If Socks Were Performance Enhancing Drugs,
Swiftwick's Compression Sock would be the EPO of the sock world. I normally am a several days before the event packer. I generally pack, unpack, and re-pack until I have everything in it's place. Warm clothes for the night time and early morning preparations. Rain gear for the unpredicted monsoons. Cycling gear, tools, and spare parts. Dog supplies. Flask topped off. What have you. Last week though I had many obligations and time was tight. I didn't get the luxury of a 3 day packing party and to top it all off, it was pouring down rain up until the final packing of the truck. I was pretty sure I had everything. Aside from a plastic knife to spread the strawberry creme cheese on the bagels (thanks for the spork gRant) and a spoon to eat my yogurt (thanks for constructing the cardboard spoon Sexpot Jeanie) everything seem to be covered. That is until I went to change into my cycling super hero apparel. It was then that I realized I'd forgotten not only my super hero tall socks, but all of my socks aside from the Willo 4" cuff ones I'd worn the day before. Well damn.
We (gRant,
OldGreg, Mike N. is HOT!, Sexpot Jeanie, Tommy Toughpants, Riley Prancypants, Dish, Po, H.,
Hennessey, and I all rolled into the gravel start lot for the pre-party festivities of the final Snake Creek Time Trial of '08.
Hodge, Phillip, Tim C., and others were all milling about the fire pit. Quickly to setup camp in the muddy swamp (thanks for bringing the plastic OldGreg) and over to the fires with frothy libations from
Yazoo for all. Around Midnight people started looking at watches and eyeing tents. Hodge said something about "here's where we really see who's here to race and who's here to have fun". You can't say that and not be drankin', so I pulled out the flask of Templeton only to immediately be one upped by Phillip and his mason jar of clear shine. Bottles passed, swigs swugged, warm fuzzy goodness. The party went on till around 2-2:30am. I blame Hodge's Miller for dousing the party. That tastes like sh*t, especially after
drinking killer craft brew all night before hand. It also is what I blame my early race queasiness on. I wasn't hung over, I was sick from bad beer. Friends shouldn't let friends buy and hand you bad beer. Uck.
So, back to the socks. After loading up 6 men, one Fraulein, and two dogs into Jeanie's big orange box, we made our way to the actual starting line. Still queasy from Hodge's poor taste in cheap beer, we readied in line.
X-mater showed up and hopped into our line up. Shortly thereafter I spied
Harlan Price looking like a lost puppy wondering if he can jump ahead in line. I hollered "gee he looks skinny and fast, you should go up there if you wanna race" and pointed to the front. He looked back and asked if it was fine, most of us in line who were paying attention said sure and waved him on up front. As soon as he started forward we all started yelling "Look at the a$$hole cutting in line" "look at me I'm sponsored". He stopped, kinda turned a blushed red and started to return to the back. We all waved him back up front saying we were only kidding, but as he turned round to line up at the front we laid into him again. Ah, heckling the big boys is always fun.
Hodge, Hennessey, Me, some dude with a beard, X-mater, Mike N. is HOT!, and maybe one or two others lined up to leave. As soon as go was called, Hodge busts a huge 90 degree right turn and cuts us all off. He'd said he was going to do it while riding over in the box, but none of us believed him. We all had a huge laugh sans beard guy who had no idea he was amongst such hilarious joshters. We rolled out, me offering a friendly push to the mater on the gentle rolling hills of the starting fire road. Then a deep creek crossing later I was chasing he and Hennessey up the long peanut buttery muddy fire road climb. I always just settle in there as I'm a slow stoker. Takes me a bit to warm up and if I keep it even steven on that first climb I'm primed and ready to punch it on the single track at the top, where if you get stuck behind granny spinners, you'll burn a lot of energy and waste a lot of time. I was only 3 bike lengths behind the X-mat entering the singletrack, but as soon as I got there he was gone. I looked up the trail to see him extending the lead with Hennessey being long gone. I worked my way up and around and soon passed him on a short but very steep and super slick climb. Oh, and note to self, never put a Vapor tire on the rear. It sucks worse than it does on the front. It was squirely handling on the front, but on the rear it sucks ass in mud; just cakes up and spins.
