i rode in fairfax once. did you ever take the gravel road up to the abandonded base where the swimming pool is filled with gold?
Is that an Edge 45? Nah, it's to finicky....? keep climbing
a little further up that gravelly road.
ah, swimming in gold
a luxury resort nestled in the hills of marin
hands quake at the very mention of its lesser known name. “Russisch Thee” says the stranger in black trousers and scruff. some twenty stairs must be ascended, past the usual bottles of cremes and oils. this creatures lair is on the edge of a dusty wooden shelf and reserved only for those hell bent on the pleasures gained through less clothing. far from the eyes of those not willing to inflict pain.
the smell of cinnamon, citrus and clove wafts through the halls like a stately gentleman long since deceased.
“here you are sir” the shop keeper says as he hands the stranger his jar and steps back. the dark orange container topped in solidified petrol encases all he’ll need to serve his will. within that jar lay fire, oil and truth. once rubbed into the skin the stranger no longer despises cold, rain or wind. they all feel the same. they feel good. they fuel the spirits deep in the gut of foul weather.
the stranger smiles as if he can’t wait to unleash his fury on the town. the shop keeper remembers that smile. he’s only seen it on a few other men. men who have come and gone. men who have made legends from two wheels, steel and leather. men who’s names are not spoken save to recall dark times when misery and rain poured down from the clouds like a dam spilling it’s excess on the small towns below. for now, their names weep from the mashed pulp and ink spread about heavy tables for all to see.
the aftermath he will call victory, others will call it defeat. what’s left on the stranger is a fine coating of tar and silt, the tired remnants of roads created to serve the rider.
many will ask why his legs shine so bright in the darkest of weather. they will ask how – when it’s so cold he looks so comfortable.
to which the stranger replies “Russisch Thee”.
Rub it in. Rub it in.
a’hem, so that was my try at telling a story. This blend of embrocation (I think pronounced Russian Tea) by Mad Alchemy, goes on smooth and shiny. It washes off with ease -I use a face soap (Clinique) which may help. It doesn’t leave you with the burn of post embrocation, just a faint reminder of what you did all day. In temperature ranges between 45 and 60 I find this particular blend to be perfect. During long intervals it gently warms up as efforts get more intense yet never sets ablaze when you stop. the smell is pleasant, although reminiscent of others and no Vitalis.
A scent from my past.
If you haven’t tried Mad Alchemy’s blend of embrocations you have to, they’re the best I’ve found. Far better than anything that comes in a stick, tube, oil or tackle box stuffed in the back of an athletic directors locker.
Steven- your recap of your little uber-pro outing in Nor-cal is nice and sounds great at first read. However let me just tell you what it is missing that I found on a ride recently…pink cuties! While riding up the slopes of parrot mt with everyday good guy J. Riffle, these little porkers came over to say hi, or maybe just to root around near the fence. Either way, I will tell you there is nothing cutier than a herd, gaggle, or polywog of pink piggies running across a green field toward you. And that is why, Steven Hunter, your little training camp sucked. Just look at these little bacon bits!
porkers
100 miles of smiles today. Actually, my smile gave way to a grimace pretty quickly since my legs were completely knackered from the week’s training. We rolled out through Fairfax, along the coast to Point Reyes, and back up Mt. Tam. Wow, did I suffer. Jeb had his revenge today as I struggled to turn the pedals over at all. I got some quality time behind the motor early on though. Chris Peariso’s motor as still running strong 5 days in. This guy is going for another camp next week! Pictures to come…
Well, we didn’t actually have to ride in any rain but it did rain during the night. We woke up to wet roads and cloudy skies. I slapped a little extra Mad Alchemy embro on the thighs and breathed in the chocolate vapors first thing. After another stunning meal we rolled out under the gray sky. Today was going to be tough but I found a little comfort in the Portland like conditions. Jeb needed two attacks to fall off my wheel. He initiated the first and I countered. It all went down in the first five minutes and then I settled into 30+ minutes of chasing the massively fast Chris Peariso.
At the top we had to huddle for warmth while we waited for the follow car with our warm clothes.
And Yoga after. I fell asleep before the Namaste.
We are having a blast down here. The weather is great, of course, the food, OMG, and all great folks. I’d like to introduce all of you to the campers but that would get too long. Instead, I’ll give you the basics. Here at camp we have everyone from a mt. bike pro to the motivated but new cat4 woman. Everyone is learning a lot from each other and the friendly shit talking has finally begun. Over dinner this evening I accepted a challenge from Mr. Jeb Stewart. We are racing to the top of Mt. Tam tomorrow morning. Ouch.
