The World's Pickiest Bike Tester

When it comes to bikes, we all have different standards, varying levels of what is acceptable and what is NOT. As long as the wheels go round, the gears shift, brakes stop, and the shocks work, then I am a happy camper. Turn the corner 180 degrees from my standpoint, and you have the total opposite. Meet Mr. Bike Tester Extreme, Raja. (that's The Captain pictured above, but he sure looks picky there, doesn't he?)

In the Southern dictionary, the word "Raja" is listed. It is a verb. To Raja is to put a bicycle through the most stringent of diagnostic tests, to analyze and compare to the 110th degree, to measure and weigh every component and then repeat those steps 10 more times. That is what it means "to Raja".

An extreme bike tester does not let something silly like his Day Job get in the way of testing the latest bike. Wednesday, Outspokin was having a Titus Demo Day at Blankets Trail. The Raja was there. Since I do not take my day job seriously, I was not about to miss out on seeing the Master in Action. Already being a proud owner of a purdy Blue MotoLite, there was no need for me to demo any of their offerings. But Raja wanted to put the 5" sofa to his test.

We have very different riding styles. He's aggressive, I'm not. He has a need for speed, I have a need just to survive. He likes to fly downhill, I like to look at the pretty flowers. Something told me the MotoLite would not pass his test. He wanted to ride it anyway.

These Demo Days are the best thing since sliced bread. Before when you wanted to buy a bike, you were at the mercy of whatever the local bike shop had in stock. Sometimes, we would drive to North Carolina just to be able to see a bike in which we were interested. Now you can go to your local trails and put practically any bike to the test without having to clean it up afterwards. What a great marketing idea!!!

With the help of the knowledgeable Rufus, you can get set up with your own pedals and whatever settings you prefer. It is the perfect way to truly compare different bikes in a real riding situation, not in the parking lot of a shopping mall. This is how Amy was able to pick out her nice new Specialized.

Of course, we had our own Tester along to make sure all measurements were within Raja Range. Robin also wanted to ride the MotoLite, so Raja knocked Rufus down to take over the set up for her.

I love it that Raja knows every measurement known to man. He can spout out stats in inches or millimeters depending on what language you speak. At first I did not understand his detail oriented mind when it came to all this bike stuff. But now I realize it is how his marvelous brain is wired and it serves a wonderful purpose. He's like a walking handbook for everyone to consult. "Raja, what do you think about thus and so?" "Do you think these tires roll fast enough?" "How do you like those new blah blah brakes?" Ah, the bike industry has no idea how much it could influence the consumer's buying power if they got a hold of him.

When he decided to purchase his first "real" mountain bike, it was going to cost us a whopping $1000. "Well, you'll have to sell your dirt bike in order to come up with the money," which he did. I thought he had gone stark raving mad when he told me of his plan. To top it off, he would have to assemble the bike himself. Yea, he's lost his mind for sure. At 25 years young, I had yet to fully understand how this quiet Einstein mind operated. Now I adore, respect, and revere him for it!

Raja isn't picky for the sake of being picky. He's super sensitive to every nuance of a bike and enjoys analyzing all the bits and pieces that work together to make a ride enjoyable. It's not that he's being critical because he thinks he's so smart. From my experience as a sponsored rider, I could not be truly honest with constructive criticism. You have to say what they want to hear, and that does not help anybody. (That's why I don't have any "sponsors" on my blog as of yet). Raja just wants to make the experience the best it can possibly be.


You know those obnoxious type that like to hear themselves talk with impressive technical language? He's not like that at all! Far from it. In fact, you have to listen closely because he does not say a whole lot. But when he does, everyone listens. Remember the old EF Hutton commercials?

Hanging around the parking lot waiting for a medium MotoLite to be available, we met some new faces. Buster recognized us from pictures and we got to meet a fellow Sorba Lurker.

We also met Pam, the Veterinarian. Pam and I actually rode together last January, but with my frail memory I had forgotten. She reintroduced herself for the 2nd time on last week's Wednesday night ride. Today for the 3rd time, she said, "I'm Pam, the girl you've met a zillion times. Will you please act like you know me." Well, she didn't say that, but I know she thought it. Robin invited her to join in our Test-a-Rama Run. Pam was testing a RacerX, Raja's current bike dujour.

With Raja and Robin on yellow MotoLites, me on my Litespeed singlespeed, and The Captain on a silver RacerX 29r we headed out for a run on the Van Michael Loop.

Everybody has their own riding preferences. It would be a boring world if we all had to ride what Raja deemed The Perfect Bike. With different body builds and riding abilities, we cannot all ride the same bike design. Raja knows this, but it still doesn't stop him from determining what the perfect bike is for his style.

The Captain was crazy in love with the 29r. I kept hearing him going on and on about it. Then he tried to appeal to my generous soft side. Finally I had to set him straight. "No, I won't loan you the money to buy you this bike."
Robin was not having the same warm and fuzzy feelings that Cyclesmith was having. "I can't turn this thing." Having a 140 Talas was definitely a different experience for her, and Raja dialed it down for her to see if it would help.