Once passed the X-mat I started getting into my groove. The section of ridge line trail from where the rocks stop to where the rocky road downhill start (where Phillip stands) is one of my favorite sections. It just flows along the edge of the ridge and you can just motor. I catch Hennessey pushing his bike exactly where he had given me shit last time when I had to dab there. So I made sure to yell out a friendly "What are you doing?" at him as I rode by. Ah, sweet irony! Though he once again ripped passed me on the gravel decent, as he does every time. No worries as there is still a long way to go and I'm about to enter favorite part number 2. Up the piney needle climb then rip down the steep rocky descent to the short water bar section whoops. Cross the road, narrowly avoid falling into the swamp puddle filled with evergreen clippings, and motor up the windy climb until I get to the old fire road section. I LOVE this section. Turn the power on and start flying, almost over burn the same sharper than you remember right hand turn, then down the shoot. Pump track heaven until the final downhill mega fun section leading to the halfway point. I had gotten around Hennessey somewhere before the downhill, but knew he'd be back like a bad penny as soon as the trail pointed down. He caught me in the final descent and hung behind me complimenting me on my recently improved downhill skills. We rolled into the halfway point to roaring cheers from the support crew. Sharpie, Jut, Jamie, H., Jeanie, Tommy & Riley were all hanging out and cheering for us.
I stopped to refill my only clean bottle (thanks grunge guard, no more giardia for me). Sharpie was quick to grab it and hooked me up with the precision of a NASCAR pit crew. I bitched about forgetting my socks and muttered something about my legs not feeling like usual and Sharpie pulled out a set of Swiftwick compression socks. Word! Hennessey took off, I stopped to re-sock. Who cares if I'm wasting time, these socks are magic. MAGIC I say! After a few photos taken of me swapping socks mid-race, I high tailed it off and up the grueling climb that starts the last 17 miles. Immediately the legs felt better. Endless climbing legs, that's the feeling the compression sock gives. No dead leg feeling, just power. I catch back up to Hennessey who'd paused after snapping something in his quad. I tell him to turn around if it's bad since the crew was there and it not being worth worsening an injury. He said he'd ride it out to the top and see how it felt. We motored on together for the rest of the race. Me pace setting, him getting out ahead, me catching back, pretty much talking trash, riding killer trail, and having a grand time.
Enter the last 8 miles. Up the gravel road climb from the forest road section is a grade that just sucks for me. I liken it to a false flat with a massive headwind. Too tall to just sit and grind, unless you're one of those power riders (
Dicky, we're not) but not steep enough to not be spun out while standing. You get into this annoying rut of sit, stand, sit, stand and grind your way up it.
Hennessey being a power rider motored on ahead, I just settled. Suddenly I feel a boost of power and a hand on my back. Bruce motoring by offering a push. A little chit chat and he was gone, soon to repeat the move to Hennessey. I got reports back from many troops who got the Bruce burst. As I crested the top of the climb and made the left hand turn onto the last 8 miles of rocky hell, I heard someone yell for me to just keep going. I yelled thanks thinking it was a volunteer cheering me on, but it turned out to be Hennessey. He was filling water bottles. He was soon back on the train and we motored through the rocks. This section is where it is really nice to have someone with you for pacing and for pushing. You can lose so much time picking away at lines at this section, but with someone to chat with I just motored on. Last time at this point my kidneys and surrounding muscles where aching with pain. Like every bump was a Mike Tyson rabbit punch. This time after 2 months of "training changes" I had no pain and was really enjoying the rocks. Giggling most of the way to the last 3 miles. That's where fatigue set in and I got the front tire bounced around a bit too much. I only had one fall and that was when pushing the bike, damn pedal got hooked on a rock and the bike pulled me over, I tried to catch myself but planted my foot on the edge of a rock and ended up on my ass as Hennessey came up around the turn. Nice timing. Hennessey had been really digging deep and working hard to beat 4 hours. I was working hard too but really only out to finish stronger than last time, that meant no shoulder pain, no back pain, no kidney pain. I was hoping to beat 4 hours again, but it wasn't my goal. Injury free was the goal for me, but at the same time I love a good battle for the finish.
