Grasshopper “Old Caz” Opener

I was anxious about the grasshopper series opener all week cuz I knew the race was going to fricken explode from the get-go and Red Line till’ the finish… It was even more over the top….

Steve, Tommy, Nick, Michael, Angel, Steve and Kerry all raced for ZRCT, yes… it’s definitely a race! We blasted out of Oxy over 200+ strong FLYING down the road, 6 abreast, everyone screaming,  “stay to the right of the yellow line”. Fricken crazy 35+ MPH nail biting peloton shit; I made my way through the pack on my CX bike and within the slip stream of the front 20 riders and tried to hang on…. OMG. I was so far beyond my red line that my internal tachometer rotated back to green, my stomach revolted and I felt like throwing up. The Epic Grasshopper season had begun.

Ten minutes later we hit the first of the dirt descents; steep, moist, and an utterly delicious fire road screamer down the Willow Creek watershed. I used every ounce of skill and descending technique and roosted most corners “outrigger” style. With my Kenda small block 8’s throwing Sonoma soil at those less adept at da crazy shit. I ripped it wide open, passing many of MTB riders as I hooted and hollered. The fun and adrenaline meters were both in the red zone as my cardiopulmonary system tried to re-boot. I caught up to DFL Drew and took particular pleasure in passing him. We would end up playing the cat and mouse game all day. I have to say he did have a flat on the day and I did not.

Things settled down as we made our way on to a single lane farm road. When we hit Hwy 1 and River Road I found myself in a large chase group getting larger as we began to pull in the spoils of the lead group at the head of the race. I stayed close to the sharp end of the chase group as we closed in on what I think was the lead pack.  As we neared the pack a God Speed rider moved to the front for a pull and I joined him, giving him a flick of my right elbow as the two of us broke away and tried to bridge the gap. We each took about a half a dozen pulls and we were closing the gap fast. Little did (I) know that around the next bend ahead of us the course would leave River Road and begin one of the steeper climbs, Cherry Hill. Cherry; fricken, “see you all later” hill I mumbled under my panting, salt-crusted face. Damn.. there they all go… I had no choice but to settle into my own clydesdale rhythm and haul my wagon of Budweiser filled cellular mass up yet another damn hill.

Sycip, Kelly (is she 5’2″?) and Curtis Inglis helped me lick my wounds as we climbed in silence. The sound of rotating chains and struggling respiratory tracks trying to deliver oxygen to bodies devoid of pleasure and seething in lactic acid. Recovery was the moment-in-time it took to up shift as we crested the hill.

Things get kind of blurry after that…

Somewhere near here Tommy ran into a group of horses that had seen enough cycling mayhem and were determined to start sussing out what was going on. Tommy ended up dismounting and let the horses take nose hits off Tommy skanky saddle. Equestrians… go figure.

back to the race…..

I remember rolling up very fast on a group of riders off their bikes only to discover as I road past them that the road had been washed out. The final moments before I dismounted I distinctly remember riding on my front wheel with the brakes squealing as riders fully hazed me for riding what they were walking.  The rocking fast decent down to Cazadero creek further amplified my insatiable quest for more Dopamine and Adrenaline. It was in fact, lightning fast. The creek crossing was shallow, cold, and a nice rest off the saddle. I crossed the creek with Andy of Sunshine cycles as he told me about the “Caz 300” A similar ride but starting from the GG Bridge. Hell Yeas. Now that’s EPIC, if you got the insane in the randonee membrane. Angel..? My journey out of Caz creek was tempered by the I-pod I broke out for the climb. I tried too sooth my actin and myosin firing into a more Zen like muscle twitch for climbing. Listening to some Ice Cube Gangsta riffs helped me stay focused on the chase.

At the top of the climb I hooked up with Isaiah (Roaring Mouse) and three other lads. The skinny roadie racer of the bunch was a clear hammerhead as he took the first pull into the head wind for nearly five minutes. The rest of us waited, and patiently took our turns at the front as we motored in over-drive down River Road and on to Hwy 1. We were an amazingly efficient crew as we ticked off the miles in seamless counter clockwise rotation. This was an awesome section of road and one of the few times I was semi-coherent and free from the screaming demons of my cerebral red zone.

We soon pulled on to Willow Creek completing the loop and beginning the final climb. The valley road to the base of the climb was fast and muddy and we shared some laughs about the finer moments of the last three hours. As the trail turned up I realized I had fully cracked and I bid farewell to our merry little pace line, which had swollen to more than 10. I clawed my way to the top of Willow Creek and on to the finish with a time of 3:38. A fabulous day of racing in some of Northern California’s magic topography and with some of its finest cycling citizens. Back at the start Zeitgeist Racing and 21st Amendment treated everyone to cold beers and good cheer…..Good days….Herb

2011 District Cyclocross Championships

I have to say that I am having the time of my life racing Cyclocross this year.  It’s been a blast.  It’s too bad that the BASPS cut it short with 4 races instead of 6, but, hey, that’s  minor setback.  There’s plenty of other races out there.  Including the District Cyclocross Championships held in conjunction with the CCCX race #4 series in Salinas’ Toro Park last Sunday, December 4th.