Since our internet is a little weak, I’ll direct you to my flickr account which gets photos beamed to it throughout the day. Check it.
Susan and I got in yesterday and were rushed into the ‘dex for a nice ride along the coast. Beautiful views and an easy spin was just what my back needed after the 10 hour drive.
Today we had an amazing breakfast and hit some of the areas most most gorgeous routes. We descended the Seven Sisters at breakneck speeds and I posted my best 5 minute power on the other side. We are here to get fast after all.
The internet is getting smoked at the house with all the laptops working right now, so I’m gonna make this one brief. Stay tuned…
The Wrongness
I saw something the other day that made my head turn. No it wasn’t mickey mouse playing the trumpet on the Hawthorne bridge. Seen it. It was a review in Bicycling Magazine for the Edge 2.45 Carbon Rim. And I thought, “I have that rim OMG!” googley rolley eyes..blah blah blah
You might say the first problem is that I admitted to reading Bicycling Magazine and for that I must admit I am sorry. However, the review was shocking to me.
On page 37 of the April issue Joe Lindsey rates the wheel two ways.
1. “Buy It”: If you want a high tech, niche-brand alternative to the usual players.
2. “Forget It”: If you want a daily driver; these are to finicky for everyday use.
Blamo! Are you kidding me? Has Joe even ridden these wheels?
I agree the wheels are niche but they are not to finicky. Is it because the nipples are on the inside? Sure I would prefer them on the outside for easy maintenance, but that’s the thing. They don’t need maintenance.
I guess I was shocked because I have done what he said to forget….ride these wheels as daily drivers. I have used the Edge 45’s as my daily drivers/racers 6 days a week since June 2009. In fact, I went back and looked. I’ve logged 6,861 miles on this rim and it hasn’t needed to be trued!
You might say, I bet this guy is 130lbs and rides base miles everyday in San Diego. Nope! I’m 170lbs, live in Portland (ah la rain) and just last week cranked out 16, 1200-1400 watt sprints over and over. Guess what? The wheels felt great.
To sum it up, that’s almost 7,000 rainy, sunshine drenched, mud covered, pee’ing while pedaling miles and the brake track still looks fresh and the rim is true. That’s more than I can say for the Zipps (broken spokes and loose hubs) I’ve seen lately. I mean, what is Joe comparing the Edge rims too?
My recommendation? If you have the money buy them. If you don’t? Sell your first born and buy the rims. They are that good.
P.S I had them built at VeloShop so maybe it was there magic tensioning abilities that keep them so straight. Good job guys.
Exhibit A
The morning rolled over and smacked me, get up! I downed two cups of coffee and the usual eggs, toast and sausage. With the car packed and bags checked we (my lady and I) set out on an road trip. Ok, that’s what I called it but it was a reason for me to race my bike and for us to do something different. We’ll except that carting my ass to races isn’t all that different from any other weekend but it felt different.
For one the sun was out. Oh sweet goodness the sun was out! We headed up the gorge about 3hrs into the wind toward Pendleton and stopped when we hit Echo. There were windmills barely turning in a sea of grass and land gently tilted by the years of geologic uprising.
When we pulled into Echo there was scarcely a hill. There was a train, however, delaying our entry into the little town.
The town itself was small and beautiful. The center square was a four way stop that could conjure memories of Leadville had I ever done that race.
I opened my door and introduced Mos Def to the air. He flowed smoothly over the breeze before I interrupted him to ask where my jersey might be. He didn’t reply.
Sign up took place in a small home near the start. The lines were efficient and the only hold up was at the bathroom. Typical.
Are you tired of hearing all this? Let skip to the race. I mean you get it, it was sunny and everyone was happy. The vibe was different. Less competitive and friendly. There were hairy legs! and a lack of shoe covers. It could have been an alley cat race because everyone had on back packs. I thought maybe I’m out of place? I mean all I know was that there was going to be a lot of single track and winning times were around 2hrs for 28miles.
So I pumped up my tires and put on a long sleeve to warm up in. It was chilly but nice. I contemplated long sleeve or short and opted for short sleeve thinking, it’s going to hit 60 today. It actually hit 70 and I was glad.
Ok, so the race starts with a neutral roll out for 3k and I was behind just about everyone. Single speeders pedaled fast and the gears slid up toward the truck. As soon as we hit the turn off the truck pulled aside and we were doing 30 mph on nice gravel. The smooth small rock kind. It was up a hill and down the backside in a mad rush for the first bit of single track. A little way of the hill someone jerked to the right and took everyone out behind. That set the lead group at about 20-30 guys.