We regrouped often and compared notes. My bike wasn't shifting, oh yea, I was on the singlespeed, never mind. Robin's wasn't turning. Cyclesmith had to rethink his strategy for maneuvering his 18 wheeler, and Raja was rather ho hum. What do ya'll think?

So far, The Captain was the only one with a thumbs up for the 29r. Raja was undecided on the MotoLite, Robin was a big thumbs down, and I needed a bike with gears. Time to switch-a-roo. Back to the drawing board.

Raja was going to give the 29r a test since Cyclesmith was so exuberant. He and the Captain switched bikes, while Robin got her Turner, and I retrieved my MotoLite. Round 2.
Robin was a happier camper on her Flux, as I was on my Blue Sofa. Kevorkian Pass was made with much greater ease on familiar rides.

In fact, the first time through on my singlespeed, I wigged out and bailed. The terrain looked so much steeper and the rocks were wet and slippery. I am glad that Robin got to see the weak side of me. As I berated myself for not doing it and complaining about the line, she said "And this coming from the girl that always stands there saying Look Ahead, Look Ahead." Pretty funny, eh? Just plain silly I suppose.

But now on my MotoLite, the terrain was flattened as I remembered it and I motored up following Raja's wheel easily. Shew, I wanted to conquer that fear. It seemed so different on my singlespeed, and I've done it many times before on the Litespeed. But with the wet rocks, all my mind could compute was a slipping tire and me plummeting to my death. Definitely a different kind of riding altogether, the singlespeed.

But today was not supposed to be about me overcoming my irrational fears. What did Raja think of the 29r?

Well, that's no surprise. Actually, it's the big flexy wheels that gave it the thumbs down for him. The Captain wasn't crazy about the marshmallow ride of the MotoLite and was secretly coveting the 29r. Raja and Cyclesmith switched bikes mid stream and we finished the loop with happier faces. As we rolled out of the trail, we ran into an impatient cRASh. He was waiting for the MotoLite to appear for him to take on a test run. Some quick changes were made, and we went out for a 3rd run.

With The Captain on his singlespeed, the rest of us were on our usual bikes. cRASh and Pam were the only ones putting a bike to the test. Raja, Robin, and I were riding just for fun, all testing aside. Well, Raja is always in test mode, even when he's on his own bike.

How come The Captain can do Kevorkian Pass on his singlespeed with such ease? Guess that's why they call him The Captain!

By now, we were all getting exhausted. Testing takes alot out of a rider!

I was tired, but happy to have my marshmallow cush MotoLite. It gets the thumbs up from me.
Today was a Pivotal day for Raja. It wraps up months and months of testing many bikes, and perhaps brings him to a turning point. With the test results in, he might be ready to make a decision on his next bike. I am going to try and submit a real post with his thoughts and musings from some of the top picks he's ridden recently. But in the meantime, I wanted to introduce you all to the pickiest Bike Tester Ever.

Riding all these bikes is tough dirty job, but somebody has to do it!

Stay tuned. Test Results will be posted soon!
PS. Congratulations to SinglespeedAddict on his new addition, little Riley, born August 9th! Great to see you! And good to see Chris too! I love going to Blankets. You cannot go without seeing a dozen smiling familiar faces:-)

The Good, Bad, and The Ugly

As in any of life's disciplines, experience takes on many forms. In our youth, we foolishly think that things eventually become easier at some magical point. We wait and wait and wait for that moment when our efforts become, effortless. Slowly, the realization sinks in that you never will arrive, it never becomes easier, and there will always be the bad alongside with the good.

The first 10 years of my cycling experience were an unrelenting pursuit to arrive, to be strong, and be fast. The following five years was like a roller coaster in slow motion, grasping the rope at its end in an effort to attain that firm hold. I was almost there, if I could just get to the top of the last rise.

These last five years have been a gradual eye opening transition to relax and enjoy the ride on this never ending roller coaster we call cycling. It cannot all be good. There is some bad and sometimes downright ugly. But it all fits together for one heck of a ride!

We have made the conscious decision to avoid a good bit of the ugly lately. Suffering just for the sake of suffering is not good, and can lead to bad things. Things like a bad attitude, a weak body, and a twisted mind. No, there's enough ugly in this world without us adding to it. I've enjoyed our new level of maturity in cycling in knowing how to keep it good and fun while continuing to stretch ourselves to a degree.

Tuesday nights road rides have been replaced with the Big Creek mountain bike playtime. Plenty of pictures have been posted previously, so I felt entitled to enjoy a night off from documentation. This Tuesday night was all mine to indulge in a full on ride. How good it was to pull up to a parking lot jam packed with all our friends. Even though it was 998 degrees, everyone was eager to hit the dirt.

