2008 In Review - Year of the Snapped Wrist

It has come to that time of the year when old father time needs to have the Depends changed and we prepare for the crap filled Pampers of the New Year's baby. It is also the time that I like to reflect back on another year gone by and the adventures that will be ingrained in my mind (at least until Alzheimer's sets in). This year started out with a bang as I partied out of my 40’s and into the 50’s.

Suddenly there was the realization that I had perhaps reached, if not passed the apogee of the bell curve of life. I recall seeing a flash of bright light, thinking I had perhaps reached the end of the tunnel and an appointment with my maker. Turns out it was the flash of the camera catching me in a semi conscious moment of alcohol abuse.

The brighter note was the knowledge that no longer was I going head-to-head with the young turks of mountain biking, instead I was the young punk of the Master’s class. This also meant that it was time to shed the ENO cranks, single rear cog and rigid fork and go back to racing a fully geared bike with suspension, at least on the front end. For this I had the guys up at Independent Fabrication put together one kick ass Ti Lefty 29er. I was making sure I had every advantage available (short of a few rounds of EPO).
All of the training was getting to me but the results were coming in with podiums in the first two 100s. But there was something missing, that spark that got me into the sport, and it wasn’t until after the Mohican 100 that it came rushing at me like a hot kiss at the end of a wet fist – TEAM SEAGAL.

(Image lifted from Team Seagal's http://teamseagal.blogspot.com/)

No sooner had the first swig of PBR been poured and the googi berries sacrificed to the gods that I realized these guys had it hard wired for fun and like a future crackhead taking a first hit off the pipe, I was hooked. Born out of the loins of the Mohican 100 was the New East Coast Syndicate - and the new found incentive to ride in honor of the Grand Master Seagal spurring me on for the remainder of the season. Supplementing my training with late night sessions in the dojo I was fully prepared to take any beating that would come and was able to score podiums in the balance of the races. The season ended with two thirds a second and a fourth. Due to the scoring system of the NUE series this meant rather then third overall I ended up in fourth overall – I felt worse then this guy.

Working in the financial markets meant that the season essentially ended in September when the mother of all financial tsunamis hit the global markets. Work went from low stress 50 hour weeks to grueling 70 hour stints in the trenches. Despite all of this there was no stopping the New East Coast Syndicate from making it's international debut for Team Seagal at the Baja Epic. With the master himself riding shotgun I was able to dodge the bullets flying around Baja, survive the rabid canines and bring home the hardware finishing 1st in Master's and 6th overall.

Due to sudden unpredictable events (at least I still have a job for now) my race plans for the coming year have been put into total disarray with only the Singlespeed-a-Palooza and the Wilderness 101 confirmed. Certainly the highest priority is to meet the rest of Team Seagal and do one of the crazy events they are plugged into, perhaps Burning is in the cards! Stay tuned for the further adventures of the New East Coast Syndicate.

Chirstmas 2008

Look what Santa has brought for young Steven!

Ice Capades/The Dark Horse Sunday Single Speed Ride

The past week was spent basking in the sun of Southern California, dining at Spago, rubbing elbows with Wolfgang Puck and of course conducting business. While all of this was going on I never bothered to check on the weather back East, only finding upon my return that one of the worst ice storms in decades had hit, leaving a thick layer of ice, thousands with out power, the trails in shambles and our bikes like this.

After several years of mind numbing time on the rollers and trainers I tossed in the towel and hooked up with the Dark Horse Cycles Racing Team for the Sunday single speed rides. There are only two requirements for the rides, good attitude and beer, neither of which I have any trouble digging up for these rides. (Sadly the cold weather sucked the life out of my camera battery so I was not able to record the actual events, but trust me the following shots closely resemble what actually took place). This weekend with the ice storm the trails were proved to be a bit trickier then usual and at times the riding felt like this.

Habitually I, like a top flight equestrian rider, dismount by unclipping from my left pedal first. Well for the second weekend in a row, despite massive amounts of forearm torque, my left cleat loosened up enough that unclipping in a hurry was not an option. It provided fodder for the pack as I usually ended up looking like this

Mike Rave, riding his new scandium Niner, was feeling more bullet proof then ever and tempted fate by trying to ride every ice patch on the course. The highlight came when he broke through the ice and with rear wheel spinning put up a rooster tail just a shade smaller then this.

