"I think you need to go...."

Dear Readers,

25 years ago, long before I knew what cyclocross was, or even considered shaving my legs, I used to spend a lot time riding my skateboard over at Fox Run Shopping Center in Bear. One time, I was there with my lovely girlfriend Diane. I was trying to ollie (jump ) down this weird little gap that had two steps, a little landing and then another 2 steps. Trying to show off for my girlfriend I proceeded to face plant and landed flat on the ground at the bottom of the stairs.  As I got up, ate humble pie and brushed myself off, I remember Monk saying to me, " I think you just need to go a little faster"...

I smiled at her fighting of the urge to say something not nice, and said, "yeah, I get that..."

I tried again, this time with a little more speed. I crashed hard at the bottom of the stairs again...

Last Saturday, I met my young nephews at Glasgow Skatepark, which ironically is right across from the old Fox Run Shopping center. I enjoyed showing the boys how to carve, and work their way around the park. Monk  pulled me aside and encouraged me to try rolling up the bank, and ollie (jump) over the two stairs at the top.  I tried a number of times, but I will admit, I was pretty scared and not really coming close to making it at all.

Finally, Monk waved me down and pulled me aside. She says to me smiling, "I think you just need to go a little faster." The irony was not lost on me. I smiled at Diane, pointing to Fox Run Shopping Center and said, do you remember what happened last time we were skating and you told me that? We both laughed...

while not all that impressive looking it turns out she was right:




Sunday, we loaded up the car and headed out for our first bike race of the year. We headed up to Lancaster for the Race Ave Crit, because you know #CROSSISCOMING!

You're Team's Mid Pack Master's racer in the Cheap Seats!

Photo Courtesy of Annette Weaver Photography

I lined up for the 45+ race. It was really fast. I never made it up higher in the pack then around 20th. No breaks got clear and the pace stayed really high. The last three laps felt totally bonkers. Saying that I was on the rivet would be an understatement as I sat on the edge of my seat, hands in the drops.

more cheap seats: photo courtesy Annette Weaver Photography

Around the final corner, I sat up. I was satisfied  with my ride, and figured the smartest move was to let the sprinters did their thing, and while I had nothing for them, I smiled as  I got everything out of the race that I could have hoped for... It was so much fun...

Monkey!!!  

Photo courtesy Jeff Miesemer/AnnetteWeaver Photography

Diane raced the open women's race next. She came off the front group pretty early on, but continued to battle in really well. She would end up connecting with a few other women, and ultimately much like myself, was really happy with her ride, and effort. She suffered, but had a blast!



My dear readers, in full disclosure, as I was taking this video, I had the best heckle ever come to mind.

BUT THANK GOD DISCRETION IS THE BETTER PART OF VALOR!

three things probably saved me:

1. An ironic heckle is a dangerous heckle. Irony doesn't always land well on a racer in oxygen debt!

2.  I love sleeping in my bed with my awesome wife, and frankly, this risk of #1 going wrong and me landing on the couch for a week was too great. Remember folks: Is the juice worth the squeeze? Not in this case.

3. As cross season quickly approaches, (#crossiscoming) I remember the teachings of Kelly Cline: always heckle nice! #HECKLENICE

Monk sitting on...

The Race Ave Crit was a lot of fun. thanks to Michele Bote and her team for putting on a really fun event.  Racing bikes is so much fun, this was a great place to get things rolling again. I think we'll have another crit appearance in a few weeks...

thank for reading.

respect
fatmarcVDB

the GV30 Blog that wasn't...

Dear Readers,

I had a blog teed up to post this morning about how much I love the GV30. However, after last night's windy, echelon-y, getting guttered-y, people yelling-y, I got a flat with 9 laps to go-y, a great work out, but not the fast, fun, flow-y I have come to love edition of GV30, I figured I'll save it for another day.

To the kind QCW rider who discreetly let me know I was rotating the wrong way off the front, in an evening with lots of people yelling stupid nonsense, you were a gentleman. Thanks for the guidance when I was bleeding out my eyes.

Yelling is sometimes appropriate, but not always. Grace in times of friction my friends.

Instead, I give you video of me skateboarding in my basement.






thanks for reading.

respect
fatmarc

Stokesville Mountainbike Festival

Dear Readers,

Our good friend Kita recently traveled to the Stokesville Mountainbike Festival and had an amazing time. She was kind enough to do write up about her experience. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did!