I’m unsure if there is any other benefit to doing well at the District Championships other than bragging rights.  Maybe there’s a call-up at Nationals, but I’ll never know since Nationals are in Madison, WI next month.  And I will not be going to Madison in January.   Digression.

I packed up the family early on Sunday morning and headed for Salinas with promises of post-race ice cream and the Monterey Bay Aquarium.  Not a single complaint was heard from the 6 year old (Max) and 4 year old (Rennic) in the back seat despite their somewhat bad reputation as complainers.

We pulled into Toro Park, I got registered and I did a short test lap.  The course was tough.  A few technical sharp corners, but more tacky long corners where bike handling would factor in.  There were a few sketchy sandy spots that would sap power and one long dirt run-up.  After the run-up was the longest sustained descent I’ve seen in cyclocross race.  Followed by two tree-trunk dismount areas.

At the start line I saw several familiar faces from the BASPS series including Nick’s partner-in-crime, Zack Bass, who was having a great year.   The call-ups were for the CCCX series, so I was second row next to Sasha Magee, another strong BASPS regular.  At the whistle we started out fast, but not insane.  I was about 15th or so and I settled in to see what would happen.  Quickly riders started to soften so I picked them off one -by-one before the first corner.

I found myself going through the first few whoop-dee-doos behind Sasha with two riders in front of him.  I think we were in about 9th and 10th.  Sasha then made a great move.  He passed the two riders in front of him before a narrow no-passing section, leaving me behind, stuck behind the two riders.  Sasha was able to open about a 20 second gap.

I finally got around the two riders and settled into a tempo hoping to catch Sasha.  I took the opportunity to look back and realized that Zack was not far behind with a few other riders.

The long descent was largely uneventful during the race, but it it lead into a tree trunk dismount.  The truth is I dismounted the first lap and felt an overwhelming shame.  I pictured the MTB gods looking down on me in disgust complaining that this thing was round and only 12 inches tall.  Can you really not bunny-hop that, you pansy?  Next lap and all subsequent laps I F’ing bunny hopped it.

I’m not sure if Sasha was bunny hopping it, he was far enough in front that I couldn’t see.  However, I do know that I was catching people on the descent and dropping their asses floating over the tree trunk while they fumbled with the dismount.

The race settled in at this point.  I wasn’t really gaining on Sasha, but Zack behind me wasn’t gaining on me.  Stasis.  I passed a few more people.

The best part of the day was getting shouts of “Go Seth” (not “Go Dada”) from Max and Rennic.  Every lap they ran out from their tree fort play-land in the park to shout encouragement.  Awesome!

In the end I pulled a podium finish in 5th, just behind Sasha and just in front of Zack.

Mud, sweat, and turkey

top of the morning with coffee Irish style

Turkey Day Ride….Sadly, due to reasons totally within my control I have missed many of the recent ZRCT sanctioned events….and when I woke up on Thursday morning to the cold wet residue of Wednesday nights winterish storm, I was ready to add the T-day ride to my list….but, I made a commitment to my good friend “Robby” who was in town from Seattle just to do the ride, so there was no way I could miss this one… Unfortunately “Robby” had another idea of what commitment meant and totally bailed!  Fortunately for me there were plenty of dedicated ZRCT riders and countless others who showed true grit and completed the 20 mile 3 hour loop on the misty, wet and muddy mountaintop…Rick (Java Hut) and Darin (Divine electric) produced excellent Irish coffee to warm our souls as we finished the climb….Healthy Kate had food and cold 21st A beer waiting at the bottom of the hill…Humble and sincere thank you to each of you! Congrats to all those who participated and finished the 2011 wet, muddy and cold Turkey Day ride.  Special thanks to everyone who honored the Marin conservation leagues request to avoid the San Anselmo Creek and sparing the migrating salmon population.

San Anselmo Creek site of migrating salmon

These amazing fish are able to fight their way up this rocky dry creek bed and return to their spawning ground, what would we do without the efforts of the Marin Conservation League.  So much to give thanks for this holiday season…..

bike free or die

Happy Thanksgiving!

Bullet

Bool-ed ‘em good.