After almost 2 hours riding in 20 degree weather we all agreed to spin back to the cars where George Z, the Mayor of MTA, conducted another brilliant post ride debrief.

I can't wait for the New Year's day ride!

Random Fun Shots From Baja

The Master running surveillance at the hotel

Our favorite liquor store, the selection of tequila was bigger and cheaper then beer

Mandatory hydration system when racing in Baja

Figure this one out.....Pancho Homer

This was the best deal in town, four lobsters, a beer and margarita for $12 USD, ate here a lot!

Making sure I get away from the office by getting the Blackberry drunk

Baja Epic - No Flak Jacket Required

With the recent unease in the area the field was a bit depleted with at least one pro team and a number of riders dropping out of the race in the final week. The reduced field (all 28 of us) dropped the usual prerace prepping and immediately gathered at the bar for the free margaritas being served up!

The field favorite ended up being Ryan LaBar of BIKE magazine who was handing out swag as he posed with this awesome ride, BIKE magazines monthly feature bike, the SHIT Bike. This thing has been around Moab, used as a commuter bike and thrashed by Wade Simmons on the North Shore. While he suffered on the climbs due to the geometry Ryan crushed the monster descent off Mike’s Sky Ranch on stage 3.

Stage 1 would see a 65 mile leg and 7800’ of climbing, with Evan Plews being the only pro. Right from the start everyone was viewing this as a more intimate race with the chance to really get to know you competitors since there were so few to ride with each day. We rolled off with a seaside start right on the Pacific Ocean, with akido like reflexes I headed straight for the hard sand and sped off into the lead with Seagal siting the course.

From there we headed inland along the back farm roads that challenged every rider with mangy dogs chasing you as each farmhouse rolled by. Within the first 5 miles the climbing began with steep rolling hills, the highlight being the steep climb up Tequila Hill were our group of 7 stopped at the summit for shots of Mexico’s finest before setting back out to the first rest stop.

The wrist snapping began around mile 45 with a long road climb to the second aide station where I thinned the group down form 6 to 2. Right out of the aide station we were off on an 18 mile uphill grind into headwinds blowing 20+ mph - a kick to the jewels would have felt better. Managed to snap a couple of more wrists before rolling into Tecate to end day 1. In Masters I grabbed my first stage win and was able to take 6 minutes out of second.

Stage 2, an 85 miles slog across the back country of Baja, on paper looked to be fairly easy with only 5500’ of climbing, until the prerace meeting revealed the presence of 13 -17 miles of deep sand that would be unrideable, and the fact that we would be sharing a section of the course with the Baja race vehicles that were prerunning the course for next week’s race.

Race day dawned with temps in the low 40’s and the continuation of yesterday's menacing headwind, which stayed with us for the first 53 miles of the course. This was the first time I have had to walk flat section due to the deep sand. The other option being riding through the bush (with it’s thorns and rattlers) to stay in the hard pack – tried both and went for the walking. The stage ended with a fast descent down hardpack road with sections of deep sand and of course a pitbull that was all teeth and drool chasing you near the bottom. After the downhill we were treated to 6 miles of washboard road (some of the riders swore they would be sterile afterwards) with sections of deep sand before rolling into the finish that included young bmx riders throwing rocks at some of us! Again I nabbed another stage win, further padded my lead by 35 minutes and snapped a pair of wrists. This time would prove vital as the bronchitis I had been battling the past few weeks was coming back in a big way.

Stage 3 kicked off with a 2.5 hour bus ride to the Valle de Trinidad. The day's 53 miles and 6800’ of climbing opened with what was fast becoming the traditional 5 mile sand and washboard slog to the base of the climb to Mike’s Sky Ranch, which featured pitches in excess of 18 degrees. The descent was fast and rocky, serving up 2 flats before I finally pulled into the first rest stop. The ensuing hike a bike to the summit was followed with a descent that was better suited for the Red Bull Challenge then a stage race. Feeling like someone had me in a bear hug the entire stage I marked time against second in Master’s over the balance of the course.

