Dunkin' on Jordan, Driving with Jack

Guest Blogger Corey Green of Cincinnati reports from the 2009 Cyclocross Nationals in Bend, OR:

I felt like I was on the starting line of the NYC marathon. At Cyclocross Nationals, I was call up 140 in a field of 192. In NASCAR terms that's like having a starting grid of 88 cars, a Kentucky Derby with double the horses. When the gun went off there was a 10 second delay before I could move.

With riders shouting, twenty seconds later I heard the sound of carbon and aluminum colliding with asphalt and the scent of burning brake pads on carbon rims filled my nose. With 139 guys in front of me, I couldn't see the pile up. So like a NASCAR driver without a spotter I tried to keep going. Two seconds later I was filling the air with my own rubber burning against aluminum rim. The pile up was massive - Tour de France massive - with bodies and bikes everywhere. A few riders never crossed the start/finish line even once. There's no yellow flags in cross. I hoofed around it.

I got into a group and rode the treacherous and technical course as best I could. However, after the crash and with all the traffic, I was of the opinion that a fat K. Fed had more finesse that I did.

On the second lap I started having fun. I rode the best I had ridden this week and tried to grab a dollar from Sasquatch. Turns out Sasquatch was messin' with the racers. He'd dangle a dollar in front of the riders, but then wouldn't let go. I rode the runup and got big cheers from the crowd. Then I descended like a doof with all the grace of a toddler on a big wheel. If my tailbone isn't permanently bruised my ego may be.

Then they came on lap 4. The real cyclocross racers, guys from Oregon and Colorado and California. I was trying to ride well, but the leaders were absolutely flying. I was lapped last week in OVCX at Louisville while riding in the Masters Elite race, so I know what these guys look like when they lap me. McShane and Webb are no slouches when it comes to racing cyclocross, but these guys were humming. I knew I was in over my head when I started the race, but I had no idea how far underwater.

I started letting guys go by without being in their way. Discretion being the better part of valor, it would be unfair for me to impede them on this technical course. Then the announcer said words that lightened my day. I hadn't heard any of the announcer for a while, but he called a name that helped me understand where I was. "There's Don Myrah!" I just got lapped by an Olympian... "Bart Bowen...and Roger Ashpholm!" ...and two more champions.

No other sport would let someone like me participate in an event at the same time as these guys. Imagine your local high school team playing for the world basketball title against a team with Michael Jordan or playing golf with the Shark - ain't gonna happen.

Humility is the only reaction that makes sense.

All this left me with an enormous sense of excitement. Sure, I got trounced, was never really "in the race", and could have spent the $35 entry fee on bar tape or a full growler from Deschutes. But for $35 I now have a memory and story that I will never forget.

Now if somebody only snapped a photo of me while I was in front of them!

For USAC Results & Photos Click Here.

Tough Juniors, Disc Wheels and Sasquatch: CX Nationals 2009

A Sasquatch Sighting, Juniors and more on CX Discs Guest Blogger Corey Green of Cincinnati reports from the 2009 Cyclocross Nationals in Bend, OR:

Either their bones are made of rubber or these juniors are tough. Cyclocross Nationals, solid ice course, temperatures around 15 degrees, kids falling all over the course, yet somehow they stick to it and get it done. I was supporting three kids this week - two in the juniors women 13-14 and one in the juniors men 10-12.

Mackenzie Green and Rachel Dobrozsi picked up 10th and 7th in their 8am race and Spencer Petrov picked up a podium spot in 3rd for the men 10-12. Two of these three didn't even know what a cyclocross bike was in August, all of them made some adults I know look like real wimps.

Give these kids a hand - they earned it today.

A day like today makes me wonder how many of us would really do it? Some Masters aged racers would seriously start thinking about hips and knees and "what if" scenarios. In 15 degrees, fully iced/snowy course? The wait at callups alone would be enough to make most of us reconsider our decision. Kids with 5% body fat and zero insulation racing at 8am, while Mr Husky with a painted-on skinsuit and enough insulation to stoke an average Alaskan heating stove for a month is racing at 2pm at the peak temperature. Something there doesn't seem right.

Is USA cycling trying to toughen up the youngest we have for racing in Belgium at a later age? Could it be that with the number of breweries in town (more than I have ever seen in a town of 80k) the only racers they could get at 8am are those too young to drink? Maybe the fact that the beer garden opens at 8am (and Deschutes is OH SO YUMMY) scared the organizers into adjusting the schedule to keep some away until later.

