Windshield, meet Rock.

A wise man once said, “Most of life is just showing up.” That certainly applied to today.

Yesterday we packed up the 4Runner to have the extra room for Sephie and Karen. A brief stop at Seph's former sitter’s high school graduation party put us on the road north by 2pm. Having a race just across the Arctic Circle is a trade-off. It may take you 3 ½ hours to get there, but when you arrive it’s 10 degrees cooler and you get an extra hour of daylight. While we may have been mosquito free, the ticks held up the annoying bug duties.

A quick lap running a 34x19 felt good. They got rid of 3 steep but short climbs, but the one they kept they strategically placed a sand pit right at the u-turn at the bottom. The gearing felt perfect but I had a nagging in my mind to run an 18 or even a 17. I decided against changing and put my faith in the 19. As I returned to the Fairgrounds I saw a fairly cranky Russell Jobs giving a nasty look at his Waterford. More specifically he was looking at what was left of his aluminum Ritchey seat post. It had snapped as mine had but roughly a centimeter above the seat clamp. He wrestled with it most of the evening before shoving it down further and borrowing a Thompson from Ben Griggs. Why did Ben have an extra post? He was trying to build his newly acquired Rig. The one obstacle which held him back was a lack of canti posts to allow him to run a V-brake. In the end he used his 26” Gunnar.

We went into Phillips and had a nice dinner overlooking a lake at “The Harbor” and socialized with 70 yr old Richard from Rockford and 18 yr old Evan and his parents from Madison. After dinner we went back to the fairgrounds/campgrounds and hung out. Karen was introduced to the Muddy Cup crew and others and I carbo-loaded on a few bottles of Bell’s barley pop. I encountered Kerry Drake‘s wife, Sheri, and received some good news. Kerry had upgraded to Comp. That made me feel better about what I had to do but I knew Rick would sleep easier so I gave him a ring. He took the news well and felt okay after a “character building” effort at the Horribly Hilly Hundred. We wished me luck and I went to bed with a view of the Little Dipper through our tent.

Time for a joke…

Tonto and the Lone Ranger were camped out in the wilds of the old west. Tonto says “Kemosabe, what do the stars tell you?” the Lone Ranger replies “well, I can see Mars clearly low on the horizon which means we’re south of Tombstone. Orion’s belt is quite clear too as there’s no clouds so there’s a high pressure area which means a hot day tomorrow and no rain so we’ll need to get water for Silver and Scout. What does the night sky tell you Tonto?”

“It tells me someone has stolen our tent, stupid white man.”


Race day. After the usual race morning Muddy Cup I turned my attention to the Rig. I’d decided I’d had enough of the slow leak in the tube in my front tire so I replaced it. I wiped some of the dust off of it and mounted the number plate. We hopped into the car and went back to The Harbor for the breakfast buffet. Then it was a quick drive over to the watering area so Karen could give me hand-ups.

A moment of silence for the TRC Neon. No I didn’t wear it under the BKB kit. I suited up and grabbed the Rig, only to find I’d replaced the slow leaking tube for a fast leaking tube. So I put the original tube back and spun off down the road to warm up. 45 minutes later I was cued-up with 5 other single speeds. 5. Yes, the worst I could do would be 6th. I wondered what would go wrong but was distracted by the task at hand of the race. When Don gave us the traditional, I spun off glued to the wheel of some junior with gears. I didn’t look back but I had two SS’s in my draft and they passed me just as we turned off the gravel and onto the jeep road. I kept them a wheel or two in front and felt good. Neither one of them was riding smooth. I could see they were spinning tires on roots and taking corners wide on the brakes. I was riding the corners cleanly and staying off the brakes. By the time we reached the u-turn climb a couple of juniors had inserted themselves between me and the first 2 SS’s but I knew I could stay with them. On the climb I passed the Cronometro SS solidly and closed on the other who was also on a Rig. When we came out of the woods at the airport I passed him in front of Karen and waved off the water. I still had more than half a bottle and felt fine. A little while later I had to dismount due to multispeeder congestion on a climb and the purple Rig passed me riding. How’d he see that line? I got bottle up behind a few multis but kept pushing them verbally. I wanted to keep him in sight. A little while later I lost sight of him but kept the tempo as high as I could without running over multis.

Cue the thunder.

Then the weather changed. Ominously loud and close came the booming of thunder over the airport. I suddenly became afraid of the race being shortened. Somewhere found more pedal revs and less brakes. When I came out into the watering area Karen and Sephie were there and I didn’t need water so I kept spinning after the first place rider. The rain started to fall and the trails held up. I kept picking off multis but the purple Rig was nowhere to be seen. On the last lap it continued to rain and the multis were dropping like flies. Then a group of 19-24 yr olds caught me and I hooked up with them for half a lap. We were sailing through the woods. I faded a bit on the gravel climbs but felt good even though my lower back began to ache. I took a bottle from Karen and Sephie hit me with a cup of water. I kept hammering but the purple Rig was gone. I passed two more multis on the rollers before exiting onto the pavement before the finish. There was a multi a couple hundred meters ahead and he looked back to see how far back I was. He looked again rounding the corner and I’d cut his lead by half. At the gate before the finsh line he looked again and I was 30 feet and coming fast. He got out of the saddle and managed to hold me off but I’d closed it to 5 feet at the line. As I went through the chute the timing guy says “first singlespeed.”

Wow. When did I pass the purple Rig? A minute and a half later he finished in second and I found out he’d pulled over to get water. I’m glad I didn’t know he wasn’t in front, I’d have sat back and fucked it up. The Crono guy finishes and comes over to the watermelon table and gives me the “good race” handshake. I tell him thanks and he adds “shit, you’re fast.”

I got showered and we hung out waiting for awards. I remembered I had an Oberon in the cooler and I couldn’t be on the podium without beer in my hand.

Next week is State SS Championships. Or not.

Once back in Madison I gave the Rig a bath. As I get down to clean the drivetrain I notice I've done it again. I've bent the American Classic post. Dammit. Okay, who makes a post I can't break or bend? I know I'm not thin but fer cryin' out loud.