Special Thanks to Hydrapak |
Last year the BioTrain™ proved somewhat successful on
both fronts. Our 8 man
gravel-singletrack-pavement eating paceline placed in the top 12 or so and gelled
our team around a common goal. This year
we had fun, but only the duo of James Biliter and Nate Mirus who were driving
the train at the time of the 2nd derailment, had any success. Being strung out and regrouping after my flat
on lower Combs road, a mile later the BioTrain™ came off the rails at the gate. Dan flatted, our 2nd of the day
less than four miles from the start.
Being driven by ADD, testosterone and adrenalin, Nate and Jimmy never
heard the 2nd call of a flat.
The train of eight was now 2 and 6.
Despite soft pedaling on the front and hair raising riding from the rear
it would never be recoupled.
A few loose rules guide the BioTrain™. 1) The train stays together until the last cemetery,
Fleetwood, about eight-tenths of a mile from camp where the all-out death
sprint between BioWheels/Reece-Campbell racing teams commences. 2) If one gets a flat or mechanical, we all
stop. The thinking is, the bunch will
ride faster than a duo and it’s more fun to ride in a bunch. 3) The BioTrain™ is not perfect. Rule #2 is subject to cases of the very
contagious ailments of Multipleflattus, Gappingthegroupus and various hearing
impairments.
Who's Got New Pearl Izumi Shoes? This guy! |
Like a NASCAR Replay, right now all the guys are
remembering the BioTrainWreck™. Driving the train on the Nebo Trail between
Elkinsville and Berry Road, still in attempt to close the gap to our two
teammates a few minutes up the trail, Brian Colliers clipped a buried log right
in front of me, sending him over the bars.
He didn’t stop tumbling through the briars till everyone and the caboose
passed him.
Slim Jim Hand-Ups In Effect |
Had Dan and I been solo, I would’ve missed Steven Gers
bedrock cracking wreck in my rearview. On
trail 14, enroute to Calahan Cemetery, like a 145 pound sandbag dropped from
hot-air balloon, he hit a buried log and augured himself into the ground with a
singular whomp, followed by a silence so profound you could hear the frogs
croaking five miles away at Coronette Cemetery.
If you think you're fast changing a flat, imagine three guys changing a flat. Like the “athletes”
in a NASCAR pit crew, with brain surgeon precision, they danced around my bike. While I, the flatter, dug out my spare tube, the
wheel guy pulled out the old tube while the air-guy dug out a cartridge. I handed the new tube to the air guy, who
aired it up a bit and passed it to the wheel-guy. As I stuffed the spent tube into a pocket,
the wheel-guy held the tire while the air-guy finished it off. It came together and we were riding again in
three minutes. Sometimes three heads are
better than two.
If it wasn’t for Kris “Karwash’s” flat on Polk Patch
which was perfectly timed with our entire bunch bombing downhill and overshooting
Trail 14, we wouldn’t have had the 10 minutes for a few of us to turn around,
take a natural break and..."Oh, look there it is!"...stumble upon the trail.
You know what? On
second thought, after looking at the pictures of two grown men who look like kids playing in the woods, maybe we did win.
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