Strapping Laundry Loads

Check, check, uh... nope, check, check...

Now that the bike is reassembled and in (mostly) working order, attention can now be turned to the packing of the packs for the portage of the required PMBAR gear. The list appears smallish and I'm sure many folks have it whittled down to the minutest of packs, but my smallish bundle seems awkwardly large for jersey pockets. Being that I rarely use backpack styled packs they usually tend to cause me grief on long outings. Sore neck, shoulders, chafing, and sore back muscles after hours and hours of bouncing around on trails. Last year my wingnut worked pretty well, but it was an uncomfortable pain in the lower back and chafed collarbones. So I'm opting to avoid an over the shoulder boulder holder this year.

Epic Designs takes away the back pain.

Food and clothing will ride in the jersey pockets. Required gear packed smartly in the frame bag for easy access and gear checks (the wingnut was a pain for that last year). I added a 3rd bottle cage to get the water weight off of my back and the fanny pack of doom might make an appearance for some tool/parts portaging. We'll see as I'm still repacking my repacking and reserve the right to repack the repacked repack without notice. The goal is to haul less crud than last year but in a lean, mean, off-road-able smart package.

Awesomely Clean

Backcountry Research's Awesome Straps will securely hold all things tire repair related and might come in handy in securing Dicky to random flag poles or moving vehicles. Cohutta's mud and grit did a number on making the straps mucky. Luckily they are wash and wear. No ironing needed. Drippity drying.

Awesomely Washed

Shazam!!

Cohutting and Seizing

Y'all are lovin' the tourist socks aren't ya? Swiftwick Brown Merino 7's.

I signed up for the Cohutta 100 so that I'd have something to do in case I missed the dance at PMBAR sitting 3rd seat on the bench waiting for Rich to pick his partner. A few weeks after signing up for Cohutta, I got the call and a PMBAR corsage from Rich. Fantastic! Wait that's the weekend after Cohutta? hmmm I'd better train.

Then January and February hit the family with the passing of several loved ones. My weekends were spent traveling in the car to mourn and support family/loved ones. I still made the last weekend of Cross The Way and snuck out for a few 4 mile runs with the pup in sub 30 degree temps, but the bike was pretty much out of the picture. As it should have been during this time.

The first weekend of March marked my return to the bike. A weekend camping trip with friends to LBL found me with a wonderful 70ish miles of single track. A road ride and two gravel grinders the following weekends with a great day on singletrack rounding it off. Then it was down to work for some DSG/Crude XC course prepping with the XC race the weekend after that. Cohutta was a week away.

Southeast GrassMoots

Knowing my current condition, I set realistic goals. I wanted to finish around 10 hours and treat the race as a good day of training. Steady effort, eat and drink appropriately, and enjoy the hours and miles on the bike. (Not so) Secretly I wanted a 9:30 finish time. Last year's fitness would have put me around just shy of sub 9 - 9:30, so this years slightly behind schedule had a 9:30 finish on the edge of pushing my limit. It is what it is.

The chaotic "we're sneaking in from the right in front of you fools (us) who lined up as instructed" start went off and we kick biked through the gate. Once up the road it all sorted out nicely. I fell into a steady pace and made my way through the crowd chatting with several happy riders along the way. I managed to hook up with another Rigormootis (geared with v-brakes) rider and we stayed together chatting through the first bit of singletrack. This is where Mark from Ohio entered into the picture.

We had the congo line going at a smooth and controlled pace through the opening singletrack. There was about a 3 bike gap between Mark from Ohio in front and the tailing end of another 15 rider pack. One dude did some uncool passing which prompted Mark to ask if I wanted around. I told him he was holding a good pace and that I'd just blame him for my poor time later. He said that was cool and we continued to banter as we enjoyed the flowing Brush Creek trail.