But then I saw Spencer with his medal. It wasn't gold, but he didn't care. He had won and got to stand on a podium at a national level race. All the kids forgot they were cold, forgot the pain that they had endured that morning. Those that were on the podium were flying sky high, those that were watching the podium were day dreaming about being on the podium. They were all hooked and my daughter said it best - "Dad, we will be back next year". She wasn't asking she was telling.

Lighter News - Cross Disk Update

The disk discovery by Joe when he read my draft was interesting. I hadn't read his editors note before today and I discovered that there is a WHOLE TEAM of people riding covered spoke wheels. For the life of me I can't really figure this one out. I am relatively sure that if I were to have used one of these it would look like a wheel of swiss cheese and make a lot of whistling noise as I rode around the track. My goal tomorrow is to find someone on one of these and get the scoop. I will write about it if I can find someone - stay tuned.

Messin' With Sasquatch

In a story that US Weekly would clamour for, it appears that Sasquatch has regained the trust of his mess of friends. He was photographed watching cyclocross, eating Bratwursts and sucking down Deschutes. The rare sasquatch was caught on camera heading to the wall of port-o-lets, walking eerily with the same gait as the guy next to him. Whether these two know each other or not I will never know, but look for them together in the next production of "A Chorus Line" at the local playhouse in Bend, OR.

For USAC Results and Photos click here.

Letting It All Hang Out (and then some) At CX Nationals

Skinsuit Sausages, Deli Slicers and Disc Wheels...Guest Blogger Corey Green of Cincinnati from the 2009 Cyclocross Nationals in Bend, OR:

Today was supposed to be my "B" race - a race to see the course, figure out the bike set up and make sure all was right for the "A" race on Saturday. However, my equipment only partially arrived, so instead I got to watch a lot of the racing today. Here are some observations from the day.

Skinsuit Envy

As Joe has written previously there is a decision matrix that we all go through before painting the skinsuit onto our body for a race. Whether we are looking for sleekness for a crit race or a tight fit for a cyclocross race the goal is to remove the clothing as an opportunity for failure without appearing as though you are 10 lbs of flour in a 5 lb sack. The question is...does racing in a National Championship race change this decision matrix?

For spectators many factors should be considered before launching a verbal assault on Mr. Husky and questioning whether he should have poured himself into the multi-colored sausage casing known as a skinsuit. I am certainly not throwing stones at guys forcing ones self into a skinsuit. I did it all summer at time trials and I am sure snickers were bountiful from my competition, so let's just say I am just casting doubt.

The guy on the left here looks like a nice guy, appears to have a smile and a mighty nice crop growing on his face. Based on his bike choice and the Edge composite wheels, I don't think he is hurting for cash. From this information you can theorize that he wasn't forced to decide between the usual bibs and shorts -OR- skinsuit when he placed his kit order last fall. He could probably get both. What decision process went through his head to look like this in a national race?
But, I got to thinking...was it really that bad? Afterall, a size husky skinsuit affords sponsors a larger billboard. Let's give the guy some credit, it was 11 degrees at this point of time and he was out riding his bike. Where was I? Sipping coffee and taking pictures of a husky fella painted into his clothes. What if he didn't wear a skinsuit, what would that look like?

Luckily enough there was another husky fella riding his bicycle around the track with a similar build, so it gave me an opportunity to compare and constrast. If you notice there is very little difference, except for "bulbous" bottom part of the belly. The skinsuit appears to have reached the end of its ability to restrain the outward pressure and push back. The two piece approach appears to give the lower part of the torso area a bit of resistance against "The Hulk" exploding out of his clothes and going "all Hulk" on unsuspecting spectators.

Another consideration is that the resistance to outward pressure also makes rider #2 appear to be a bit more in shape than rider #1. If you took them both side by side in the YMCA shower I doubt you could tell one from the other, but rider #2 has the edge on looking ready to win Nationals. (editor agrees and the white bike makes him look even more svelte.)

Another question is whether to consider age in the mix. I was surprised at the number of guys riding in skinsuits in the 60+ categories. These guys are competing for a stars and stripes jersey and should be shown some respect. The question I have is whether a skinsuit striped like a popcorn box at the theater is really the best way to get that deserved respect. However, one highly respected celebrity has proven over decades that vertical stripes also make you look thinnner.

In the end it is Nationals. This is what you train for all year and your last race of the year - let it all hang out. Well, let it all exert outward pressure on yourr seams, you won't be wearing the skinsuit again this year.

