In fall of 1989 I bought my first mountain bike. A Muddy Fox. When I first started riding I was still skating so lycra was way out of the question. I was strictly vans, baggy shorts and t-shirts. A few years later, I would meet one of my biggest influences Andrew Mein, who would say that lycra wasn’t punk or stylish as baggy shorts, but then neither was a chapped ass. So I started wearing lycra.

Next came the road bike. Never envisioned myself wanting, or riding a road bike, but sure enough I ended up with one. Still remember that first long road ride. I had just come off of an all night shift at work; Diane let Andrew, Nick, Dirty Stephan, and Matt Card into the apartment. They tormented, pestered me, kicked me and did anything they could to keep me from going to sleep until I agreed to go. We did 85 miles heading out to turkey point that day. I suffered like a pig. A pig that had been awake for 24hrs straight. That was a great ride.

I can clearly hear Andrew’s voice encouraging me to be a “complete cyclist” and refuse to be pigeon holed as either a mountain biker or a roadie. Hmm, I wonder if the guys on the Team DE rides ever thought I was a roadie showing up with my dirty shoes, and muddy helmet. I bought into Andrew’s philosophy, and frankly still believe there is truth in his words.

Over the years I fell in love with racing, and the process involved. I loved learning the process of getting stronger getting fitter. The annual cycle of resting, and building, of training and over training, of pushing the limits of what I thought I could do. As a beginner I never thought I'd be a sport rider. As a sport rider I never thought I could be an expert. As an expert I never believed that I could be a single speeder. But dedication to the process allowed me to continue to evolve and develop as a rider. Sometimes I felt like I loved the process as much as I loved the races. The annual planning, the race selections, the training, and finally the pay off of showing up for the first race of the year.

The road bike was instrumental in this process. LSD rides were much more manageable, and with the right group down right enjoyable. Still, the road bike was still just a means to the end. Enough quality time on the road bike allowed me to do the things I wanted to do on the mountain bike.

Don’t get me wrong, I have tons of respect for the road, and road racers. I spent a season focused on road racing, and got my ass handed to me. I learned a lot that year which helped me to become much more well rounded as a cyclist. I am proud of the work I did as a domestic for my teammates. We won races. that was cool.

Right now, I’m kinda on the bench, and my motivation, my thoughts are not as much about racing, as just getting myself back into the woods. I want to get back to riding 3 days a week. I have to be honest, not one of those days do I want to be on the road.

Saturday night, I had totally planned on heading out to Willowdale Road ride with my friends. Trails were too wet and the road was really the only option. I called my buddy James. I had full intentions of making that ride. I listened to James, who has started his base miles describe his plan. He passionately professed his desire to put in long steady miles. His mission was clear. Mine was not. My motivation waned. He was looking at 4 hours on the bike. When he shared this with me, a little voice in my head screamed, “4 hours! That’s 240 minutes !” I felt my heart sink into my stomach. Kind of, ashamed, feeling almost dirty I balked. I felt my legs tremble and my motivation disappear. In that moment, I talked myself out of the ride. I slept in the next morning.

As the weather reports look to a cold weekend, and finally produce frozen trails, I have a little more pep in my step. I smile with the thought of carving the single track at Fairhill, or middle fun. It is in this moment, that I know I have failed as a cyclist. It is at this moment, I know the truth. The road bike is a necessary evil for me. The road bike is a tool; it is a means to the end. For me it is the greatest place to become a stronger rider. It is however, not where my heart is. For me it is part of a process for which I am not using right now. The truth was clear, and undeniable. Maybe more so now than at anytime in the past 5 years.

At the core of it all, I am a mountain biker.

I got soul but I'm not a soldier...

great show.

