#Sub9DeathMarch BioTrain™ Derailment

Special Thanks to Hydrapak

You can’t cheat death, unless you ride with a friend who knows the Heimlich maneuver or carry a backpack defibrillator.  Judging from the size of some hydration packs Saturday, maybe some were prepared for anything.  Consequently, as team Grand Poobah of the BioWheels/Reece-Campbell Racing Death Squad, I’m beginning to rethink the BioTrain™ approach to the Sub-9 Deathmarch race in Hoosier Nat’l Forest.  Last year the BioTrain™ stoked fear in the leaders as we passed like an 8 man bobsled.  This year the BioTrain™ was as imposing as the matinee performance of “Thomas the Train” at US Bank Arena.  Three flats, a broken spoke, two wipe-outs, and a missed turn dashed our 2012 Deathmarch dreams.  For full 2012 Sub-9 Death March results click here.

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 2^nd 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 2^nd of the day less than four miles from the start.  Being driven by ADD, testosterone and adrenalin, Nate and Jimmy never heard the 2^nd 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!

On the fun front however, the BioTrain™ is a Billboard Top 100 hit with a bullet.  Had we rode the race in pairs, the guys would’ve missed my teammate Dan Pike’s mesmerizing 40rpm cadence in a gear that would make Jens Voigt and Fabian Cancellera curl up in fetal positions rocking in the corner sucking each other's thumbs in fear.  Dan may appear to be 5’ 1” and 160lbs, but it’s all quads and hammies, baby got back.

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

If it weren’t for Jason Mott’s suggestion that we ask for a tin snips the next time we see the Sub-9 Scooby Doo van, I may have suffered a bit more than a severely out of true wheel and an inoperable rear brake for the last 30 miles of the race.  I broke a spoke after Robinson and had open wheel surgery just 2.5 miles later at the fire tower.  As he snipped the dangling rattling spoke, my vegan self discovered the next best thing to GU energy gels, Slim Jim’s.  Survival mode.

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.

#DeathMarch Planning Questions

Last Year Was A Blast-Story Here

For those that think they have a good route planned out for the Sub 9 Death March and are seemingly prepared, here are a few questions you should absolutely have an answer to before you clip in.

At the holeshot, are you turning left or right?

What about your teammate?

Are you sure that road marked on your map is an actual physical honest to goodness road?

Is that bridge physically crossable or a relic of an aged NASA Satellite photo?

What’s the elevation change between Camp and Hanner Cemetary?

How many valleys will you cross on your way to Lutes?

Are toe spikes a good idea or too much weight?

How are you going to wear toe spikes and shoe covers at the same time silly?

Have you every tried to read a map while riding a gravel road at 25 mph?


Shirley, you can't be serious?


Are you comfortable riding your bike under water?


Is there a compartment for a snorkel in your Hydrapak?

True or False:  Some of the gravel roads would be more stable under your wheels if they were paved 6 inches deep with marbles set in butter.

And, which roads are those?

Are you going up or down them?

If last year’s winning team from DRT spent 4 ½ Hours on their bikes and this year the promoters added a cemetery which is pretty dang far to the east which will no doubt extend saddle time, where and when do you plan on refilling your water?

Should you drink water from a cemetery well?

What time does the sun set?

Is your cell phone’s camera memory close to being full?

Do you know what happens to a paper map in your jersey pocket 5 hours into a ride?

Do you know what happens to the same map after riding through countless creeks?

Are the Garmin and Google maps of Hoosier National Forest as up to date as their map of 

New York City, or are they as old as the farm roads that once criss-crossed the area?

Have you seen the Sprint cell phone coverage map of the area?

So, you're certain your phone's mapping app will be functional?


By the way, have you ever climbed a cell phone tower?

You may not be afraid of heights, but are you may afraid of climbing a Fire Tower which feels like it has the same pieces and stability of a 6 year old’s erector set project?

True or False: Trailheads in Hoosier National Forest are marked with a nice big well painted signs and arrows like the tourist trail to Mt. Rushmore?

If you let the weeds in your driveway grow for 60 years, could you still call it a driveway?

Have you planned your route to Callahan cemetery on the map?