When the trail opened to the parking lot just before the rocky descent, a 5 riders came around us and I hopped on their wheel. It was also at this point where I heard the most pathetic cow bell ringing I've ever heard at a race. They just didn't have their heart in it. Clang. pause, pause, pause, Clang, pause pause... I mean Big Ben chimes faster. But I digress...

Entering the short rutty downhill it looked like land mines were taking out the riders. One by one they all endoed off the trail and I found myself in front with wide open singletrack. I upped the tempo a bit and relished the ride with my fellow Rigormootis rider hot on my heels.

The first 50 miles rocked.

KRS1, H. and JD were all standing at the creek crossing and cheering as I rolled by, happily avoiding the carnage that was ensuing on the slick wet rocks. All smiles as I knew Bear Paw was next and I love that climb. Feeling good I rolled forth to catch Monster whom I was told by KRS1 was just a few minutes up ahead. After some climbing and passing, I caught sight of the porta potty blue Moots jersey ahead and soon had my mark. We rolled together to about aid station 1, where I headed on without a stop. Tim "Chuck Norris is a wussy" Baker roared pass never to be seen again until at the cabin at this point.

Getting water refilled at Aid Station 3.

From there on I kept at my pace and was feeling really good. I'd eaten one power bar and was just finishing my first bottle as I made my way to check point 2. I passed several friends, keeping pace a bit to chat before our own paces strewn us back out. I'd not done any drop bags, choosing to carry what I think I needed with me the whole way: A vest, tubes, tools, pump, 2 powerbars, 1 payday bar, and 2 bars of licorice and 2 water bottles.

My plan was to stop at Aid Station 2 for a water refill, then the halfway, and Aid station 6 for water. Secretly I was hoping for some cookies or half pb&j sandwiches along the way. At Aid Station 2 I got my water but saw no cookies, so stuck to the plan and headed on. I ate 1 stick of licorice shortly after stopping, putting me at 220 calories for the powerbar and 100 calories for the licorice. I was still riding a good tempo and having fun.

Somewhere on some tarmac a train of riders rolled passed as I was chatting with another SS'er and I caught a glimpse of a goofy fender setup. "Fro-derick!". It was Dougyfresh Fro-derick pushing his monster 36x20 (@29")! We rode together catching up and talking about the course as we made our way to the long 15 mile climb (or whatever it is) up to Aid Station 3. A few miles in I took my glasses off to see better in the sweat inducing, muggy fog. But then it dipped down and I was getting debris in the eyes from Doug's wheel and braked a bit, never seeing Fro-derick again. Meh. I climbed on. And on. And on.

Grabbing a half pb&j and boiled potato at Aid Station 3.

The climb wasn't as bad as I'd heard, but it does get sucky. Having to stand so much of it made it hard to drink or eat, so I was thirsty and hungry by the top. KRS1 and H. were there as I rolled in. H. took my bottle and got me some water, KRS1 grabbed me a half PB&J and a boiled potato and cleaned my glasses. The rain was coming down harder now and the temps had dropped tens of degrees. I pulled out my vest and put it on for the descent and grabbed my knee warmers from H., kissed my puppy, then headed on towards the lowest point of the race for me: the long descent out of the high mountains.

Heading out into the deluge and grit spray for the long descent.

The descent should have been fun, but it wasn't. I should have been able to just rip down it and enjoy the payoff from the climb, but conditions didn't allow it. It wasn't slimy, slick, or hard, I was just unable to see. The deluge of rain, the run off from the helmet, the blow back from the grit flying off and up from the front of the front tire were blinding. My glasses were coated in mud, specks were flying into my eyes scratching, hurting, and temporarily blinding. My gloves, arms, everything were coated in fine grit and any attempts to wipe my eyes ended in more crud in them. My water bottle became a face washer at that point. Ride ride, spray, brake brake, blink blink, repeat. It sucked and cost a lot of time and too much effort. But again it is what it is.

