Singlespeeds on Tuesday

The plan was hatched Monday night at the shop. A road ride was proposed but the Professor upped the ante to mountain bikes. The next day he and I found ourselves behind the Bimbo truck with Original Gangster. After noting what was humorously gained and lost when considering the deliciousness of baked goods in translation and crawling through traffic that had been blocked on I-40 by arbitrary road closures, we made to Crabtree. There, fun times ensued. We ran into Chris H. at the new dirt jumps. He demurred to execute a 360 tabletop despite our calls to do so. Leaving him to his fun, we pushed the pace on the trails. I came home and spent the rest of the day avoiding any serious thoughts. A great Tuesday.

The Genr'l heads to the pump track

As Chris indicated, he and I both recently purchased cruiser BMX bikes (with 24" wheels as opposed to the standard 20" rims). Since BMX bikes are the very pinnacle of cool, and the Dukes of Hazard are like the coolness pinnacle's pinnacle, the DK General Lee in Hazard County Orange was basically the only choice for us.

We've spent some time learning some of the basics on the streets of Durham over the past few weeks. It might be an exaggeration to say that we're masters of the shred at this point, but we're getting better, and by last Thursday we thought it was time to try the Genr'l on the dirt. After a few miles on the mountain bikes with JD, Dave, and Ben, we convinced the guys to head over to Crabtree, where we traded the 29ers for 24s and hit the pump track.

It's safe to say that the experience was (almost) everything that I'd hoped it would be. The Genr'l is undoubtedly faster on the pump track, despite weighing over thirty pounds and sporting tires that could generously be described as sketchy. We weren't able to quite manual the rhythm sections like the pros, but even in our short stay I think we were able to get considerably better.

Of course we insisted that others get in on the action. I wasn't able to get a good picture of Ben on the little bike (it looked like some sort of clown bike, needless to say), but JD was happy to pose with the orange wonder.


We weren't the only ones into bermed track fun: it was a big night at Lake Crabtree, and JD figured out how to use my camera to capture a video of the action. (Note to self: always hand over the hardware to the computer guy.)



So we weren't exactly flying around the track, but after JD and the rest of the crew left Chris and I did stay to work on our skills a little longer, and we were looking a little stronger by the end of the night. Pros? Of course not. As good as most 14-year-olds? No. But closer.

The Buck, It Has Been Hucked

That's right ladies and gentlemen, the 2008 edition of the Happy Fun Racing's Huck-a-Buck cross-country mountain biking race was this morning at the Lake Crabtree trails. And while the ranks of BCC racers were thinned due to family obligations, working at the jobby-job, and the infamous case of the Mr. Potato-hand injury, there were still five of us able to proudly pull on the yellow of our new kits and give things a go.

I wish I could say that things went off without a hitch. The trails were in good shape, so that was not an excuse, nor was the high heat and swamp-like humidity (really, would you expect anything less from central NC in July?), and the HFR boys always put on a good show, but I think it's safe to say that the BCC racers felt wounds of a thousand paper cuts. (Cue good excuses in 5... 4... )

Brian (aka Hollywood) and Ben (aka B-Swad) lined up for the four laps of the expert race. Brian let us know that he started off the morning by puking before even leaving the house, so he was already in a calorie deficit. True, Brian always throws up at least once on any decent ride, but even so it probably still figures into his performance. Having gotten the stomach problems out of the way early, however, Brian said that he felt as fast today as any day in recent memory, and was pleased with the way that he was able to push the Stumpy around the tight corners of Lake Crabtree. When this man is on, he's on!

Ben, on the other hand, was racing expert against the (semi-)pros for the first time. Still, I have no doubt that he would have acquitted himself handsomely, had he not be waylaid by a shooting back spasm during the race. He said that the twinge was so severe, in fact, that at one point during the race he had to lie down beside the trail for some ten minutes in order to calm his nerves down enough to keep riding. Any lesser man (myself included) would have happily pulled out of the race at this point, but Ben -- masochist that he is -- decided that he would pedal it on home despite the pain. His placing may not end up looking that good, but given that his back was giving him enough pain that he visibly had trouble swinging his leg over the seat at the end, we'll chalk this up as a 'win' anyway.

