This is the view from the back. I should know, that’s the only place I’ve ever really been.

Hang on, boys. This is about to get real.

Source: http://gibier3000.tumblr.com/post/6519809076/baltimorehorsescycling-1968-paris-roubaix.

10 years is a long time.

Benson and Me Riding up Sugar Loafin. Big Jonny Took this photo on the fly. Not sure what year it is though. One of the early years.

This is through one of the feed zones in the race. I was rocking one of the original jerseys back then. I must have been second the year before because I had the #2 plate on.

This is the 40 mile feed zone. Floyd and Weins are just behind me. I had attacked on the downhill going into the feed zone that year. I think I was on the only guy on a 29er that year. I was killing those guys on the downhill so why not right? I think I finished 3rd that year.

Weins and I giving it some stick. I think we had already dropped the field at this point and I was trying to figure out how to get rid of Dave. Pretty much my entire LT 100 mtb life was figuring out how to get rid of that guy. One thing that I will say that Dave is a class act. I respect him to the utmost.

Start of the race one year. Now the field had tripled in size. Back in the day it had a more local and intimate feel. Now we are all just cattle following the lead moto.

One of the climbs that I used to train on all the time for the race. People could never figure out how I got ready for the race. Easy its called secret training. I did it when you were asleep. While you were in your room getting weaker, I was out there in the sticks getting stronger.

For sure a reason to race!

Not sure where this was or what year. But its good to see come clouds.

On the pointy end of the stick. This was my worst year ever. My body didnt wake up and things didn’t go well all day. Sucks when in 10 years I went under 8 hours every time but this day. 8:04 or something around there. Oh well in 10 years only one off day. Lots of people would kill for an 8:04

Me completely wasted on my 8:04 day. Too much stress and way too much booze that year.

Ah what a great year. Black Cloud is just off on my side, you can see his yellow DC jersey. The other yellow jersey is Lance. I had attacked about 1 mile in and soloed all the way up and into Columbine. 43 miles is a long way to go by yourself. People weren’t even cheering for me. Fuck You. They were waiting for the poster child. Fuckers, fuck you, I hope you got what you came for. It was great to see Dave beat him that year. Mad props to Dave for sure.

We all need more of this on our rides.

My borrowed whip for this years race. Big time shout out to B-Man at Fairwheel bikes. B-man has consistently helped me out from day one with whatever I needed. This year he just looked at me and said take mine. Yours is a pile is shit. I said ok. Gary Fisher 29er superfly. Carbon Edge wheels. Then just a mix of xt/xtr Nothing fancy but for sure getting the job done. Thanks B.

Let me know when you want to go to Tinys. Burgers and beer on Ajo Highway. But they only take cash…..

The real pointy end of the stick. Good friend of mine PT and I off the front this year. Dont ever be afraid to race your bike. You didnt come there for conversation or to make friends, and in the words of the Wolfe “it aint a drinking contest” So get on with it and race the fucking thing. Yes it hurts but what did you think it was going to be? A tickling competition? These lads are out to hurt each other.

Do 10 of them and you get one of those and 10 of the smaller ones. Funny how things change over the years. At some point I want to be somewhere and wearing the fucking huge one and someone says yeah I went under 9hrs I got the big one. I’ll just pull my shirt up and say yeah how about them apples. But seriously the thing is huge and I dont think it can be worn without some sort of back brace.

One time I was at a party wearing one of my big (small ones) and some drunk guy comes flying up into me and says you’re not a mountain biker, you’re a fucking roadie. I asked him why he thought that? He said LT100 was a dirt road race. I said ok. That seemed to piss him off. But hey buddy, Im wearing the buckle and you’re not. So give it a try and lets see how you do. Crickets were chirping….

This race has been a good one for sure. It brings people to thier knees and takes others to a place where they didnt think they could go. I have never been afraid to attack in this race and just like all races, race this bitch from the front. I have seen Big Jonny go from barely finishing it, to coming close to 9 hours to getting hit by a drunk driver. I was there when Gnome inploded his first year and then came back to help work over the Hair Farmer on the flat ground. I heard Bensons tire blow in the first 2 miles only for him to get lost because the course wasnt marked. Ive seen it as a grass roots race, some sort of step child of a bastard race that everyone could fit into the gym for the awards. Now its a cattle call to the start and people dont even train for it anymore. They just show up. I hope for your sake your choking on your own lungs as they fill up with fluid. This race deserves respect. I always said if your not waking up in the middle of the night scared and sweating then your not ready.

