Gran Fondo 2012

Welcome all literary critics, connoisseurs of Pulitzer prize winning journalism and trouble making cyclists. I do have to apologize for the rather lengthy delay in reporting on our latest non race/cycling escapade - Gran Fondo but it has taken that long for my brain and body to rehydrate enough to be able to put a thoughts to keyboard.

In what is fast becoming the marquee event of the summer we had our largest turnout to date for an MRC non race with 14 non racers looking to man train around Ulster and Sullivan counties.  While the MRC is devoted to the worshipping of carbon fibre and mastery of the Italian dialect is a must we, of all things, do not exclusive club as was evidenced by the participation of Murp was aiming to dominate the time trial bike division.

Displaying the focus and technique to fast transitions Murp arrived at the casa in a spray of gravel in dust, hopping out to sign in, then departing in another hail of gravel as he raced home for the proverbial “forgotten cleats”. Those astute enough to realize this meant a delay in the start headed for the man cave and a final translation of the course and a pre non race beer.  Once again displaying his mastery of the transition, Murp once again arrived in the “transition area” at full speed sending some non racers running for cover.

 Coming out of the man cave from our pre race "safety meeting" was akin to Specoli getting out of the van.

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Fortified for our date with pain, the peleton headed up the 420 foot climb up the driveway and rolled out toward our date with destiny and the first stop was the climb up 44/55 to Trapps bridge. The tone for the day was set at the base of the climb with Frank, El Obamaor, Senor Agua and Fat Chick taking off while the rest of us formed the autobus and socialized up the slopes. The day’s first KOM points went to Frank, El –Obamador, Senor Agua, Fat Chick and then, in a true douche bag binky sucking move, MacGyver who sucked C-Dubs wheel like a hooker sucks a John at the entrance of the Lincoln Tunnel and shot around in the final 200’to take the last points.

Taking count at the summit we were down one with the Murp no where to be seen. After a 5 minute wait we canned the no drop policy, agreed – f*#k him and off we went for the next summit. Turns out our triathlete had broken a spoke, ran a couple miles with his bike to get a new wheel and then set off to rendezvous with the troops at the Ashokan – true MRC harden the fuck up attitude. The summit of 44/55 results were the same only this time Top Chef slotted in for 5^th. The descent down the back side had us hitting the high 40’s at which point we discovered that the most excellent spoke cards suddenly became weapons of death as they dislodged from wheels and came at anyone behind like ninja death stars.

         

Top Chef, displaying superior bike handling skills picked up in the dojo, managed to dodge C-Dubbs death star. At the bottom Top Chef and C-Dubbs pulled to the for the return trip bottle drop, but more on the significance of this later.

Rolling along the pain train, or in these conditions the sweat train, was derailed when Flying Frank (not to be mistaken for summit conquering Frank) flatted and we all stopped for the repair and Tibetan goji berries that Sherpa Braveheart had in the massive supply pack he was carrying.

In true no MRC no drop style we waited for the repairs to be completed and then pace lined it to the supermarket/aid station where we discovered that Flying Frank was no where to be seen (apparently the victim of another flat with no spares). Rich the Masher volunteered to head back and then meet up with us at Bread Alone by riding the second half of the course backwards. Knowing the next KOM points were a short climb right out of the supermarket C-Dubbs pulled a classic cheese dick move and jumped the pack on the roll out for an early lead up the climb. Maintaining a steady tempo and looking good for a potential summit victory C-Dubbs was derailed when his bag of gu and drink mix exited his jersey forcing a dismount. The summit was another Ground Hog day with Frank beginning to take a stranglehold on the KOM jersey.

Next up was the 12 mile climb up Peekamoose with the usual crowd going at it for the points only this time the heat and humidity was starting to take their toll with non racers getting shelled off the back. Waiting on the summit, where Frank had secured not only his second growler but the 50 Kroner prize for the Cima Coppi and a lock on the coveted KOM jersery, we were caught in a downpour that brought back memories of last years rainfest.