I spied Raja, Treybiker, Cyclesmith, Millhouse, and Burch heading to the trailhead, so I quickly jumped on their train. With no camera in tow, I had opted to ride sans camelbak, and had my water bottle in my jersey pocket. I enjoyed the freedom of a weightless back, but could not access any refreshing water on a whim. The pace was brisk and my tongue was stuck to the roof of my parched mouth. If I could just survive till the freeride area, I could take a big gulp. Ah, how do the pros race with just a water bottle?!? That would be ugly in my case. Good thing I'm not a pro.

Raja, Cyclesmith, and I did numerous runs down the gully. The first time I came here a few months ago on my new MotoLite, I remember hanging onto Raja and Treybiker on the downhill. Scared me senseless, but the flow was on and all was good. Every time since, I have not been able to dial into that focus and flow. Staying on Raja's wheel has no longer been an option for me. I just cannot handle the speed.

When we get to the top of the run, I like to just keep it going. If I stop and linger at the top, it allows me too much time to scare myself and lose my nerve. This time, we kept it going without too many delays, but I still could not keep chase with Raja.

Cyclesmith was riding fast, but sensibly enough not to push the envelope too far. He's a Class A downhiller, but I think he, like me, no longer feels the need to make every pass a World Cup Run. Feeling more comfortable with him as my Captain, I tried to position myself behind him for each session. Trying to focus on my balance, leaning my body in the turns, getting my weight back, I felt less discombobulated descending than I have the past few weeks.

After 10 repeats, it was time to hit the singletrack. Raja led me and Ony back to the cars, setting a nice pace. Back at the parking lot, the light was fading, but there was still time for Robb to lead a handful of us out for one more short lap. I don't know what Robb was smokin', but he was flying and it became an all out race.

Finally towards the end, I gave up. Things were getting bad, and I did not want to load my legs up with acid. Tomorrow's ride was going to be ugly enough as it was, and I knew this would only prove to hurt me. I am only good for one hard effort a week. Let's not waste it here amongst friends. I'd rather be off the back on my mountain bike than left for dead on the side of road by a pack of ravenous shavers.

An hour and half workout for Tuesday night's dirt ride, not too bad. I might be okay for Wednesday, not good, but hopefully not bad.

While stretching Tuesday afternoon before the ride, I managed to get a rib out of sorts. Searing pain shot up the left side of my back, and I could not get in a deep breath without a reminder. As long as I did not breathe too deep while riding, I could handle it. Needless to say, that was a tricky feat. The heat was brutal, and I was gasping for any ounce of oxygen I could filter through the humidity. This pain better subside before Wednesday or it's going to be really ugly. I'll sleep it off and reassess in the morning.

Wednesday morning I awaken from a comatose slumber. Take a deep breath. Is it better? Inhaling slowly.....AH! No, we're not good. Still ugly. Time for a SOS call to my Torturer, Janusz. What would I do without Janusz to put me back together again (and again and again). It's like Humpdy Dumpty when he sees me coming.

Janusz is one of the best things that has happened in my life. In 1997 something really ugly happened to me when my bike ride coincided with a car on the road one afternoon. If I had had Janusz at that time, I firmly believe my recovery would have been much different. Instead he and his wife were dancing in Germany, and I was left to my limited knowledge of physical therapy and a doctor's less than limited knowledge of physical therapy. Throw on top of that a nasty mtn bike accident in '99 and another bike/car incident in '02 and you have the makings of a big ole mess of scar tissue and messed up muscles in the guise of my body. Years of roaming from one bad therapist/doctor to another and I finally hooked up with a good thing, my beloved Janusz Mazon.

As always, my muscles and ribs were made compliant again, and I was ready to face another ride. Wednesday afternoon's workout was the Outspokin ride. Last time I did this ride a few weeks ago I got lucky. The heavy hitters were in short supply and the A Group pulled me along in a nice steady consistent pace. Somehow I knew this time lady luck would not be on my side.

Shane and Cerar were there. (I actually asked Cerar one day how you properly spell his name, sounds like we call him Caesar.) I did not know the other players, but that did not matter. These 2 bad boys had a couple more notches in their belt than mine. It was going to be an ugly scene for sure. But I was okay with that. I came here with one goal in mind; to get in a good workout. This was not social hour or fun time. Things cannot always be good. You have to sow in a little pain, let in the bad, before you can reap the good.

In our preride chatter, Shane said, "Yea, I'm tired tonight." Ah, yes, I know that language; Shaverlish. Been conversing in it for 20 years now. Translated into English he was saying, "I'm riding so strong tonight that I'm going to chew you up and spit you out before you ever even know what hit ya." I gathered my wits about me and decided to give it all I had. I would make it a game. Let's see how long it takes ya'll to crack me; 5 minutes, 10, do I hear 20? Don't hold back fellas, give me all you got!

They did. Without a doubt. At first the group eased out innocently enough along the beautiful rolling roads. Having already done this once, I knew there were some downhills early on the course. Why the tentative riders get up front for a downhill, I do not know. It irritates me, but not as much as it annoys Concrete Blonde. Oh, it got her gander last time, and I remembered that. Therefore, I quickly maneuvered myself to the front away from the heavy brakers. If I cannot keep up on the climbs, at least do not steal the one joy I have away from me!! The downhill!!!