Somewhere in this long journey I began to crave pizza. I recalled a write up from Dicky once about a pizza stop at a hundy and couldn't remember if it was the Shenandoah or Cohutta where he ate it. So as I made my way to Aid Station 4, pizza was on my mind. I arrived to get my face wash bottle refilled and did a brief check for food. Nothing. Nothing but shivering bodies and water/heed. I rolled on, hungry. I dug out my payday and ate half, leaving me with 1 power bar (220 cals), 1 licorice bar (100cals) and half a payday left (100cals). A whopping 400 cals + whatever the pb&j/potato offered at Aid Station 3 were powering my systems. I was starting to get empty.

Emily motored up on her geared 29'er wonder-bike during the 5 mile flat stretch of the course. She said hey, I said hey, then told her I needed a pep talk to which she lovingly responded like a caring, nurturing mother with: "Well, it's a long way from done".

She rolled on, I washed my glasses off and got a new outlook on life, and spun my way along the road. Up ahead I passed a rider on the side of the road and I asked if all was good. Turned out to be Pillsbury. I asked if he had speakers and naturally he did. Something magical happens in the mountains. I had just been thinking about Pillsbury and wishing I'd had the engine to roll with the fast cats because I sure could use some of his funky rhythms right about now. Then boom, here he was. We rolled together until the Aid/Not Aid station a few miles before Aid Station 5 where the sips of Coke spun his legs into Mach speed and he left me to suffer alone.

The Cost: New cables, housing, brake pads, and a back up front BB7.

From there I rallied and had a pretty good roll until MJ caught me just before the last singletrack It wasn't that he caught me that ruined my roll, I was just out of gas. My payday and licorice gone and no stomach for the last powerbar, I was riding on fumes. He slowed to ride with me but like a disapproving parent I sent him on his way. I yo-yoed with another SS Moots (MootoX) rider and we chatted a bit on the muddy, slimy singletrack section that was the last 10 or so miles of the race. The peanut butter goo and lack of brakes and energy had us suffering a bit like dogs, but eager to finish.

Finally to Thunder Rock Express and I was finally enjoying the single track. The quartz loop and whatever the other is called should have been closed and them sent us down the gravel road in my opinion. Mostly because I doubt they will offer any help (monetarily or voluntarily) to repair the damage being done to the trails. I mean, they didn't even trim them before the race. But that's just a matter of opinion. Down TRE was fun, even despite no front brake. Then I spun on towards the finish and froze in the open wind and rain and hung at the finish as the rest of our group rolled in.

MJ finished around 9:37, which is where I should have had I had enough fuel. I rolled in 10:10.05 (good numbers) which is within my goal, but shy of my dream. Given the conditions, my condition, and the lack of food (did anyone else see food at an Aid Station besides #3?) I'll take it for a solid effort on the bike. I finished safely, not trashed, able to enjoy the rest of the day, and not buckled over from pain or sickness: That'll do pig, that'll do.

More expenses: Chain, drive side BB cup (pulled from a spare), and a lower headset bearing.

Unable to get dry or warm, H. and I headed back to the cabin followed closely by a line of cars from the crew. It was a race to the hot showers and I won the upstairs race, Ruthie the downstairs one. Course it helped that H. had the cabin key which was now in my possession. Moo hah. VICTORY!

All rebuilt and ready for PMBAR

As we all cleaned up and chilled out with some brews and chatted about the events. H. called in the order for greek and pizza and she and gRant headed down the mountain to get the feast while we continued to empty the brown bottles. The returned with not only the feast, but a box of subway cookies (H. bought Subway out of cookies) and bags of more beer. The party was on and it was a grand time in the mountains with friends.

Sunday brought a group breakfast at Cracker Barrel before we each headed our separate ways. Despite the storms, the conditions, the pain, the setbacks, disappointments, etc... the weekend was a roaring success. It's hard to beat a weekend escape with a group of good friends, some bikes, and a bunch of mud.

(Note: Race photos from KRS1 & H)

Cuhutta Cleansing

Covered Bike Wash with Hot water. FTW!