Daniel was the lone BCCer in a friggin' enormous sport class. This was one of the largest categories I've ever seen at a cross-country race, and I can't imagine how crowded the first lap must have been with all of the lycra-clad bodies rubbing up against one another on the trail. I'm not sure how Daniel's race was, other than the fact that he was the only BCCer to ride hard enough that he had to throw up after the race. Super. Cool. Personally, that's an automatic 'win' in my book, as it shows your capacity to push yourself to your body's very limits, but Daniel's two daughters didn't seem to agree, proclaiming his feat 'gross.' Kids these days, what with their inability to respect the stomach ailments of their elders...

(On a side note, Daniel's daughters were easily the team's loudest fans, and their cheers each lap were a great incentive to keep going. Thanks!)

Dave and I were both in the highly-contested single-speed category. Similar to last year, the HFRers were unable to provide us with mid-race beverages, meaning whatever skills that we'd honed in the bars of Durham (shout out to our sponsors at the Joyce and Alivia's here) was rendered moot. Dave had also done a little extra training the night before while celebrating his girlfriend's impending move to Maryland (congrats on Johns Hopkins Sarah!), meaning that he spent the minutes before the race contemplating a pre-race boot, and -- like me -- swearing off the uncouth practice known as 'warming up.'

However, that didn't stop him from dragging his Bianchi to the front when the gun sounded. Nor did it keep someone from throwing an angry 'bow into his side as he tried to enter the trail. Much to my dismay, the race started with Dave -- certainly one of the best bike handlers in the area -- spread eagle on the turf before me. As if that wasn't enough, not a quarter mile later he went down again when an over-eager racer ran into him from behind (I heard his yelp through the woods). Smarting from the first rather hard fall, and miffed at the discourtesy in what is otherwise a very friendly race, he made up time throughout the next two laps for a respectable finish.

This was to be my last race in the Triangle, and on a course on which I've previously had some success. However, as packing books doesn't count as training, and no amount of dissertating helps you push your bike at high speeds, I had to settle for respectability in my race. I was able to avoid the carnage that engulfed Dave, but the fairy tale win-(or even place)-in-my-last-race was not to be. C'est la vie.

Truly, the Hucking and the Bucking is always a good time. I saw guys out there in jeans (oh, the chafing that must have ensued!), one dude pushing a 42x18 gear (sweartagawd), a great turn out in all of the categories, and another highly impressive performance by Duke alum Alex Hawkins in the single speed category: really, without the absent Chris to give him some competition, the Hawk is putting on a clinic, with the rest of us just spectators.

All things told I think we acquitted the new kits nicely, if perhaps not quite as successfully as we would have like. Next up: the Race at the Reactor for most, and a moving truck north for yours truly.

World Premier Video

If you haven't figured out how excited all of us here at Bull City Cycling are to have our brand new kits, check out the following videos and photos from yesterday's mountain bike ride in Raleigh.

What you are about to watch are the first world premier videos of Bull City Cycling in action.

The first video was shot while we were rolling through Umstead State Park.



Pirate, Ali and Dave rollin' through Umstead.


The second video is of the Crabtree County Park pump track.




Ben on Chris' bike spinning around the pump track at Crabtree.

Here comes trouble

That's right: the new kits are finally here!!!

With anticipation of taking our new suits to the catwalk that is Umstead Park, Ali, Chris, Brian, Ben and I loaded up this morning and headed down to the Morrisville trail complex, where we met up with JD and Dave in his newest, Raleigh-housed incarnation. Mr. JD "I've got the" Powers hadn't had a chance to check out the new threads, and with a little cajoling we were about to get him to strip down in the parking lot. As you can see, it was pretty much like Christmas morning for him. Because we're all pretty sensitive to others' feelings, we stood in a circle and were sure not to make fun of him at all while he transformed himself in Bull City style.

Feeling rather fly, and with the smell of new lycra wafting behind us, the quorum headed out on the trail for what was a little more than a three hour tour. We hit one bandit trail, then cruised happily through Umstead Park, where we thought we could get the most attention. I think in NASCAR this is called "recognition for your sponsors," but as the Professor displays, it's basically just showing off:


Brian's black Stumpy might be the best complement to the yellow kit, Chris certainly gets some extra props for (unknowingly) matching his bike to the jersey. Now if we could just get him an orange helmet...

While we were stopped for water we caught B-Swad doing his best Andre the Giant impersonation, and it seemed like as good a time as any for a team photo. Eat your heart out Slipstream!