Then through the mist arrived the seasons first summit guppy, 3 Beer Rossi followed by Sherpa Braveheart who was being to strain under the load he was carrying.

The ensuing descent, the steepest in the area, was done in a total downpour with everyone, except Braveheart, hard on the brakes. Our master descender was seen speeding off into the mist on a course straight to the official MRC team car/support vehicle where we would dine on the finest cuisine of the far east later in the ride. Meanwhile the rest of the gang did a bit of choo-chooing until we arrived at one of the favored stops of the MRC – Bread Alone – where the crew stormed the espresso bar and caused a meltdown by the help.

Just as we were wrapping up the doubles in rolled Flying Frank and Rich the Masher, having ridden the course backwards to meet up and get to ride the same roads the other way. Well somehow in the flurry of orders the Masher’s sandwich was passed over and as we mounted up to leave Rich was forced to jam as much into his pie hole as possible before wrapping the rest up for the jersey pocket (nothing quite like a turkey and mayo sandwich sitting in the jersey pocket for an hour in the sweltering heat).

Still shaking from the double espressos we headed across the Ashokan reservoir and a rendezvous with Braveheart and the MRC sag wagon.

First priority was to Towelie off, translate the course map and set off for the Sampsonville climbs and our arrival at the base of the 44/55 climb where Top Chef and C-Dubbs revealed the superior doping methods of the MRC – pure Peruvian coca leaf tea.

And this tea had been brewing in the sun for a couple of days with multiple bags in each bottle to ensure that we had a superior attitude and superior state of mind for the final 5 mile climb. Despite the bottle advantage we were carrying the results at the summit were the same with Frank nailing down all 3 growlers, the Chima Coppi 50 Kroner note and the coveted MRC KOM jersey. With Braveheart cheering us on at the summit the shattered pack rolled back to HQ in smaller groups to a fired up grill, cold yeasty malted beverages and the Tour de France.

Check out the gallery of shots from Braveheart.

Grandest of Fondos

To keep up with the latest please go to the MRC site where important non race information will be posted throughout the week. We can promise you this - memorable ride, great time, espresso, friends, kick ass bikes, lots of climbing, post race BBQ and beer (six pack entry fee) and of course prizes, prizes, prizes that include but are not limited to MRC jersey for the overall, KoM polka dot jersey, growlers for the first over the summit of 44/55, Peekamoose and 44/55 on the return. There will also be other prizes that you want to win so come and ride.

Strength In Numbers

The NECS troops have been working the phones, texting until thumbs have dropped off and simply spreading the word. As of this posting we two sections and are closing in fast on having a full platoon of road warriors terrorizing the roads of Ulster/Sullivan county. So far this is the starting list, remember the rollout is 8:30 sharp from the Casa de C-Dubs.

1 - C-Dubbs

2 - Top Chef

3 - Braveheart

4 - Fat Chick w/ Hot Girlfriends

5 - Sal Muttonchops Chinaman

6 - Senor Agua

7 - MacGyver

8 - Rich "The Masher" Long

9 - El Obamador

10 - Crash Lobb

11 - Frank Donovan

12 - Climbing Chris Colt

13 - Flying Frank Fontana

14 - Todd "TC" Corbitt

Sex on Wheels

Our ace reporters have just returned from the field with these shots of the MRC's latest arrow in the quiver of bikes. This is C-Dubbs stealth answer to Top Chef's disco Italiano.

Moar Gran Fondo News

First we are fast running out of spoke cards so get your entry in by either emailing me or commenting on either blog, time stamp wins.
Prizes, prizes, prizes - Growler for first over each of the 4 summits, Polka Dot jersey for the KOM, MRC jersey for the overall winner (and with all MRC events being first doesn't mean you win this, performance at the BBQ will count) and a special bonus prize to be revealed at the BBQ.
This is a no drop, no whining non race so harden the f*@k up and sign up to non race.

We Have Them, You Want Them

Okay connoisseurs of the MRC, here is your first glance at the hottest new kit to roll the roads and trails of Ulster & Sullivan counties. If you want in let us know, get the checkbook out, grease the palm of one Top Chef and drool with anticipation until they arrive or score one by winning the Grand Fondo.

