Another Epic Journey Filled With Ecstasy, Pain, and Pleasure

The John Butler Trio… Jamming as I type, these guys are to chill what Rage is to rock, with stinging lyrics about the white man killing mother nature to various other topics on what’s wrong with our world. They’re not all Debbie downers though, check them out, if your into my kind of music, you’ll like them. Grand National is a great place to start, Used to Get High is one of my favorites. Seems to be my life mantra now days…

I’m a little late to the party on last weekend’s journeys to far away great lands, but I couldn’t find my damn camera connector, and tales of such epicness could not be portrayed correctly without the images to back them up. I’m sure you understand…

My weekend started a day early with Jamie and I leaving after work on Thursday to make the four hour trek down to where the hoot owls fuck the chickens, Salem, Misery. That’s Missouri for those not in my boat. I guess it’s not all that bad, but I can think of other places to be. Salem is home to the Current River, and Montauk State Park. One of the many sides of my family, (hey, my branches spread far), conjured for their yearly trip to camp out, fish, and float.

This marked my first year for the journey, and it did not disappoint. We arrived around 9:30, popped up the tent, threw back some cold ones and hit the sack. I woke early to test my might against the mighty Montauk and the trout that hold to its bank. I opted not to do the artsy fishing I love, but took my ultra light out. I was soon reminded why I stopped trout fishing with it. Just not the same I tell you. I did manage to pull in two, and missed a couple others. One was about the size of the average male’s pecker, so I had to throw it back. The other was a keeper so on the stringer it went.

Fish cleaned and truck packed we took the thirty minute drive down back roads to the canoe rental. We had something like 32 people in our party, so they loaded us up and in no time we were on the river looking for a day of chill-laxin coupled with A LOT of cans full of America’s greatest fluid, BEER!

The float was awesome, it’s been way to long. It was like rejoining with your old best friend you haven’t seen in years. The partying was grand, the river was pristine, and the views were as close to breath taking as you’ll find in this great state. We did 8 miles I think, and by the end of it both Jamie and I were ten sheets to the wind. We were drunk, and loving life.

We arrived back at camp, half asleep, and while the rest of the crew cleaned up, my Pops, my little Bro, and I took off to the river. This time I took out my old school 7 foot 1 weight fly rod. Bring it back to the early days of whipping my rod around like Zorro, tangling every other cast, and trying to learn the ropes. Now days I’m a little more fluent and I can put a dry fly in perfect position for the elusive, heart skipping dry fly take from a rising trout. If you’ve never had the pleasure of pin pointing a rising trout, and working him till he strikes like stealth jet, then you haven’t lived. It ranks up there with the greatest thing I live for, I FUCKING love it. Excuse my french, but that shit is real, my passion runs deep and if I could, I’d spend every waking hour on trout rivers.

I got the shaft when I found out that all my tippet line had rotted and was worthless, leaving me with only some thick 3lb test that was too big to really productively dry fly fish with. I did manage to land three more, and break one off that happened to take the only good fly that was working magic at the time. We fished for about and hour so it was still productive. Two little dicks, and one keeper. Better than nothing, right?

We packed up Saturday morning and made the four hour trip home where I had a three hour lay over until my next journey, off to KC to meet Tim and Sean SSP Burns for our trip to Madison, KS for the “so called” epic Flint Hills Death Ride.

It was an hour and half to Sean’s place, and then another two hours to Madison. We arrived around 10:30 pm, I set up my tent, they slept out in the open, and by that time I was wiped clean out. To much driving for my taste, but sometimes you do what it takes in hopes for a trip that will forever be embed your memory banks for future story telling to you little ones. This happened to NOT be one of those times.


I won’t spare you the boring ride report, because it was boring to say the least. Apparently their description of dirt roads and ours are different. We call them GRAVEL ROADS around here. It basically turned into an 80 mile gravel road ride with absolutely no epicness to it. Pretty lamo. We spent probably a total of 10 miles in the actual Flint Hills which were pretty cool, and the rest of the 70 miles in flat ass plains. I could have ridden better gravel here any day of the week. The only dirt we hit was about 1 mile total of cow paths that ran parallel to the gravel roads. Other than that, it was a lot of gravel. Well hell, I guess the weather was nice, so that was welcomed. I guess if the winds howled at 20mph and it was 110 out, this might have been a challenge, but not in any fun way, more like why the hell am I doing this kind of a way.