I got on Shane's wheel and we blasted down the hill. I could almost hear the wheels turning in the other guys' minds. What does this chic think she's doing? Does she really think she can keep pace with us. We'll drop her in a New York minute. No, I was not trying to make a statement, and I did not really care what they thought. They would get their chance soon enough to put me in my place. But dang it, they were not going to slow me down on the fun part of the ride. Slowing people down on a downhill is not only bad, it's just plain wrong. If someone behind you is faster than you, swallow your pride and let them in front. Just say NO to turtles in the fastlane.

As good as the downhill is on Epperson, its climb is equally as bad. That's when things got ugly. I turned myself inside out to hang onto the train. Getting unhitched towards the top, I was not about to give up so easily. For once in a long while, I had some fight in me. I dug deep in the dark corners of my memory to remember how to do this. This wasn't just a matter of going hard. It was a whole other ball game that I used to play a long long time ago.

I became oblivious to what was around me, how many riders there were, and what road we were on. All that mattered was tapping deep inside to the power within, every muscle fiber, every brain synapse, every nerve firing, everything was being called upon to do their job. Details become a blur. Am I the last one? Did we just make a turn? Who's up front? Did I just run over a pothole? How many are in this group? I don't know, don't remember.

I do remember the pain, unbelievable pain, ugly pain. It took me years of training to become accustom to calling on that type of pain, driving through it, and surviving. I've put that ugliness behind me, but a few times a year I seem to be able to dredge it up from within me and stare it in the face. I could hear the tiny voice in me, "this is ugly, this makes me uncomfortable, we do not have to do this." Normally I quickly give in to that voice. But tonight I wanted to fight. Enough of good all the time. Let's get down and dirty, time for the bad.

But fight will only take you so far. I simply did not have the strength in my legs to match theirs. 28 minutes into the fight, we hit a climb long enough that I could not recover to catch back on the train. I could continue to fight, but I'd just be swinging into empty space looking like a fool. The ugly was over, now it would just be bad.

Some good was still lurking around the corner. Not knowing exactly where to go, I looked behind me. One of my fellow derailees was not far behind. As he pedaled by, I quickly slipped into his draft. Bud was strong and steady, just what I needed at a time like this. Uh oh, a little too strong. Desperately trying to recover, I could not stay in his slipstream. Unhitched again.

The Bad turned quickly back to good. Bud realized he'd cracked this little new found egg, so he eased up to let me hook back on his wheel. I thanked him profusely with halted breath. "I....didn't....mean for you.....to.....wait on me.....please....keep your.....pace.....you're a......lifesaver." He seemed content to be my domestique and calmly replied, "this is good."

For almost another hour we strode along in silence, heavy breathing belting out from my belly as if it were the steam propelling our train along the road. I admired his strength and patience, and he displayed no annoyance or arrogance at the role he was playing.

The last couple hills brought my legs to the edge of the precipice of cramping. I was going to have none of that. This ride had required all my body could give, but I was determined to finish standing upright. A huge bright orange sun was just setting behind the trees. I laughed within thinking how that represented the yolk of this egg that had been broken more than once tonight. With a face red as a beet and steam rising from my flesh, we turned into the parking lot. All I could think of was getting the ice cold bottle of water from the car.

After swigging half the bottle down and pouring the other half over my head, I looked for my Race partner. We shook hands as if we had just finished competing in the US Open. Respect and gratitude dripped from my heart thicker than the sweat flowed down my brow. "Thank you, Bud, you were just what I needed. I could not have survived without you."

I gave Shane and Cerar a high five. Cerar said, "I was tired tonight." Let me translate that for those who don't speak Shaverlish, "I could have annihilated you sooner, but just didn't feel like going any harder."

So now I'm good. I earned a nice day of rest without guilt. Cam rode by me this afternoon on his way to the mountain for hill repeats. I bid him on his way and said, "you go have fun without me." Translated that means, "Cam, you're bad and I can't take another day of ugly. Let's ride together again when it's all good."

Surprises

Two decades of cycling has no doubt made us rich in experience and memorable moments. However, after a bazillion cumulative hours in the saddle, rides can now be easily relegated to one of 8-10 type categories. Although every ride has its unique qualities, rarely are you surprised in the end. The choices sound something like this; "Alex, I'll take Fast n Furious for $200", "Epic for $500", or "Just Plain Fun for $800." Usually before the ride starts, you have a good idea of what category with which you will end up. Not that there's a thing wrong with that. I am just rarely surprised anymore.

The previous rides on Saturday and Sunday had successfully ripped apart every muscle in both legs, and I wanted desperately to recover in two days. We went to Tuesday night's Big Creek social fest, but the rain was threatening to ruin our "Good Times for $100" party.

