The Ride Formerly Known as Ten Thousand.

November 6, 2015

Let me preface - the title should be “The Ride Formerly Known as Seven Thousand.” My little group did the short route. Short is relative here, 70 miles and 7,000’+ of elevation is not short in any way of the word. The folks I rode with broke down into two groups. One set new to visit this area, and two of us fairly versed in these roads.

These roads... these roads do not disappoint.

It started off a little hap-hazard, at least for us. It was pretty chilly this morning, in the high 20’s or so with the sun just starting to rear its head. We all fumbled with what to wear and decide what should be worn and packed for the potential upper 50’s that we might run in to. We were running a little behind and know that it wasn’t sanctioned, if that’s the proper word, so it didn’t really matter when we rolled out. We got off just a bit late and ran into a rather big group of the Half Acre crew and we rolled out with them for a very short while.

Right away we were having little issues with the cold so we had a few stops to try and get things ironed out. I was having trouble getting warmed up because every ascent was followed by a blistering descent and chilled me right back up. I even rode the brakes on a few as to try and keep just a little bit warm. It didn’t.

Then we made it to the B-road. Pretty much every route Mr. Ament puts together has at least one B-road and I always look forward to it. I will admit I preferred this one to be early in the ride while my head was still together. We ran into a little traffic but had made the most of it and had a blast shooting down the very rutted grass road. Feet still cold. I knew I wore the wrong shoes.

One more big ascent and I had to stop and take my shoes and shoe covers off to try to warm up and bit and boy did it help. This stop worked out in two ways. I got to warm my feet and then crush it for a bit to catch back up to the group and get the blood really flowing.

The bad thing about the cold is it kind of tricks you into not eating or drinking enough. When you’re not sweating as much you don’t think you need as much to drink and it’s always hard to remember that the cold makes your body work harder to keep warm.

We had our only real issue with that at around mile 30 when Kelly was really feeling the hills and hadn’t really ate much since the start. We stopped she chowed down on some grub and we got back rolling. She was back to smashing up the hills in no time.

Then we came up to a familiar intersection. Last time I remember being there a truck with a tent and lots of water was there to greet us in the first 10K route. And this time we took the same turn. Right up possibly the longest hill in the 70 mile route. And I remembered it well. I like to turn my Garmin screen to show me what the instant grade is when I get the hills like this to see exactly how much hurt is being put on me. And if I remember correctly there was a few moment of very high teens looking back at me. On top of that there was some nice loose gravel to make you have to zig zag around the road to try and keep from spinning out.

A little bit later we crossed the “famous” bridge and we did our due diligence and stop for a bit of a photo shoot. Just after that we ran into a familiar face even though we didn’t realize it at first (Hi Morleigh!) I just thought Stay Rad has been out there so much that the locals were starting to recognize us.

From there we rolled into Elizabeth. I was in the mode to just stop quickly at the gas station, grab a snack or two, top off the bottles, and get back on the road. I was apparently the only one with that mindset and I was ok with it. We stopped at the little café and I snuck in my gas station sammy and Pepsi and enjoyed a little sit.

That’s when we ran into the first group of many that decided to go the short route and just make a damn good day of it. I’m certain that had Eric not already pitched the idea of going short to me a few weeks earlier I would have made the same decision.

Rolling out of Elizabeth was amazing. Long paved hills with descents that matched and seemed to just go on and on. The sun was out, we had bellies full of food and only 24 miles to go, time to go! OK, maybe I was the only one with that that frame of mind but it did give me some time to get a few decent pictures of Kelly, Eric, and Chuks climbing up some of the hills with beautiful back drops. As the miles ticked away Eric noticed the good old Stockton water tower and we knew we were getting close to the end. Just a good little jaunt into the head wind and a hill that looked suspiciously like an exponential growth graph on my Garmin left between us and the end of the ride. At that point it was just Chuks and I and we took a little break on the top so he get the feeling back in his arms after smashing up that hill with his 1X set up.

Knowing we were mere minutes away I tried to see if I could beat my top speed so far on the route of 45 mph and just tucked down and smashed it down. I didn’t get it but damn it was fun trying.

As we rolled into town a ran into another group that decided to make it a shorter day. I had a quick talk with Johnnie and the Half Acre crew before heading back to the hotel where there was many more smiling familiar faces sitting outside absorbing the sun, drinking beers and waiting for the long haul folks to roll in.