Equipment Choice

Every cross race has its selection of equipment choices that make you wonder, and the B races today were no exception. It has been a long time since I had seen a set of Spynergy "deli-slicers" on a bike, but I spied some today. Immediately I wondered how those would actually ride in a cross race. They weigh more than any other wheel I have ever ridden, so they have to be painful to sprint out of corners. Studies have shown little to no advantage to deep dish wheels, so this one puzzles me. The only way this makes sense is if he is carrying a loaf of pimento loaf in the jersey pocket and uses the wheels to slice a sandwich halfway through the race.

Then I saw something that still makes me scratch my head. Yes, to the right is my first witness of the Cross Disk. A Cross Disk? Are there cyclocross time trials at nationals? Is Zipp trying to create a new wheel market? I am hopeful someone will give me some explanation that makes even an ounce of sense. I am completely speechless when trying to explain why someone would bring this wheel and race it at cyclocross nationals. Seriously, completely stumped. (editor: as it turns out that's the bike of 2009 55+ Nat'l CX Champion Paul Curley from Taundton, MA. With 23 Nat'l titles under his belt in multiple disciplines, there must be something to it. It appears as a disc wheel, but according to CX Magazine it's actually more of a plastic spoke cover than a solid disc.)

Tomorrow brings the Juniors races after a long night tonight. The equipment is to arrive at 6pm on the trailer that left Tuesday morning. We will be wrenching deep into the night and the kids will be freezing their bums off at 8am. Wish them luck.

For Official USA Cycling Results and Photos click here.

Chequamegon Drift - 2009 Chequamegon 40 Fat Tire Festival

By Bill Baldwin – Best Guest Blogger Ever

Conditions were perfect, if not a bit dry. Temperature was 65 at the 10 am start and climbed to about 75 by mid-afternoon. The venue is beautiful -- extremely isolated in rolling hills, blanketed with 80-foot stands of pine trees. The 40.9 mile point-to-point course from Hayward to the Telemark Resort started with a 2-mile paced rollout on pavement through cheering throngs of onlookers in the town of Hayward (risk being DQ'd if you try to pass the four-wheelers leading the rollout). Riding in a pack of 1,778 adrenaline-pumped mountain bikers was a huge thrill, and pretty sketchy as the pack lurched, then slowed, then lurched, then slowed all the way to the dirt. Although I placed my bike in the start chute at 5:45 am, it was not early enough to get me any closer than the 200-300th starting position. So I was completely surrounded during the rollout. Once we hit the fields that led to the Birkebeiner Cross-Country Ski Trail (the "Birkie"), the race began in earnest with the elite/pros flying off the front en masse and everyone else jockeying for position.

(7am hundreds of bikes hold riders places for the 10am start of the 2009 Chequamegon 40 Fat Tire Festival)

Aside from the first couple miles, passing is not an issue on this course. For most of its length, the Birkie Trail is wide enough for four automobiles to drive abreast. It's mostly trimmed grass (think lawn), bordered by towering trees, with a strand of singletrack running the middle. A good portion of the race also covered gravel/dirt forest roads, with a few sections of true singletrack. Although the course is fast, it is by no means flat, best characterized as rolling terrain punctuated by several power climbs followed by immediate descents each mile. And while the course gains quite a bit of altitude over its length, there are some ripping fast descents, with the last half-mile shooting diagonally down the face of a ski hill to a 90 degree turn partially back up the hill before leveling off to the finish. The last 3-4 miles of the race is actually brutally (like Mohican) hilly, getting up to the top of the ski hill for the final descent. And frequently the descents ended in sand pits where it took good handling skills to hold your line at high speed. I remember having the sensation of Tokyo-drifting the turns on a number of gravel downhills. The dry conditions made for a ton of dust -- most racers at the finish line looked like coal miners coming off a shift underground.

The winner set a new course record at 2:02 and, from the account I read, won by less than a one-second margin, as the second place finisher apparently took an insane line down the ski hill to make up about 100 yards in the last quarter mile. Personally I had a great race up until mile 25 when my sciatic nerve acted up and wouldn't let me push the big ring anymore. Although I was inexplicably able to kill the climbs during the last 10 miles, I couldn't generate the power needed to hammer with the pack I had maintained contact with for most of the race. My bike was set up perfectly for the race with Mitch's fully rigid carbon fiber fork. (Thanks Mitch!!) I flew past fellow racers on the steep technical climbs, including the Seeley Fire Tower which is a four-tiered, half-mile, fall-line beast of a climb about 30 miles into the race. On the climbs I was easily passing guys who could hammer me on the flats, only to have them drop me within a qurter mile after the climb. Still, it was extremely gratifying to have the bystanders complimenting my climbing in those tough sections where half the racers were running their bikes up. (Which made it more frustrating to have the back and leg issues prevent me from keeping pace on the flatter sections toward the end.) I ended up finishing in 2:42 for a pedestrian 409/1,778. To give you an idea of the volume of riders on the course, if I had finished only 10 minutes faster it would have been good for 250th. There were a lot of fast guys (and girls) out there.

