for me. However, this past season I had set several audacious goals only to have them taken away from me before I could ever even line up.

This season the timeline went a little something like this:
1. 24 hrs of Big Bear National Championships Cancelled.
2. National 24hr Series Dissolved to one race.
3. 24 hrs of Nine Mile Cancelled
4. New Promoter picks up 24hrs of Nine Mile and it’s back on
5. New Promoter cancels 24hrs of Nine Mile again
6. Consider returning to 24hrs of Hot August Nights but opt to race 24hrs of Mohican to attempt to set the course record
7. Register for 24hrs of Mohican and began getting focused
8. 24hrs of Mohican Cancelled

Although I never did get a crack at any of my audacious goals, I did have a pretty decent season posting 8 total wins and 14 podium finishes. I can’t complain too much but as my season draws to an end; my racing satiation has been left a bit empty.

My teammate, Dana Baurhenn, had also been working on achieving her own lofty goals this season. Being naturally drawn, as well as gifted, at endurance MTB racing she also signed up to race 24 hrs of Mohican solo. We had planned to share our support crew for the event and make the trip down together to support each other as teammates. However, our ambitions were crushed when we got word that Mohican was cancelled mere weeks before the event. We were both left pleading question, “Where do we go from here”.
My loyal family support crew


There were a few local Michigan endurance events left on the calendar; 24 hrs of Hanson Hills and 12 hrs of Addison Oaks. Dana decided to take her maiden solo crack at 24hrs of Hanson Hills of which she won quite handsomely.

As Addison Oaks neared, I conjured the idea to race on a 2 person team with Dana and go for the win amongst the other non-coed teams. It seems only natural as we were both mourning the loss of the race opportunity Mohican had once presented. She agreed to the idea and we got to work planning out the logistics for race day.

All in all, the race was a complete success! We scored the WIN, did not fall victim to any mechanicals or crashes, and completed 24 laps, the same amount as the winning 4-man teams. Both Dana and I rode extremely consistent keeping most of our lap times within minutes of each other.

While neither of us were able to chase and catch our dreams this season, we were able to practice what the true meaning of “Team” means and keep each other motivated at the tail end of a season, which isn't always easy to do.

Thanks again to all my family and friends who came out to support the event!
Congrats to fellow teammate Robert Herrimen for dominating the solo category with an impressive 166miles in 23 laps!


For full results, click here.

Rhonde Van Stony

Blazing fast double track, challenging power grade climbs, dirt roads, three cleverly named cash prems, and free beer from Kuhnhenn brewery = instant fall classic!!!

If you missed this race, make sure it is on your calendar for next year as it is only going to get bigger and better!

A few months back, Clint Verran contacted to me ask me if I’d be interested in racing the first inaugural Rhonde Van Stony Classic Dirt Road Race free of charge in an effort to spark some enthusiasm towards the race amongst the local cycling world. He may of also mentioned free beer in the equation as well. My response; “you had me at free and beer”.

As race day neared my excitement for the race grew. This past Thursday I pre-rode the course and became even increasingly stoked. The big topic of debate leading up to this race was what steed would be the optimal tool for the job. The race had a few sketchy descents that a MTB would gain an advantage on but on the flipside the majority of the race was held on dirt roads where as the minimized rolling friction and larger gearing ratios of a CX bike would be an advantage. I opted to race a CX bike, which turned out to be the weapon of choice this day.

The race started with a brief neutralized roll out and quickly entered the first 2.5 miles of double track which initiated the first selection of riders. I decided to take a “play it safe” approach and front run this section in the top 3 spots as their were 140 other riders charging behind me. Tim Saari, a definite potential victor for the day, experienced a mechanical on the first effort of the day which knocked him out of the front running selection. It was an unfortunate incident as Tim has displayed this CX season that he has the horse power to make people hurt very badly early on in a race.

Prem #1

The first person out of the double track section earned the first prem of the day. I was most interested in going for the win so I didn’t go out with the intentions of going for this prem. However, I quickly found myself in a neck and neck sprint with Danny Klein. We both agreed it was too close to call without a camera. Danny, being a good friend, decided to give it to me.

As the race went on, I found my form feeling pretty good and my power increasing. We whittled our front group down to 7 riders with a second chase group charging after us. In the interest of keeping the 1 to 7 odds, I maintained a pretty high tempo at the front of our group to ensure we stayed away.

Prem #2

The second prem came at the top of Parks Rd., which is commonly referred to as Paris Rd. because of a discretion in the road sign. Feeling strong, I pressed this climb and found myself snagging yet another prem.

The day was going well but I was getting antsy to shed some of the dead weight from our group. On the last significant road climb of the day I discretely attacked the group and found myself with an instant gap joined by Clint Verran, recent elite runner turned cyclist. We only had about 6 miles left in the race and with the exception of one last double track section, it was mostly downhill. Clint and I worked in cohesive synergy and quickly rode the remaining chasing group out of sight. As we entered the final trail section I knew I had to take him one on one and try to exploit his weakness; handling skills in the trails. Being a national caliber marathon runner, Clint may be able to run sub 5-minute miles for hours on end, but I was confident I had the upper hand on him in the trails. My assumption was correct as I rolled away from him and was able to ride steady tempo for the reminder of that section slowly putting distance between us.

Prem #3

There was one last prem available after leaving the final trail section that I was able to pick up without contest. From there on out I was able to simply settle into a personal rhythm and spend the last two miles intrinsically giving thanks for the win before rolling into the finishing straights.



As I rolled into the finish line relaxed and calm, the hands went up and I took time to really soak in the victory. This doesn’t happen too often as most of my wins are by mere seconds. Whenever I get the treat of winning a race in this fashion I take time to reflect on those who I love in my life and the loved ones I’ve lost and meditate on the reasons I race a bike in the first place. These moments are rare, they only come a few times a season if you’re lucky; I regard them as sacred.

Click HERE for full results.

Ice Ice Baby: Verse 1-Stop...Collaborate and Listen

Finkelstein is back with a 2010 edition. Same time, same place...new and improved route.