Somewhere in the last 1.5 miles of trail, Hennessey was watch looking and got a burst of angst/adrenalin and blew past me. I hollered up for him to keep his head and not wreck. We were entering the most technical section and with the fatigue factor and calorie bonks eminent, it is very easy to lose a lot of time in this section. Pinch flats, side wall tears, endos, cliff diving are all real possibilities. He roared past and was out of sight (the trail turned right after it crested a short rise). I made the turn only to see him off to the right and him tossing his bike off to the left, narrowly missing eating it. I secretly thought about hitting it and putting a gap on him as I'd have a good chance of making a break if he was flustered, but I didn't have the gas and wanted to help him break 4 hours. As I passed he threw his hands up and said something about "that's it, I'm back on your wheel". I retorted that he had it in the bag if he would just keep his head. He had my wheel to follow and the final 2 miles are all down hill. He can drop me faster than a fancy china plate on loose gravel downhills, so as long as he didn't flat, bust a bone, or panic, he was golden. We motored on trying to regain lost time and eek in under the 4 hour umbrella.
He started to get down about being over time, I told him it wasn't far now, he said something about another ridge still, but I pointed up and low and behold was the rock wall. I stepped over and told him to get it. Short climb out, all down hill. I hit it as fast as I could without sliding all over the loose gravel turns, and spun my way down. He nipped me by about a minute gained in the downhill. Well deserved and hard fought. I was proud. I was also extremely happy with my bike. Three runnings of the snake and not a single flat, mechanical, or dropped chain, or mysterious creaking. When I crossed the finish line, I was greeted by H. and the yowling-for-papa wupples. I nabbed my top cap and headed over to clean up and celebrate with the rest of the racers and our old and new friends (old friends like Hodge, he's old). Dennis and his fast friend, Sam Koerber, had camped next to us and I let them place some beer and food into my cooler, being from Pisgah needing ice is a new thing for them. I get back and asked if he got his beer and he told me he "traded me" because "mine was better". Gotta love it. I had purchased close to a $100 worth of Yazoo for the race and I ended up out of
Yazoo but with a cooler full of swill beers and cast offs. Luckily the X-mater brought me a nice sampler 12 pack of Highland ales, though those somehow got swiped as well. Thank goodness the ABC Red Brick was stashed in the truck, at least I came home with something worth drinking.
Special note to Terrapin's
Team Wake-n-Bake, when are y'all gonna pitch in and help us support the racers with post race brew?
Yazoo: 3 Wake-n-Bake:0
Better step it up
Wild Bill and Mr. Stanley
For the last 5 months I've been able to sleep without noise. It's been fantastic. My brain had stopped spinning and stressing while my body tried to do the "recovery" thing. The last few nights have been restless, unable to turn off my brain. Typically I have music on all hours of the day, it runs to drone out the noise and to keep my mood in check. I'd started leaving it on while I slept as a means to give my mind something to focus on and hopefully quiet the chatter. Music does wonders to recenter. The music came back on last night. Not a completely restful sleep but better. Ironically, my last two commutes have been in silence. I'd left my shuffle on my desk at work yesterday. Instead I rode home to the glows of the setting sun and in soaking up the warming morning sunshine. My mind raced as my legs spun out my low gearing. Advocacy issues and past histories rearing their ugly heads have my mind on overdrive. People keep towing along this huge weight of past history that needs to be cut loose to allow forward progress. Egos and closed minds keep shutting doors before we can even get to the stoop to knock. 
Normally any snow warnings in TN are pretty much a joke. Growing up in the Northwestern part of Illinois, an 8-12 inch snow fall barely registered as a reason not to continue life as normal. Several months of snow would finally lead to the marshy yard melting of Spring. We're lucky to get a day with a good solid snow down here. Generally snow only happens to screw up a commute home and is gone almost instantly. Friday the snow came and came fast, so fast it was being called "ThunderSnow" by the weather people. We had over 3 inches at the farm, other areas had upwards of 8 inches!! Luckily I had a gallon of milk and a new loaf of bread so I felt confident we could survive this "ThunderSnow". I still for the life of me can't figure out why Tennesseans flock to the grocery for milk and bread every time the forecast mentions the possibility of snow. And I don't mean a few people, but check-out lines reminiscent of gas lines of the late 70's. Insanity.