Overall I'd say the race organizers pretty much have the formula down -- it was a great festival atmosphere with a focus on bands, beer and grilled meat. It's worth noting that there are an additional 800+ racers at the finish line who complete the "Short and Fat" race, which is about a 15-miler that covers a separate course but finishes down the same downhill and at the same time as the 40-miler. A great laid back vibe permeated, and everyone was very friendly. (Of course the excellent weather played a big part in the event's success.) Although I probably wouldn't do it again because of the amount of travel involved, I'm really glad I got to experience this race. Especially those of you without kids should really consider making the trek -- you won't be disappointed. Do it!!

Results & Race Info Click Here

Facebook Friday: What's New On Your Cyclocross Bike This Season?

As the Tour Peloton makes it’s way toward the Alps, cyclocross is on the brain. I’ve done my last road race. Sure there’s a mountain bike race or two sprinkled between now and late September, but those are for fun. The Cyclocross pre-season is here, and it’s almost as fun as the races. Registration is open for the first few OVCX races. Friends are talking about swapping good parts from the road bike to the CX rig. Bottom brackets seat post tubes are being cleaned. I sold my trusty Jamis Nova pit bike to finance some upgrades on the IF Planet X, namely an Easton EC90-X carbon fork. My Jamis Xenith’s Sram Red drivetrain has migrated to the Planet X with a new chain. The new $69 Vittoria file tread tubulars are getting glued to the tubular Zipp 404’s. In addition, the CX bike will see some new cables, brake pads and bar tape. I'm hoping the bike will tip the scales at a scant 17.5 pounds. I talked to Mitch at BioWheels bike shop in Cincinnati the other day and they said sales of cross stuff is way ahead of last year. I distinctively remember there being quite a few CX bikes on the floor a few weeks ago, now it looks like they might have to order a few more.

With that, it’s Facebook Friday on The Best Bike Blog Ever. On Thursday’s I post a question to my bike crazed Facebook friends and on Friday’s we post the answers here. If you’d like to join the fun, send a request via the Facebook link on the right of page.

Today’s question is: What’s new on the CX rig this season?

Duane: Lesseee....Felt just recalled the fork on my CX bike. Not sure what that's all about yet. Assuming I have a bike to ride, I'm hoping to convert it from Shimano 9-speed to SRAM Rival. I love the SRAM stuff. I just haven't resolved the funding issue yet. That and some really squishy Octto bar tape.

Amanda: The Redline Conquest Pro unless someone wants to help me out with a lighter rig? Maybe just some tubulars and fast wheels?

Eric: A cyclocross bike. I have the pedals.

Shannon: Meet the new rig, same as the old rig: '06 Bianchi Cross-Concept/Ultegra/candies. Raced 5x. A bike for me to grow into.

Jaden: New Redline Conquest Team frameset- check. Hopefully some tubular wheels and tires to come.

Justin: a flat handlebar and some nice fat tires. I mean straight, not flat. None of this drop bar nonsense.

Ryan: Complete component overhaul, going from Ultegra 9-Speed with Avid Shorty brakes to SRAM Rival 10 Speed, and TRP brakes, also will be rolling on some bullet proof Mavic CXP30 tubulars with the old style TUFO tubulars unless it is real nasty out.

B-jet: Everything! The plan is Seven Ti Mudhoney frame, Dura Ace 7800, Tubulars, TRP Cantis.