The race this year was a zoo as normal. Loads more people. You all should be sending a email or a phone call to the race people about starting oh about 3 min back from the lead group. I would say that you never had a chance but I do know of 2 guys who made it from way back there to the sub 9 hour mark. So it is possible. Then lottery, yeah its not a lottery. Its just like the rest of the world, its who you know. So if you dont get in, just start calling and if you know Kevin Bacon then you should be able to get in. It started fast this year and ended even faster. Todd was for sure a worth winner and there is no doubting his ablitities. Just like Tex said if you can get it done in 2 hours you will be the guy getting it done in 7 hours. Or 6:20 if your Todd. I myself had a great day on the bike. No real problems with food or anything like that. Just a great ride on a great day to ride. I myself was planning just to scrape in under 8 for my final one. Much to my suprise when I hit the top of Columbine 10 minutes to spare and feeling great. The amount of traffic still comeing up the hill was ridiculus. The cut off times for this race need to be harder and enforced. Its for saftey folks. Yours and mine. Then ride back up Powerline was a tough one as usual. I did get to meet Dirty for a second. That was a pleasure. 40 hands I know from back in the day. ( I hope you learned your lesson to never challenge Big Pun to a drinking contest) So there is a good photo of the DC ape and myself or a shell of myself at the steep part of Power line. Great to see you Dirty. Then pretty much a ride back into town. Really. Its was just a good day. Nothing super fast just nice and steady all the way in. I didnt have that big punch that I needed or like I had 5 years ago. The years are wearing on me and its getting harder to train. But its been a great run for sure. I wouldnt change it for anything. Thanks to those that have helped me over the years. Benson, Tex, Wolfe, B-man, Gnome, Bacardi Marty and all the teams that I have been on over the years you have helped more than you know.

And now a word from our sponsors: www.athleteoctane.com.

I’ve been drinking it for over 10 years. It helps me recover from hard rides and hang overs. What more do you need?

See you on the trails.

Our local bike coop ended the summer kid’s program with a race on Sunday. It was such an amazing event to be a part of, I am having trouble finding the words to describe how I feel. After volunteering at kid’s night the last few weeks, the race was just icing on the cake. I feel like these kids need more from society and Mobo really provides that with this program.

A few days after I posted here about kid’s night at Mobo, I received a large box in the mail from Kevin Timmermans at Raleigh Bicycles. His email said “it’s not much, but we wanted to donate to the event”. I was shocked when I opened the box to find about $500 worth of merchandise. They sent saddles, gloves, bike locks, tool kits, water bottles, water bottle cages, a helmet, a pair of rad pegs for a BMX bike, tire pumps, grips, the list goes on and on. For kids who have next to nothing, these items were a lot more then we could have ever hoped for.

The prize table, courtesy of Raleigh Bicycles

The course consisted of 4 obstacles. They rode to the first station, got off their bike to jump rope. The second station they had to walk through tires with an egg on a spoon. The third station, they had to throw a football through a hoop, and the fourth station was to ride through some cones, and then a sprint to the finish line.

Pictures by Michael Providenti

Dominic demo’d the course for the kids before the race.

We had a total of 30 racers.

They were scored by time, in 1st, 2nd and 3rd place according to age. They were also scored on Best Sportsmanship, Most Spirited, Best Comedian, and Best Attitude.

PODIUM! ages 3-7

Every participant was entered in a raffle for this rad BMX bike.

The winner of the raffle

Lola, the newest addition to our household, had a great time.

Lola was a hit with the kids

After the race, we had pizza and cookies.

At the end of the day, every kid got a prize off the table, and more were raffled off. The day was such a huge success, I am so proud to have been able to be a part of something so cool. I cannot wait for next year.

Serves me right for working instead of sitting on my ass surfing Reddit for awesome clips of trials riders I’ll never be as good as.

Then I found THIS :

I’ll be damned if there’s no one from the DC peanut gallery there. There HAS to be, right? RIGHT???