Some fresh clothes, a beer or two, and we got word that Matt Wagner and Bailey Newbrey had just got to the restaurant. So we packed up and headed over for some grub and drinks. While there, a few more familiar faces rolled by... each one of them sporting a smile.

All in all, it was another great day in the Driftless all put together by the map master, Chad Ament. Sadly he was having too much fun in CO to be there but I know he was there in spirit.

Nicely done Chad! Thanks again for a great ride!

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Bike Packing to Rock Cut

October 9, 2015

‘Why?’

This is a question I found myself muttering far too often during the difficult, gritty moments of the trip I embarked on. I’m not sure I have a simple answer, to this day.

I’m immediately reminded of an excerpt from The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho:

“Why do we have to listen to our hearts?" the boy asked.

"Because, wherever your heart is, that is where you will find your treasure.”

Leaving the house was difficult. Admittedly, we got a very late start on Tuesday, August 18th – pushing our first pedal strokes at Noon. Although I was awake and ready to roll around 9am, I made the best of these moments to finish off a creamy double-shot of espresso (If you happen to work for Intelligentsia – please contact be about some sort of sponsorship deal, thank you), and mentally prepare myself for what I was to embark on. An adventure that had literally been years in the making had come to fruition, so much planning and preparation leading up to the moment that was set to happen in an hour. The easy option would have been to stay home, succumb to the weather, live the next few days without adventure. As we were doing our final packing and scratching off the mental checklist – I couldn’t help but think “It is not a matter of if we forgot anything; it’s a matter of what we forgot to pack. “

There was a mutual nervousness, as well as drive, to make this come together. Conversation was brief.

“Are you ready yet!?” I would repeat, without response.

“Did you grab that little bottle of sunscreen!?” Phil “I’m too tall to fit into a 1280x800 px 113 ppi picture” Holli-Arcus exclaimed.

Although I may have said there was an ‘easy option’ here, there may be little truth in that. Simply two riders, two bicycles, and bags are all that would contain our portable “homes.” The frame packs, the front low-mount racks, waterproof panniers, Stanley French press coffee maker, and camping shelter was already purchased and mounted to each of our respective bicycles. This experience had been Y-E-A-R-S in the making. There was no option here – as a team we were going to complete the goal, or fail terribly. Personally I see a sense of adventure as a visceral human experience and something that each of us desire to a degree. Our ancestors were all nomadic beings, and now we have luxuries such as 120tpi tires with Kevlar flat protection and folding beads, Polarized sunglasses and Gas Station convenience stores to assist a journey. There was no “Plan B” here, instead; new people, places, and experiences.

Our first destination: Pedal & Spoke ltd. Bicycle shop. Note that our riding time so far is the exact route Phil would take to commute to work! Once we were comfortable enough on our respective, heavy, bikes was a spirited 12 mile jaunt covering equal parts prairie path gravel and relatively busy roads, had us at the front door where we are both employed – this is also where the generous people work that allowed this trip to happen. There were some strings that had to be pulled and moves made so that the store could remain open and functional with two mechanics headed out West to push their limits– I personally will not let that go in vain – a lot of sacrifice was made by our coworkers in this respect. Also - there was also a lot of organic granola, and water, that we took upon ourselves to refill on before heading out for the real journey that lay before us.

The trail winding along the Fox River would allow us the ride north, where the pavement would transition into crushed limestone on the Great Western trail through DeKalb County, pointing our wheels directly – you guessed it – West. This change in trail surface would also give way to new challenges, dodging “suicidal” chipmunks on the gravel – as opposed to small dogs, geese, and their droppings – as I’m sure anyone who has ridden on the Fox River trail has experienced, unfortunately. A quick stop at the Jalapeno Grill in St. Charles was a guaranteed delicious way to fill our stomachs so we didn’t cut into the food we packed this soon into the trip. The was a restaurant that was discovered during the Rando de Taco, an amazingly fun ride hosted by Pedal & Spoke and A.Brackett Cycles that consists of multiple taco stops broken up between 100km of riding. Once the tacos were digested it was time to put in a very strong effort towards our destination. As my initial energy gave way to the reserves, and all too familiar lactic acid buildup in the quads merged their way into my mindset I brought up the question “did we do enough training for this?” Of course relatively recently after the blistering and hellish heat I experienced during the Rapha Prestige Midwest I put myself into perspective and pushed through the burn. Likewise in Phil’s training, the BEAR 100 in Wisconsin had him turning the pedals through a Century of loose, chunder gravel and not a single flat section to be mentioned on the course, on top of commuting back and forth to work time to time, and don’t forget hitting the skate park or occasional street features. I speak for both of us when I say that being on the bike was certainly not the most difficult aspect of touring – instead, dealing with the elements and keeping an almost uninterrupted stream of calories into our bodies.