Saturday night I headed to Philly to see a sketch comedy show. The show was written largely by a woman I work with, Leanne. Leanne has recently been accepted to Second City Chicago comedy/writing school. Yeah, that Second City. She is the shit. But I digress, she wrote most of the show, and she acted in a bunch of the skits. Milk out the nose funny stuff. Stomach hurts in the morning afterwards funny. This was the second show of hers that I have seen. She and the entire cast are so passionate about what they are doing. I think that I would enjoy watching them, based on their passion. The fact that the show kicks ass would be my recommendation to anyone looking for something cool to do. I think this group is going to do one more show before Leanne moves to Chicago. If you get a chance. Go to the show. So damn funny. There was also bluesy sexy band that played between the skits. They were also very good. The Jesse Shurr Band. I will admit it was odd having my funny bone tickled and then my blues ybone tickled too, but the overall package was very good. Anyway, check ‘em all out on the web:

www.skitsoid.com and www.Jesseschurrband.com

Perhaps as memorable as the show was, the events afterwards certinaly spiced the evening.
As Ted, Gwen, Diane and I approached the parking lot where our car was parked,
we see 4 black men all huddled closely and yelling at each other. Well that’s not exactly true, as it turns out it was one fellow yelling at the parking lot attendant, his 2 boys trying to get him to let it go.

Yelling Dude shouts loudly, “you motherf-cker, you scratched my car, and practically destroyed my boys car, you bastard I’m not paying you a cent to park here and you better take care of my car.” The parking lot attendant sat quietly, and patiently dealing with the verbal battery being laid down on him. The yelling dude’s buddies were trying to get him to leave. Ted and I puffed up our chests directed Diane and Gwen towards the toaster. To be honest we really were not sure how this was gonna play out.

The yelling dude comes over to Ted and I and smiles. He is very well dressed, suburban almost, with large bling, bling rocks in his ears. His face had a number of stylish piercing including a large barbell through his soul patch area.

Very calmly and frankly eloquently, he comments to us “that bastard scratched my car, and I told him I wasn’t gonna pay to park here anymore. He damn near ripped my boy’s bumper off, that rat bastard. And of course, you can’t say anything once you leave the lot. I mean it’s 4:00 am you’re coming out of the club, you’re drunk, you’re probably not even sure which car is yours right? So the next morning I see the gouge in my paint, what am I gonna do? I got no way to prove he did it, but God Damn it, he did it. I told him, I’m gonna park here for free for a year, because of what he did to my car”

I ask coyly “so when did this happen?”

Yelling dude replies matter of factly, “about 9 months ago, it’s not like I’m gonna torture this fucker for the rest of his life, just for a year. Shit as I see it, that’s fair, after a year, I’ll leave him alone.”

The parking lot attendant approaches.

The dude politely concludes “excuse me.” He turns to the parking lot attendant and starts his tirade again
“listen motherf-cker you’re gonna park my car over here, and it better not get scratched. You Jamacian bastard.”

Ted and I look at each other and start laughing not because it was funny, but because we didn’t know what the hell else to do. Looking around our group I can’t really describe the confusion on our faces. It’s like laughing as Bam or Tom Green torture their parents. On one hand it’s totally wrong and just insane. On the other, the sheer outrageousness of the situation caused us to laugh. The yelling dude seemed like a nice guy. His boys were getting kinda antsy and wanted to go to the club but he was staying steady on the attendant’s ass.

As we all stand in utter disbelief of what we are watching, Ted asks his boys “So he does this every weekend?”

The two men look at us and reply, “every weekend, sometimes, both nights” “he was in the military for a while, and well he just gets real militant about this…” we laugh as much because we can’t believe it as it was funny. “George is just too damn militant.” They rugged men finally coral the yelling dude, and scamper off for the club.

We load up the toaster and head for home.
Life in the big city. Damn.

2004 Sensational Six Single Speeders

People magazine has the sexiest people of the year, ESPN has the sportsman of the year, Time has the man of the year, Playboy has the playmate of the year, and I have the Sensational Six. I have always enjoyed having an avenue to let folks I respect, I honor know how I feel. It's part of that whole never leave something unsaid philosophy. Basically these are 6 people who I thought had extraordinary seasons last year. These rankings are not scientific in any manner, and in some cases include efforts outside of 2004. Criteria I used were:

1. these are all cool folks (i.e. they are nice to me, and other people)
2. they give back to the community (more than just race)
3. outstanding race results (fast freaking folks here.)