Walking around Leadville I was starting to notice these things hugging peoples calves, so I started firing off some shots- I hope they help do something fantastic because they look ridiculous.

I don't hate the people, just the socks

Pardon me for interrupting all this drunk cycling with a public-service announcement, but my friend and colleague Charles Pelkey — formerly The Explainer, Live Update Guy, etc., et al., and so on and so forth for VeloNews.com — finds himself in a bit of a tight spot.

Charles, as you may or may not know, was among those recently downsized by Competitor Group Inc., owner of VeloNews.com and the re-branded Velo magazine. At nearly the same instant, he learned he had cancer and would require a series of surgeries, chemotherapy and radiation — in short, the usual post-diagnosis party.

CGI extended his health insurance post-sacking, but the sand in that hourglass is rapidly running out, and once Charles finds himself in COBRA country the bills will start piling up like venomous snakes in an Indiana Jones movie.

I understand that some DrunkCyclists have issues with the quantity and quality of coverage provided by Velo and VeloNews.com, and that’s certainly a discussion worth having — especially if you have it with the people in charge of laying off pro scribes like Charles and John Wilcockson, who has covered 43 Tours and Christ knows how many other marquee events.

But if any of you have enjoyed Charles’ famous live updates from the Tour de France and other major events, or gleaned some insight about a complex topic through one of his Explainer columns, please consider helping him make a dent in his medical bills through a Chipin account set up by the fine folks at NYVelocity.

Times are tough, and spare change hard to find. But Charles has done a ton of solid journalism over the past 17 years, bringing us news about racing, doping and cyclists victimized by inattentive or impaired motorists. And if you appreciate that work as much as I do, please consider giving him a hand-up in the toughest race of his life.

You’ll find yourself in good company. For example, I have it on good authority that an American winner of the Tour de France has chipped in a little sumpin’-sumpin’.

And no, it wasn’t the rubber-bracelet dude.

The last time I up and left Flagstaff “For Good” was in 2008. During my last night in town, this happened thanks to THE SHINDAGGERS.

CAUSE.

And:

EFFECT.

Sometime next week, I will be leaving Flagstaff “FOR GOOD” again to head to Colorado Springs. That means my life is currently in boxes and my bikes are for sale. Well, just one bike, and it’s for more than one reason:

My Bitch.

So far I’ve had no luck selling this steed, which is crazy because it’s  a sick ride that I would otherwise take with me, but my back (and my wife) say get rid of it and buy a squish bike. Selling bikes always conjures up memories of bikes past, and how I always regret selling them. Take, for instance, this guy:

You're Right. I AM Intense.

Or how about this monster:

There was about a week when I thought I was a dirt jumper.

I don’t so much miss this one as I missed the opportunity to replace it with another squisher:

Early 2000's Gnar.

Then there’s the crown jewel, my college ride:

Knee Basher

And who can forget the one that got away:

The ex I call up drunk in the middle of the night.

There are several more, but I won’t waste your time with more glamour shots of my past bicycles.

Flagstaff is, if nothing else, a microcosm of bike dorkdom. I’ve owned more bikes in my six years here than I’ve owned pairs of underwear. I ride, I fall down, I ride more, I wrench on bike, I ride more, I break bike, I ride more, and so on. And in between, I go through long phases of just not wanting to ride. Yet as I sit here on my couch, and I see my mountain bike in the kitchen (yes, it’s in the kitchen…why not? The house is a disaster…), I am overcome with an immediate sense of relief just knowing the bike is there.

I’m not stoked on Colorado Springs at the moment, but as long as there’s a bike there, I’ll be fine. So I sell away Flagstaff to upgrade (?) to Colorado Springs. Maybe I’ll regret it, but at least I’ll have the pictures to prove I owned it. Sayonara, Flagville. Keep the hippies in the coffee shops and the tourists out of the streets.

