An Open Letter to the DBD

This letter is in reference to the upcoming Tuscobia Ultra - 150 miles.



MEN



 Men, as I lay awake last night, done with a day of training I shuddered as if a cold wind crept under me blankets. The sudden tremble came at the thought of pedaling (or in Kershaw's case foot traveling) a machine of torture (or pulling one) through an inconceivable distance. I shook me head and simply chuckled for I am in the company of MEN.

In this bleak and desperate time I find that honor may not be lost, for it is these MEN that I rest my weary head upon. Although, our salty little band of brothers may have fractured, it is not broken. It is events like the one that awaits in none but three sunsets that binds us.

Steadfast and with a full heart is the way in which these MEN will go forward. Stay salty, stay hard, stay nitty gritty. I will spread the word, I will tell the world your story as I know you would tell mine if I were in your place.

Respectfully yours,

Sir Eki

Off The Grid: Chile

I nervously slipped into the capsule that would take me to my new training ground. I was skeptical, yet trusting. I heard Spanish being spoken at a feverish pace around me as I was being prepped to lower into mother Earth. What have I done?

My departure from Antarctica was without fanfare. A bag was placed over my head upon emerging from my icy depths and I was escorted to a barge where I was set adrift. I don't recall the time that passed as I lived in an altered state throughout the passing. A sudden "thud" announced that I had hit terra firma. Was I home?

The familiar voice of my trainer soothed me as he commanded that I remain calm and stop fighting the hood, it was all part of the plan. It was then that I felt the confines of my tomb like transport that would take me into the bowels of our mother.

What seemed like hours passed before my capsule halted with a jolt. I fumbled blindly at a latching device in order to free myself from it's grasp. I was out! I removed my hood to find that I still lived in darkness. On my hands and knees I attempted to explore my surroundings. Yes, it all began to make sense to me when I felt the round hoops filled with spokes, however one was quite large, while the other was it's infant. This machine of torment would be the beast I would tame.

While feeling about I came across a small candle worth about 3 minutes of illumination combined with flint and steel. As the candle was born with light a small hand scribed note lay at my feet, instructions of a sort. It simply read: 

"Eki, you are to ride this wooden wheeled bicycle throughout this mine. You will establish a 'loop' by which you will complete laps until you receive further instruction. The darkness is meant to become your ally. It is our hope that while your rods and cones degenerate you will come to no longer need eye sight.

As with all of your training, it is not yours to question, but simply to obey. You need not worry of the logic behind this technique. Fear not, your shaman assures us that your eye sight will return at some point.

Godspeed..."

Off The Grid: Queen Maude Land, Antarctica

My third "Off the Grid" post comes to you from a location I never thought I'd see myself in, the bottom of the Earth. My Shaman accompanies me in this remote location of Antarctica.

As grand as my Indonesian experience was I knew it was time for me to move on. I must admit that the case of malaria that I willingly subjected myself to was taking a toll. I am completely bald, covered in lesions, and dysentery controls my being.

Perplexed by my move to Antarctica, I attempt to take it in stride. The two of us (my Shaman and I) traveled by raft to the tiny island of South Georgia where DBD board member, Shackleton spend a good deal of time. From South Georgia Island we caught the current south into the Weddell Sea. We docked at the aforementioned, Shackleton base camp, from there it was overland by foot to a tiny outcropping by the sea, somewhere in Queen Maude Land.

As I write this I continue to grapple with the question of how training here will aid me in my cycling endeavors, nevertheless, I press on. In a rare twist, I am afforded a luxury, a SCUBA suit! Presumably this is to protect me from sea creatures that may be interested in feeding upon my open lesions (Indonesia). This "suit" was air dropped to me upon my arrival to the coast. It was a welcomed change as my loin cloth had become a bit, as they say, RANK!

My training here consists of being lowered into this hole where I am forced to hold my breath for 30 minute intervals. My Shaman whips me viciously if I am forced to "jerk the rope" as a signal to pull me up before the appropriate time has passed. I take the whippings as they are offered. I know it is for the best.

I'll be home soon...

Off The Grid: Indonesia

I built this cabin with a leatherman as part of my training.

Dear reader, I write to you via my lap top from somewhere in Indonesia. It's not that I can't tell you where I am, I honestly don't know. My Trainer/Shaman/Guru has me involved in a training regime that I've been struggling to make sense of, yet I know I must follow his instruction as it will only benefit me in the distant spring classics.

I'll give you a brief description of what I have been enduring these past few weeks. I have come to realize that it is not a dream that I am shackled to my machine of torment. I can only surmise that this is a technique designed to de-sensitize me to the anguish I feel when I lay my eyes upon the beast. An hour before sunrise I am freed from my chains, fed a bowl of slop, and injected with a low grade dose of malaria as my "teacher" feels I must be completely "reduced" in order to gain the insight and strength needed to meet his standards of what I might become. I've given up on my daily requests to have my loin cloth cleansed as I know the answer. Instead, I toil in my own filth mounted on the beast that I have come to admire in some twisted way, much the way a victim begins to admire his captor. It sickens me, but it is my existence.