Oh yeah, look at all that Lycra! OK, so maybe our coolness doesn't totally translate to the (digital) image, but trust me, these things are hot, and Linus should be proud of all his designing work. (This coolness is so cool, in fact, that it makes Chris yawn.) I -- and anyone I ride with -- am a little concerned about the near-transparency of the white panels on the shorts, but as they're in a relatively non-lewd position, I don't have to be worried about breaking any state or federal laws when I wear them. (No one else seems to have this issue with the bibs, by the way.)

After spinning through Umstead, we worked our way back toward our cars on some singletrack. Dave and JD took off before we hit the Crabtree pump track for some good rippin' fun, during which I fell on my face (as usual), Chris was wicked-smooth, and Ali was in fine photog form. Brian has some more, um, 'innovative' pictures of our time at the pump track that he'll post later, so I'll just include one snap of Hollywood for now.

All-n-all not a bad day. It was my first time on the bike in a couple of weeks and I felt like I was being punished for my slackerdom. Back in Durham and fully refueled in the way that a good dosing of Cosmic only can, my legs are mud, and I'm pining for the days when a good Saturday leg-breaking wasn't so utterly destructive to my body. Ah, youth...

Bo knows dirt

Ignoring the smoke in the air and simply happy that it wasn't 100 degrees, Adam, Chris and I loaded up the Subaru and headed down to Morrisville to hit some trails. If you know Adam, you know that he's hell on two wheels (and that he suffers no fools), but you might not know that he actually mountain bikes, too.

Well, occasionally: he showed up at my house with a broken front skewer, a noticeably dust-covered bike, while mumbling something about how the last time that he rode his mountain bike it was in a 'cross race. Whatthehaile? How can you do that to an IndyFab? We decided to correct that shortcoming, posthaste.

Unfortunately for me, whatever Adam lacked in trail-handling skills he more than made up for with his bulbous thighs of steel. You think I'm kidding? Try this on for size:


All told, I think that he dabbed once on a local bandit trail, and that was it. OK, so he did wreck as we left Crabtree, but we'll cut him some slack on that since it was almost fully dark at that point. Nevertheless, it did result in some carnage:


As no trip to the Crab would be complete without some pumpin', we spent some quality time going around in little banked circles. Chris has this thing figured out, and while I thought I was really getting it down, I blew a curve and landed with my face planted squarely in the dirt. Along with the rest of me. Thanks to the humidity, I turned instantly into Pig-pen. I have no idea what it is that Adam's doing in this first picture. Nor do I know why I'm showing jazz-hands.

Chris was smooth, as always. Would you expect anything less from the Professor? Ya gotta like the way he works it. (No diggity.)

RX: Dirt

After spending the last couple of weeks in the relentless pursuit of a decent used car, by Friday afternoon I was ready to pull out my hair and dance in the streets. (Or something like that.) Frustrated enough to spit, I decided to head down to the Morrisville trail complex to get in some good fat tire therapy. I haven't ridden since Sunday, and the tomato sauce on my frozen pizza for dinner is currently counting as a square meal, but I knew that I'd feel better if I could just summon the energy to turn the pedals for an hour or so.

My little Ferrous didn't disappoint. I hit the newer bandit trail near Crabtree, then hopped across the road to do a fast lap of the Crab. I rolled a few times around my ol' favorite the pump track, but after a couple of bumps I was purty wore out: I would never have thought that such a short loop could slap me around so much. As I spun my way toward evening it was just me and the (rather angry) squirrels in the woods. The trees are in full leaf now, so I lost track of the trail around the time the sun went down, but when I hung up ol' faithful I was ninety minutes closer to sanity.

Not only should bike shops have a test loop, I've now decided that used car dealerships would be doing everyone (or at least me) a great service if they had someplace you could go sweat between decisions about option packages and annual percentage rates. I don't know whether or not it would help them sell any more cars, but I might not feel so icky at the end of the day.

Still, my quick outing meant that the ol' Pathfinder got to carry around her two-wheeled accomplice one more time, which was good for all involved. And now I'll be able to go to sleep a little less crazy over overhead cams and miles per gallon. Thanks dirt!

Crabtree Fundraiser

The work on Crabtree continues, but now they need a little love from the community:


You can find a little more info here.

Wednesday = Pump Day

Yesterday Brian, JD, and I saddled up and headed to the Crabtree trails for a quick mid-week, post-work spin. We were clearly not alone in this plan: as we pulled into the Old Reedy Creek parking area we were met with more fat-tired freaks than I think have ever been assembled in the Triangle. Undaunted by the numbers and excited about the chance to show off our big guns in our sleeveless jerseys Team Dicky-style, we hit the trail on a beautiful spring day.