So, when you looked at the Google map you saw Callahan’s tombstones and an adjacent trail together?

You really don’t know where Callahan is, do you?

Multiple Choice: In the pouring rain, what is faster in and out of Callahan?  A horse trail  B) A fresh gravel road  C) A Hard Packed Gravel Road  D) Pavement E) We should really have a Plan B.

Death March: Kickboxing With Edward Scissorhands

Here, the fateful choice was made to swim.

Note: As you know I'm writing an article for XXC Magazine's April/May Issue #11 about the Sub 9 Death March. Part of the story will be the tale of the Rogue Racing Project foursome that found themselves wet up to their chests, plundering like Vikings through the stickers, bushwhacking and bleeding their way north toward Elkinsville Cemetery.  Gary Lunsford's story was so detail packed that I hated to edit it down to a paragraph or two for the magazine.  So, with permission, here in it's original form is the response I got back from Gary when I asked about their little mistake.  Thank you Gary and Rogue Racing Project for sharing your adventure.

By Gary Lunsford:

I had been plotting and scheming for weeks. I had been studying every map. I had friends that lived near the course doing recon rides for me. I bought a new Garmin 705 to track my racing and training this year. We even stayed the night before the race at my recon guy’s house and got debriefed on the situation with 3-D fly by mapping on large computer screens in his “laboratory”!

#7 is the wrong turn, #17 is roughly Elkinsville Cemetery

We KNEW exactly which way we were going to ride and for sure get all the checkpoints. We elected to go straight to Elkinsville first. It turned out that the eventual race winners, Messer and Gallagher had the same exact plan. So when they passed us on Combs Road, we knew the race was on!

All of this doesn’t mean squat when you combine two simple factors. 1) taking the Garmin on its first trip in which you are trying to follow a preloaded off-road route and you haven’t figured out all the bells and whistles yet, and 2) you KNOW you are in second place and you have your head down hammering to keep the leaders in sight.

With those two facts, our two teams, came out of Combs road and around the gate only to be greeted by a large horse that had jumped out if its corral and was in the road. Just a distraction. We hit the afterburners in search of the DRT boys. With them not in sight at this point and with a full head of steam, we screamed past the right turn for Elkinsville.

My new GPS was beeping frantically, but I couldn’t understand its strange new language (yet). Not a single one of the four of us even gave a thought to the intersection. And that was where all the chaos began….

Riding $4000 canoes.

About another mile down the road, there appeared to be standing water in our way. The obvious result of all the recent rains and flooding. Kirk was the first one to “put in” and we all followed, Looking in the shallow water for Messer and Gallagher’s tire tracks in the muddy bottom. Before we knew it, we were axle deep, but still peddling. Up ahead, we could see that the road emerged from the murky depths. Obviously, this was just a little water puddle to cross in the race, because Sub9 productions wanted to make it interesting. We got back on the gas. All of a sudden, more water. This time we could see the other side…..but it was deeper this time. Hmmm, no tire tracks again. The leaders must have been walking their bikes here! We rode through this water too. This time, I looked down and realized my water bottles were under water. Did I mention that it was really cold river water?

The dry land on the other side this time was a high spot created for an abandoned bridge over the creek. They had bolted a guardrail across it to alert vehicles it was unsafe to cross. Once on top of it, we could now see that to venture on, meant back into the water again! This time the road, or what we assumed to be the road curved around a bend, out of sight. The answer was simple enough to our crew and we immediately headed across the water and up onto the ridge on the inside of the bend. Simple enough we would just traverse the ridge until the road appeared again.

Results of Kickboxing with Edward Scissorhands

Now keep in mind that all four of us were convinced we were following the road to Elkinsville and we were going the right way.  After about a half a mile of walking on the side of a steep hill, we could see that the water only grew wider and deeper.

Plan B was now needed. The funny part here is that no one said, “lets go back”. The part we had all wrong was that we were standing on a hillside facing north, with endless water to our west and thoroughly convinced that we were still south and east of Elkinsville. We needed to forge ahead.