This is the last photo I was able to take before our adventure was kicked-up a notch, or three. As our convoy of two moved north, we were greeted with a very, very cool breeze followed shortly by very, very ominous-looking clouds. This is a telltale sign of an imminent storm, something DeKalb county of all places is known for – with 93 tornado touchdowns in the last 65 years, one in 1990 with an F5 rating– we were conscious of just how quickly the weather could become dangerous. And thus: the skies opened up. The rain was thick and heavy, with an unexpected briskness that had myself reaching for my favorite amenity which is a simple rain jacket tailored to fit best while on the bike. Rain is one challenge, while thunder and lightning is its own battle – the visible streaks in the sky were less than 200 yards away before we had to make an executive decision and find a safe shelter. Just as quickly as the beautiful day transitioned into ground-shaking thunder, our respective Specialized Fatboy tires steered us into a neighborhood with an open garage door. The family inside saw us down on our luck and extended a potentially life-saving helping hand in the form of shelter, advice, and most importantly, camaraderie. Confederate flags aside: this was the most generous household I could have imagined to stumble upon as they offered us literally anything we needed to stay safe and comfortable. We shook hands with Dennis, his Wife, “Little Dennis”, and the other children of the family that were observing the lighting storm we had just ridden through.

Back into the downpour, only moments after thanking the generous family for directions to the nearest picnic shelter, which was a short, albeit wet ride. It was beautiful. I could only compare it to reaching Zion in that moment – true nirvana - all of our effort paid off in the form of a 20x30’ sheltered pavilion. A perfect space to hang up some dripping wet rain gear, and brew some coffee while regrouping, a spot we would not have found without help from the locals. It was here that we made the decision to stay where at our current location for the night – roughly 25 miles to Rock Cut – and let the storms deescalate. Looking at the radar on my cell phone confirmed our decision! We stayed, and then overstayed, our welcome here. The entire Police unit of Kirkland came to see what we were up to! I should elaborate, to say that this was BOTH officers that made up the squad here. A senior chief and younger officer made sure that we ‘weren’t up to no good’, and after quite a few questions, directed us towards a different shelter that we could stealth-camp at for the night. Again, honesty and humility reigned supreme towards getting Phil “I’m too tall to sit up in a two-person tent” Holli-Arcus and myself excellent advice and a free place to camp spontaneously. We dropped off some gear, and took a few deep breaths. Serendipity, right? A relatively quick ride to one of the only amenities in town, a single 7-11 convenience store, yielded us with; a box of Velveeta, a Tallboy of the nicest gas-station brew available, bananas, and plenty of sugary snacks. Far from ideal, but everything that was necessary in this moment. Pro Tip: Jalapeno Kettle Chips crushed into Velveeta mac’n’cheese. Gas station elegance.

Upon finishing our beautiful array of entrée it was time to clean up the pots & pans, and get rested for the next day’s forth-comings.

Neither of us slept well that first night out. Our crudely assembled shelters did not give the best return on an extremely breezy night, in the pavilion at ground-level. Nevertheless, we were sheltered and mostly dry.

We awoke to a beautiful morning and – get this – a skate park directly across the street from our temporary abode. How had myself and Phil, with an extraordinary BMX background, missed this gem during our multiple trips in and out of the ex-Trailer Park? Without a second thought we grabbed our bikes (also, the GoPro!) and B-Lined for the entrance. Immediately recognizable was the awesome (read: terrible, derogative, explicit) spray-can writing on each of the ramps. I hesitate to call this Graffiti. We were both astonished at the town of Kirkland, Illinois, 2,000 people strong, investing into a skate park of any kind. Very cool, thank you again Kirkland.