The final descent was another fast dirt road section made all the more tricky by the loss of my rear brakes, the sand having finally worn them to the point of no return. Of course to make us all suffer just a bit more, the final 5 miles were over (drumroll please) sandy washboard road. I struggled in second in Masters losing 8 minutes of my lead. Then back on the bus for 2.5 hours of beer drinking and countless piss breaks before getting to the hotel and dinner.

Here's yours truly giving the stud muffin pose after a night of hard drinking before stage 4.

Stage 4 was shortened to just under 40 miles and 2200’ of climbing after most everyone agreed that there had been enough sand and the 3 mile beach section near the finish should be dropped, which it was. By now the bronchitis was so bad I could hardly breath and knew I would be giving up time, the question was how much.

It only got worse on the first descent when I hit a bone jarring ditch in the trail that even Stan’s couldn't save. This was really beginning to really suck ass and would suck even more ass when midway through the stage I suffered a third and fourth flat. With no tubes left I went begging from anyone and managed to score enough to get to the finish. The sight of the Pacific before the final descent had me dreaming of margaritas, shots and beer. I Upheld the honor of Team Seagal NECS, coming home 6^th overall and first in Masters with an 8 minute lead. Now it’s Margarita time!

To get an idea of what it is really like in Baja these days check out this link - http://www.nytimes.com/2008/11/25/business/25road.html?ref=business

Dia de Los Muertos - Baja California, Mexico

Loyal fans (Team Seagal), the East Coast Syndicate headed down to Baja for a big adventure, and an adventure it was. A critical part of any stage race is making sure one is adjusted properly to the time zones and the local fare. As you can see below while waiting to board the plane I was working hard on becoming one with the agave and making sure that I would pass out on the flight to get onto Pacific Standard Time as soon as possible.

Once we arrived at the San Diego airport it was time to find a way to the border. The elderly couple manning the information booth (the woman had skin that was tougher then the hide of a crocodile) looked at us like we were loco for heading to Rosarito. "They are kidnapping and shooting everyone down there" were the words out of her mouth. In a state of shock over the words that had been uttered I took a long gulp from the flask and hailed a cab - "take me to the border, pronto!!!".

And of course no soon do you cross the border and there in bold letters is the offering of eternal youth for only a couple of pesos......

Armed with numerous doses of HGH, a flask (now only half full) of high grade agave and the master himself in the bike box there was no stopping the East Coast Syndicate. As we headed south in the local taxi we were able to take in some of the natural wonders of the region such as the America version of the Great Wall, designed to repel cheap labor and long lines at the DMV

and of course the savior himself. As it turns out the town we were heading for had seen some recent action with masked gunmen kidnapping a couple of touristos during a night out on the town, leaving the maitre de with the tab. Then a motorcyclist preriding the course (yes we were sharing the trails with the Baja 500 racers) was shot and killed by a farmer! Perhaps this was truly divine intervention.

The kicker to all of the is we arrived on 11/2 which in Mexico is the Dia de los Muertos, the day of the dead. Between the kidnappings, shootings and celebrations it looked like the master might be facing a battle to rival "Above the Law".

Better Then a Dashboard Jesus

How can you possibly go wrong when you have the master guiding you on the highway and on the trails?

The NUE Math

(3+3+2+4)/4 = 4

Yeah go figure

Shenandoah 100 - More Rain/More Miles/Kicked in the Groin

Well loyal fans (read that to mean Team Seagal), the final leg of the NUE Series is now in the books and it is time to sit back, read trashy magazines and get drunk on beer and mezcal, and boy did I earn it this year.

Just as you experienced at the Mohican, pre race thunderstorms were the order of the night on Saturday, ensuring the the course would be muddy (not as bad as Mohican) and have it's fair share of greasy spots to take the unwitting to the mat faster then a blow from an akido stick.

Turns out this was not one to remember and for the better part of the day I felt like a stunt double that Master Steven had abused for kicks.

The night before started with some jackass blasting the megaphone siren at all hours and babbling out unrecognizable phrases that made it seem like I was back on the boat with Chef going up that river in Apocalypse Now. The morning was humid with a capital H and despite the cool temps this was going to be a race that would take the wind out of your sails.