I forgot to mention my little issues I encountered along the way. The first two bike submarining excursions had left the leg warmers I had on soaked and falling down and had gotten shredded in the chainrings. I too them off at the abandoned bridge and hung them on the guardrail to dry! (note to all that read this, if you find these Bellweather brand black legwarmers, please return them) The other little problem I incurred was that somewhere in the murky depths, my SPD cleat literally fell off my right shoe! No more clipping in. Crank Brothers pedals slide all over the place on carbon soled race shoes.

The Fire Tower Climb was cold for Gary

As we made our way north, we encountered several creeks that were feeding the newly installed lake that we NOW know as Blue Creek Road. So with everyone of these, we would simply change heading and go upstream until we could cross in waist deep or less water. Every time we crossed now, I was carrying my bike up out of the water. After the last leg of the underwater riding, where literally, my headtube was creating the wake, I realized I was seriously screwing up a seriously expensive bike! My bike, a factory team issue Cannondale CFR 29er, with all the cool custom parts was not meant for this! When I rode up onto the bridge, I unlocked the suspension and compressed it. Water shot out of the vent holes in the boot like a lawn sprinkler! All I could picture in my head, was Tom Cruise in the movie “Risky Business” standing in the waiting room of the Porsche dealership when the service manager walked in and asked “who’s the U-Boat commander?”  

At this point it starts all becoming a blur. After several reviews of the maps and no longer trusting my GPS (mistake! I just didn’t know how to set a waypoint, yet) we decided to get up on a ridge and check cell phone receptions and pull up phone GPS functions.

We finally get signals and with our cornucopia intelligent minds, we determine that we are in fact, off course. We conclude that we need are NOT making good time anymore and need to seek out some form of road to get back on course. We determined that the closest road was to our Northeast. The only issue was that there was no trail going that way. No problem, we will just make our own. Having been a career Boy Scout and having had survival and orienteering training as a ski patroller, this all seemed logical and simple.

They Made It To Elkinsville Cemetery

While most of this trekking was on foot and pushing bikes through so much briars and underbrush that today I look like I lost a kickboxing match with Edward Scissorhands, we followed the plan. The whole time as I am pushing and dodging branches and thorn bushes, I am trying to get a handle on the GPS controls, frantically pushing buttons, changing screens, etc.

At one point we come across an old Toyota FJ40 4x4, abandoned years ago and now an obvious frustration release for lost hunters with high powered weapons.  Even in the middle of BF nowhere, someone had stole the wheels off it! Funny! I had the feeling that my GPS was still functioning and tracking our every move, I just couldn’t “speak the language”. In hindsight, if you look at our GPS download, and zoom all the way in at mile 10.6, you can actually see the FJ40 sitting in the woods! It was at that point that I figured out how to see and set a waypoint on the Garmin and pull up the compass screen with the directional arrow to the waypoint. NOW we had a tool that we could use, as we were no had any faith in the maps. We found what appeared to be a jeep trail from years ago, long since forgotten and unused. But it was a sorta trail and it looked like the only way that FJ got down in there. So we started up the ridge following it. Some sections were kinda rideable. I was the only one on an MTB. I was the only one who didn’t get a flat in this race, but I was the slowest of the team on the roads. Did I mention my Carbon Lefty was full of water? I could see the Stan’s plugging thorn holes one after another! I bet I have 50 holes in my tires.  At one point we stopped and Matt and I use the small role of medical tape in my pack to try and cover the open wounds on our heels from the miles of hiking in wet cycling shoes over steep terrain. It helps a little.

According to their GPS this is home.

My GPS finally says that we are only 1.6 miles away from the Elkinsville cemetery and we are headed in the general right direction. With that and then finally figuring out the mapping on it, we see that we need to head off the old trail and down the valley and follow another creek out to what looks to be a road. After another mile of hiking and bleeding, we hit GRAVEL!!!! Stierwalt drops to the ground and kisses the grey terra firma! We paused only long enough for him to remount and we were off! We had found the road at its very end, so there was only one way to go.

As we gained speed and felt relief, I get noticing that the GPS arrow was continually point off to my right and we were getting farther away from the cemetery. Our road tee’ed  into another more traveled gravel road. It was obvious that we go right. Now all of a sudden things looked familiar to me. I saw this road on the Gravel Grovel race back in November. I knew where I was, kinda. We came up on the Nebo Ridge parking lot and found the map board. All of the pieces came together. About that time, two guys roll off the Nebo trail. They are just out for a ride and proclaim “Death Marchers? You guys are off course” With a bit of advice from them and our directional suspicions confirmed we headed up over a huge gravel road hill to Elkinsville. But before we pulled out, I had Matt use the medical tape and along with some zipties he had, we fastened my foot to the pedal.