With that being said – our shelter for the night was far from inviting. My eyes were quickly drawn to the garbage bins overflowing with beer & fast food waste, as well as cigarette butts, and broken glass in an almost uniform coating on the concrete, juxtaposing the carpet in a home. This was upsetting, obviously, but seemed to strike a chord, even being this far into our experience. There was a polarizing, epiphany type of feeling once we discussed this, and how there was not a chance we could leave our ‘home’ in such a condition. ‘Home’, not only as our rent-free pavilion for the night, but on a much larger scale, as well. It was then that we made a conscious decision to travel a bit more lightly – less waste, less of a footprint– and reduce our impact as we rolled through the relatively untouched countryside. I thoroughly enjoy the fact that I was able to gain this perspective, something I don’t intend to let go of any time soon.

Once the coffee was poured, my day had started (this goes without saying,) and it was time to pack up our gear, pick up the previous patrons litter, and a quick “pre-flight” inspection of our bikes ensured everything would roll smoothly.

A short, but sobering and painful pedal up the street to Kirkland Family Diner had again, one of the friendliest environments I have experienced. Our delightful waitress brought out fresh coffee without hesitation; I can only assume she read our beaten and tired faces. A brief discussion of the day’s route over two massive Skillet style breakfast plates and aforementioned coffee - black -had us confident for what was in store. Upon inhaling the home style hash, scrambled eggs, loads of veggies, and for Phil – some breakfast sausage, we were off into the vast expanse between Kirkland, and our destination in Rockford.

We were rollin’. All of the gears (and my lack thereof) seemed to click into place perfectly; once these loaded bicycles are up to speed, the momentum achieved is amazingly inspiring. The All-City Space Horse piloted by Phil had literally not been shifted into the “big ring” the entire duration of the ride, he admitted, until this point. Rolling hills had our heavy, tired legs in a perfect synchrony of stress and relaxation – balancing out each excruciating incline with an appropriately sized decline. This is where Phil and I experienced some of our highest speeds – in excess of 30mph – which feels decidedly stable and safe with all of weight on bikes packed so low onto the fork blades.

Feeling very comfortable with the center of gravity and weight of our bikes, we were riding wheel-to-wheel, harnessing the “Roadie” within ourselves and maximizing efficiency to finish the home stretch towards the campground. Signage was prevalent once the State Park was near, a blessing considering how much traffic we encountered here. That was, until our tires crossed into the Park, an astonishing sea of green, intense aroma from the fallen pine needles, winding one-lane roads. Check-in was painless, as the State Park staff was very helpful and extending a familiarity for a lot of the questions we posed. This is not a Hotel review website so I’ll be brief, but I highly recommend Rock Cut State Park as a camping destination. Finally, we made it!

Great success.

Meijer and a restaurant of our choosing held the goods required for my body to rebuild the muscles we had been applying stress to. We found a not-so-distant Pub that sounded like it could fill the void in my stomach. Pig Minds Brewing exceeded every expectation I could have had! The beer which was brewed just across the building we were seated in, as well as a 100% Vegan menu, made every single turn of the pedals worth the effort. The difficultly was choosing from the amazing list of plant-based Pub food available, and a burger is what we each landed on. 10/10 would recommend. This was a perfect prequel to the short ride to my hammock which was awaiting my arrival.

I slept exponentially better, having been able to set-up my hammock and rain fly in the daylight, without rain, as we experienced the first night out. The ability to increase the accuracy of rope placement, hammock tension, and getting the rain fly as tight and close to the earth as possible, contributed to a much warmer and quitter night’s sleep – I can attribute my success on the bike the next day to getting hours of solid, deep sleep. This is where the learning experience played into the efficiency of my procedure. Even disassembling the set-up in the morning and packing the panniers became a somewhat simpler task! It was an excellent treat to be able to finish all of the Intelligentsia House Blend coffee I had coarsely ground beforehand – as we would not need any of the sweet nectar past this morning. As an added perk of lightening the load in our panniers, we disposed of any trash and recyclables we had accumulated in their respective bins at the campground as well as trash left from previous tenants. After packing all of our belongings – except a few outer layers to wear for the perfectly brisk morning – it was time to push everything left in our legs into the SPD cleats connected to our 4130 series Chromoly frames.

Wild turkey we saw crossing the road wished us safe travels as were leaving the State Park, and luckily we were greeted with decreasing elevation for the next 10 miles, allowing our bicycles to maintain momentum. Metabolism through the roof, another stop at a local diner was necessary. Apple pie followed a very filling breakfast (earned it). On the road once again once I was properly digested.