Crabtree was doing its best to pose as I-40 at rush hour: you couldn't swing a dead cat without hitting any manner of mountain biker, from old-school canti-braked cruisers, to full-bounce weekend warriors, to even a cameo appearance by Willie B living large on a jump bike. Even so, we were happy to find the skills area and the pump track relatively free of users, if occasionally surrounded by a silently heckling group of observers.

This was Brian and JD's first time on the pump track, so I took some time to show them how it's done. It took me almost a full minute to teach them what little I knew about how to attack this bad boy, and soon they were rolling around to figure things out for themselves.

I think this was my third or fourth trip to the pump track, and as hesitant as I was about this thing at the beginning, and as clearly as it does not represent my best skill set, I am really starting to love the little circle in the dirt. I'm not exactly showing people how it's done out there, but I think I'm starting to understand the appeal. As an added bonus, the more body english that you use, the fewer laps you can do without getting exhausted. (Admittedly, that might just be me.)

We didn't take many pictures, and those that we did get aren't great, but here they are for your pump-viewing enjoyment.



Finished giving our love to the pump, we hemmed and hawed about what to do next long enough that the setting sun sent us home. All things told, though, it wasn't a bad little mid-week ride.

"Bringing love to my peeps"- Pirate

James Baldwin once wrote that America and the world, needed to realize a "better kind of love" to solve its problems. With those wise words in mind, today Pirate and I set off for the promise of Crabtree's trails under a benevolent late spring sky to set straight our own modest problems. For me, a long week of school short of riding and long on work melted away with the passage of those miles. The dozens of exams I had to grade this weekend could wait, our time on those trails could not.

Crabtree has become a more frequent mistress this spring, as has more time on my single speed; I am happy for both. Pirate is a single speed rider par excellence and studying his lines has resulted in an improvement in my own skills. My bike, a cream-colored Bridgestone Mb-1, is dear to me. My first mountain bike, the MB-1 has been appointed to single speed duty and the recent addition of a rigid Kocmo titanium fork helps it shine at this task. I earned the fork in exchange for completing the English-language translation of the Kocmo site and it is the perfect compliment to the Mb-1's smooth steel ride. I know y'all read because we're all about the ride, but I hope you'll forgive me for becoming sentimental. I heart my bike.


But back to the ride. I'd given my love to Crabtree during my last couple of visits in the form of falls and mishaps. As a result, I'd been shy at riding the skills section. I happily changed that today and reacquainted myself with the skinny and teeter-totter.



With my love no longer in doubt, Crabtree asked Pirate for his and he generously obliged at the pump track.

With his affections confirmed, he picked up where he left off last week and I was able to document him in full flight.

We're off to the first Triangle Mountain Bike series race at Little River next week. See you there.

'Doin' it and doin' it and doin' it well'

Disappointed by our lack of dirt in the past week, and with an eye to the sky for fear of storms, Ali, Chris, and I headed down to the Raleigh/Morrisville trail complex this morning to get our roll on. Happily fueled by way too much coffee, we started with a spin around Umstead and some nearby trails. The pace was conversational and the mood was light, though Chris and Ali were both quick to point out that I was going soft: of the three of us, I was the only one with a suspension fork. Suitably unmanned, I mumbled something about their moms, and hoped that they wouldn't continue to call out my miserable bike handling skills.

The ride was uneventful -- if fun -- until we hit the Crabtree trails for some quality pump-trackin'. I felt a little bit better on the tight confines this time than on my last effort, but I'd be lying if I said that I had this skill figured out. Chris picked it up in no time, and was soon flying 'round the track with the greatest of ease. But the big revelation came when Chris and I jumped on Ali's bike for a couple of laps: not only is he on a 26"er, but it's also a small (15"?) frame with a short, tight wheelbase, not to mention a rigid fork, and we were able to whip it around the curves a lot better than our long tall steeds. (Of course it helps that his bike is wicked-light, too.)

*In an attempt to try a different format and save a little bandwidth, I'm just going to post the link to the pics on my Flickr account. The photos are in order though, so if you scroll through them you'll get the chronological pictorial chronicle of the day.

Ali was in fine photojournalist mode: be sure to check out his close ups of Chris as he leans into the last curve. It didn't take us too long to wear ourselves out and exhaust our (admittedly modest) skill set, so we headed over to conquer the assorted "skinnies" and the teeter-totter.