Saturday morning we'd planned a gravel grinder but that was pretty much called off by 7:30 AM. There were several inches of snow and ice all over the roads. The interstates were a mess and the secondary roads (not too mention the barely traveled back roads we'd be on) were waiting to catch the cars in their deep ditches. After Mike bailed, I called around to make sure no one was going to attempt to drive out into the boonies. Once assured no one would end up on a ditch trying to make a ride I'd planned, I took the pups out to play in the snow. There were drifts close to 3 feet deep. Dish took off running after I pelted him with a snow ball, and thought he was on solid ground, only to fall deep into the snow disappearing momentarily then emerging in a giant explosion of fur and snow.
After breakfast (farm fresh eggs rule) I suited up for a spin out in the snow covered Brentwood alps with Scott the Monster. The high for the day was to barely reach 31, so it was wool, wool, with wool Swiftwicks (OTC Compression socks natch!). Since the 80 miler was on hold till Sunday, I threw on the Harpeth test saddle for the 3 hour ride. Fred sent a message that Harpeth was having a 40% off of all winter clothing sale so we rode over early into the ride to check it out. Swobo Merino wool long sleeve jerseys 40% off. Damn, great price but my need list is more important at the moment than my want list unfortunately. During our ride we saw family after family out sledding and enjoying the snow while we ground up every hill in the alps trying to stay warm. Despite being below freezing, all the snow had melted by the time we were wrapping up our ride. Another quick stop by the shop for some free espresso and for Scott to pick up some needed warmth on sale. After 3.5 hours of saddle time Saturday and close to 6 hours on Sunday's gravel grinder, I think I've found a replacement saddle.
Apparently all of those little Tron motorcycles I saved for Dicky were little tiny Viking Tron big clown wheeled motorcycles. They decided to pillage and plunder and wreak havoc on my peaceful and efficient normal wheeled Tron motorcycles. My CPU pegged all day and things that should have taken moments were taking minutes, minutes turned to hours, and hours got wasted and I hate that. Talk about aggravation. Then stupid network pushing of updates pegged the CPU more and well I just got fed up. Feeling frustrated, the warm rays of the setting sun reflected on my bike and I decided the day was a wash and I was going to unwind and get a nice ride in before dark.
I hopped the fence (which is a double row fence now for some odd reason) separating the shopping center from Mack Hatcher and made my way into Harpeth. Freddy and Chris were there and immediately welcoming as always. I asked if I could borrow their pump to air up my tire after I changed it. Before I knew it my bike was in the stand and a cold beer in my hand. Now that is service. I made quick work of the fix while they tended to customers, then chilled out there while they closed up shop. Mood immediately brightened and still time to get in a few miles.
Back in the day the bartender used to serve the stereotypical role of listener, friend, therapist, but in my life it's the bike shops that replace that role. Sadly most Nashie shops don't offer the friendly "come hang out" atmosphere. It's all about buying or getting out of the way. MOAB has been a long standout in customer comfort, with stools and a bar to hang and chat with the mechanics, magazines to read, shit to shoot, but they are way over in the 'boro and not on my way home. Harpeth Bicycles sits exactly halfway between home and work and has long been a fantastic source of quick bike aid and a welcoming pit stop on the way home. Chairs, cycling movies, and good conversation. Plus the extra bonus of getting my swiss cheesed tube put to good use, yes they recycle the tubes by teaming up with Alchemy Goods. I even got hooked up with a Selle Italia test saddle (I'm in desperate need of a saddle for TransIowa and DirtyKanza) as they have a fleet of Selle Italia test saddles. Stop in, check them out, hang out, buy some Swiftwicks or a sweet custom steel or ti ride.
If Socks Were Performance Enhancing Drugs, Swiftwick's Compression Sock would be the EPO of the sock world. I normally am a several days before the event packer. I generally pack, unpack, and re-pack until I have everything in it's place. Warm clothes for the night time and early morning preparations. Rain gear for the unpredicted monsoons. Cycling gear, tools, and spare parts. Dog supplies. Flask topped off. What have you. Last week though I had many obligations and time was tight. I didn't get the luxury of a 3 day packing party and to top it all off, it was pouring down rain up until the final packing of the truck. I was pretty sure I had everything. Aside from a plastic knife to spread the strawberry creme cheese on the bagels (thanks for the spork gRant) and a spoon to eat my yogurt (thanks for constructing the cardboard spoon Sexpot Jeanie) everything seem to be covered. That is until I went to change into my cycling super hero apparel. It was then that I realized I'd forgotten not only my super hero tall socks, but all of my socks aside from the Willo 4" cuff ones I'd worn the day before. Well damn.
