Eki...No Pressure

The SALSA TWO-FOUR Nearly Ends Eki

I think it was a few months back when I started communicating with those close to Salsa Cycles about my involvement in the event. Initially, I was to be part of a 4 man team that seemed destined to leave a mark on the race. However, real life got in the way and my teammates began to withdraw one by one. Real life has a way of reminding us that racing a bicycle through the woods is one of the extra perks that comes with this merry go round ride we've all got a ticket for. Finally, a decision was made, I'd ride the solo 8 hour version of the race. After all, I'm a 12 hour solo racer by trade, this should be right up my alley, right? As my thoughts began to wander about this new development, I dreamed of a high finish and even considered myself to be a contender in this fight.

Rule #1 in endurance racing, Stay Humble! Rule #2, never look a course directly in the eye. You see, sometimes it's not the other racers that you should be afraid of, it's the course!

Excited to race this event in the Salsa colors I began to take things seriously and I felt the pressure mounting in my mind. I could hear 'Kid's' words resounding over and over, "No Pressure". I've been competitive since birth, mostly with myself. Hell, as a grade schooler I would keep a scratch paper taped to the inside of our cupboard in the kitchen with month's worth of times written on them next to dates. These were the minutes it took me to run the 4 miles to the end of a nearby dirt road and back. I can remember sprinting to my driveway day after day trying to beat yesterday's time. So it goes...

I thought long and hard about racing at Afton Alps again. I used to race the Minnesota Series race here, several years back and got smoked every time. Finally, I told a good friend (Dave Schuneman, who placed well in this year's 24 hour single speed category) that I'd never ride my bike in Afton again. I held true to that promise until the Salsa Two-Four. I rationalized that I'm a much different rider now and that I could handle whatever Afton had for me, I looked her straight in the eye.

Friday night was fun with a Salsa sponsored rider clinic hosted by Danielle Musto (Salsa teammate) and myself. This clinic was light and enjoyable, with a short ride around the course and a little Q and A afterward. Throughout the "ride around" I couldn't help but think, "man, there's a lot of climbing going on here".

Race day was met with warm temps, really warm in fact. No biggie, I'm only in the 8 hour race and hell, I rode in Kansas, that's HEAT. The race went off with the La Mans start and I found myself about a dozen riders back, but it was impossible to tell who was racing what category as we all started together. Excited, I rode hard early. I was on top of the bike and really pressing her for more, out of the saddle on most climbs. Soon I felt those matches burning quickly and I was running low. I needed to ratchet back now! So, experience guided me and I pulled back the reigns allowing myself to settle in and "recover". Remember how I looked the course in the eye? There would be no opportunity to recover, Afton wouldn't allow it. The "Alps" seemed angry with me as if I had offended her in some way. Her climbs got steeper and somehow longer. She went on to summon more heat. I began to suffer.

Then, without warning my right hamstring quivered briefly as if it was going to cramp. One cramp leads to a lot more cramps, it's as simple as that. I recall vocally calling out, "Oh No!" I knew they would come, they would come for a visit and hang around like Aunt Edna who just won't leave. Soon I was pulling off the trail with inoperable legs. The "lock ups" were popping off in both calves, both hamstrings, and my right groin. They were the sincere kind of cramps that give you your money's worth. I'm talking about deep, tightly wound balls of tissue that refused to let go, sometimes for minutes. I was in trouble. I poured fluids in, but as any experienced endurance athlete knows, when you've hit this state, it's too late, the window is closed. Returning from this abyss will most likely not happen.

Lap 5 brought me to the pits in a very negative head space. I reported to Amy and Scott (Danielle's husband and pit crew) that it wasn't looking good for me, I was in a bad way. They fed me information on my standings and I learned that I was currently running 3rd in my race. They bolstered me with comments like, "Every one's hurting out there", "it's hot for everyone", "I just saw 'so and so' come through and he looked terrible". 'Kid' Riemer brought me back around with, "Eki...No pressure, seriously there's no pressure". But, there was pressure and it was coming from me, I had to get back on 'Big Mama'. I mounted up and left for lap 6, I had three hours to go. I'd been in this cave before, I'd find my way out.