We hit the single track and line danced our way through some switch backs, one of which was guarded by John Wayne. That’s right, John Wayne was holding two pistols in your face as you negotiated a set of turns. Ok, it was a cardboard cutout but Ol’ John would stick you up every so often. Him and a wolf had contracted to position them selves around the course.
Mentally you would get these breaks, (john and wolf) as you went around the various turns. The course was dry and bumpy. It became apparent that I had put to much air in my tires. I was leading a 4 man chase though and didn’t want to risk a pinch or take the time to let air out. So I drummed on.
Another thing I noticed is that my arms hurt. They were flapping in the wind like granny bags eager to gobble up my bones. I should have worn arm warmers I thought. The other thing I noticed is that mountain biking brings out a deeper sweat. It’s a much saltier, smellier sweat. Perhaps it’s the sausage or the earlier nights beer. The barley, malt and yeast coming together to give me a post liver taste test. Yum.
There was a break as we hit a section of open road and the 4 guys I was pacing jumped. I couldn’t hang so I decide to have one of my 3 flavors of Gu (a mixed assortment of bottom of the gym bag leftovers from the cross season). If you interested I had one fresh Gu (just plain), a 2 year old Clif Shot (chocolate Powder) and a freebie swiped of the reg table (hammer gel, chocomouthjuiceneedmorewaterlegshurt flavor). So I ate those and got back up to the 4 droppers. I sat on for a little bit and tried to recover before jumping on a wheel that broke off before going into a very sweet section of single track.
This was the section where the trail is that perfect color of brown. Kinda like coffee is and next to it, perhaps hugging the dirt was green grass about 7 inches tall. Just enough to graze your pedals as you jig-sawed your way through the woods. A few log hops later and I was on the assailants wheel and chasing him over a log bridge. The log was sawed flat on top and made you wonder if you could ride it. I would have liked to try but really……I’m just getting back into this.
I caught the guy up the trail and we pressed on, catching others and high five’ing John Wayne. His wolf just stared. Over a two way bridge (over and under) and into the final bit of single track. The downhills were never straight only big curves awaited. Did I mention I dumped a bunch of mineral oil on my disc brakes the night before? Not so PRO. If you want to make sure people know where you are at all times… throw some break fluid on your calipers and squeeze real hard. You’ll squeal a lot, but won’t stop or even slow down.
Get on with it! Ok, so we do a bunch of rad ass downhilling and then come to another gravel section. This is the final section of gravel. About 3k til you hit the road and another k on paved road coming into town. Naturally I climb conservatively and don’t get to worried about the fact that my friend has steadily road himself into a lead of about 100 meters.
So the chase begins. I see him catch another guy and they work a bit and I try a little harder. I’m catching pack fodder from the shorter loop (the cat 2’s and below did 21 instead of 28 miles) and look down. My computer is reading 30 mph and yet I’m not catching these two.
I pour some more on, laying it on thick as my legs ping and pop with the tingly sensation that occurs after turning yourself inside out for a 2hr TT. I get onto the road and can now see the town. I hammer a little harder and rock the bike side to side. I’m tucked and my knees are coming close to my chest. Hands near the center of the bar and I’m maxed out for gear. I catch another guy. Not good enough. Heads down and I come out of a trance to hear my breath, ahhh whooo ahhhh whooo and…. and… and, I don’t catch them.
I came in 6th.
I wasn’t disappointed. In fact I felt good about how I did. My mind was clear and I did what I could to keep myself going.
Afterward there were free burritos. Nice! But only for racers so we had to go and get food. The problem was that every place in Echo was swamped and had so graciously made free food for the races. However, there were so many racers that non-racers couldn’t get served. So my lady and I hit the truck stop McDonald’s for Fries, Coffee’s and Chicken Sandwiches. I couldn’t stop raving about how good it was. The race that is. The food arrested my bowels and punched me in the gut for the whole ride home. I didn’t go to the bathroom for 2 days afterward.
Should I stop there and leave you with that though? Yes.
Rise at 6am. Fire up the coffee pot and scramble some eggs. I like a little toast with honey and two veggie sausages too. Then, it’s into Car and Drive 3hrs. Why? It’s the first mountain bike race of the season and a good excuse for a road trip.
I tidied up the bike by bleeding the brakes and spilling mineral spirts on the disc and pads. Initial runs down the front porch stairs reveal I have no front brakes. Who needs’em!
Check back tomorrow and I’ll let you know how it goes.