We (gRant, OldGreg, Mike N. is HOT!, Sexpot Jeanie, Tommy Toughpants, Riley Prancypants, Dish, Po, H., Hennessey, and I all rolled into the gravel start lot for the pre-party festivities of the final Snake Creek Time Trial of '08. Hodge, Phillip, Tim C., and others were all milling about the fire pit. Quickly to setup camp in the muddy swamp (thanks for bringing the plastic OldGreg) and over to the fires with frothy libations from Yazoo for all. Around Midnight people started looking at watches and eyeing tents. Hodge said something about "here's where we really see who's here to race and who's here to have fun". You can't say that and not be drankin', so I pulled out the flask of Templeton only to immediately be one upped by Phillip and his mason jar of clear shine. Bottles passed, swigs swugged, warm fuzzy goodness. The party went on till around 2-2:30am. I blame Hodge's Miller for dousing the party. That tastes like sh*t, especially after drinking killer craft brew all night before hand. It also is what I blame my early race queasiness on. I wasn't hung over, I was sick from bad beer. Friends shouldn't let friends buy and hand you bad beer. Uck.
So, back to the socks. After loading up 6 men, one Fraulein, and two dogs into Jeanie's big orange box, we made our way to the actual starting line. Still queasy from Hodge's poor taste in cheap beer, we readied in line. X-mater showed up and hopped into our line up. Shortly thereafter I spied Harlan Price looking like a lost puppy wondering if he can jump ahead in line. I hollered "gee he looks skinny and fast, you should go up there if you wanna race" and pointed to the front. He looked back and asked if it was fine, most of us in line who were paying attention said sure and waved him on up front. As soon as he started forward we all started yelling "Look at the a$$hole cutting in line" "look at me I'm sponsored". He stopped, kinda turned a blushed red and started to return to the back. We all waved him back up front saying we were only kidding, but as he turned round to line up at the front we laid into him again. Ah, heckling the big boys is always fun.
Hodge, Hennessey, Me, some dude with a beard, X-mater, Mike N. is HOT!, and maybe one or two others lined up to leave. As soon as go was called, Hodge busts a huge 90 degree right turn and cuts us all off. He'd said he was going to do it while riding over in the box, but none of us believed him. We all had a huge laugh sans beard guy who had no idea he was amongst such hilarious joshters. We rolled out, me offering a friendly push to the mater on the gentle rolling hills of the starting fire road. Then a deep creek crossing later I was chasing he and Hennessey up the long peanut buttery muddy fire road climb. I always just settle in there as I'm a slow stoker. Takes me a bit to warm up and if I keep it even steven on that first climb I'm primed and ready to punch it on the single track at the top, where if you get stuck behind granny spinners, you'll burn a lot of energy and waste a lot of time. I was only 3 bike lengths behind the X-mat entering the singletrack, but as soon as I got there he was gone. I looked up the trail to see him extending the lead with Hennessey being long gone. I worked my way up and around and soon passed him on a short but very steep and super slick climb. Oh, and note to self, never put a Vapor tire on the rear. It sucks worse than it does on the front. It was squirely handling on the front, but on the rear it sucks ass in mud; just cakes up and spins.
Once passed the X-mat I started getting into my groove. The section of ridge line trail from where the rocks stop to where the rocky road downhill start (where Phillip stands) is one of my favorite sections. It just flows along the edge of the ridge and you can just motor. I catch Hennessey pushing his bike exactly where he had given me shit last time when I had to dab there. So I made sure to yell out a friendly "What are you doing?" at him as I rode by. Ah, sweet irony! Though he once again ripped passed me on the gravel decent, as he does every time. No worries as there is still a long way to go and I'm about to enter favorite part number 2. Up the piney needle climb then rip down the steep rocky descent to the short water bar section whoops. Cross the road, narrowly avoid falling into the swamp puddle filled with evergreen clippings, and motor up the windy climb until I get to the old fire road section. I LOVE this section. Turn the power on and start flying, almost over burn the same sharper than you remember right hand turn, then down the shoot. Pump track heaven until the final downhill mega fun section leading to the halfway point. I had gotten around Hennessey somewhere before the downhill, but knew he'd be back like a bad penny as soon as the trail pointed down. He caught me in the final descent and hung behind me complimenting me on my recently improved downhill skills. We rolled into the halfway point to roaring cheers from the support crew. Sharpie, Jut, Jamie, H., Jeanie, Tommy & Riley were all hanging out and cheering for us. 
