Thursday, June 18, 2009
Prescott
Arrived in Prescott AZ at 11:40 am ahead of schedule. The GPS tracking is not going yet, but we are working on it. Keep looking! We can only blog when we get to Starbucks in a town, so the next will probably be Flaggstaff. Temperatures have been favorable, although it is hot here today and was hot going through the desert yesterday afternoon. Not as hot as it could be. Plenty of climbing, however, very little that would be classified as "Category 1" or "hors Category". I have ridden about 125 miles as of noon today. Still fun and I am ready to go!
Check out the next blog as we are going to set up some "Brettism's" that should be fun.
Check out the next blog as we are going to set up some "Brettism's" that should be fun.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
On my way
I am on my way to the line where I will start off for the Wildcats Four Brett. We are looking forward to some overcast weather on the start line and an uphill start. Check us out as it looks like we are going to have GPS tracking of the riders beginning this afternoon!
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
T minus 12 hours...
We all arrived in San Diego yesterday and spent today getting our motorhome and Chevy Suburban outfitted with light bars, signs, etc., getting our bikes inspected and doing last-minute bike repairs. Jay's derailleur hanger was bent on the airline so we dropped by the Encinitas Bicycle Retailer bike shop, where they bent it back without breaking it off (which would have ended Jay's race before it began).
Our Wildcats 4 Brett kit (jersey and bib shorts) came in from Hincapie Sports today so we'll try to get some pictures up soon.
The team, including riders and support crew (Scott Sherman's wife Sharon, his brother Mark, his friend Rick and Scott Forman's friend Hans), is primed and ready for action. A big thanks to the support crew for all their work today. A quick check of weather.com this evening showed the weather across the desert tomorrow (about 300 miles worth) is projected to be 93 degrees for the high with a 17 mph tailwind. We should be so lucky. Let's hope there is no online "observer effect," whereby the mere observation of an object online changes it.
Here's how we've planned the logistics of the relay: We'll break up into 2-man teams -- one team on duty with the follow car and the other team relaxing in the motorhome. Each 2-man team will be responsible for 4 to 8 hours of riding depending on terrain and weather conditions while the other team leapfrogs ahead in the motorhome to park (and sleep) at the projected switch point. The 2-man team on duty will alternate shifts so that only 1 person is riding at any given time. The team has debated the optimum length of each shift -- is it 1 hour? 2 hours? We really don't know.
The Scotts (Sherman and Forman) are taking the first 2-man shift out of Oceanside up over the coastal range and down into the desert at Borrego Springs, about 80 miles later. No warmup for those guys as they climb 4,000 feet from the gun. Jim and Jay will be waiting in Borrego Springs with fresh legs. Probably the last time we'll be able to say that!
Our Wildcats 4 Brett kit (jersey and bib shorts) came in from Hincapie Sports today so we'll try to get some pictures up soon.
The team, including riders and support crew (Scott Sherman's wife Sharon, his brother Mark, his friend Rick and Scott Forman's friend Hans), is primed and ready for action. A big thanks to the support crew for all their work today. A quick check of weather.com this evening showed the weather across the desert tomorrow (about 300 miles worth) is projected to be 93 degrees for the high with a 17 mph tailwind. We should be so lucky. Let's hope there is no online "observer effect," whereby the mere observation of an object online changes it.
Here's how we've planned the logistics of the relay: We'll break up into 2-man teams -- one team on duty with the follow car and the other team relaxing in the motorhome. Each 2-man team will be responsible for 4 to 8 hours of riding depending on terrain and weather conditions while the other team leapfrogs ahead in the motorhome to park (and sleep) at the projected switch point. The 2-man team on duty will alternate shifts so that only 1 person is riding at any given time. The team has debated the optimum length of each shift -- is it 1 hour? 2 hours? We really don't know.
The Scotts (Sherman and Forman) are taking the first 2-man shift out of Oceanside up over the coastal range and down into the desert at Borrego Springs, about 80 miles later. No warmup for those guys as they climb 4,000 feet from the gun. Jim and Jay will be waiting in Borrego Springs with fresh legs. Probably the last time we'll be able to say that!
Friday, June 12, 2009
Down to the wire!
This was going to be a training log as I planned a 115 mile ride last Saturday. As it turns out, I got the flu and was in bed for 2 days and I have started my "tapering" early!
Only 4 days now until start! Last minute crew changes, conference calls, organizational meetings to attend, food lists, first aid kits to assemble, maps to print, program the GPS, plan for hydration and nutrition needs on the ride - wow!, the list never ends. The logisitics for this thing are as daunting as the training. Oh, and are the uniforms going to make it on time?