Raja was determined to beat the rain and get in as many gully runs as he could on the bike du jour. Surprise, surprise, he still had some test riding to do on the Pivot demo bike.

Eventually I will get to a post reporting on all the bikes he has been testing. That will surprise even me if I accomplish that.

I went along to Big Creek not because my legs were ready to ride, but because we were to meet up with some out of town friends afterwards. Still not recovered from my vicious weekend, a hard ride did not tempt me in the least. I put the camera in my camelbak and went ahead of the small gang to entertain myself by setting up for some shots. Dark clouds and deep woods do not give a photographer with a slow lens much to work with to get success. No surprise there. The Captain and Ony did not care. They hammed it up for a shot everytime they saw me. Typical;-)

Robb was there still testing out the Ellsworth Evolve. The Fox F29 shock apparently had not been shipped to him before quality control did their job, but he fixed that error from Saturday's ride and was riding high.

Treybiker was eager to get back on the bike after being off due to an injury. Janusz was out of town, so there was no chance of Treybiker getting busted over riding. Unless I tell on him (I smell blackmail). An injured rider that cannot stay off his bike, that's not surprising!

Andres, Robin, MOMentum, psychobillycadillac, and regularjoe......a few other hearty souls were out there not scared to chance the rain. My legs did not feel as heavy as I expected, but I still did not push fate. I pedaled easily to the gully run and tried to take shots in the dark while foraging through the poison ivy. I was surprised I was able to get anything at all. With some tutelage from regularjoe, I will eventually get a faster lens. Thanks for your help, EPOjoe;-)

It became obvious the downpour would be arriving soon, so we booked it back to the parking lot. Game over.

Wow, we beat the rain. Now, that's a surprise.
Rest day #2 under my belt. Hope I'll be recovered for tomorrow's ride.

Having such an overactive imagination is probably what keeps me from being easily surprised. It takes alot to catch me off guard. Wednesday's ride was one of those rare surprising moments.

The plan had been to do the Outspokin road ride, not because I wanted to, but because I needed the workout. My aversion to riding the road had gone on long enough, and something drastic had to be done. Instead of easing back into it, I figured jumping into the deep end would be the best tactic.

Now granted, I have been riding the road some; early morning workouts by myself and hitting Hulseytown with the Caminator. Those ride are still very different from the yucky medicine I needed to choke down....a group ride with strangers. Nothing will shake the cobwebs out of your system quicker than a group road ride with cyclists of which you know nothing. You can't cheat by taking advantage of their weaknesses or whining your way into their graces. When you ride with strangers, it's a whole new ballgame that keeps you on your toes.

I still did not feel perky in the morning and considered resting one more day. Our schedule has been hectic and I stay in a constant state of sleep deprivation. Dirty clothes and dishes are piled up to the ceiling, and the house is so filthy from neglect that surely the city is soon to condemn it. There just has not been time to tend to my regular chores, let alone rest. Oh, I wasn't feeling good about today's ride at all. No surprise there.

Raja dropped the Pivot off at Outspokin, and we arrived to the ride start early.

I pedaled a mile down the road to see what the legs would do. They felt bruised. A hill was before me, and my speed dropped as pain ripped through my quads. Yea, this is not going to work, I can tell. Oh well, maybe I can hang with the C or D group, if there is one. Guess I need one more day of spinning.

I was not surrounded completely by strangers. When I rolled back to the parking lot, Tweety and ConcreteBlonde had appeared. They were lucky enough to commute over by bike from home. I miss the days I used to ride to the rides, but Raja will not let me do that anymore. Having only ridden with these 2 on the mtn bike, tonight's skinny tire ride would be a first for us!

Blair was there too. That was a pleasant surprise. G-Off was making a comeback and decided to make a showing since Rlaz was shaming him into it. So maybe there were some familiar faces, but there were plenty of others I did not know.

We rolled out at 6:30 keeping our fingers crossed the alleged rains would not appear. Despite the fact the forecasters had said today was the biggest threat, the radar looked promising. The weatherman was wrong, wow, what a surprise.

From the weather to my ride, the whole evening took me off guard. Totally expecting to just blow on the first climb, somehow my legs were putting out some power. They hurt like heck, and I kept waiting for the usual explosion, but it never came. I did not feel like a powerhouse at all, and I was not about to take anyone on for a showdown. And yet I still found myself staying on the wheel of the lead guys.

The only one I knew in our front group was Rlaz, the other 3-4 guys were strangers to me. I had no idea what to expect or what they would throw at me. I've said it before and I stand by it, guys do not like it when a girl (that they don't know) shows up in their pack. So I put on my best cloaking device, trying to fade into the background while hanging onto the train.

I suspect none of these guys were the real heavy hitters. They all appeared very strong, but I could not help but wonder how the story would have unfolded had Cam or the likes of him been there.