Well your poor commentator suffered heavily in these conditions and never did get in the game for the entire race. The biggest positive was riding past the 22 and 43 mile marks and not bailing out of the race (each of these points was less then a 10 minute ride to the camp ground). The biggest negative was the 18 mile climb out of mile 54. In past years this has been a spot where I have snapped many a wrist and left grown men sobbing on the side of the road from the pain doled out. Well this year it was my turn to take the beating and it sure felt like a kick in the groin as the single speeders rode past me on the steeper pitches toward the summit. It was so bad that I considered going to the emergency room for wrist X rays!

The push on continued (both literally and physically) as I rode and walked my way to the finish, pushed on by the powers of Steven, thoughts of Corona, limes and mezcal and of course the famous post race sacrifice of Tibetan goji berries to the gods for making it home. The icing on the cake was the double puncture less then 2 miles from the finish. The leaks were slow enough that I could ride but barely steer and on the final single track the front end tucked and I came up dazed and sporting a new taco shaped wheel just for the Baja Epic.

The final result, fourth in Masters, securing at worst 4th in the series and and podium finishes in all the races.

Year of the Snake

Enough already!!!!! The weekend is the third time I have run into/over/next to one of these rattlers. Hope the old adage is true that it comes in threes.

Suddenly Single

It is about 6 months since the commitment to single speed the Cape Epic was made by my partner and now that it is time to sh*#t or get off the pot he has elected to get off the pot!
What this means is I am now standing at the alter, lottery slot in hand and in need of a partner for the 09 race. Where you may ask do you fit into this equation......must be strong enough to have a go at a top half of the field finish, pony up the extra dollars/rands for the premium package (yes it is hard enough riding this race that I won't consider the tents) and must ride a single speed (unlike '07 suspension forks are okay).

New Marshall in Town

Decided to take the weekend off from the usual grind and provide my services to Dark Horse Cycles as a course marshall for the Dark Horse 40. The beauty is that the race takes place in my home course and is less then 10 minutes from the house meaning less travel and more time relaxing.
Getting there nice and early, Beth and I established our base camp right at the bottom of the Washboard climb, the spot that no rider was going to like on the first lap and definitely would not like on the second lap (at the 36 mile marker). With the recent rains there was the potential for a full onslaught of mosquitoes and horse flies so we took the trusty truck and rigged up the mosquito netting in the back and settled down in the chairs for some serious marshalling and beer consumption.
By the time the second lap came around and the elite riders had come and gone the fun really began as riders, faced with the loose rock climb, were seeking alternative course routes. Being a good marshall means that you need to be astute enough to read the look in a rider's eyes and know whether to direct them up the climb or to the nearest keg (we did offer the more desperate looking an icy cold one from the cooler) and the keg route did have several takers.
All in all a pretty lazy day and a nice change in pace from the usual training. Now time to get down to it and focus on the Shenandoah 100!

Wilderness 101 - The Independent Fabrication/Team Seagal Pain Train Comes to Town

Well sports fans it is that time of the year when the planets align, the clouds clear and the trails run fast in furious in Coburn, PA.....yes the Wilderness 101. In a sado-masochistic way this is without a doubt my favorite race of the year. It mainly has to do with the fact that the W101 is the first mtb race I entered and somehow managed to finish. After swearing never to set foot again in Coburn here I am stepping up to the line for the 6th straight time.

Again I was joined by a couple of proper English gentlemen, Wayne and Footie, both veterans of the race and always looking for a reason to tip a couple of beers. The antics didn't take long and leaving NYC at the optimal time of 4pm on a Friday ensured that Wayne & Footie wouldn't be here for the better part of 7 hours. The downside to all of this - when they did finally arrive at 11pm I was awaken from a solid sleep and eventually forced to run for the vial of Ambien so I could manage a paltry 4 hours of sleep before the race.

Race day dawns with Chris Scott plying the campground with subtle ringing of the Race Gong. After a shortened night of sleep nothing is more satisfying then Footie's antics on race morning. Last year it was the attempt to convert to tubeless and this year there was nothing quite like watching Footie attempt to get a 29er tire to stay on a 26" rim, and all of this in the 15 minutes before the start!