Another skate park slowly sintered into view atop a hill– a mirage, surely. To our surprise the Skate-lite constructed park was entirely empty, and awesome! Phil “The steezin’ Norwegian” Holli-Arcus couldn’t have been happier as his 700c wheels weighted with camping gear stuck to the quarter-pipes, fun box, and perfectly sized “rollers” with gusto. Most of the credit should be given to Phil, again, but we both had some lines linking multiple features that could have put some BMX riders to shame. This pit stop had us forgetting just how heavy our legs were feeling and experiencing this oasis in the desert with seemingly endless stretches of pavement on each parameter.

Returning home, and knowing every turn from the previous days riding, focusing on the cadence and pace being held was paramount.

The Great Western trail, headed East, was a blur.

It was painful.

It was epic.

Fighting off cramps, occasionally fist-bumping after a jump or getting “Rad”, the midday sunlight rays breaking onto the Fox River trail headed home was a great way to end out the journey.

Thursday, August 20th (MY BIRTHDAY!) at 7pm our trek was complete. 185 miles total is our best guess at mileage to the trip. I feel it is important to emphasize the Neither the All-City Space Horse, nor my Surly CrossxCheck faced a single mechanical failure. Modern take on classic design is the epitome of these bikes. *cough* Steel is Real *cough*. Not one flat tire, broken spoke, or snapped chain. Flawless. These are failures that we had known were possible, and packed accordingly – always better to have and not need, than need and not have, was our rationale.

I could not help but feel overwhelmed by the respect of almost everyone that we encountered while out on the road. The people are what made this experience amazing. Whether it is a few extra feet while a driver is passing, to recommendations for restaurants, to directions, to literally offering a home to sleep in while a brutal storm passes each act of kindness was noted. I am working to extend this same kindness in my life, as a result. I speak for the both of us when I say that there are no regrets regarding this experience, as careful planning and trusting your instincts will help you succeed. Having time to recover from this experience both physically and mentally, I feel stronger than ever on the bike and in a good place mentally as well. Ready for Cyclocross season!

With that being said – Grab a friend, or four, that motivate you, and get out there! The more you put into it, the more you will get out of it.

I will leave you with some final words:

“And, when you want something, the entire universe conspires in helping you to achieve it.”

“People are capable, at any time in their lives, of doing what they dream of.”

― Paulo Coelho, The Alchemist

Also, don’t forget to STRETCH!

Thank you for reading! STAY RAD Adventure Team is here today because we are a community.

I encourage you to ask away with any questions you may have regarding bike setup (If you ride a Single Speed bike I know what you are thinking: I had a 39x17 gear on my Surly!), packing and camping setup, or anything on the bike touring subject. Or even just to donate to the Velveeta & Clif bar fund.

-Sean M.

(Big ups to baby girl Sarah for helping me write/edit this)

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STAY RAPHA

July 23, 2015

This past weekend Rapha put on one of their now legendary Prestige rides/races, it was once know as the Gentlemen's Race, out in the DRIFTLESS. If you're unfamiliar (who are you), there are tons of videos on Vimeo. To our surprise, we were contacted by Rapha, through some friends, to take part. WUT??!!

We've spoken about this region of Illinois before, and even did our ILLmanzo ride out there. Ten Thousand took place on many of these roads as well. We're no strangers to this region or this type of riding, 115 miles and 10,000 feet of climbing on mostly gravel/dirt roads, in the middle of July.

Rapha specified that there would need to be teams of four. Our team was Jon S, Joel H, Jon L, and dark horse Sean M. None are strangers to adventures such as this.

Those of you living in the mid-west, know it really hasn't been summer yet. Temps only reaching as high as 85, and rain that would rival Noah's nightmares. Unfortunately, summer decided to get it's lazy ass outta bed for this event. The night before the humidity was off the charts and temps into the 90s. The morning of, at 6am, it was MORE humid and still in the 90s!

Fortunately we started early, second team to leave just after 7am. The ride boasted about a 65/35 road to gravel ratio. More than one team showed up on road tires. We were all on some kind of file tread CX tire. Really the durability and control on a 20%, loose, rutted out, grade decents made the tire choice for us. We saw lots of riders with flats, or went down on some gnarly gravel riding skinnys. Even a broken collar bone! Great job Axletree for telling riders to slow and getting a hold of the medic in that situation. Axletree really are the Green Lanterns of the cycling community, keeping peace and order. Plenty of cloud cover in the morning, but by mid day we had full sun. Temps exceeding 100 and still humid as hell.