Feeling Funky Early

When we began the climb, I remembered….this was the tough hill that had so many people walking it at the Gravel Grovel race. I was strapped in! I had no choice but to ride it out! I made it up on a cross bike last time, so an MTB with a granny gear shouldn’t be an issue. It was still a bitch!

At the bottom on the other side we pass Combs road where we had been 3 hours earlier! Up ahead we see two other teams turn out from the road we missed. 

What can ya say? That one little mistake only took a little more than 3 hours, 12 miles of tail blazing and swimming, several flat tires, hundreds of cuts and scrapes, four wet frozen asses, and four sunk bikes to correct.

We did finish what we started. And somehow we didn’t finish last! We just took the scenic route.

Note: To see Gary's GPS map click here.

Death March on Ghost Roads: XXC Magazine Article Preview

I feel like I’m trying to solve that childhood math brain teaser, only train A is my teammate and I traveling 5 miles of pavement and 5 miles of gravel and train B is us traveling 4 miles of gravel and 3 miles of singletrack with two creek crossings.  Which one will reach Callahan Cemetery first?  That problem and dozens like it have burnt up more emails, Facebook posts, and text messages in the past two weeks than two teenage girls trying to pick out outfits for the Lady Gaga concert.  Today, the day before the Sub 9 Death March in Indiana’s Hoosier National Forest, at least we’re certain that we’ll be wearing mountain bike shoes and our hot spandex shorts.      

Since there isn’t a set course and the object is to reach all the mandatory check points and get to the finish in the quickest time, the variables are mind numbing: gravel, time bonus checkpoints, pavement, singletrack, shortcuts, swollen creeks, a firetower climb, slippery mud, crosswinds, the ever present chance of mistaking a hunting trail for an official trail and the drama of which checkpoints will be mandatory.  The last two weeks of planning, while a great distraction from work and team building exercise, have been nearly maddening.  Thank goodness we met at the Rusty Bucket over a beer.  My BioWheels/Reece-Campbell Racing teammates and I probably revised our route once every two days.  Maybe after two weeks my eyes are catching up to my master's age, but I swear there are roads or trails that appear to go through from point A to point B on Google Maps, but at a second glance they disappear in the middle of nowhere.  It very well could be a death march. 

Read More In the Next Issue of XXC Magazine

Back before this part of Hoosier National Forest was an area of recreation and conservation, before the Army Corps of Engineers built the dams and lakes, this was family farm and logging country.  The stones in the cemetery, lined up by name and some dating to the early 1800’s, are testament to that.  The stones in Robertson Cemetery have quite a few Robertson’s, same with Todd Cemetery.  When your grandparents were young, there were farms and farm roads, logging camps and logging roads here.  Eventually, however, the land was used up of its riches.  The farmers and loggers moved on to richer soils and older trees.  About that time, the government began purchasing parcels.  The rivers were dammed, the town of Elkinsville evacuated, and the lakes and park born.  Consequently, in the last 50 or 60 years, like the modern day ghost town of Elkinsville, some of those old farm and logging roads have simply been retaken by nature.  Internet mapping hasn’t been so quick to notice the ghost roads.  Suddenly your GPS isn’t so reliable. 


It's 8:45am and we're awaiting the announcement of the other two mandatory checkpoints.

(...to be continued in an upcoming article in XXC Magazine, click here to subscribe)

A nice recap of the BioWheels/Reece-Campbell racing effort here, written by my teammate "Jimmy Road Rash."

A Rogue Racing team recap here on "Love The Pain."