Race For The Spoke Cards

And those coveted limited edition spoke cards are going fast, get your name in and get yours for the non race.

1 - C-Dubbs

2 - Top Chef

3 - Braveheart
4 - Fat Chick w/ Hot Girlfriends
5 - Sal Muttonchops Chinaman
6 - Senor Agua
7 - MacGyver
8 - Rich "The Masher" Long
9 - El Obamador
10 - Crash Lobb
11 - Frank Donovan
12 - Climbing Chris Colt
13 - Flying Frank Fontana

It's Grand Fondo Time!!!!!!

Alright warriors of the NECS/MRC, yes it is that time of the year when we prepare to celebrate the independence of the great United States of America. And what better way to celebrate it then with a Grand Fondo, not just any fondo but a MRC sponsored Grandest of Fondos with a post ride BBQ for the wives and kids as well.
So we can get back at a reasonable hour the ride rolls out of the Casa de C-Dubs Saturday 7/7 at 8:00 sharp (Better halves/kids should arrive around 3pm). Yeah I know it's early but the last thing I want to hear is all of that belly whining at 3:00pm as to why we still have to conquer the climb back over Minnewaska and didn't get this going earlier so remember when the alarm cock, oh I mean clock, wakes you that fine morning and in the spirit of the MRC don't whine, just HARDEN THE FUCK UP!
Rules are simple, the first 10 riders to indicate they are in get one of the coveted MRC spoke cards. Entry fee is a 6 pack (and if you want to up your chances of winning the overall honors make it Mother's Milk, C-Dubbs yeasty malted beverage of choice) any quality beer will do but if it's cheap shit like Keystone Light you get to clean my toilets before you get to chow down. There is a KOM competition featuring growlers for the first over Minnewaska, Peakamoose, Sampsonville and Minnewaska on the way back. The final climb back over 44/55 features this year's Cima Coppi - the Minnewaska State Park summit parking lot. Yes just when you thought the pain was over at the summit of 44/55 we are throwing the wall of pain at those that want to vie for the 50 Kroner Cima Coppi prize and a shot at the KOM polka dot jersey. Just think how those 15%-20% pitches are going to feel with over 90 miles in the books!
The grand prize will be one of the new, Top Chef designed, MRC jerseys. But don't worry if you don't make the top of the box, we will have these bad boys available for purchase at the event. Remember, this is an MRC event so there is a strict no drop policy and regroups take place at the summit of each climb. Should we encounter the monsoon conditions like last year there will be course adjustments. Bring a towel (both for the road and post ride shower), a good attitude and superior state of mind.

Important Information

With the days of racing fast coming to a close the posting on this blog will also come to a close. Going forward you can continue to read of the adventures and parties of the New East Coast Syndicate (NECS) and the Millionaires Riding Club (MRC) at our new blog site - millionairesridingclub.blogspot.com.

Ashokan 100 - Total Italiano

With the summer officially here the MRC decided there was no better time to christen the blog with the a non non-race, the Ashokan 100. Shortly after arriving at the new MRC HQ (Provident Bank in Kerhonkson)  Braveheart, the newest landed gentry/gentlemen farmer, and I set about translating the topo maps to determine the best course for the day. No sooner had we completed the translation then Chinaman Sal (fresh from another excursion to Taiwan) arrived with the latest 2013 carbon prototype from one of the big manufacturers. We all became a bit concerned when Top Chef was late for the roll out, it turns out he had broken a spoke the day before on a ride with Mrs. TC and had to swap out the wheel set and cassette at the last minute. Well it was some package and when he arrived Kate Hudson who had been hanging with Lance and the Trek marketing team) tossed aside Lance's latest Trek Mardone and broke into this routine -

And as you can see from this shot of TC's machine it was pure Cinema Italiano/Disco Italiano.

Once the excitement died down and we managed the final course translation it was time to roll. Mounting up I found this poor child who had clearly escaped the clutches of the priest at the church next door.