The beauty of it was their consistency, which is what surprised me. Guys are always jumping and sprinting. They will turn around, see you are still there, and do their best to crack you. The pace was high, but always steady. My fitness does not suit itself to sprinting and jumps, which is usually what a weekday intown ride entails. That is why I dislike them so much. It is excellent training, but dang, it hurts.

There was no talking, no socializing. We just rode at a steady high clip, nose to wheel. The entire time I am just wondering how long it is going to last for me. I was a bad girl and did not take a pull. The less these guys were reminded of my presence, the more time I figured I could buy. Besides, a pull probably would have broken me. I may be blond, but I ain't stupid.

The dreadful Freemanville climb came, and 2 of the guys went. My heartrate was spiking at 160. Oh dear God, please help me make this. No KOM for me, but I jumped back on the train with the assist of Rlaz and another guy.

The ride went quickly, thanks to the fact that I was concentrating so hard. Less than 2 hours ago I thought I would be limping back to the car, and yet I rolled in with the A Group. How did that happen? Who knows? Life is full of surprises.

I was exhausted, not from the effort, but mentally from being so focused. Over an hour and a half of riding with no laughing and no talking. Just heavy breathing. What a stark contrast my ride was to mountain biking. Sure, when you fly on a mtn bike, you focus hard. But the focus is different.

Tonight my focus was solely on the wheel in front of me. We could have been riding past elephants, dancing monkeys, and naked men and I never would have known. Whereas, in the dirt, I am always conscious of my surroundings. It is the surroundings that tune my senses and throw me the challenges.

Two very different experiences. I am not saying I think one is right and the other wrong, or one superior to the other. It just really jolted me into understanding a bit more of why I prefer mountain biking. Perhaps because I lean towards being artsy and have an over active imagination.

I am looking forward to our road ride trip in Switzerland though. Not only will we be riding with the Hillseekers, but the scenery will be surprising us at every turn. And I bet we will even socialize during our rides and perhaps stop for a picture or two! (By the way, Happy Anniversary! Congratulations on 15 years of marriage to Becky & Jeff today.) Nothing to prove with these two. They love riding just as we do. Riding in a cool beautiful place will be incredible. That motivates me. Raja calls himself a view snob.

As I grow in life, I am learning there are always surprises around the corner. In your 20's you think you know it all. What is the big fuss with these adults? In your 30's you really think you have it all down pat. Then you turn 40 and you realize you have barely scratched the surface. That's when the fun begins. Surprise, you're living life!

the Big Boyz

The past few weeks have been all about going Big. Big numbers and Big fun. In order to carry on with the theme, we had to scratch our heads to think of way to keep it big for this weekend. I know! Let's ride with the fast guys, or the Big Boyz, as I like to call them.

Raja really wanted to do another run on the "Spider Rodge" ride we did a few weeks ago, but we could no get any takers. Everyone was either out of town or had lame excuses like, "I've got to remodel my bathroom" (Clogger). Larry the Shredder called to check on our ride plans and was immediately interested. He was our tour guide the first time we did this route. His W.O.T. teamate, Gary, also wanted to go.

Uh oh, this plan was starting to scare me. I will ride with Larry, but Larry and Gary? That's a whole other equation, of which I did not possess the facts or figures to solve. Larry and Gary are 2 lean mean racing machines. We have many different categories of riding buddies: Crazy, Shavers, Old Timers, Fun, Slow and Socializin', Smack talkers, and the Fast & the Furious. These 2 friends fall into the latter category.

We have been riding with Larry for umpteen years. I cannot remember my riding life without him in it. He introduced us to Gary a while back. I do remember that Gary has always been a fast racing dude, just like Larry. Maybe when we first met, I was fast. I did not used to be so afraid of riding with Gary. These days, I come up with all kinds of excuses not to ride with Gary.

Now, do not get me wrong. I adore Gary. We are best of friends. He is just too dang fast for me. Larry will humor us when we ride together and keep the pace at a semi-anaerobic jolt. Gary just takes off and your heart explodes trying to keep up. Game over.

We used to ride more with the whole gang of Big Boyz; Larry, Gary, Brad, Allen, Tim, James, Greg. They are all nuts and stinkin' fast. I love it. Well, I used to love it. Can't do it anymore, but we're all still friends.

It didn't matter what I thought, the ride had been planned for Saturday morning. We tricked Millhouse in to joining us. Why should I have to suffer alone? Find a newbie, green behind the ears, and throw him in the deep end too. We could go down together.

Starting at Gates Chapel Road, we climbed up Pinhoti 2 first. Like a fool, living in my glory days, I tried to stay on Gary's wheel. Sandwiched between the two hammerheads, the climb up P2 was killing me. I muttered something to Larry about not being able to stay on Gary's wheel. "Oh you're doing just fine. This pace is perfect," he replied. Translated that meant, I don't mind going your easy pace. What he did not know is that this was my race pace. I wanted to turn around and throw him off his bike. But I love him too much, so I just cried on the inside and prayed I would make it to the top of the climb.