I stopped to refill my only clean bottle (thanks grunge guard, no more giardia for me). Sharpie was quick to grab it and hooked me up with the precision of a NASCAR pit crew. I bitched about forgetting my socks and muttered something about my legs not feeling like usual and Sharpie pulled out a set of Swiftwick compression socks. Word! Hennessey took off, I stopped to re-sock. Who cares if I'm wasting time, these socks are magic. MAGIC I say! After a few photos taken of me swapping socks mid-race, I high tailed it off and up the grueling climb that starts the last 17 miles. Immediately the legs felt better. Endless climbing legs, that's the feeling the compression sock gives. No dead leg feeling, just power. I catch back up to Hennessey who'd paused after snapping something in his quad. I tell him to turn around if it's bad since the crew was there and it not being worth worsening an injury. He said he'd ride it out to the top and see how it felt. We motored on together for the rest of the race. Me pace setting, him getting out ahead, me catching back, pretty much talking trash, riding killer trail, and having a grand time.
Hennessey being a power rider motored on ahead, I just settled. Suddenly I feel a boost of power and a hand on my back. Bruce motoring by offering a push. A little chit chat and he was gone, soon to repeat the move to Hennessey. I got reports back from many troops who got the Bruce burst. As I crested the top of the climb and made the left hand turn onto the last 8 miles of rocky hell, I heard someone yell for me to just keep going. I yelled thanks thinking it was a volunteer cheering me on, but it turned out to be Hennessey. He was filling water bottles. He was soon back on the train and we motored through the rocks. This section is where it is really nice to have someone with you for pacing and for pushing. You can lose so much time picking away at lines at this section, but with someone to chat with I just motored on. Last time at this point my kidneys and surrounding muscles where aching with pain. Like every bump was a Mike Tyson rabbit punch. This time after 2 months of "training changes" I had no pain and was really enjoying the rocks. Giggling most of the way to the last 3 miles. That's where fatigue set in and I got the front tire bounced around a bit too much. I only had one fall and that was when pushing the bike, damn pedal got hooked on a rock and the bike pulled me over, I tried to catch myself but planted my foot on the edge of a rock and ended up on my ass as Hennessey came up around the turn. Nice timing. Hennessey had been really digging deep and working hard to beat 4 hours. I was working hard too but really only out to finish stronger than last time, that meant no shoulder pain, no back pain, no kidney pain. I was hoping to beat 4 hours again, but it wasn't my goal. Injury free was the goal for me, but at the same time I love a good battle for the finish.
He started to get down about being over time, I told him it wasn't far now, he said something about another ridge still, but I pointed up and low and behold was the rock wall. I stepped over and told him to get it. Short climb out, all down hill. I hit it as fast as I could without sliding all over the loose gravel turns, and spun my way down. He nipped me by about a minute gained in the downhill. Well deserved and hard fought. I was proud. I was also extremely happy with my bike. Three runnings of the snake and not a single flat, mechanical, or dropped chain, or mysterious creaking. When I crossed the finish line, I was greeted by H. and the yowling-for-papa wupples. I nabbed my top cap and headed over to clean up and celebrate with the rest of the racers and our old and new friends (old friends like Hodge, he's old). Dennis and his fast friend, Sam Koerber, had camped next to us and I let them place some beer and food into my cooler, being from Pisgah needing ice is a new thing for them. I get back and asked if he got his beer and he told me he "traded me" because "mine was better". Gotta love it. I had purchased close to a $100 worth of Yazoo for the race and I ended up out of Yazoo but with a cooler full of swill beers and cast offs. Luckily the X-mater brought me a nice sampler 12 pack of Highland ales, though those somehow got swiped as well. Thank goodness the ABC Red Brick was stashed in the truck, at least I came home with something worth drinking.