Ohio State Cat 3 Road Race Championships: The View From The Passenger Seat

It wasn’t quite Africa hot, but maybe a Disney Orlando type hot, humid and nearing 80. It looked like about another 15 signed up day of, adding to the 65 prereg’d riders. A fat field of 80 lined up on the Cat 3 start line at the Ohio State Road Race Championship Sunday at Caesars Creek State Park. I guess I ducked into the bathroom a little too late and hit the start line three quarters back in the enormous field, lining up with BioWheels/Reece-Campbell teammates Andy P & TJ. 80 guys mean lots of teams with lots of riders. Seeing that, I decided to call shotgun. I was going to plop my spandex rump in the passenger seat and wasn’t going to take a driving role at the front until absolutely necessary, that’s if I could even get to the front. Picking your way through an 80 person field is like navigating your way through the US Bank Arena concessions area at intermission with a sell-out crowd. Wedge a shoulder in her, stick a foot in there. If a handle bar wide gap opened up you had to take it. Running that many riders at once through the single lane farm roads that made up the downhill and back sections of the course was the cycling equivalent of draining a gallon of Gatorade through a pixie stick. No doubt as the first riders sprinted through the right hand bend at the bottom of the hill, the last riders were still on top. For many the race was over on the downhill, even before they hit the 1^st climb. I never saw my teammates again after the 3^rd or 4^th turn.

The Clank-Lap 1

Just in time for the downhill, I had managed to work my way to the front of the field, at least within the first 20 or so guys. As the front of the group smoothly drizzled like olive oil down the right-left-right chicane that lead into the big bomber downhill, I concentrated hard keeping speed while still maintaining enough wiggle room to account for people checking up on the brakes or misjudging the corners. I remember squinting as it was hard to discern how much room was between the riders in front of me and whether I could split the hairs at speed so I wouldn’t have to touch the brakes on the softer corners. The front guys bombed around the final steep dropping left hander. KAH-LANK!! Within a second I rounded the corner and saw a Bianchi on the right side of the road by the guardrail and a bottle rolling down the road. No rider. Crap! He must’ve gone into the woods either over or under the guardrail. Maybe’s it’s a heightened sense of awareness brought on by the focus that racing demands, but I’m still amazed at my ability to recognize a bike’s brand laying on the ground as I pass it at well over 40mph. Bianchi!

Jesus With The Handoff

Lap by lap the tight corners, downhill and climb cut the pack. There were attacks going off the front, but nothing got past dangle-ville without being swept up by one team or another that wasn’t represented. At the top of the 4^th time up the climb, my number was up. Wheezing like I was just caught by an axe murderer who was about to bury the hatchet, I couldn’t hang on to the wheel in front of me, that guy couldn’t hold the wheel in front of him and so on. Yada yada yada, I ended up with six or so desperately hoping that the front group rolling away would hesitate. 10 meters turned to 50 and we were done. It wasn’t a very big front group rolling away, maybe 25 riders. The five I was with abandoned at the start finish. I did the math. Heck if I stick this out, I might still finish better than two-thirds of the field. I got in the drops, hunkered down, and grabbed my bottle, a half-full bathwater warm lemon-lime Gatorade. With two laps still to go, up the dam, I thought about grabbing someone else’s handoff. Then, like a personal Jesus, my teammate Jaden appeared on the sidelines in the feed zone. There to support his wife in the women’s race, Jaden saw me and handed me an ice cold bottle of water. I downed half of it within the next half mile, and finished it before the downhill. Only later did I learn that I got the last bottle of cold water and Jaden’s wife got a warm bottle meant for the dogs. Sorry Bridgie.

Zip & Kick (rewritten since orginal post, and my appologies to my group companions for seemingly being a tool at the finish line)

I spent about a lap and a half riding solo in the drops just keeping it steady. Headed into my last lap, I saw at 4-5 guys on the sidelines or noodling in the opposite direction who I know were in the group up the road only minutes earlier. Well if there were 25ish riders in the lead bunch, and now there’s at least five who dropped out, I could be looking at eeking a top 20 or so out of this. Just before the downhill, I was caught by 3 others and got on the train. One rider joked, “We’re not going to attack each other up this last climb?” I said, “Naw, no use in clawing it out for 30^th place.” We rode tempo up. At the top, the guy in front of me zipped up his jersey. As the cool breeze hit me, I did too. A third rider joked that we were getting ready for the finish line photo. Really we were at that point where being too hot was turning into the chills. I wondered if we’d just paceline it in or sprint it out for the scraps. Within the last 300 yards, the Walker Homes rider that was with us got up on his pedals. Well that answers the question, I thought. In the third spot, I held out till just past the 200m mark and let it rip to the line. I’m sure it looked pathetic. I pipped the three rides I was with at the line and kept rolling straight to my car, no doubt avoiding being chastised for sprinting for a top 25 spot. Afterward, I heard that no on sprinted but me. Guess that guy who got up on the pedals was just stretching his legs or getting the tingle out of the taint. Needless to say, I ended up looking like a total tool to my companions. Appologies boys, even with the low stakes, someone appeared to flip an ace on the table. It’s nice to have stories of attacks, counters, great teamwork, and pack sprints, but sometimes attrition is a tactic that works. Within a few minutes my teammate Andy rolled up to the car, no doubt he finished a few guys behind me. Getting dropped sucks, but finishing a tough race seems to make up for it.