Shawn had paragon dropout issues resulting in him running a 32x19 on his SS so I took the easy route and rode the first 70 miles with him. Without him this ride would have sucked serious monkey balls. The last 10 miles I decided to see what I had in the tank and took off at a blistering speed. I finished the last 10 miles in 30 minutes flat, and glad to be done with it all. I will give a shout out to the volunteers; they did a hell of a job at the aid stations. I will say I won’t be doing this ride ever again unless they find a way to make it more interesting and challenging. A quote from their website, “this is on the most difficult one day events in the country.” Bullshit. 5000 feet of climbing they say? My garmin read 3500, superior weaksauce for 80 miles. I can get that climbing in 40 miles here in flat ass Blackburn. Oh well, it was good training I guess, and good company. Can you ask for more? Nope, so ride well taken, and as we all know, any day spent spinning circles is better than sitting on your lazy ass watching Tour replays wishing you were riding your bike. Go Lance! Ha…

Three nights spent in a tent, now that’s living my friends. If you haven’t ever done so, I recommend you clear the calendar and do it. No racing this weekend for me, more endurance training leading up to Rim and the Binder 6 hour. I’ll probably race Marathon the following weekend, Dwayne has been on my case to race the three hour class and see what kind of fight I can put up to his awesomness. All signs lean to fail. But fail I may, but only to the best and that’s good enough for me…. Ride on my friends, ride on.

Viral Infections and Lamberts Cafe

The tunes of Sleep Through The Static by Jack Johnson flow from the speakers as I recap today's events. Jack has a way of making everything okay. It's like the blankie we all had as a kid, that when something didn't go our way we clung to for safety and comfort. While I no longer have that little torn, worn blanket, I have music, and it's my escape to collect memories of past and think of what has transpired throughout my life. It's my escape...

I will always forever be humble. I learned years ago that taking a fail in stride, learning from what went wrong, working on fixing it, and moving on was much better than deweling on what could have been and why it didn't go my way. Shit happens, deal. Today was one of those days. It's wasn't a life changing day by any means but all signs pointed to fail, but I failed to pay attention. I shoulda known by my stools...

Jamie and I headed down to Springfield to race the MWFTS race. It was that or the last race in the Warsaw series. Even though Mac sent an enticing e-mail informing me that if I came and race I would win the 50 dollar gift certificate to Pro Velo, the radar made the decision easy to make the longer drive to Springfield. Warsaw got beat to a pulp by rain, as did we on the drive down. Sprinfield was spared though, making for a stellar day of racing, on some supremly superb trails. The stage was set.

Mistake Number 1: We arrived with time, and I planned on doing a pre-lap. I never do a pre-lap. It was only a 6 mile loop I said. Everything was good until a group of us got lost on the trail do to a missing taped off section. I was running tight on time, and with only 15 minutes till our start I was meandering through the woods like a dog who lost his owner. I didn't know where the hell I was. I cut under a few taped sections and luckily hooked up with Dwayn G, who lead me back to the start. He's the shit...

I put forth a little to much effort, and even though I was feeling decent, the start would prove otherwise. We lined up and they told us that all Experts were leading out together. They said go, and that's exactly what everyone did. It was a smoking fast start up a paved road, and I knew right off the bat something wasn't right. I was lingering off the back of the pack struggling. It shouldn't be this hard, especially after a rest week. I should be fresh and ripping it. Not so much...

We funelled into the singletrack which gave me a moment to regroup and get control of the situation. I held on for a bit, but about 2/3 of the way through the first lap I noticed dwendling power, and a lose of concentration. It was Syllamo's Revenge all over again. I struggled on the last part, coming into the start finish wondering if I should even press on. It wasn't happening for me, and I knew it. I another Expert rider about 30 seconds up, so I figured I'd push on...

About 1 mile into the second lap, it was over. I didn't have it. My power meter was losing steam rapidly and all systems were shutting down. I had been victim of another viral infections. The kind that you don't much notice unless you pay close attention, but strikes in the most inconvient times. It happend at Syllamo, which made for the hardest race of my life. It like you don't want to go, hills deminish you to pulp, and your left to stop, rest, walk a bit, and ride slow. It sucks ass crack and ball sacks. So I dialed the effort meter down to little to nothing and slowly cruised the whole second lap. It was a slow group ride type of pace, no need to dig a bigger hole. I finished the second lap a whole 14 minutes slower than my first. Now that's Pro...

Mistake Number 2: A cold sore... I get them when these things take hold. I played it off as a breakout, focusing on resting up and making sure my mental game was on par for the race. I tend to not have time to focus on any negatives, an only think postitive hoping for the best.

Mistake Number 3: My poop... I won't go into detail but it wasn't normal. Should have known... But I was on a slightly different diet plan were I don't eat three squares, but cut it up into 8 to 10 small meals spaced out through the day. I was also eating more veggies and fruits so I figured that was the cause.