Photo Link to Indy Triple

Photo Link to Two Pedals Photography

Sub 9 Death March Facebook Link for Results, Recaps and Rider Photos

Anatomy of a Death Rig

Reader Jason was brave enough to post the photo of his Sub 9 Death March Death Rig to The Best Bike Blog EVER's Facebook page.  He was the only one.  The Death March causes cyclists to evaluate everything.  Jason's running a seatbag big enough to carry a bible and a wooden stake in case of a zombie encounter at one of the cemetery checkpoints.  Personally, thinking maximum power on the roads and minimal time in singletrack, I even considered road pedals.  The test ride was unsuccessful, road pedals are not a good idea if you have to walk more than 3 steps in the mud or run from a pack of zombies and/or vampires.  Like Jason, I opted for the happy medium of Candy SL's, a platform for the road and good mud clearing.  Most readers were afraid of sharing team secrets or having their fragile cycling ego's crushed by the scrutiny of bloggers with a paint program and way too much time on their hands.  Jason, we commend you.  Now prepare for the scrutiny.


Jason, like over 150 others spent the last week matching his bike to the exact percentages of gravel, pavement, dirt road and singletrack their team plans to encounter.  Judging by the Jet Race file-treadish rear tire and knobby front, we figure Jason is making the most of the gravel roads and minimizing muddy uphill singletrack exposure.  Others planning to ride mountain bikes, will no doubt try to take advantage of the singletrack shortcuts between check points.  I will say it right now, we will likely see a road bike with 28c file treads barely clearing the fork crown and seatstays.

Right at this minute, Jason is reconsidering his rear tire choice, as noted by the extra wheel.  He may also want to take care of that mis-matched red cable housing near the rear derailluer tainting his otherwise pristine Death Rig or it will drive him nuts for 4-5 hours on Saturday.  Yeah, that was the first thing we noticed.


Good luck y'all.  For details and to register click here for the Sub 9 Death March Website.

Sub-9 Death March: Don’t Drink From The Cemetery Well

It finally struck me.  We’re visiting cemeteries on the Sub-9 Death March Race, March 12^th in Indiana’s Hoosier National Forest, cemeteries with real dead people, headstones, crosses, and family history, former farmers and loggers, fathers, mothers, daughters and sons.  It reminded me of my grandmother's funeral last week.

At first we got wrapped up in the fastest way to get from one cemetery to another, researching GPS, Google Maps and every area map we could get our hands on.  We talked tires and bikes and water and tools.  Then, while looking for an online trail map, I saw a link for a genealogy website listing one of the cemeteries on the Death March.   I clicked.

Maybe I shouldn’t have.  One week ago, I was at a cemetery in a suit and tie carrying a casket, my first time as a pallbearer.  It was heavier than I thought and while using a lot of strength, I tried to be as quiet and gentle as possible pulling it out of the funeral coach.  It made me think twice about the race.  The website listed all the names and dates of the readable markers in the cemetery, some dating back to 1833.  Just think, 180 years ago, someone just like me laid their loved ones to rest at Mitchell Cemetery, one of the handful of historic Indiana cemeteries of the Sub-9 Death March.

As I thought about it more, it’s probably not wise to come flying into a cemetery at 20 miles an hour, lock up the brakes, dump the bikes on the ground, scream to your teammate “there’s the sign” and go running full bore to snap a photo. 

So here are some rules I came across to keep the spirits on your side during the Death March: 

1) Running is not appropriate at the cemetery, neither is laying on the ground to stretch, jumping up and down to get the feeling back in your toes, or eeking out that fart that’s been pent up for the last hour in your chamois.

2) Soft voices should be used.  Also, it’s probably not cool to use expletives or the word “holy” in conjunction with any other word at a cemetery, such as, “holy (blank) I’m (expletive) tired.”

3) Gravestones, markers, plants, crosses are special sacred symbols that represent respect for the dead.  Walk around them, otherwise a boney hand may come out of the soil and pull you under.

4) While I have found no proof of it, as childhood memory serves, you should hold your breath while passing a cemetery so the spirits don’t take over your soul.

5) To take some of the creepiness away from the situation of being surrounded by 180 year old corpses, take a second to contemplate the lives of the people at the cemetery.  They were just like you once, only with a much heavier wooden wheeled bike.

6) As an added bonus, while I can't confirm any of the cemeteries of the Death March have one, I found out that some cemeteries have a well so that visitors can water the plants and flowers that mark the graves.  However, I will not be drinking any well water from underneath a cemetery.