This played a HUGE factor for all teams involved. Many teams had riders abandon. Even us. Labok was having a trouble early on. The climbing and the humidity took it's toll on him. He finally reached a point where he was no longer sweating, but still drinking alot. It wasn't a good sign. We hung out until the medic picked him up. It was hard to see him so battered by the weather and the course. Miles later we saw Half Acre and Axletree with riders in trouble from the heat as well.

At this point, the sun started to break through the clouds. As the day went on, the sun would continuing to sizzle our brains like those old "this is your brain on drugs" egg commercials. More than once we took advantage of the kindness of the local country folk. Their garden hoses became beacons of hope to cool our country fried body's. Finally after yo-yoing with Half Acre for most of the race, we decided to ride together #radacre. Unfortunately soon after Jen from Half Acre hit her breaking point, after sprinting up hill past us. She pulled into a yard to make the now dreaded call to the organizers. Sean pulled up next to me looking pale and beat, he was done too. This pale young man was about to turn to ash, and I wasn't going to argue with him.

We were then down to four. Two Stay Rad, two Half Acre. We weren't far from the final check point, a gas station/Subway. Those last few miles became a blur to me as I blasted down a really sketchy hill. Some how I had gotten really far from the others and dialed it back. I could tell Joel was reaching his limit. I was beating him up hills, which NEVER happens. Almost there we found a rider who had had his soul crushed. Laying in the shade, he told us he was fine, and I high fived him. The broom truck was right behind us to sweep him up.

Once at the gas station I had a plan. Re-hydrate and EAT. When you're this hot, it's important to keep eating. Drink all you want, you'll need food in your stomach to absorb the water back into your body, and you need water to help digest your food to keep your energy up. REAL food, not bullshit bars and gels. I grabbed some water, Gatorade, cold coffee, and coconut water, sat down and started eating the last of my food. Taking a glance out side, I saw Joel still sitting outside. He was fried, he was done. There were other riders making that call at this stop too. It was a little heart breaking with only 18 miles remaining. Half Acre was down to one too. Axteltree had left another of their own there as well, I could see in his eyes he was conflicted about his choice. I know a lot of people probably where, so close, but so HOT. Heat stroke was a common discussion later that night.

The sag wagons had also all converged here. Sean asked if I needed anything, and recommended that I lighten my load. So I pulled a bag off my bike, dumped a bottle, and took off on my own.

It was fun at first, rolling paved hills. The kind where you could keep your momentum to get you up the next side. I was eventually caught by the last group of six/eight riders. We hit a pretty big hill and leg cramps forced me off to walk. SAG rolled up and asked if I was ok, "I'm fine, go away" I thought. They hung out long enough to see me almost eat shit remounting CX style. Whelp, now I know how tired I am. I trucked along, got a little help from Abbey Watson in a sag car (they pulled my ass up a hill). Seeing I only had 5ish miles left I turned on the gas and caught up to the Rapha team in green, Team Tall Corn on instagram. We rolled in together, chatting about the day and our fallen comrades.

Finally done. Stay Rad was waiting for me...still looking beat.

"Harder than DK", asked jokingly. Shit yeah, I think this was harder. I don't like warm weather, I don't like summer or the sun. Sure the course was hard as hell and was 90% gravel, but the weather was the true villain of the day.

Nice work Rapha, Axeltree, Chad, Half Acre, and everyone else.

Smiles for miles or something.

-SCHRATZ

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Dirty Kanza

June 7, 2015

A week ago I wasn't sure I was even going to go. I had smashed my face on the ground mountain biking. Some how I healed up pretty good and went any way, broken nose and all.

The night before I got almost no sleep. My mind was buzzing with excitement and uneasiness. More rain was on the way, and after my quick ride out on the gravel roads, I was not happy about that. They were already messy as hell with little time to dry out.

Exploring the day before and the flat part of the course.