You can't win them all. Most never win at all. I had fun non the less, got to rip some awesome singletrack and mingle with good like minded folks. I felt the worse after the race, feeling like death had come to meet his next victim. I struggled to stick around but they had boo koo swag, and damnit, something good was to come of this day. I ended up having to stick around till the absolute end, almost dead last in the giveaways, but still managed to take home a new C02 air pump.

Huge kudoos to the race director and all the volunteers. They put on one hellava race. They even gave away three bikes. That's fucking crazy... You all rock!

Afterwards we headed over to the O So Famous Lamberts Cafe. It was an hour wait, but we didn't care. Jamie's never been and we were already down there. So we waited...

For those of you who havent been to Lambert's, here's a quick description. It is the center of our American Obesity epidemic. It is the black hole that is known as fat. I love it to death, but damn, if that's what would have become of all eating establishments, then we would no longer exist as a race. You don't come to Lamberts to eat small. They load you up, bring around copius amounts of fixins, and toss rolls that are so good that even after 5 you want more. They had an HOUR long wait on a Sunday. Name any other resturant that has that. They are the direct cause of over 100,000 clogged arteries a year, and countless heart attack victims. As I sit here I feel my arteries collapasing. Oh well, once in a while never hurts right?

Off to the recovery chamber for some self-massage, and other home remedies to loosen up tough legs. Today was not my day, but I'm still here to fight another. Success is on the horizon, I have the cards, now I just need to learn how to play them correctly. The success for today, NO FLATS! Hope everyone had a great weekend, and here's to another week of work!

PS: Don't forget about next weekend's race in Emporia KS, but on by High Cylery. Search my later post for more info. I'll be there, will you?

Harlan Price - One Stand Up Dude

Wednesday night was a hightlight for me. Not because of the awesomeness that was Rockbridge, with it's uber fast river sections, and leg burning climbs, but because of a guy I met after the ride. I guess it was a classice case of being at the right spot at the right time. I just happend to be stretching, at that moment and place when a certain Volvo came pulling up next to me. A shortish (to my lanky ass), skinnier fellow hopped out with his pup in tow and asked how the ride was. He looked familiar...

After a few minutes of the classic biker bullshiting, I realized who I was talking to, Harlan Price. National level pro racer who dominates long endurance events and crushes the souls of the weak of hearted. Here's a little article about a win he just put down across seas' in a 9 day stage race. Pretty serious...

What's the odds? Harlan was passing through, and just got done riding Rockbridge. He was on his way to Colorado to spend three weeks racing the Breck Stage Race and the Breckenridge 100, and I think the Marathon Nationals too. Most would place a pro at an elitist mentality, but Harlan was far from that. He was a stand up dude, who was as nice as one of your best friends. He was stopping by to take a quick nap, but was happy to shoot the bull with me for over an hour as we visited on how the pro life was, why we first started riding, recovery and training ideas and tips, and more. It was an awesome hour...

Harlan first got into riding out of College, a little bit of a late bloomer you could say. It didn't take him long, and after a strong Expert win at Snowshoe he upped to Semi-Pro. He said it all happend fairly fast and he only won one semi-pro race before cating up to Pro. He's been racing for Independent Fabrications from the time he started racing Pro.

He pretty much summed up the Pro life with one word, sacrifices. He said you have to give up alot of your social life, and be prepared to live on a tight budget starting out, traveling alot solo like he was doing. I didn't bother to ask him if he was married, figuring that could be a sore spot. I was curious as to all of this, because I've always had this little devil inside me that says taht one day, if I push hard enough, and make the right moves, that I could be o so pro... I'm young enough, but it has alot more to do with it than that. Luckily I'm surrounded by family and friends that have full faith in me, and consistantly tell me I can do it no problem, which keeps me running full speed ahead. I've got the drive of a formula 1 race car, and damnit, I'll get there one day...

Harlan said he took a hiatus from racing for one year, but only 4 days into a bike tour in Central America, he decided he wanted back in. That's how it works, just when you think your out, it sucks you right back in. I guess when your that good, you almost have to make the most of your talent, knowing that so many people wish to be in your boots.

He gave me a pretty good pointer on recovery, one which he seem very adament about. Naps. A giant smile covered his face when he said the best thing to do is to take a 15-20 minute nap as often as possible. He said it was the greatest thing ever. I like his thinking... Now that I think about it, Einstein never slept, he just took alot of naps. Maybe there's something to that...