Well being a good citizen I scooped the poor child up and stuffed him in my jersey pocket. Being a good citizen was worth squat as 3 miles down the road it sounded like a .357 magnum going off after which I rolled to a stop with this -

Fear not as Braveheart broke out the incredible thing (iPhone) and located the nearest bike shop and Top Chef and Chinaman Sal made the dash for salvation. With time ticking by Braveheart broke out the Clif Egg Rolls and we settled down for the count, the 3 revolution count that is. The objective to get the valve stem to rotate 3 times and no more, as you can see from this clip it didn't take much to entertain us.

The bike shop was closed - go figure, who closes a bike shop on the Sunday of a 3 day weekend - but fear not as Sal remembered he had a box of tires in the back of the car - earning him the coveted MRC Harden the Fuck Up bracelet.

His speedy arrival ensured that Braveheart and I would be able to continue the ride. In fact so inspired was our Scotsman that he took several long "powered by excitement" pulls before the mushroom cloud appeared. Surviving the short back road climbs we were treated to this fantastic view of both bikes and natural beauty.

From here it was a long stint of pace line riding before we hit the rollers where Sal and C-Dubbs pushed the pace to Grace, the best espresso stop on any MRC ride (and trust me if anyone knows good espresso strops it is the MRC). Jacked up on copious amounts of fine Italiano espresso it was the express train down 213 and past our other favorite HQ, Hopheads craft beer bar. From here it was the back roads to the Accord swimming hole and we knew that relief from the heat was close at hand when we rolled up on this MILF with child.

Arriving Braveheart took the time to take off his cleats before plunging in while I opted for just removing the jersey and jumping in. Cooled off we made a bee line for the parking lot and the pleasure of some fine yeasty malted beverages.

While all of this was going on a new friend of the MRC and supplier of the latest Colnago to the club was holding the West Coast version of a non race - the Tallboy 100. And most amazing was that Justin (in the cheese jersey) was one of the founding fathers of Team Seagal as we can see from this shot of the infamous salute.

 Now Calvin and company like to take it to an extreme that even the MRC/NECS have only achieved at Beer Cross. Drinking was a part of the ride and by the time the boys rolled back into the Bay Area the final tally was amazing - 6 Anchor Summer Beers, 6 21st Amendment IPAs, 12 Bud Lights and 6 Boont Ambers. They also stopped by at Uncle Larry's place to get an attitude adjuster. Perhaps this is the NWCS (New West Coast Syndicate) and there will have to be a uniting of the biker gangs.

Taint Teaser

Bring lots of Bad Ass Biker Butt Cream for this one.

Singlespeed-a-Retirement

Well citizens of the NECS Nation, your favorite narrator and teller of tales far beyond anything one could possibly believe, has wrapped up yet another weekend of non racing and am back in the office nursing the aches and pains that go with it.
My original plans, hatched back at the end of 2011, called for my deployment this weekend to the Ozark trail system and the third annual battle at Middle Fork where maximum wrist snapping was to occur. Well the regulations out of Washington finally caught up to me and I found myself getting ready to queue up at the unemployment line with pink slip in hand. Then, as luck and good karma would have it I landed a new job but too close to the Battle at Middlefork to take the extra day. It was fate that Singlespeed-a-Palooza (aka Mudfest-a-Palooza) was on the same weekend so I was spared the burden of never ending honey do's and instead would be able to do manly things like piss in the woods, drink Del Maguay at 9:00 in the morning and have left over egg rolls and pot stickers for breakfast - it was truly going to be a MAN weekend.
With the Mrs soaking up the sun in the Bahamas, I was upstate with a bottomless supply of wine and untranslated scriptures to read. And my good friends I can tell you it didn't take long for the fun and games to begin after rolling in from a nice 50 mile road ride. Settling into my Archie Bunker chair, gently caressing my second bottle of wine, I did a sobriety check as a ground hog came a wandering down my deck. Well I can confirm I was definitely not sober (after all I prefer to drink in the afternoon and it was after 6pm) but I did have all my wits about me and immediately rushed to the basement for the compound bow and a bit of Ted Nugent type activities . Hell who lets a bit of alcohol get in the way of some varmint hunting - not me I was thinking as I stumbled out the front door with arrow ready to rip. That 80lb draw on the bow proved to be quite a handful but with bow fully cocked I stood waiting for that sucker to appear around the side of the house and when he did I closed one eye (to stop the double vision), lined him up in the sights and let it rip - ah shit I missed (what a surprise). Picking up the quiver I went around the side and found him curled up under the deck and easy pickin's. Firing away with the vengeance of Rambo in Vietnam