Pinhoti 2's downhill is the best around, but I was not looking forward to it. Once again, I knew I would not be able to hang onto the Raja, Larry, Gary train. My pride was being hurt. It's hard to swallow the hard truth that you ain't what you used to be.

That's when I had a heart to heart talk with myself. Get over it. Have fun! They are not trying to put the hurt on you. They're just having a good time doing what they love. Quit the pity party and enjoy being able to ride. I took my lecture to heart. We zipped down P2 and headed to Pinhoti 3.

I wasn't going to give up that easy though, trying to hang with the Big Boyz. As we began the climb up P3, I did my best to keep pace. Slowly they began to gap me. That's okay, just keep 'em in sight. Rhythm, rhythm, focus. So much of it is focus. It is amazing what you can do if you just lock in on the goal. Get in the zone. Dig a little deeper. It started coming back to me, the old racer was coming out, it all came into clear view, my focus and..........oh lookie, a little turtle. Hehehe.

So much for focus! I had to play with my new found friend and warn him of the perils of hanging out in the middle of Pinhoti 3 on a Saturday.

With my new trick Talus fork, I have the luxury of dialing it down from 140 to 120 or even 100. It occurred to me on this climb with all the switchbacks, that bringing it down would be an advantage. Instead of wasting valuable time by dismounting, I simply grabbed a tree to hold on to while I turned the knob.

Uh oh! Note to self: dead trees do not provide good support. I'm falling! Close call, another tree stopped it midfall, but I was already in flight for an unplanned dismount.

Another note to self: Do not dismount into a nest of yellow jackets! Aghhhhhhhhhhhh!
What is this searing pain all over me?! Ah! Ah! Ah! I realized what was happening and took off running up the trail whilst ripping off my shorts. Millhouse was aghast. Raja just shook his head. After 20 years, he is used to my bizarre behavior.

In the meantime, the yellow jackets had taken my bike hostage. Raja and Millhouse were held captive unwilling to proceed past the swarm to come check on me. All they could do was sit and wait until the ransom note was delivered. What would the bees want in exchange for a blue MotoLite?

Eventually the swarm died down enough for Raja, the unlucky volunteer, to make a mad dash for my bike and bring it to safety. Millhouse pretended to be scared of venturing near the bees, but he was really so traumatized over seeing me flailing around half naked that he did his best to avoid being near me. Poor, poor Millhouse. He will probably have nightmares and need counseling.

Thankfully, I began immunotherapy 5 years ago when my allergy to stinging insects was discovered. Raja took note of the time, and knew that after 20 minutes my fate would be evident. I popped a couple pills and prayed the reaction would only be local. It was!

The downside was that 2 of the 8 stings were on the inside of my thighs. I use my thighs to hold onto my saddle when downhilling. That made it a little tricky. Trying not to think about the discomfort in various places on my body, we continued on up the trail. Larry and Gary would be wondering what was taking us so long. Sorry guys!

Across Hwy 52 to Pinhoti 4 we climbed.

The last bit of P4 has a little pitch. Nothing horrible. I've never, ever had a problem with it. My legs felt like jelly, and I got off to walk. Knowing the serious climbing that lay ahead at Ft Mtn, I considered turning around. Then I came to my senses and decided to tough it out. But I voiced my opinion in the direction of our next loop. Last time we went clockwise, ending on that wicked steep climb. "I can't do that today, let's go the other direction." Nobody argued. So we headed up the gravel road to Hwy 52 to the Ft Mountain park entrance. This time we would turn left and go down the Spider Rodge climb.

Going down the Spider was a bit hairy. A 27% grade in overgrown brush and loose terrain made for some intense moments.

We survived. At the bottom, we went around the gate and took a left. The old roadbed goes alongside a lovely creek, crossing it every once in a while. It is a beautiful setting. We rolled along this for a while, nothing too heinous.

We ran into some riders. Turns out it was MrUnderhill, theHeckler, & wife, Theresa. It pays to post pics on sorba. Folks recognize you, and an opportunity is born to make knew acquaintances. Nice to meet you!

Continuing on the trail along the river, we crossed a field and cut back into the trail across the creek.

After a while, the climbing began. We remembered blasting down this climb the last time, and did not think it was going to be too bad. Wow, we could not have been more wrong!

There were some seriously steep pitches (alleged 30% according to the garmin) and the terrain was loose. The climb went on and on and on and on and on and on.

My friend, Speedy, said that those evil yellow jackets that stung me were radioactive, because they gave me supernatural climbing powers. Gary and Larry, of course, led the chase up the climb. At one point, Larry's rear tire slipped, forcing him to dab. I passed him keeping Gary in sight. On a steep nasty pitch, Gary dabbed ahead. That rattled my nerves, but I dug deep to try and pull it off. I did! Wow! I tried to contain my surprise and keep on task. There was no time to celebrate because the climb continued.

Gary was still ahead, and I had no hopes of gaining on him. But I had my dreams now of making this bugger without dabbing. Around every turn of the trail, all I saw was up and up. I remembered it was a long arse climb. Trying to go as slow as possible to keep my heartrate in check, I picked my way up, up, up.