If it’s sticky, it will stick.

next half mile, DC

the gym

sunday morning

It all started out rather simple, Caveman was going to be shooting photos at Leadville, Dirty bought himself a plane ticket to join in the fun and cheer on Snake.  With the next semester of school approaching I figured that this would be my last weekend to get rowdy and opted to tag along for the trip.  Kep (who has some delicious balls) was our radness enabler, and hooked us up with a place to crash, and promised to bring a keg.  I picked Dirty up at the airport at midnight, and we headed straight for Leadville.  A little over 2 hours and 5000 vertical feet later we pulled into town.  Caveman greeted us, and pointed us in the direction of the keg which had been supplied by the fine folks at Eddyline Brewery out of Buena Vista.  Dirty began to piece together his new Ibis Tranny, while we continued to bullshit and drink beer.  The sun comes up, and we head on down to the start to snap photos, and give Snake some words of encouragement.  For what it’s worth, it was fucking cold and all those who were toeing the line that morning in near freezing cold staring down 103 miles of pure sweet hell, are ballers in my book.

Once the gun goes off we head back to gather supplies for a day of photos, drinking, heckling, and supporting.  We camped out near the bottom of Powerline, Dirty puts on his ape suit, I wave the DC flag, and Caveman snaps some great photos.  The highlight of the descending had to be the older guy who was knocked off his bike by another racer.  After determining that no serious injury had been sustained we offer him whiskey, which he gladly accepts before heading back down the climb.

We then headed towards the top of the climb to prepare to shoot and heckle the leaders as they cranked their way up the climb.  As the riders past on the climb we witnessed men and women turning themselves inside out to get to the top of the climb, some pedaled, some walked, but all impressed.  Snake was kind enough to pose for a photo with Dirty, then headed out to pursuit of his new dinner plate sized belt buckle.

By two we were out of beer and headed back to the keg, leading to a few hours of sitting around and bullshiting.  At some point one of Kep’s friends showed up with dinner for us, which did much more than hit the spot.  A little while later we were informed of a party going on down in town, so we put on our party shoes and headed on out.  Turns out the party was a gathering of the Specialized folk toasting to Todd Wells and Rebecca Rusch for their victories.  Within five minutes of arriving a whiskey bottle was produced, and Caveman made it his personal goal to get everyone to drink from it.  In all three bottles of whiskey were consumed in under three hours, Caveman seemingly doing the lions share of the work.  I must say that the gang from Specialized as well as Todd and Rebecca were fucking rad, partying the night away without a compression sock in site.  After all the whiskey was gone, and the beer cooler empty, I was thinking the party would come to a close, except I saw Dirty with a handle of vodka in one hand, and a case of Red Bull in the other.  Needless to say the party continued, until we returned to the travel to work on the keg.

Morning came and we got to work on remembering what had happened the night before.  Caveman threw up multiple times, and Dirty filled a platapus bladder with vodka and brought it back to the trailer with a case of red bull.  Still being drunk Caveman typed the rant of the century, causing me to nearly piss my pants from laughing soo hard.  We headed downtown to find some breakfast, but saddled up to a local bar instead, where a drunken bar manager allowed us to bring in breakfast which we had purchased across the street, and completely undercharged us for our drinks, life was good.  As mid day approached, Dirty, Kep, and self said our goodbyes to Caveman and we headed south to Buena Vista for some riding.  Our plan to ride Monarch Crest did not happen as we were still hungover and instead we opted for a “gentleman’s” ride just outside town.  Lucky for us there was a donkey race being run, and we were treated to the sites and sounds of people trying to lead a donkey loaded with mining gear down a trail.

Sweet singletrack was capped off with a heavy cooling rain which normally would have sucked, but since none of us had showered in a few days we welcomed natures shower.   We headed back to Eddyline to return the empty keg, and feast on chow and drink.  The company was great, the food was tasty, and the beer was delicious (FYI if you live in Colorado Eddyline will be canning their beer soon and making in more available to folks like you and me).  With the real world calling, we said our goodbyes, and thanked all for the good times.  The Leadville experience had treated us well, and we felt as if we had left our own DC “touch” on the event.  HUGE congrats go out to Snake for his overall awesomeness and riding abilities, as well as friends of DC such as Mel, Beth, and Jake who all represented DC with the best of them.

At the award ceremony this morning in Leadville, our boy Snake got himself a new buckle. In a word: Impressive.

It looks like the hood off a Chevy pickup.

Makes the sub-nine buckle look puny by comparison. And, I’d hate to see that thing next to my two sub-twelve buckles. It’d make ‘em look like a pair of postage stamps.