the arrows were bouncing off the walls and dirt, I didn't think I got one in there (although I did get al direct hit on the side of the deck). Out of arrows I gave up and headed back in for more vino and shortly after the quiet bliss of the bed where I would recover from my hunting expedition in time for SSAP. Good thing I didn't break out the chainsaw and do something as dumb as this.

Race day dawned with temps hovering just above the freezing mark but promises of warmer temps and for the first time sunny skies. Guess a combination of the Mayor's birthday, Hawaiian Mike making a race and Monte not being there made everyone, including the weather, put on the happy face.

At this time we (NECS/MRC) can reveal that design delays of the new MRC kit meant we were unable to showcase these fantastic duds for the hundreds of rabid fans at the race. Instead I opted to race in the MRC version of a post race "sweatsuit" - Brioni worsted wool suit with pinpoint white cotton button down and accented with an Hermes tie (the Ralph Lauren crocodile loafers didn't make the race since there were no flat pedals in the bin of spare parts) and in honor of my brothers involved at the battle of Middlefork Team Seagal kit underneath.

What did make it to the starting line was the new NECS/MRC "attitude bracelet", our answer to all of those yellow wrist bands of yesteryear. To get one of these choice babies you need to either host a Saturday MRC group ride or have a Superior Attitude and Superior State of Mind (just ask Infantile Tom Rossi what it takes or Team Seagal, which will be receiving theirs' at Burnin' at the Bluff this fall). What also made it to the starting line in shocking disbelief to all was none other then ex-rider now head of the the Honey Do Club, Hawaiian Mike Davidson (aka Loose Boots & Mikesquatch).
Knowing he is the consummate nature boy I made it a point to walk Mike up the first pitch of Wishing Well trail and point out the rare Blueberry Kush plant that was in our midst. The hefty amounts of pollen being produced by this rare horticultural gem left Mike in a coughing fit and no longer of sound mind, but he was smiling that the breed was making a come back in Stewart. And has become a usual at SSAP the flask of Del Maguay was on the bike and Sal Muttonchops, straight in from another Jamis sponsored trip to the Orient, was packing his own flask of the DM - a true convert and strong candidate for the new attitude bracelet because that is the kind of attitude the NECS/MRC idolize!

Oh yeah in all of this excitement I almost forgot there was a race going on. As the Mayor went through the prerace blah, blah, blah (that none of us ever listen to) the entire field suddenly had a kumbaya moment, joined hands while Justin Bieber and Usher hopped out of the Port-o-John and sang this Happy Birthday diddy to the Mayor (who turned a whipper snapping 59!).