Larry was now breathing down my neck and quickly passed me. His tire slipped again. I passed him. Gary was still in sight. The nasty part of the climb had come to an end at a fork in the trail. A good excuse to stop and wait. I pretended not to know which way to go.

Besides, I had to revel in my glory. I was the new Spider Queen! SpiderRodge had purposely stopped a few times on the climb to lower his heartrate. Still counts as a dab. Just like the stings, my head began to swell...with pride. Queen for the Day! I may not be fast as the Big Boyz, but I can climb a wall (sometimes)!

Enough gloating. Still more climbing to do. The road was much more manageable, and we middle ringed it onward. For what seemed an eternity, we climbed, finally reaching the top. Then, it was just a short downhill back to Pinhoti 4 from where we were an hour ago.

Everyone was pretty zapped from the laborious climb. I think even wonderboys, Larry and Gary, were feeling the pain. Back down P4 and P3. I was barely making it. All I could think about was the chocolate eclair and cake waiting for me at home.


I am the biggest chocolate snob around, and will not eat just any ole chocolate, except for Luc's creations of Douceur de France. He's the only one that passes the test. I am, afterall, a highly trained chocolate professional;) (I told Treybiker about Luc's a few weeks ago and he tried it out. He agrees, it's topnotch!)

I did not do a whole lot of railing on the descent. The painful stings were still reminding me of my earlier encounter with nature. But the truth is, I was so darn tired that I could barely focus. That's when you do stupid things. Having fulfilled my stupidity for the day, I could not afford anymore Tom Foolery. It's a spectacular trail and a feast for the eyes. Enjoying the scenery, I made it down in one piece.

Crawling back on Shakerag was a bit of a contrast to how I felt coming back from this ride a few weeks earlier. Granted, our ride time was almost 20 minutes faster. That could have something to do with it. Oh yea, I spent the day chasing the Big Boyz. I think that may have contributed a bit to my exhaustion. 34 miles, 4460' elevation gain, and 4 hrs 10 minutes. shewie.

Millhouse did not seem the least bit flustered from our big outing. sandbagger. I'm so proud of him! He did fantastic. There was no waiting for him, and no crashing. Two good pluses. Millhouse, you're bad and you're back!

Thanks, Larry and Gary for putting up with my turtledom today. You're good sports and great friends. I am honored that you still want to ride with us. Let's do it again soon. Call me, in a few years;)

On the way home, we made a slight detour. Raja had to swing by Outspokin to weigh a MotoLite frame. 5 lbs 14 oz. Passes that test. He also just happened to end up with yet another demo. A medium Mojo. Where are we going to put that thing, honey?

Yup, I'm married to one of the Big Boyz with Big Dreams! Going big.....that's what he does!

I don't know if it was a combination of my poor body fighting against 1,000cc's of yellow jacket venom and the high energy output from the ride, or if I am just old and lame. I woke up Sunday morning feeling like I had been hit by a Mack truck and all my blood had been siphoned out.

Our zany n' fun category of friends were all riding at Blankets. It takes alot to keep me away from them, even if I have to crawl on all fours. Lots of moaning, groaning, and whining ensued as I maneuvered my body to the car. Raja was a bit more spry than I. Excitement over testing out the Mojo had him raring to go. I am beginning to think he lives for the chase, and not the actual acquisition of a bike. He's a test run junkie.

I opted for the MotoLite today. Swelling from the stings was still in full force and I was cranky. Not a good combination for the challenge of riding my singlespeed. Let's keep this as simple as possible.

The Van Michael trail is sooooooooo much fun. Even being as cranky as I was, it was still a good ride. I had to let the Big Boyz, CliffordBRD, Raja, and The Clogger, go ahead. I was content to bring up the rear. My goal was to keep it easy and flush out whatever was tainting my system.

We ran into Robin and Colin. Seeing the two of them is beginning to be a nice habit! Robin was sporting her beautiful new drivetrain. I had cassette envy.

Peanut rode her singlespeed on Dwelling for 3 laps while we did the new loop. She's getting rather serious in her training! Pretty soon, she'll be challenging The Clogger on the trail. I'd love to see that!!!

To continue the theme of Going Big, I decided 8 stings was not impressive enough. As we finished our lap on Dwelling, ZAP, another darn yellow jacket got me on the neck. Needless to say, I was a bit perturbed. I had one nerve left, and he landed on it. I put it in 5th gear and nailed it to the parking lot. I was done for the day. All I wanted was some ice. CliffordEMT jumped into his role in split time, and had an ice bag ready for me before I could get off my bike. Thanks, Clifford!!!

Maybe it is time to take a break from Going Big! I think I will step back into the shadows and lay low. At least until the next big ride!

Here are a few pictures from our Spider Rodge adventure. When you ride with the Big Boyz, there is not alot of photo taking. Too busy chasing them down!