This is only worth mentioning in order to contextualize some of the pictures, as I was determined to get as much height as possible off of the (again, rather insubstantial) teeter, and Ali was poised to catch me in flight, however brief. I hit the thing repeatedly in an attempt to launch my rather earth-bound hide into some modest orbit, and with some tricks of his lens and an eye for timing Ali was able to make me appear much more aggressive than I actually am. In truth, I rather hew to the "Go medium or go home" motto, but one of the pics makes me look like I'm really jumping. (I'm sending that one to Mom.) Sweet.

Bizarrely, when we rode away I had my tubes explode python-like out of my tire. They didn't pop, mind you, they just got tired of being held down by the man (in this case, the man is the tire, I think), and left the casing to twist bizarrely around the frame and spokes. Chris thinks this means that I was running my tire pressure too high; I think it was probably too low. Whatever, something was definitely wrong, as first the front then the rear went squiggling free.

Tubes reinserted and wheels planted firmly on the ground, we headed back to the car and back to Durham for refreshing beverages and (in my case) the hard-fought war against the seduction of an afternoon nap.

There's never a bad day on the bike

While the hardcore among us (or the rather insane, as the case may be) headed to Tennessee for the Cohutta race, Ali and I loaded up the truck this morning for a spin around Lake Crabtree and some other nearby trails. It was truly a beautiful day to be on the bike: clear skies, temps in the 70s, and the trees in the first leaves of spring. We weren't out to put up any big miles or record-breaking speeds, but instead contented ourselves with a nice spin in the woods.


That's not to say that there weren't obstacles, some inanimate...


Others a little more, well, ill-tempered:


Over on the Crabtree side we were able to spend a little time on the newly-built pump track. I'm still not entirely sure that I understand the point of this particular exercise, but it's definitely well-built, and was fun to do a few laps on while others coached from the side.

As Ali was in prime photog mode, here's a series of yours truly getting medieval on the pump. Like I said, I'm not at all sure that I've got this down, but here you'll see me rocking from side to side...


Then entering the turn...

Whipping it around...

And then popping out...


Hell if I know if I was doing it right. After a half-dozen laps or so I was definitely a little winded, which is odd since you're not supposed to pedal while you're on the track. (And yes, I think I am turning over a pedal in the last picture, but we'll ignore that for the time being.)

The day was not without it's casualties, though, as I was able to send an unaware Ali into a teeter-totter that I'd tripped, leading to the day's only injury. Not bad, though: his prognosis for recovery is good.

Here's hoping Brian, Dave, and JD are rocking it out in the volunteer state.

Edit, 3:17 pm: I just got word that JD has finished the 65 mile version of Cohutta. He had no info on the whereabouts of either Dave or Brian, but it's a little early to get worried. Rescue personnel will be dispatched at the appropriate hour.
Edit, 7:12 pm: All Cohutta warriors are now accounted for. Alive, at the very least.

Friday sneak away

After reading Chris's post below I've got to rub it in a little bit that I was able to get out yesterday and hit the dirt. After a week of frustrating work, I threw the bike on the rack and headed down to Morrisville to hit Crabtree and some of the other associated trails.

Rather than hit Rocky Road -- not my favorite trail -- I headed to a newly cut trail across the road from RR. I'm not sure what the trail's name is (it's a bandit trail and you've got to be one of the cool guys to be in the know), but it was a fun few miles. It's one of those weird suburban trails that has lots of miles squeezed into just a few acres, with the trail twisting back on itself over and over again: at one point there are three segments of trail running parallel to one another, each a different direction, and all within fifteen or twenty feet from one another. Still, it was a fun trail, and reminded me a lot of what Rocky Road looked like a few years ago when I first road it, and before it was eroded down to the ugly mess it is today.

I still had some daylight, so I sprinted across Old Reedy Creek to hit Crabtree. I realize that this isn't the most exciting trail in the area, and that it's certainly not difficult, but this really is a great trail: it has lots of traffic, but it's well-managed and is constantly changing, with new obstacles on it every time I ride it (admittedly not that often). Right now some of the park staff and volunteers are working on a pump track, which should be a nice addition. I also found some new log stacks, and the elusive loop 6 that I'd never ridden before. Together with the "beginner skinnies" and the artificial rock garden, this is a great trail in the middle of the city. I really wish that there was something like this a little closer to Durham -- even in it! -- where people could get an afternoon ride in, as well as be introduced to the sport.

Take that, P-ride cold kids! Really, though, I hope that you guys warm up reasonably quickly. Let's hope we can ride tomorrow.