I'll type up a race report/recap later. It's been a fun and tiring weekend with several hours of bike washing, tearing down, cleaning, grease repacking, part replacing, etc... Needless to say the conditions were pretty wicked. Your typical Southeastern Spring race: lots of rain, wind, thunder, lightening, tree falling, storm enduring, grit flying, mud covered, slimy coated rider, bike, and inside of the eyelids good time. I'm still wiping crud out of my bloodshot eyes.

Grit gets everywhere, even inside the slider slide.

My eyes feel like that.

Drying (like Batman)

Huge props out to Tim "Chuck Norris" Baker, Stephen "Motorman" Myers, and MJ "Third Time's a Charm" Queen for putting down hella good rides. And to The Duke and Rapha-boy for finishing up in fine form. It was a grand time, well 84 miles of it.

Special props to Pills for tearing it up and to Emily for the wonderful pep talk around mile 67ish (??). She said "Well, it's still a long way from done". You're the best Em!

Doing Cooper proud.

Oh and thanks to Mark from Ohio for ruining my (and everyone behind me) finish time before we even left Brush Creek (he said I could blame him, so I will).

A Toast

Cheers from Steers.

Mayor Clay sent along a little toast from the farm out to all the boys and girls racing Cohutta this weekend. I'm passing it along to include any and all of you out there in interwebworld. Have a good one. See ya'll on Monday.

Epso Ithorian

This morning afforded me a little time to work the stiffness out of my legs from the weekends efforts. Also to shake down my recent hub handy work. Luckily for me, everything stayed tight: legs, lungs, brake, and hub. It was a short ride before work, but fully enjoyed and much needed.

Sound advice.

Tonight packing and final bike prep for Cohutta starts. Nothing like last minute planning. PMBAR is up the following weekend and I've not even begun to plan for that. Hopefully some of Dicky's travel department people will be better prepared than for his SeaOtter Trip. Never trust a Mon Calamarian to do the work of an Ithorian. Sheesh, I thought everybody knew that.

Just like it says: Classic.

H. also took a look into the weather predicting Chevy globe for me to see what Cohutta held. The forecast for the weekend looks to be a "Lil Shitty". Hmmfph, whatever happened to the good ol' "Outlook Cloudy Please ask again later" predictions?

Nary a Swear Word (or per H. : "who are you and what did you do with my husband?)

The older school King

My older school Chris King Singlespeed Disc hub (which I got shortly before the release of the newer school iso hub) requires an adapter to mount the rotor to the hub. Not any sort of hindrance at all unless say, you want to adjust the bearing pre-load. Normally I'd just hand it off to Ivory for 10 seconds of work, but my King go to guy has gone. Sniff.

While doing the pre-race check of the bike before toeing the line at CrudeXC, I noticed I had a little play in the rear hub that has been there since, oh... Kanza last year. I'd had my hub serviced (paranoidically preventatively) before the race and all was tight, but apparently it loosened some before the race. Hennessey was on hand to watch over as I worked on it, but it requires a standard size allen and not metric, which we didn't have with us in Kanza (yes it's been added to the traveling toolie roll), so I just rolled it as is. When we got home, XC races took over and the DT Swiss wheels were installed and the Kings just sat against the wall waiting for the rugged stuff to return and I forgot all about it.

I foresee something bending or breaking in 3, 2, 1...

With Cohutta around the corner (Saturday) and my work schedule, I don't have time to make it to a shop during their business hours so I opted to put on my big boy pants and handle the repair myself. With 70% chance of rain and wet sandy grit forecast for the race, I wanted to close up some of the grit traps on the bike and make bearings happy. I felt relatively confident in my chances of a successful outcome considering it's a simple procedure:

1. remove the 6 torx bolts
2. remove the 3 3mm allen bolts
3. pry off the disc adapter
4. scrounge up a standard allen to fit the preload bolt (seriously 3 different bolt heads?)
   