Now I want to tell you that I was rebounding strong on lap 6 and things were really coming around for me, but that's just not true. I was moving slowly through the course apologizing to Afton through every switchback, thing is she's not big on forgiveness. It was when I dropped down a little chute about to cross a ski run when I heard what sounded like an M80 going off under my saddle and felt that sick feeling of sealant shooting all over my legs. My rear tire was down instantly. I ran the bike up to a shady spot and had a nice quick repair with no hassles. I heard the tubeless ready tire's bead snap back into the rim with the shot of CO2. I was good to go! One huge pull off the water bottle and a gel later I was mounted and riding smooth again. Then, "Boom" again. Flat #2 about 20 minutes later. The tube I had thrown in the tire was exposed through a dime sized hole (that I never saw) in the tire. Out of air and tubes I was forced to walk back to the pits thinking my day was most likely over. However upon my return 'Kid' learned of my misfortune and quickly offered up his wheel. Ultimately, it was not to be as his wheel fought 'Big Mama' every step of the way. I was out, I laid down my cards with "No Pressure", literally.

(My 5 completed laps was good enough for a 9th place finish - I guess everyone was hurting).

Thanks Salsa for sponsoring such a great event and special thanks to 'Kid' for all of his kind words and support. Man that guy can work a p.a., he put a smile on my face every time I rolled through.

Stay tuned, next report: The 12 Hours of Pitch Black Single Track - The shining star of the WEMS series.

Photos courtesy of 'Kid' Riemer

Full Salsa 2-4 (8 hour version) report coming soon!

WEMS Cancellation Forces Eki Back into Training

Oh the WEMS series... In a nutshell the Wisconsin Endurance Mountain Bike Series is comprised of some of the best single track in the midwest. However, a good portion of these courses are in State Park territory. Therefore, WEMS is married to the WiDNR to some degree. That is to say, if it rains there's a good chance the race is going to be cancelled.

Now, being a series participant one must be cognizant of possible cancellations when planning a summer of racing for myself and my wife, Amy. A series racer must complete 5 races in order to be counted in the Series standings, there are 9 total races scattered all over Wisconsin (mostly southern Wi.). So, in my case I am only able to compete in 5 WEMS races this year due to other races being scheduled as well as Amy's marathons and 1/2 marathons. A long story short, if it looks like there is a possibility a race may be cancelled due to weather conditions, I still have to go, just in case it isn't cancelled. If I miss a race by choosing not to go I'll be out of the series standings due to not completing 5 races.

The weather for this weekend's 12 Hours of Blue Mounds looked 50/50. We had to go! I checked and re-checked the website. At 1:45 p.m. Friday I checked for my last time. There were no indications that the race was in jeopardy. We packed up the camping gear, bike gear and hit the road. 7 hours later we arrived at our campsite to wet conditions and stories from other campers about a severe rain storm that moved through just a few hours ago. The weather looked good at the time so I figured I'd be riding in a bit of mud the next day, but the forecast looked good. I figured things would dry out by afternoon and it would be a race similar to the others.

We departed the tent at 5:30 a.m. I attached my number plate to my bike, brushed my teeth and we were heading to Blue Mounds State Park. My head was right for this one. I could hear the "Eye of the Tiger" playing over and over. I had my pit strategy dialed in my mind. I could feel that this was going to be a good day.

We pulled into the parking lot and something seemed strange. THERE WASN'T ONE CAR IN THE LOT!!! The only thing in the lot was a WORBA trailer and some coiled up yellow marking tape.

CANCELLED!! Yes, the race was off. My spirits crushed.

I hold no ill feelings toward the race directors, they can't control the weather. I do however feel that WEMS personnel could tweak their communication protocol a bit to aid those of us who travel great distances to participate in their races.

Back To The Gravel

The call of gravel could be heard in the distance when I woke up this morning. I answered it. I would leave 'Big Mama' on the hook as I saddled up Chili. I felt a weird vibe in the garage as one steed remained and the other hung in the stand getting final preps, I was caught in the middle. Wait a second, I own these bikes, I get to choose which one to ride! It would be Chili and we'd go in search of my beloved "Fox Farm" road north of Duluth, Minnesota. It takes a little over an hour to get there, but once you're there it's so worth it.

A view from the cockpit shows exactly what I mean. No traffic, no people yelling at you because you're riding a bike, just the occasional squirrel or crow.

My nemesis, Jorge lives inside my GPS and he was demanding that I hold a certain mph today. I hate/love little Jorge. Today I would be the victor. I must be honest and give credit to the 'roadie' that was trying to get on my wheel for 45 minutes as I came back into Duluth via the north shore of the Gitchee Gummee. Thanks buddy, I really buried myself trying to keep you away from me.

I also got to field test my new Mountain Tangle from Revelate Designs. Eric Parsons created this killer frame bag that can hold it all. I'm told the boys from Salsa helped at it's point of conception.