The start included a 2 mi run up Ridge Road (dirt) to sort out the field before heading into the woods on Scofield for 2 miles of single track back to the start/finish area. Strategically placed at the top of the climb on Ridge, and right as you turned into the woods, was the beer tent and of course yours truly is never one to pass up the suds after a 2 mile dust bowl ride. As I sipped the beer Mexico's finest made the rounds with the station staff as the next group of riders came blowing through. Settled in with the back markers I began to make my way up the field giving more then a few people a surprise when they were passed by a suit! All that work was for nothing as I rolled through the start/finish area and immediately gave back all those places and more while Infantile Tom, The Mayor, Mikesquatch and I shared the Del Maguay. The first lap was an uneventful but fun ride around Stewart and I surprised more then a few rest stops with the outfit. Finally back on the other end of Ridge Road it was a climb to Scofield from the other direction which meant another stop at my favorite watering hole before plunging into the singletrack and back to the start/finish. There I was greeted by Sal Muttonchops and Top Chef, both calling it a day after 1 lap. As I rode by the catcalls went out and I was quickly shamed into a stop for shots from both Sal's and C-Dubb's flasks before electing (a bad choice) to go out for a second lap. About 4 miles in the rear end suddenly got real squishy and I realized I had a flat. Now this normally won't present a problem but the Brioni is only cut to hold a Walther PPK and not a spare 29er tube so I was shit out of luck on this one. One Co2 filled that sucker solid, for all of about 30 seconds and then it was flat again. Thus began the long hike out of the woods to the dirt road back home. Riding in, with my head bowed, I had to take only my second DNF in 10 years of racing but what the hell I was tired, sore beat up and in need of a beer and had to check on the condition of the Blueberry Kush plant (which was unharmed). Mulling around post race having a few beers we got these candid's -

Truly the Road Warrior

Three Beer Rossi hitting his limit

As for this blog post title, well I am pretty well healed from the hip surgery but I no longer can push it to the degree I used to. Nor do I want to make the effort just to finish in 10th, 12th maybe even 15th in age group so it is time to politely bow out of the racing scene (i.e. I have officially retired from competitive racing). Now it is on to more MRC non races and coming up is the NECS Grand Fondo on 7/7 (100mi) followed the next weekend by one of the two Obamador sponsored MRC rides The Big Indian Scalping on 7/14 (135mi). Party on, it's been fun and I have no regrets!

Tour of the Battenkill

It's spring classics season in Europe and we here on the New East Coast have an annual right of passage known as the Tour of the Battenkill. One day a year the normally peaceful village of Cambridge, NY is turned into the mecca of road/dirt racing with all of the teams out strutting their stuff and massive amounts of MRC style bikes rolling through the streets. The NECS/MRC were sending a field of storm troopers, covering the classes from U35 to 45+, with most of the characters being veterans of the Bear Mountain Beatdown. Top young gun in the U35 would be Mike "Spring Classics" McConnell (aka fancy shoes) with Tom the Hobo Slayer intending to decimate the field with the climbing prowess he has displayed in the early season training rides. Of course attempting to remember how ride a bike and bring shades of glory to the older set were the dynamic duo of Top Chef and C-Dubbs (with his new Ti hip making it's race debut). Sadly Braveheart was unable to make the event instead closing on a spread of land that is destined to be the new home of Beer Cross.
Arriving at the Hacienda de Top Chef we immediately set about translating the profile of the course over a bowl of blueberry kush granola. The conclusion - it was going to hurt, plain and simple - lots of dirt road sections and countless steep climbs over the similar terrain. Along for the race was the newest member of the MRC, Eyegor, famous for his wandering eye (and not in the lady sense but in the Shanghai gallery sense)Eyegor is a veteran of the Top Chef MRC/NYC Central Park morning rides and decided that it was time to pop his cherry on the road racing scene - nothing like choosing the "Queen of the Spring Classics" (perhaps the only thing dumber was C-Dubbs doing the W101 for his first mtb race). Piling into the TC Assault FJ and with no idea where we were going (what a surprise), we turned to our good friend Serge, the alternative lifestyle road buttie voice from Tom Tom.
Knowing our destination would have oodles of men in spandex we were confident that Serge would get us there, having just as strong a desire to be there as we did but for different reasons.
Well the weather was perfect, the bikes were hot but we all noted that the chicks on bikes (you recall how much we appreciate chicks on bikes)) were hotter then ever. Gone are the old days of the East German nut crackersreplaced instead by the sexy French Canadian wonder women.Not nearly as sexy but making a welcomed appearance was none other then Bill Lobster, rolling around the streets on the classic Bottechia, despite having a terrible winter with 10 broken ribs, a cracked pelvis and a few other malfunctioning parts.