My hours are long and my load is heavy. Despite my burden I shall not complain for I know that I will see you all on the other side. Please do not be alarmed at my appearance for I have undergone many changes since you last cast your gaze upon my American being. I now blend with the indigenous populous as I travel from region to region. I know not where my next post will come from, but I hope it finds you well. Until then, I bid you adu.




That's me working in the mid-day heat. Don't let my appearance concern you.


To those of you who know me best, send my regards to my family. I miss you Amy, Betsy, and Gray, but it won't be too much longer...

More to come...

Off The Grid

I have elected to sequester myself in this humble cabin.

Some might argue that the training season is the "best" season.  I must say that at times I agree with that sentiment.  In an effort to "be the best that I can be" I have made a decision that will no doubt cause a stir among some, namely the DBD'ers.  Suffice it to say that I have flung myself full on into the upcoming training season with reckless abandon. 

Two weeks of meditation have taken me to a cross roads.  I have chosen my path and it goes without saying that it is not the popular one.  O.k., o.k., it's "the one less traveled".  I was trying to avoid that phrase.  Through consultation with Mallory, Shackleton and Crazy Horse I have been cleared to leave my fellow DBD'ers in the dark about what my untested training regime consists of.

I can however, let my readers know that I have been sufficiently poked, prodded and tested in an effort to discern whether I am physically up to the challenges that await.  My physical possessions now consist of a loin cloth, bike shoes, bicycle, lap top (from which I write to you), and one spear. 

Please think of me in the coming months as I work to control my physical and mental being through deep meditation and physical feats of which I do not yet know.  I will see you on the other side at the Ragnorok and the Trans Iowa this spring.  I will introduce myself for you may not recognize me (think Tom Hanks in Castaway). 

If you see my lovely wife and two adoring cats, please send them my best.

More to come...

Eki



That's me on the left in an undisclosed location.



Really? Are We Doin' This?

I guess we all knew it was coming, but seriously does it have to come as such a shock?  The hurricane style storm (meteorologists are currently discussing throughout the country) that centered itself seemingly above Duluth has unleashed.  You know that feeling you get when the roller coaster is done clicking and clacking and you're heading to the abyss of the first descent, the one where your stomach tightens up into a little ball.  That feeling is what hit me when I lifted my garage door to see WINTER.  There was white every where and more of it coming down.  Why?  Why now?  I'm not ready, no one even asked me if I was ready.  It's not that I hate winter, it's the messy transition that gets to me.

Screw it!  In an act of defiance toward Mother Nature, whom I'm constantly at war with, I decided to take Chili to work this morning.  I fit her out with lights and cautiously departed, thinking all the while about that first "slam down" on the black top.  To my delight it was all just really wet, no ice.  Feeling more confident I opened her up into the big ring while I dug out my camera for this post, quite a risky move I might add.  Riding no handed in super slop, in the dark, with cars flying past trying to take pictures is not recommended, but I did it any way.

Totally soaked from road spray I arrived at my place of employment only to find it suspiciously dark.  "This is weird, where is everybody", I said out loud.  Great!  Duluth cancelled school (apparently they're frightened of a little wet snow) leaving me no youth to guide.  So, wet and crabby I decide to get a little work done.  Oh, and throw up this post, shhh.

I guess the winter will come, so we might as well accept it.

The Crash



The left Bar End does not seem to be positioned correctly - Just sayin'

 Sometimes it seems mother Earth just reaches up and grabs ya. 

Recently I was finishing an enjoyable ride through some of Duluth's finest trails when suddenly and without warning leaves were shooting into my face and my head was bouncing along the ground.

Approximately 4 minutes from my house I ducked into a little piece of trail that I love.  I've ridden this little 150 yard stretch of trail hundreds of times, yet this time things went very wrong.  Here's a little summary.

Why the crash happened from my perspective:

• Freshly changed tires pre-ride with quite possible too much air in them.
• 40 miles of hilly single track with zero calories (a little experiment).
• Last thought before the crash; "Let's see how well these tires will 'hook up' if I hit this sweeper with some speed".
• Sometimes I think I'm better than I am - clearly!

What the crash felt like through my mind and eyes:

• "Man, you're really flyin'.  Don't touch the breaks."
• (nano second of thought) "The front wheel is washing out.  The front wheel is seriously washing out!!  The front wheel is no longer effective!!!"
• "My head is bouncing off the ground like a tennis ball."
• "Leaves are shooting into my sun glasses."
• "Holy Crap!  A miniature ball peened hammer just slammed into my right shin!" (my right shin making contact with the little air nozzle thingy on the rear shock)
• "I hope my collar bone didn't break again."
• "Wow, I really skidded a long way."
• "I'm kinda hurt."

The aftermath:

• "My handle bars look funny.  Dang, they're backwards."
• "Oh My God, my left calf and right quad are cramping so bad I'm going to wet my bibs."
• "Walk it off, you're not going to the hospital."
• "My bar end is pointing to the sky."
• "My helmet is cracked."

The moral to the story is, be careful, you never know when you're mother's not happy with you.