5. loosen the preload bolt and tighten the compression ring (or whatever it's called)
6. put everything back together again

Amazingly I didn't scratch or bend anything!

At first I tried what any red blooded American boy would do, cram the allen into the bolt without removing the disc adapter. The rotor wouldn't allow the allen to fit flush and I risked stripping the bolt. So I did the next logical thing, remove the rotor and try cramming the allen in again. Still no luck.

Not such a tough guy after all, the disc adapter succumbed with little fight.

So I removed the 3 bolts holding the adapter on and tried to pry it off with my fingers. No dice. Then I tried my tire lever. Still stuck. I recalled a recent tool purchase made necessity from the gift of a WTB singlespeed rear wheel from MJ for my commuter bike. The WTB hub requires a fixed wheel lockring tool vs the standard cassette lockring tool of my other wheels. So I spent $12 on a job specific tool I'll most likely use once. As luck would have it, and Park Tool's marketing dept should jump on this angle for use with these "retro" King hubs, the tool placed horizontally across the back of the adapter with the center handle of the tool between it and the hub flange offers the perfect left/right hand prying action to easily pop off the adapter. No muss, no cuss.

Life of a shop dog. Only 4 more long weeks of restricted activity for JD.

All is tight with the rear hub world again and bike/Cohutta prep can continue without fear of the tiny, minuscule, insignificant, damn near imperceptible amount of hub play affecting the performance of the bike. Whew, what a weight off of my mind. Now on to worrying about the next insignificant thing - did I properly torque all the bolts?!

Crude Photos Courtesy of JeanieNeu

Does this helmet make my butt look big?

MJ and me at the Cat1 Start line. Egads! Look at that alien gas baby I'm carrying!
That's disgusting.

Taking the DSG finish sign sprint points after the start.

Dust in the wind. Here I am getting dusted in the wi-ininind.

Taking revenge. Yes I beat a girl! Huh, this is only the end of lap 1? Two more? Dammit!

The Crudeness of it All

CrudeXC was grassroots racing at it's finest. Picture perfect weather, perfect trail conditions, coolish temps, and a great crowd. MJ and DiscoDan showed up 30 minutes early throwing off my "pre-game" (aka morning constitutional) and I shoveled down my Cheerios and we hit the road. DiscoD was racing the sport 20-29 class and had to be down in Clayetteville on the start line at 9 and still needed to register, so we made with our bonus time.

Just as we rolled into Clayetteville my "pre-game" was tired of waiting in the wings so to speak and we pitted at the new Shell station before rolling in to the Cotton Mill Preserve. Too much detail? Sorry.

The crew before the Cat2 / SS start. Post car victim Monster came out for support.

Once on the farm DiscoDan started pre-race prep and Adam and I rolled around to say hey to friends milling around. Several took advantage of the fantastic weekend and made a camping weekend out of the race. One of the many beauties of the Cotton Mill Preserve.

Cat2 and SS on the line

Pretty soon the Cat2 and SS riders were called up to the start. A good crowd had assembled and the mood was light and casual, as it should be. The friendly trash-talking and jibs kept the laughs coming. Since MJ and I were racing our singlespeeds in the Cat1 race, we were free to fly and heckle the racers. Always a fun time.

SS Race Start

Kick's moment in the sun: leading the pack for the first 400 yards.

Team Mikey

Swindall

EricB taking the Cat2 20-29 charge

DiscoDan

Uzzi

Eric B. down middle road.

MJ and I rode up the driveway road to heckle the racers as the trail chris-crossed it. We got to the middle road crossing in time to see two racers making a left turn and coming up the driveway road. Whoa guys, trail continues straight across back there. They lost a few seconds but were back in the singletrack and in the race without much ado. I rolled down and grabbed some flagging tape and MJ and I taped off the lane. We figured if racers were getting confused we'd better try to help.

Becky Kick, Kickin' arse!