We started in a dual pace line and about ten miles in we hit a dirt road, or rather the "trail of tears" as I call it now. It was totally unride-able for everyone. It was about 3ish miles of hiking in ankle deep peanut butter. The bike would get so clogged with mud and grass that pushing it was out of the question most of the time. Carrying it on your back like a yoke was the most economical use of energy. Your feet would cake up with an extra 5 pounds of mud on each foot, wearing you out before you even got warmed up on the bike. Many bikes and riders never made it past this point. After that the 1st leg was rough, but good. Foggy and moist was the air. The rocky ground was also wet and slick. I dealt with a couple mechanical issues, bottle cages either were loose or broken, I assume from the hike a bike. Pretty much clear sailing after that until Axletree caught up to me and we decided to ride a water crossing.

This went on for miles.  Many derailleurs died to bring us this information. — This went on for miles. Many derailleurs died to bring us this information.

The private cattle roads were the toughest.  Cows would cross right in front of you. — The private cattle roads were the toughest. Cows would cross right in front of you.

Bad idea. There was a HUGE ass hole in that creek. They fell over, and I found the deepest part. Bars went under and I went OTB. Fearing I re-broke my nose with the taste of iron in my mouth from the nasty water I just drank. I totally forgot about my phone in my back pocket. Which was in a water proof bag...that was just open enough for my headphone cord to come out. That was enough to fill the bag and kill my phone. Aside from some bruises, I was fine and my bike was now CLEAN.

This is where I ate shit and drank some of that water.

I hit the 1st check point, Joel cleaned my bike and lubed the chain. I ate, and changed into a fresh kit. Messed around with my broken phone for a bit, and decided it wasn't worth my energy to get angry over it. We decided that I should press on with NO PHONE. I had Joel's number in a Ziploc back in case I needed to bail. 130 miles to go, with no tunes. Kill me now.

After that check point, came the worst leg for me. The first two legs were about 75/77 miles and the final was just over 40 miles in length. I normally hit the wall around mile 80 on any century, and feel better somewhere in the 90's for no real reason. I eat and drink plenty. This was no different. I was soft pedaling for a bit dealing with a chain that decided it wanted to play some dub step for me. Skipping and making all kinds of horrible noises. Part of me wanted my derailleur to break like so many others had that day, so I could call it a day. I was tired and over it. Many a dark thought entered my mind, making the ride more miserable. Then on a climb the chain finally broke, after 20+ miles of not working right. FUCK. Oh wait, I remembered I had a quick link in my frame bag. Popped the broken link out, threw on the quick link in a matter of minutes, BOOM, my bike shifted like a dream.

GAME ON. I started to make up time to the second water stop. No bullshitting, just filled my bottles and took off. I made a hard push to the last check point in fear of not being able to make the cut off. Hard Push is a loose term.

All of these private road were hard and full of sketchy cattle grates.

I made it. I felt good. Axletree had just rolled out. They had lost more than half their riders to mechanicals or fitness. The ones that were out, offered to help me out at the check point. I ate more, put clean socks on, topped off my snacks and bottles and blasted out of there. At this point I was so excited, I couldn't believe it was going to happen. I felt good, bike worked good, and I was going to make the full 200!!!

I rolled with 10 guys for the 1st ten or so miles, but couldn't keep their pace 170 miles into the day. I dialed it back and pulled out my other Garmin. Yes, I brought two. Knowing that my 500 battery would die soon, I pulled up the course on my 200 and threw on the back light and went on my own pace.

Not me, but you get the idea of the terrain and the climbs.

This final section was full of the roughest rollers I'd ever ridden. Similar to the rollers at Barry-Roubiax, but made of jagged stone smashed by Thor's hammer. Nothing like blasting down sketchy sharp rocks with just a head light in the middle of the night.

With 5 miles left and I turned on the gas and made it to town. Making sure Stay Rad was represented, I pull off my jacket and stuffed it in my jersey. Full sprint and a bunny hop at the line. IT'S OVER. FEED ME.

200 miles. One broken iPhone 5c. One broken chain. ZERO flats. Over a dozen compliments about our caps and t-shirts.

I did it. With a broken face, and a sore neck from a crash a week ago. Riding 200 miles in one day does weird things to your body. Swollen bits, numb digits, and days of being sleepier than I'd ever been before. I will never forget this experience, and thank you to all friends cheering me on, either in person, or on the play by play going down on Facebook. Good bye Kansas. Don't call me, I'll call you.