Halfway through the 'Fox Farm' and lovin' every minute of it. Usually I can't feel my toes when I cross this bridge. So nice to be riding this road in the summer. It was one of those "Too bad I'm by myself rides" or "I'm glad I'm by myself". I think you know what I mean...

Everyone Needs a Pair of Mukluks or at least a 'Mukluk'

Salsa Cycles introduces their new snow bike, the Mukluk. Check it out! She's a beaut! So versatile, so cutting edge, so...it just goes on and on, you'll see.

The Mukluk and Salsa put a whole new spin on winter. Will my snowboard ever get used again?

I Want to be a Professional Baseball Player

O.k., maybe when I grow up I'll be a professional baseball player. All I'm saying is these guys look like they're having the time of their lives. There's no suffering, no laying down on the side of the field waiting for their maker to come and take them away. They've got it good!!

Not to mention they get to play in super cool stadiums in front of people who seemingly worship them.

Amy and I headed down to the big city (Minneapolis, MN) to cash in on my birthday present from back in April, TWINS GAME! Oh yeah, and all the pomp and circumstance that goes with it (i.e. this shot from an alley bar near the stadium). We walked, walked, and walked some more around the downtown area. My neck was sore from looking up at the buildings. I'm sure I looked like a total tourist, but I didn't care. Rarely did I know exactly where I was, but it didn't matter as Amy proves to have an internal compass that is "on" probably 80% of the time. Not to mention all you have to do is follow the masses and you'll find the stadium.

The coolest thing about Target Field is that you really don't have to stay in your seats. Just walk around and watch the game from any where, no one cares. There's no pushy stadium staff with a God complex yelling at you to "MOVE IT!" Another cool thing is the view!

I was so over joyed and full of ADHD that there was no way I could hold this pose for as long as the good man who took the picture was requiring.

After the game it was back to our hotel and "Brit's Pub" for some post game suds and a little Lawn Bowling spectatorship. We were shocked to see the handy work of these bar owners who had a huge lawn/golf green installed on this roof top so his patrons could make use of the space with what I figured was Boccie Ball. Still, it looked fun and we got totally sucked into a game where the "black" team made an amazing come back, but ultimately lost. I wept for them as their drunken spirits were crushed.

Here's Amy thinking of moving to England. A special thanks to Amy for making it a great birthday weekend (belated of course).

Dad, Wait for Me!!

This bike is NOT made by Salsa Cycles!

Last Saturday I was scheduled for a ride with "Big Buff" and the plan was simple, have some fun, recover a bit and enjoy the scenery. Hell, why not break out the single speed and really keep it real?! I must admit I was a little skeptical about busting out the 26" wheeled single due to the fact that I've become quite accustomed to cruising through single track for 12 hours at a time on my Big Mama. Oh well, it was just going to be for fun right?

I met "Big Buff" after doing a little warm up in some famed Duluth single track. I felt I had the bugs worked out and things were clicking off smoothly when we "knucks" and commenced our ride. Immediately we assessed each other's gear ratios and did the whole "that seems like a good gear", "dude, I'm geared out harder than you are" thing. We started our ride and soon I began to abandon the notion that this ride was for fun. I stared at the non speaking end of "Big Buff" for most of the day as I chased and chased. At times, I was out of the saddle for minutes while he told a story I couldn't hear and cleaned climbs without breaking his cadence or rising out of the saddle. Occasionally I'd call out "Cool!", hoping that generic response would fit in with whatever he just said that I didn't hear due to the sound of my own heart beat pounding in my ears. Despite being on the same trail the whole time I found that I was absolutely blasted with mud, while "Big Buff" looked like he just got back from a wedding. How could this be? I had seen him hit the same wet spots I was hitting. It had to be my little boy wheels. Soon, every disadvantage, every climb I couldn't make, every spin out that screwed me up had every thing to do with my little boy bike.

The day wore on and I decided to just call a spade a spade. I had no more shame left to hide. When I fell behind I began to call out "DAD...WAIT FOR ME!!" I'd hear a chuckle and some barely audible continuation of a story that he thought I'd been listening to for the last ten minutes. At one point I went so far as to call him out on his gear ratio. I might as well as called him a liar. He maintained his ratio was true. I went on to pretend that I knew it had something to do with a physics thing that I'd never understand, big wheels vs. little wheels. I could have sworn that I once saw Guitar Ted write something about it, I sourced him anyway as to where I'd come upon this knowledge (G.T., hope that's o.k.).

The day taught me one important lesson, my next single speed will no doubt be a Salsa Cylces "Big Boy" bike and I can't wait.