A few years ago I bought my first bike and asked a client from my shop starts showing me some trails. I quickly discovered Mountainbiking is hard and I have no idea what I am doing. It's also apparent, that there is no lineage of athletic superstars in my family. No ounce of inherent or natural coordination or skill. 

It was incredibility fun and challenging which is perhaps what kept me coming back for more in the first few months of black and blue bruises I earned from mistakes made and lessons learned while winding my way through the trails of Fair Hill or the rolling loop of Lums. There was nothing about this that I could learn from a book - it was all a hard earned discovery of something I never knew I was able to do. It wasn’t easy, didn’t come to me overnight, and still bites at me over how far I am not, but it’s for all of these reasons that I clip back in every time. The desire is there to grow better every time, to put your head down and pedal is born.

Photo: kita

A few years go by and I find myself loving all that is bikes and am trying to put effort in, pin down some goals, and grow some skills. I get to hear stories that inspire me of regular weekend rides and epic undertakings. If you know Buddy Briggs, you only have to listen to one of his stories of a place to want to take on the challenge of a new terrain with the way he talks about every second of trail. When he mentioned the Stokesville Mountain Biking Festival after the tales of his Shenandoah 100 rides, I was all in. I put my head down and road a little more with a new target.

photo: Laura Graziano Farabaugh

On the ride down in a camper loaded with bikes, beer, and food, I got to listen to Ben and Buddy talk about rides, races, and memories and I started to worry that I had taken too big a bite. I thought that maybe I was chasing trails that I wasn’t yet prepared for as the terrain outside the window grew lush, green, and more real. We arrived and hit the trails as soon as we had a place set up to hang out bikes.

The short loop around the campground gave a great taste of what was to come. Swooping berms, a few rocks, and a climb out and around the tents to start it all over again. I wasn’t in Kansas any more and already Buddy and Ben were chomping and I was racing to keep up. The trails were swift, fun, but different in so many way. It was going to be a killer weekend.

Photo:Buddy the leg breaker

Rides divided up after group breakfast on Saturday and I took to the trails with a new group of women to test out Narrowback and Tillmans - both of which did not disappoint - and I was pleased to discover that I could hang pretty well out there in the mountains.

Photo: Kita

photo: Kita

Sunday I had ambitions of a longer more challenging ride than the day before and grouped up with Bill, Laura, and Jill of the Henry’s Team. We climbed up the road to for Lookout to the Wild Oaks Trails where I stuck on Laura’s wheel over trails foreign to me. The long climb up quickly taught me these weren’t the punchy mashable hills of home and made me spin for what felt like forever. Once cresting over the top, the jagged rocks forced me to loosen my grip and roll with the bike downward back towards camp. This was mountain biking. It’s what it is meant to be. It’s suffering more than you knew you could to cramp and smile all at the same time. It’s obscenities yelled at Mother Nature herself for the splendor and effort she has laid out before you. It is getting to the top and feeling like you beat something inside of you that you didn’t know was holding you back. It is knowing you can rise to the challenge again.

Photo: Bill Batchelor

It was exhilarating. I was slow and yet I road technical things I would have never considered back home. I was faster than I thought it parts and a few times my Garmin politely beeped to remind me I was standing still despite what felt like all I had to get over the crest of a ledge.  I crashed pretty well off twice causing the ride back to be a little uncomfortable. At the bottom, I thanked my friends for their combined patience with me and settled in for a few moments to myself. The ride was by no means the experienced smooth ride that you guys are used to seeing on this blog. But it was my ride. And I am damned proud of it. More proud than I have ever been of a ride. I was broken for the day, but I wasn’t defeated.

Photo: Bill Batchelor

It wasn’t just about the trails I conquered that day, it was about the stories shared back at camp of all the rides that went out that day or in years past, about the stories that everyone had. It was the successes and the crashes of all of us we shared as a community, as a family. It was lining up at dinner with strangers to quickly find are friends through association and want to just chat about the same thing. It was not one kind of ride, but all of them, for everyone. Groups going out strangers and pushing one another through. It was new friends over bourbon and mud covered laughter while waiting for showers. It was the core of what the mountain biking community has been to me actualized.

I left one day 5 years ago on a ride with people I barely knew and came back with a tribe. Stokesville is that community, together for the love of riding and Chris and his team have done an amazing job of cultivating it.

Stokesville Mountain Biking Festival left me bruised and sore, but it also left me grinning from ear to ear, stoking a bike high that has me already daydreaming at work of the next adventure.