Photos courtesy of Chad, Joel, and AdventureMonkey

-SCHRATZ

2 Comments

GRAVEL METRIC

May 27, 2015

Oh the Gravel Metric, a 68ish mile ride through some flat empty corn field roads outside of Dekalb, IL. Sounds like something that would make for a kind of blah day, but it’s not and there are so many reasons why. Axletree really knows how to put on a good time. With things running like a well oiled machine and even some pros to show you how slow you really are. There were the Raleigh guys, some folks coming all the way from CO with Moots, a Shimano truck and the good guys from Heritage Bike Shop came out and fed everyone coffee before the start.

This years GM started on a bit of a sad note. Our creator, designer, writer, etc, etc had crashed mountain biking the day before and busted his nose and destroyed a helmet. He was in no shape to make it his fourth consecutive time. Poor guy, he missed a good day.

The rest of the team rolled out at 9 am with tape on their noses in solidarity for their fallen comrade. The neutral start went a little further this year than in the past, we kept together till the first gravel road, and I'm not sure why but it seemed better for some reason.

We all went out this year with the mindset to not race but not take our sweet time. Which is usually hard for me; that blast at the start always get the best of me and I end up regretting later. We wrangled up a few extra guys this year to ride with. Most of which hailed from Homewood and it was their first time.

There was a first for me too. This year I was going single speed. I had been a little worried about my gearing and I hadn't ridden it in a little while. In the end it seemed to be just about right.

Things started off good. The gravel was fast. The rain made it hard packed and not too dusty and we had a bit of a wind coming from the east. Which was fine, we were heading south and west to get things going, fingers crossed it may just change directions by the time we had to come back east.

Everyone was feeling great and we were chugging right a long at a pretty good clip. Almost too good for me, This was the only time that I wished for maybe just one more gear to try and hold the wheel of the fellas with gears pulling strong with the tail wind. When we came up to Shabbona Lake we were pleasantly surprised by a tent with water, beer, and twinkies!

Then the fun began! The twisty grass was almost like a cyclocross race and I just put the hammer down to go up and down the hills and power through the corners. And it was just dry enough for the grass to not be too slick but the ground was soft.

When we popped out the other end we found one of our own. Keith had a slow leak in his rear tire so we stopped and got him all pumped up. Little did I know that not much longer he had quite the mechanical and his freehub body had given up. Time to call the wife.

A little further down the road after we had all gathered ourselves back up after going a little too hard in the grass we were on our way to the one and only check point. A little out and back on rather rugged road with another surprise of beer and water at this one too. Just after that things got a little hairy. Going down the pothole filled hole Labok found himself in a tank slapper. And he almost made it out, almost. One last pothole had his name on it and took him down. Luckily he only ended up with a few scrapes and bumps and a flat rear tire. With a quick tube change and a little washing and bandaging we were back on the road again.

That’s right about when we ran into one of the fine gentlemen riding a Brompton. Yeah, a 16’’ tired folding bike with two gears built for commuting; not for bike packing. But good ol’ Bailey made it look easy.

Then came Locust, the infamous b-road with the rail and river crossing. Locust was in “good” shape this year. As good of a shape that it can be in I guess. And the river had a pretty good flow to it this year with all the rain we’ve had and we saw our fair share of crashes ahead of us. Always a good time.

From there for about 11 miles with a short break to head north a bit it’s pretty much gravel and wind. And wind. That’s when we fell apart a little. And by fell apart I mean, I was a jerk and took the lead and accidentally dropped everyone and didn’t notice until I was alone in the middle of open fields and empty roads. At that point I was in a grove and figured we were close, I’ll see em at the finish. One of the Goodspeed guys caught me while I was resting my legs a bit on the northbound stretch but we didn’t stay together too much longer. Those are the perrels of single speed, only one speed, just go.

I ended up finishing with my best time yet and saw sitting there our bruised up leader waiting to give us crap for getting beat by other friends and to talk about the ride.

I was lucky enough to see the rest of the guys roll in around the last corner as I was heading to get changed and eat some of the delicious food and beer that Axletree has oh so graciously supplied.

All in all it was a great day on the bike. We finished not long before the real rain started and got to cheer on all the people coming in after us dripping wet with smiles on their faces. And I had concluded that the best way to experience the Gravel Metric is with one gear. Be it what ever ratio your legs can handle but you all should try it out. At least once. For me it’s the only way to go from here on out.

Thanks again Axletree!

2 Comments

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GRAVEL METRIC