He showed me the lightest front 29er wheel I've ever laid hands on, a Stans Race 29er wheel, laced up Industry Nine style. This thing was road wheel light. We talked about my problems with flats this year, and he gave me some good advice on tire selection, and how to be more smooth when I'm riding. Apparently I'm supposed to be as "quiet" as possible when I'm riding. Sound enough advice. I told him that with every race I learn something, and I take it as a humbling experience. I find out what I need to work on, and I work on it religiously. He said that was priceless... Being able to recognize what your weak at is your greatest motivator, and actually doing something about it is even better.

I got to test out his foam roller, which I've been aware of but apprehensive. It was the shit, I'm on it like Sonic. Got one ordered already. Graeme Street with Cyclo-core was touting about them, and said they're great for myofacial release. It's supposed to be the shit for working out IT bands.

Towards the end he mentioned watching a couple of kids pull up, and within minutes throw on helmets, and pedal off. They were there for one reason, to ride. He said he almost forgot what that was like. When we ride, it's a systamatic approach to get going. Get dressed, put on cycling shoes, check the air in the tires, lube the chain, get nutrional items, water, ect... We almost forget what we're there for, to ride. He said it's easy to get burned out and forget your true propose. He's already done 19 races this year... That's crazy.

It's funny, because Jamie called me earlier in the day while I was working with Pops. She was bored and was reading horoscopes. She read mine, "your ability to communicate will open up new doors." Then she read dads, "open your eyes, a opportunity will present itself to you today that will prove to be very valuable in the future." Up until that night, I've never got to talk with a true idol in the sport. Someone who is in a postition that I want to be in someday. Sure we have some great racers around the state, but Harlan is living the dream. Dreams are different to everyone, and this one may not be for you, but I'm thinking I could see myself in his shoes one day.

So as I wrap it up, let me make one point. Harlan gave me a kick ass Indy Fab catalouge, and I told him the only reason any of us want to go pro is so that one day some little kid will come up and ask for our autograph. He laughed, and said it's still foreign to him. I made him sign his page in the catalouge, and he signed it, "Make Old New Again! Harlan Price." It's mid-season, you've been working your ass off on the bike. Winter was long base miles, and then it was ramped up with intensity, or whatever else you like to do on the bike. Races are underway, and it's warming up. It's easy to forget why we got into this sport, why we do what we do everyday. Hell I foget about it often. I'm far from being burned out after my chance encounter with Harlan, it fueled the fire that burns down deep and keeps me rolling day in and day out. If your like most though, and are starting to wear down, and finding it hard to get back out day in and day out, just remember, make old new again. Go out and have fun, you can't take this shit too seriously. It's all about the ride, friends, and great times! Have a fantastic 4th and be safe my friends...

SS Non Race, Ripping Landahl, and Blisters

I guess when you shout, scream, and curse enough, the powers to be listen and grant you one wish, dry trails. Sunday was the SS "non-race" at Binder in Jeff City. If you missed it, sorry, you missed on hellava time. Probably the best ride/race I've done this year, due to the fact that it was low key, the entry fee was beer, and we all were on the same playing field rocking one gear like bats outta hell.

There were about 40 riders who showed, and had it not been for ANOTHER flat in the last lap, I woulda been 3rd. Guess 4th isn't so bad. Afterwards the beer and bbq got fired up, and the shit talkin and bullshittin got underway. Rich took 3rd, the same badass who almost took my win at Warsaw. Furhman took 1st. Had it not been for the flat I was confident I woulda been put up in the sprint finish. They were just ahead when I got screwed... I was pleased though, given I did a three hour hotter than hell ride on Saturday and spent the rest of the day soakin it up at the Oceans of Fun with the little ones. That was a good time, but damn was it packed with little runts who ran around like little torpedos ready to strike at any moment you weren't paying attention.

So the weekend was grand, the only downfall was I had a master blister on my left hand from not riding a rigid in so long. So I got the word from Shawn "SSP" Burns that it was going down last night at Landahl. I had planned on taking another day off to let the hand heal but that shit was outta of the question. I ran late and didn't have time to get the Stumpy in order, so it was more rigid fury for me.

It was Shawn, Jessie, Travis, and I, and we threw down. Rode everything but Rim, and part of Wills, did Tasty twice, and 10 and 11. All in all it was the best group ride to date this year. Fucking blast... I had no grip by the end of it though, and my hands now sport a couple of other blisters that are sure to pop at the next handshake, hopefully not on an important client. Take the good with the bad pussy.

Railing Rockbridge tonight, in BOCOMO, so if your around and you see the cow rolling around, say hey. Let's hope these hands hold up...