Top Chef preps for battleC-Dubbs ready to rollAll I can say is thank the Gods and Allah that there is a neutral zone at the start of the race, albeit a short one. No sooner did the car signal an open course then the hammer went down and went down hard. Just as Top Chef experienced in his grouping the pace was immediately up to 30 mph and the entire group was strung out like it was a chase to catch the breakaway near the finish and not the start of the race.Well we stayed, as Paul Sherwin would say, "on the rivet" right up to the first climb of the day. Following the advise of Top Chef I stayed on the front and crested in second place, well positioned for the ensuing descent and pace line to follow. Well that plan worked to perfection until about 2 miles later when we came to a wall of dirt that shattered both me and the pack.I was left wondering if I could even make it without getting off, definitely well into the red zone at this point. With no one around I suffered in silence and hoped that the carnage behind would reassemble itself and sweep me up into a nice pace line. Well it did, but not until almost 18 miles of slogging into the wind across dusty dirt roads which felt just like this -The pace line lasted all of 6 miles and when we turned onto a mild dirt climb suddenly explosions went off all around and it was just one other rider and myself navigating the soft dirt sections. Finally back out on the asphalt I came up on the most feared rider of all, the wheel sucker, and this guy was the king of them. No matter how many times I pulled to the side there was no way he was taking the lead. I gave up, let him ride me like the bitch that I was until the last climb when he started to ride away. I was pissed and wasn't about to roll over and play dead, sucking it up I rode him down and on the final pitch hammered it over the crest and down the backside for the final 5 km flat run in to the finish. With forearms on the bars I did a TT to the finish and managed to catch one last rider in the final 50 meters, crossing the line in 12th with nothing left in the tank. In fact I must have looked so spent that Top Chef, who was waiting, had concerns for my health and immediately pumped me full of some herbal amphetamine drink so I could ride back to the car. The final tally for the crew was -
Mike "Spring Classics" McConnell - U35 Blue 10th @ 3:10:08
Hobo Slayer - 35+ Yellow 19th @3:25:06
Muttonchops - 35+ Yellow 35th @ 3:55:00
Eyegor - 35+ Yellow 38th @ 4:00:03
Top Chef - 45+ White 21st @ 3:32:50
C-Dubbs - 45+ Blue 12th @ 3:26:01
Serge provided guidance to the walking dead and soon we were on the highway actively translating the route directions for a dinner bash at The Country Inn, a fine establishment near Casa de Top Chef. Well the old Top Chef was feeling no pain and despite being just miles from home he was unable to locate the turn off to food nirvana. Finally in the parking lot it was going to be a 30 minute wait for the table so it was time to belly up to the bar and start the consumption of fine yeasty malted beverages and the house speciality, horseradish vodka shots (aka liquid cocaine). Well these babies took any edge off the pain in our legs and no sooner had the shot glasses hit the table then Braveheart appeared at our side with Kate and her family in tow. Being the new land baron in town Braveheart was fast establishing ties with the local watering hole and after dropping Kate and Co. back at the house he had the Audi doing double time to get back to the bar for a round with the boys.
By this time we had managed to get a table and order but after a couple of fly-bys with trays of food for other diners I felt like I could eat the table.When the food did hit the table it was like an attack by the Romansand my burger was gone in 3 bites followed by most of the fries before I went into a red meat trance. Eyegor and Top Chef were close behind and it was off to TC's place for a hot tub session, Deviant Dales and some of the best homemade strawberry ice cream. With the clocks passing the midnight hour I headed down to the sofa and an ibuprofen/percoet night of bliss.