Race day showed early signs of ideal weather and a the crack of 7am we were off and riding behind the lead cycles with the pain train revving up to full speed. Wayne, Footie and I held together for the first climb with Footie showing signs of brilliance (and his skills at wrist snapping) as he shot ahead on the climbs and in true old school fashion stopped on the road side for a quick menthol. Once we crested the first climb it was goodbye Footie and hello pain train as the pace quickened and we took advantage of the rolling fire roads. A couple of dropped chains later and Wayne was off the back leaving each of us to suffer in our own world of delusion and pain.

Grinding out mile after mile and focusing on the road ahead for mile after mile of climbing/wrist snapping, I made it to the 73 mile mark with only a few scrapes from going over the bars before I had the pleasure of meeting my potential maker -

On the climb up Sand Mountain Road I held to the right and led the group up the packed track on that side. You can imagine what it was like to take a pedal stroke and hear the rattle of the snake, look down and see a coiled rattler have the option to a)strike at the nearest ankle and end my race (or life) or b) retreat to the woods. Lucky for me option b was the more appealing choice on this day. Needless to say the center of the trail offered the best path for the rest of the race.

The final 20 miles saw a monumental battle between my legs and the demons in my head and you can be assured that the demons put up one hell of a fight before they finally ran out of hard riding and were suppressed for another year.

Crossing the finish line I realized that this is the only thing that could hurt more then a session with a dominatrix and a cat-o-nine tails. Was it worth it - for second place in masters - hell yes and I will see you next year.

The following morning, looking to combat the effects of burning 10,000+ calories, way too many beers and shots of mezcal it was off to the local diner for the "Delicious Dozen" or in our case the Delicious 36 after ordering 3 of these. Yes we did manage to finish almost everything on the table and without running to the bathroom to hurl! And one last positive note, I managed to raise a few thousand dollars for ALS/TDI. Amazing how much people will pay to see you suffer.

Team Seagal East Coast Syndicate Recruits First Team Member

Team Seagal's East Coast Syndicate is proud to welcome it's newest and first member, who will be know only by the name Footie - his favorite English sporting past time. Footie is a real trooper, brought into endurance racing on a whim, I made sure to give him a good wrist snapping his first time out. Wiser to the ways and having spent hours at the dojo, Footie elected to go to his second 100 miler on a full rigid single speed and proceeded to throw down a very respectable time.

Unsure what to make of this protege, rumor had it that Steven Seagal formed a special task force to study the ancestry of Footie's family. Well it has been confirmed that during the reign of Henry the VIII there was a tryst with one of the servants and the offspring yielded the British police officer that had to give up his bike and ride mass transit due to poor cycling skills.

Even more shocking was the revelation that this officer had younger brother that turns out to be none other then Footie. Suspicions were confirmed when this rare photo was discovered of Footie trying to fit a tire right before the start of the Wilderness 101.

Perhaps he was confused over the metric system but we had a great laugh watching this video of Footie trying to put a 29" tire on a 26" rim. It doesn't get any better then this 15 minutes before the start. It should be noted that Footie went out and snapped a lot of wrists in this one!

Welcome aboard mate.

And when it was all over we celebrated with numerous bottles of beer, flasks of mezcal and an offering of Chinese herbs and the Tibetian Gogi in hopes that our fallen brother Wayne would return from the hospital with his arm intact, which he did with 6 stitches.

Kiss of the Spider Woman

What else is there in store for the season? A crash in the first race (the cuts and bruising taking more then a month to heal), nothing but mud and a good time thanks to Team Seagal in the second and now just a week before the W 101 a couple of bites on the elbow from a spider. Well there is substantial swelling, what looks like a golf ball sticking out on the tip of my elbow and a lot of tenderness and pain whenever anything touches it and yes enough heat for Al Gore to declare my elbow a contributor to global warming. 

Cape Epic Bound

Well once just wasn't enough so I entered the 2009 Absa Cape Epic lottery and wouldn't you know it - I have a winning ticket, so off to South Africa in March for another go on the single speed against Dr. Evil, only this time I will allow myself the pleasure of a front suspension fork. 