No offence was intended to anyone not on the list who thinks they should be. Please note my honorable mention list, many of which could easily been in the sensational six, I also recognize there is probably another bunch of folks I am missing all together. Sorry, if I missed you. Start you own blog and call me an
ass-ole on it, or sit back and enjoy, celebrate the accomplishments of some of our fellow single speeders.

Mark Elssaser- Elk or the Elssassinator. Probably the most soft spoken and reserved of any of the riders in this elite group. On any given day in a traditional distance race, Mark as proven himself to be a tough guy, but in endurance races, Mark really shines. 2004 Single Speed National Champion for 24 hr racing, 5th in the worlds. At a cross race this fall, I knew my Spot Brand teammate was cheering for me because he was the only one yelling "you're weak, you're not suffering enough" I am scared to imagine what goes on in his head for 24hrs. Mark was 2nd in the Monster Michaux as well. A co promoter of the Philly single speed rally the dude is tough as freaking nails. I have heard rumors that the guy gets up early so he can get 4 hours on the bike before he goes to work. Methodical in approach, a machine to race against. Mark has been single speeding for a long time, and is the dean of mid atlantic single speed racers.

Lauri Webber- 40 year old mother of two, Lauri would seem to be a calm, quite woman. On her single speed she regularly destroys competitors half her age. She led her team at the 18hrs of Lodi farms to victory not only in the single speed class but the overall. She did the Wilderness 101 in just over 10 hours, raced on an all womens single speed team that finished in the top 15 at the 24hrs of Dalton. Lauri is as relentless in her training as she is in her support of the sport. Lauri leads a group of elementary kids on rides from school each week, and puts tons of time helping to promote local races, and leads the best winter rides from her house. Top notch all the way.

Les Leach- won 2 of 5 trek series races, the big cheese of the philly single speed rally. All over cool guy. He goes on little 80 mile single speed rides. Always approachable, always cool. Fast as all hell. Les is super human. On his IF or Surly, Les pushes big gears effortlessly, and make our game just seem easier than it is. I was very fortunate to have the chance to ride with les on a semi-frequent basis this year. 2nd place in the wilderness 101, and top 10 overall, Les rides on a level I'm not sure I can even comprehend.

Keith Goulet- Bobby's boy. Perhaps the most underrated single speeder in our region. The Trek Classic Champion, Wooden Wheels own Keith Goulet. Keith comes to us from New England and makes his home in Delaware. He brings a strong BMX background, and frankly is one of the most powerful riders I have seen. As single speed classes started to come to fruition this spring, Keith was a bit of an unknown commodity that changed really quickly. Keith is a mtbr regular, and a notorious weight weenie, Keith was champion of the No Cents race, and a member of the 18 hrs of Lodi farms championship team. Keith had the fastest overall lap of that race, which he earned on his last lap of the race. F-cking sick.

Eric Roman- by far the most famous single speeder in our region, maybe this side of the missippi. Eric had a dominating spring winning just about every race he entered. The mind behind the ECSSCOU, the indy fab sponsored rider worked his ass of this year and reaped the awards. More importantly, Eric is one of the nicest most approachable guys you will ever meet. When I first met Eric, he treated me as if I was an old college roommate. Super guy, super fast. Single Speed Dignatary for sure. In 2005 Eric has mentioned turning his fury loose on age group racing again. Watch out gearies, bad man coming soon...

Jon Hansen- Who you ask? Jon who spends the bulk of his season racing on the road as a cat 2 for Embestida! was the 2003 single speed cyclocross national champion, and this year podiumed finishing in 3rd. That's a feat really matched by anyone in any class. Jon has also made a number of appearances on the Wednesdays at Wakefield series. During the MAC cross Series, Jon won every single speed race he entered. Then just for fun he'd throw down with A pro race. Super cool , very strong, really good guy.