Bear Mountain Beatdown

I owe an apology to all of you that wait for each enticing post with the same enthusiasm as fans of Harry Potter and the iPad, but a new job has kept my focus in another dimension rather then here. Well it seems like an eternity since our taint, leg and lung crushing ride to Hunter Mountain but we have not been idle here at the NECS/MRC. In fact the troops have been revving up the engines for our spring classic - Tour of the Battenkill - a 100k race with numerous sections of dirt roads (hey the early pioneers in America couldn't afford the Pave of their Euro counterparts and thus made do with dirt pounded to hardness of asphalt).
With a 9:00 roll out things were getting tense in the Top Chef FJ as the incredible thing (iPhone) was not proving to be the most adept at locating the parking lot. Arriving, we were greeted to cheers from the 13 strong contingent that it was a navigational error and not Alzheimer's that had caused the 2 senior citizens of the ride to be late for the party, and oh what a party-o-pain Young O'Connell and Obamador had cooked up for the group.
Setting off through town and inflicting less fear into the locals then the Hells Angelsbut more then a pack of kids on their Big Wheelsas we plunged down to the river's edge where everyone stopped (since we would be riding through the West Point military academy) and unholstered our "weapons" and fired off the MRC version of a 21 gun salute.This would prove to be the last feel good moment for quite some time as we remounted and immediately hit the climbs of sheer destruction. Young O'Connell was looking to peak for Battenkill and the climbs he planned to serve up we the closest (and from what I could recall from the last Battenkill a lot harder) in leg shattering and lung busting departments. It was spring time and the summit guppies were out in full force and at the summit we opened our personal spinal taps and whipped up some oh so good lactic acid milk shakes for good measure. A fast descent of the backside, through a tunnel of total darkness and it was up the backside of 9w where evidence of misguided youth lay in the gutter of the road.And so hard was the pace being set by Young O'Connell and Obmaador that not a single one of the UN translators (and there were many) paused to even consider adding this fine Venetian glass translator to their jersey pockets. There was a brief moment of consideration to turn back and save the lost child but the prospect of a multi mile descent amongst the cars at 50 mph was too appealing to resist. With brake pads reaching temps only experienced by Icarus on his flight to the sun we finally reached the very bottom and faced the summit climb of Bear Mountain. Here the group shattered as the high speed ascendors took time to empty out and minimize climbing weight while the shell shocked clan started the grind. Once again it was Young O'Connell and Obamador ripping up the asphalt and spirits of the pack, arriving at the summit to scout out this choice location for a group shot.Bear Mountain can put the hurt on going up but the reward coming back down is one of the best in the region. Over the series of high speed sweepers C-Dubbs put all of the techniques Braveheart revealed on the Hunter ride to good use and raced Paul LeTour to the bottom. Paul noted that on the descent the Enve 65 carbon rear wheel on the IF revealed my every intention when dropping into bigger gear for the sprint.
Demoralized and brow beaten after 3 big climbs we made the turn for home only to learn that YO'C and Obamador were in the mood to dole out pain like candy on Halloween and we were off on another mind numbing ascent. Finally at the top a few of the troops failed to show after we had finished our lactic acid shakes so the master's of pain were sent back down the hill to drag home the wounded.
As the crow flies we were only a few miles from the finish but this was predicated on taking the West Point short cut and with a US Army half marathon underway for the grunts it took a lot of pleading with the state troopers and military police to let us use the course to get home and stave off the vultures circling at the summit of the 9W climb that was our only other option. Rolling into the parking lot, taints totally annihilated and spirits broken we headed for burgers and fine yeasty malted beverages only to discover the beer supply was tapped out!

Bloomberg Business News - MRC Non Race Series Restructured

Date Line - New York City - The wildly successful MRC (Millionaire's Riding Club aka MacBraveheart, Rocco & C_Dubbs) non race series has submitted to a hostile takeover. Originally run by the New East Coast Syndicate, going forward the series will now be run solely by the MRC's new operating committee, some of the most successful translators to come out of the United Nations program.
Ownership of the 漢字亦称中文字 100 will now be in the hands of our founding father, master guitarist and newest member of the Masters Class - Top ChefThe NECS Grand Fondo/BBQ will retain it's name but under syndication from the MRC. This splendid mid summer event will continue to be run by Mr & Mrs C-Dubbs with C-Dubbs leading the pain train over the course and Mrs. C-Dubbs running the top notch BBQ.The granddaddy of them all, Beer Cross (the bastard child of Team Seagal's Cxmas) will be passed on from C-Dubbs to the linguistics master/translator and king of partying, our beloved MacBraveheart.Stay tuned for more details with the Grand Fondo scheduled for Saturday 7/7.