Look for photos here: http://jjakucyk.exposuremanager.com/g/bicycling

Results here: http://ohiocycling.org/

Mohican 100 Mountain Bike Race - Three Short Stories

Historic Firsts For $300 Alex

I recently saw Michael Phelps on 60 Minutes.  The reporter was surprised to find his gold medals were not on display.  It didn’t surprise me in the least.  Most athletes I know don’t like to wave their success in others faces.  You nearly have to back them into a corner and shake it out of them.  Otherwise, if you just ask them how the race went, they’ll disappointingly say, “I had fun,” only to find out later that they won or hit a momentous mile stone.  Adam Schmidt is one of those guys.  While everyone would love to win, there are often other more subtle ambitions that cause an athlete to compete.  For some it’s the physical act of enduring.  For others it’s an act of discovery.  From personal experience, I’ve found there’s always something in every race, from natural beauty or internal feelings that I’d prefer to put on the mantle over a trophy.  Adam runs competitively, everything from church festival 5k’s to off road marathons and beyond.  Adam also races bikes, short punchy cyclocross to marathon mountain bike races.  In 2008 he completed the Mohican 100 mile trail run.  Think about that, a 100 mile foot race.  That’s like running nearly four consecutive marathons, on dirt.  Hardcore.  Even though he proudly wears the commemorative belt buckle, I’m convinced it’s more of a reminder of the real prize: his vivid stories of floating elephant hallucinations and coming across dead looking people sleeping along a fog shrouded trail at 4am.  This year, Adam Schmidt of Cincinnati became the first person ever to complete the Mohican 100 mile trail run and the Mohican 100 mile mountain bike race.  Congratulations.

My Twin

You always hear that twins can sometimes experience each others feelings and thoughts, even miles apart.  As I zipped past the last rest stop of the Mohican 100, I wasn’t looking forward to the pint glass of ice cold Sierra Nevada, a shower or being able to lay my bike down.  As if I could see the finish line through her eyes, all I could think about was my wife at the finish line, watching the clock, seeing the first finishers cross and knowing in her heart that I wasn’t far behind.  She knew my goal for the race and it was if I knew that she knew I was on pace to beat it.  My clock read 12:30pm.  There were 7-ish miles to go.  It was as if her cheers and thoughts found me miles away.  As if my bike was floating an inch above the trail while being pulled by an invisible string attached to my handlebars at one end and her hand at the other.  I rode the last 7 miles of single track with this incredible speed and precision that I only recall feeling twice before.   When I turned off the last stretch of fire road and into the finish shoot seven minutes under my goal time and saw her, I'm convinced we felt the same elation inside.  For those of you wishing to back me into a corner and shake me upside down, I finished the Mohican 100k in 18th place (out of over 150) in 6 hours 8 minutes.

How Not To Crash A Campground

You walk a fine line between axe murderer and chummy fellow mountain biker when you crash a campground.  I’m still not convinced there wasn’t a chainsaw inside the duffle bag of the dude from Arkansas who made camp behind our cabins.  Mountain bikers are a very open group.  At one time or another I’ve had to do a race on the cheap, so when he asked if we minded if he set up a tent behind our cabins, we obliged.  After he got settled, he made a peace offering of chocolate and sat down to share in the campground stories.  Through conversation his story seemed believable and twisted at the same time.  He took an expensive flight from Little Rock to Columbus and rented a car, yet he slept in a hammock and we discovered he had false teeth.  He got his nutrition ready the night before the race, but we never actually saw his bike.  One moment he was cool to be around and the next we got the feeling that we better lock the cabin door tonight.  I can’t remember how exactly he ended up in our cabin alone, but I’m guessing it sounded something like this “If you don’t mind, I’m just going to pop in your cabin and fill my water bottles.”  Suddenly we felt insecure and each one of us began to quietly lock our bikes up overnight.  Later he kindly offered his tent to a teammate who was sleeping on the floor.  Only the next morning, did we find out he kicked that guy out of the tent and asked the single girl sleeping inside the cabin if she’d like to sleep with him inside his tent.  We never saw the guy the entire day of the race.  The Sunday after the Mohican 100, as we were packing up, he grabbed up his stuff and went on his way home.  Now I feel like I should check the local paper to make sure no one turned up missing.

Looking for results?  Check here at this link.