When our turn came to race, they grouped the entire Cat1/Pro/Women's classes together, giving us a 16 or so person group. This is how it should be. All against all. I've never had so much fun in an XC start chatting and cutting up with the other racers. How can you beat a race where you're smiling and laughing as much as you're hurting and cramping? When we crossed the areas we taped though, both MJ and I were confused as to how people were getting lost as white arrows pointing straight were painted before and after the crossings. But I can understand not being familiar with a trail while pegging the red line. It's hard to think sometimes and the added heat of the battle stress blurs judgment too, so it's understandable. Other than the 3 racers who took the wrong turn, no one else seemed to have had issues. So hopefully our taping helped out.

Mayor Clay

Being my first race since cross season ended and my first hard effort of the "season", I was unsure how I'd do. The trail can beat you down as it likes to keep you on your toes, so I tried to pace and just get a good training ride in. For the most part that worked, but I did find myself racing much of the laps. Southeastern bad-ass Paula was trading places with me from mid first lap until somewhere in the second lap. She's mega strong and full of skills, so she wasn't making it easy to put any sort of gap on her.

Eventually on some rocky steep climb I managed to get a small gap and stay out of sight for the rest of the lap, though I was constantly looking over my shoulder as I could here her derailleur off in the distance, ever charging.

I caught a glimpse of a rider and dug in to try to close the gap. When I was able to catch him and make the pass, I tried to keep focus and stay on the gas as best I could. Occasionally falling into the mid-lap daydream pace until I'd hear a derailleur and fear Paula was closing in, then I'd pick it up cursing myself for lacking focus.

With 2.5 miles to go in the third and final lap, I caught back up to the guy who got away from my chase on lap 1. I buried myself and put time in on the climb up to Clay's house then kept on the gas all they way into and through the field. Hearing a derailleur clanging all the way down Moore's hill. Paula!

In the end MJ managed 3rd and I held on to finish 4th, not too bad for current shape, recent week long bout of the Clayetteville Two-Step, and racing singlespeed with the experts. After the postings were up I found out I was only one minute off of Moab's Jeremy. Damn it. If only I'd have tried harder I could have milked that for months. (Jeremy is a bad-ass and due to a long and severe illness last year is no where near his former self, yet). Probably my only chance wasted. (Stupid to myself!).

The race was $20 per racer. Prizes went 3 deep and consisted of cash for all classes. The total brought in for the class was halved then first got half of that, second got 30% of the remainder, and third go the final 20%. So cash and bragging rights were on the line. As it should be. For the Cat1 class I offered up an additional $20 and a sixxer of Yazoo Pale Ale for anyone who managed to keep middle TN's mountain hard man Stanley Wills in the back. Stanley is 30 years older than most of the class and fully capable of kicking butt. I didn't have to make the payout as Stanley came in 5th in the 30-39 Cat1 class. Yep, he and a few other Smith County Mafia members raced down to keep the pressure on us. That, my friends, is Grassroots.

Monster's lil' girl.

Aside from the fun race atmosphere and the Smith County Mafia bringing their "A" game to the Cat1 class, the post race scene was just as festive. Lots of kids, families, friends, and parents were out to join in the fun.

gRant and Westy G are all smiles

Fist bump with a thumbs up from Westy

It was fun to see all the kids out racing and riding. It was even more special to have gRant yelling to me that "the boy is watching don't let him down" every lap as the front group gapped me by more and more.

Monster's lil monster Cade ready to roll.

Master Hunter on his 64'er racing the kids race. Making it look easy.

Thanks to everyone who had a hand in helping this new area race get off the ground, whether it was planning, volunteering, working on the trail, riding the trail, or just showing up to hang out. I had a great time and it's left me super pumped for DSG. The magic of the Barn closes out yet another perfect weekend of fun in the sun.

Next up: Cohutta 100. 5 days and counting...

Cat 1 SS MOOTS.