Twas a rad day at Sierra Point. Plenty of skull bunnies were out shralping the snot out of the super tacky and delicious course that was almost entirely contained in a vacant lot of a dot com business park. Herb got a podium in an open category race early in the day. You will have to ask him which category he was racing, he will blame that one on Hoz whoever that is. Adam and Seth also had killer races. Brothers give us some solid numbers in the comments. Willy and Jason were in the SS category and were quite pleased to be passed by the leader on the last lap. Job well done. Those young guns are fast, boy howdy. Ok get your asses to the next race, SSCXWC in our own Golden Gate Park!!!!! The main event is sold out (I will be in it if I qualify) but come down and race in the geared categories earlier in the day and then cheer for the local boys and girls as we battle for the Single Speed Cyclocross World Championship Title, the most prestigious single speed cyclocross championship in the world! Do it.

Occupy….the new ZRCT Kit 3Gs

Octoberfest Ride

Nine am start turned into a 9:45 Java brew fest while we waited for our ride instigator, Nicky Nes-Bits. Nick had woken up in a hangover stupor after a beer and Indian food fueled night and decided to work on his bike prior to the ride. Unfortunately, Nick torque off one of his chain bolts and had to stop and repair it at sports basement in SF. Angel, (adventure racer/barista with wings of steel and legs to make them fly) Carrie (just back from BC, UK and Belgium on a cycling race odyssey) and Steve (the buck 130, Jet ski Guru from the S. Bay) and myself were well… lets just say re-caffeinated by the time Nick showed his bearded self. We left the Java hut. Yea. Unfortunately, we had to leave fellow teammate and inter-bike socialite Tommy P. behind because of a sore pinkie toe (actually purple-toe) and some much need housework and laundry folding to be done. Whaata eva. bra….? Our first stage took us up Bo-Fax to Alpine Damn. As we sat on the damn soaking in the sun shine Angel plied us with tall tales of her recent Nor-Cal bike tour (sans food and much saddle hours) and tried to lure us into joining her and her crazy adventure friends for a midnight dip later in this week in chilly lake lignite’s. Ya right? Sign me up. Oh, shit. I think that was last night. The climb up Bolinas Ridge was sweet as ever. The untypical mild social pace was cool.

As we pulled off the Bo-Fax decent to highway 1 (a most smoking decent) I noticed a group of high school stoners practicing a Chinese fire drill in their blue Honda just prior to the cattle guard the prevents wayward cows from heading over to the Bolinas. (We would see them again). Nick could hardly hold “it” together to Stinson Beach. “It” was the demon: the Indian brown trout, the curry flamer, Shiva the mischievous brown turd. In fact he exploded in the porta potty off the basketball courts @ Stinson. A young and pretty mother waited patiently outside the green unit with her two toe headed girls. She must have been quite surprised as the tears rolled down her face as she tried to relieve herself from what must have been a rather fucked up J-John. Damn Nickooo. So out of town we climbed. As John and I crested the climb out of Stinson to Muir beach the blue Honda appeared and passed us. The young girl in the passenger seat flashed us her two Hogan’s and the Honda drifted down into the valley fog. Frecken awesome. We landed safely at the Pelican Inn and promptly ordered a round of London Pride in the soon to be rowdy bar. The bar tender had previously worked at Zeitgeist in the 70’s and she was way into the black kits. She earned a coveted patch, a few stickers, and a hardy tip. We shall see her again.

Over the hill and into Mill Valley was all Angel had in her as a rendezvous with some paddle partying water fools at sea trek later in the day. We missed you in SF Angel! (danm she is strong) Through Sausalito, over the bridge, and around the embarcadero. We had arrived at 21st Amendment. Lloyd, the king of hospitality greeted us with four steins containing a fresh batch of 21st Oktoberfest Lager. Yess… yes. We have arrived ! Sean the head brew master and owner greeted us and induced us to the crowd of Oktoberfest celebrants between band sets. In typical Lloyd fashion the beer continued to flow, as did the seasonal appetizers, burgers and more food and beverages than we could safely consume. Lloyd totally hooked us up and styled us on our way. YOU ARE THE MAN LLOYD!

Mounting the bikes in a somewhat unsteady state we pushed on to Zeitgeist moving through lanes of traffic with less than graceful style. A “Final-Final”. Rolling into Zeitgeist fully kitted out and looking quite like the badass bar team. Andy of “Soil Saloon” fame styled us out with a pitcher of Oktoberfest.

The ride solidified the experience of what the first annual Oktoberfest ride should be, long, relaxed and full of good friends, beer and food. . It was awesome. Nick, Carrie, Angel and Steve were exceptional riding companions and more than good drinking buddies. As we headed back across the bridge in the darkness and into the quietness of Marin I think fondly of the friends I have made at team Zeitgeist. Good times. Abide.