Stick versus Derailleur or Suddenly Single

It was a great 8 days of vacation, lots of time to relax, work on the house and of course get in a lot of awesome riding, whether it was on the road or on the trails. The last day was planned for a great 5o mile ride through the trails of Stewart State Forest (home of the Dark Horse 40) which are characterized by fast flowing single track and every weekend more new single track having been cut by the motocross bikes.

Well all started out great, hitting the usual trails and cranking out some great miles.  Then came the new trails, the pace easing as we wound our way through the woods. Suddenly, faster then a cobra can strike, there was a crack of a branch, the locking up of the cranks and a horrible sound of metal tangling in the spokes of some beautiful Industry Nine wheels!!! My stomach turned as I dismounted, looked down and saw this horrible sight -

Having always intended to race this bike as a single speed, once the NUE Series is over, it was built with Paragon sliders so the option for on the fly conversion to single speed was available. The only requirement was to remove the slider, use a couple of rocks to bash it back into shape so that I could put the wheel back on and remove a section of chain - then I could finish off the ride and in the spirit of Team Seagal, snapping the wrists of my companions!

Well the damage was a bit more then we could repair on the fly and with gears rubbing against the bent slider it was all I could do to get it back to the car and call it a day on the trails. The upside to all of this was two fold - First "Beth" finally has officially become a Team Seagal bike, wearing the colors and ready to snap some wrists at the Baja Epic.

Second, the real Beth and I broke out the kayaks and headed to the roaring rapids of the Wall Kill River. Recalling the trials and tribulations of Powell as he explored the Grand Canyon we were able to put a new rating scale in place for rapids. Rapids are rated for how many times you have to either push with the paddle or simply get out and walk across the rocks since the river was so low. Well we hit several class 20+ rapids and even had to portage across one section. Of course we made sure never to spill the beer!

Gardiner Biathlon

The week has finally come to an end and with no races in site for the next few weekends it was time to go out explore and indulge in some good old fashion fun. Living in Gardiner has some great benefits for the active set. Among them are Stewart State Forest, home of the Dark Horse 40 and  over 5000 acres of some of the sweetest single track you can turn a wheel on. There is also Minnewaska State Park and Mohonk Preserve, back in their day the playground of the Mellon's, Rockefeller's and Morgan's, which between them boast a staggering 10,000+ acres of woods, single track, carriage trails, lakes and rock climbing.

The weekend's adventure began with a ride deep into the woods of Monhonk Preserve to the northern most end to an area know as Table Rocks. My guides were a sweaty, falling apart trail map that did no good as I left the reading glasses at home and Paul Livornese, one of my weekend riding mates and single speed racer.

Paul showing no concern over the impending thunderstorms

Paul has this ability to find great trails in some of the most obscure regions and always manages to get us back to the trailhead before dark. Again he lived up to his abilities and after 14  miles of trails (mostly downhill) we arrived at Table Rocks, a spot that provided one of the more spectacular views of the Catskills.

The scramble up to the rocks was a bit tricky with cleats on but having avoided falling into the abyss between the rocks it was time to relax, contemplate life and worship all things natural. With our heads spinning and time flying by we were brought back to reality by a sudden boom of thunder and the distant flash of lightning. Holy shit, countless miles of up hill riding on metal bikes and the forecast was for severe thunderstorms....not the best combination.

Chris doing the backwoods version of a trackstand

Well what started as a mellow ride back not so slowly turned into an all out sprint to make it to the nearest shelter, the pavilion half way home. We arrived just as the rain started to fall and lightning strikes all around. Forty minutes later we were back on the trail, dodging thunderheads and getting covered in mud as we hightailed it back to the safety of the cars and cold beer. With the buzz gone it was time to head for the hacienda and once the skies cleared begin the second leg of the day's activities - kayaking the turbulent waters and class .5 rapids of the mighty Wallkill River.

Keeping the beer upright is essential in the rapids

Beth and I packed the boats with almost the same skills as Admiral Perry when he set out for the pole and over the course of the next 3 hours we managed to consume all of the beer, wine and food before we finally pulled out of the river and made our way back home for the nightcap.

Ahhh, nothing quite like a weekend in Gardiner!