First of all, we are indebted to our crew support - Mark Sherman, Sharon Sherman, Rick Lopez and Hans! We couldn't do it without them and they don't have any idea at this point what they are in for. As for us, we are just ready to ride! Let's just get on those bikes and ride and be able to forget about all that other stuff.
Oceanside, CA pier - Wednesday, June 17, 12:16 p.m. Taos or bust!
Only 4 days now until start! Last minute crew changes, conference calls, organizational meetings to attend, food lists, first aid kits to assemble, maps to print, program the GPS, plan for hydration and nutrition needs on the ride - wow!, the list never ends. The logisitics for this thing are as daunting as the training. Oh, and are the uniforms going to make it on time?
First of all, we are indebted to our crew support - Mark Sherman, Sharon Sherman, Rick Lopez and Hans! We couldn't do it without them and they don't have any idea at this point what they are in for. As for us, we are just ready to ride! Let's just get on those bikes and ride and be able to forget about all that other stuff.
Oceanside, CA pier - Wednesday, June 17, 12:16 p.m. Taos or bust!
Monday, June 8, 2009
Letter to Brett: "Just Like Old Times"
Dear Brett,
1,000+ miles in under 68 hours? Was this your idea? I've gotta say, this sure seems like an idea you would hatch and then entice us into following along like... lemmings off the cliff edge? "Dude, I've got the best idea," you'd chortle. "Work up some calluses on your nether regions, and let's do this! Just like old times."
Ok, I'm in. I called the boys -- Jim, Scott, Jay. I proposed this preposterous idea, wondering what it would take to lure 'em in, just like you would have done. I said, "This will be cool. A chance to get together, get a little riding in, racing even; just like old times?!" They hemmed and hawed. Ok, time to pull out all the stops. "Brett wouldn't have let you say 'no' to this; hell, he wouldn't have even let you vacillate, old man." Done. Brettster, it was a beautiful and wondrous thing, they fell like dominoes.
So, I guess we're going to do this -- come too far, no turning back, so you say. Well, we're going to make you proud, dear friend. We're going to laugh and sweat and scream and reflect. We're going to pedal with your crazy contagious adventurous kind and gentle spirit pushing us along -- just like old times.
May the wind be always at your back and the rubber side down.
Love,
Scott F.
Monday, June 1, 2009
A Mountain Too Far?
A Mountain Too Far?
No, not the capsule summary of this year's Race Across the West for the Wildcats Four Brett – cynic! Instead, it's a recollection of what might have been one of Brett's finest hours in sports, our adventure in the Norwegian Birkebeiner a few years back. Brett was short in stature but long on toughness – which the Birkebeiner amply demonstrated. With shortened training time for the Race Across the West due to illness, I am hoping that recalling and writing about Brett will inspire me to the same sort of effort in a few weeks.
For those not familiar with it, the Birkebeiner (http://epi.birkebeiner.no/English/Rennet) is a cross-country ski marathon that essentially goes from one side of a mountain to the other to end up in Lillehammer, Norway. For the history behind the Birkebeiner, including why you have to carry a 7 pound backpack, read http://epi.birkebeiner.no/English/Birkebeiner-history. Those who live in the Midwest or who cross country ski might know of the American Birkebeiner, which takes place every February from Cable to Heyward, Wisconsin. Having done that one a couple of times, I wanted to try the original.
When I decided to go do the Birkebeiner, I cast about in my mind for the most gullible, er, adventurous of my friends with whom to go. It did not take long to set my targets on Brett, who made a habit of running up and down the Grand Canyon and other nonsense. Of course, he readily agreed and even talked his wife Sarah into coming along for support. Living in Colorado at the time, I had easy access to corduroy trails at cross country ski areas like Eldora and Frisco, and had no trouble getting in some good on-snow training. Surprisingly for a denizen of St. Paul, Minnesota, though, Brett had no such luck – it was a dry winter. So he showed up in Oslo generally fit but with no skilometers in his legs.
Now, the American Birkebeiner is no ski in the park. It's held on an undulating 50km trail through the glacier-carved moraines of Wisconsin. With 7,500 participants, it's the largest annual gathering of Minnesotans out in the woods, not counting the flies in the summertime.
Though it shares the name, the original Birkebeiner in Norway has a completely different topographical profile. Briefly, you go up about 3,000 feet and then come down over the course of 54 km (about 34 miles) with 14,000 of your closest friends and 28,000 skis to get tangled up with. In short, it’s an event only for the toughest Viking tough-guys (and -girls).
Well, the whistle blew at 7:00 am sharp in the start town of Rena and we were on our way. Brett’s wife Sarah was to meet us at the 40 km mark in case we wanted to change gloves, hats, etc., which would no doubt be soaked with sweat, before the descent to Lillehammer. You can see from the profile (read right to left) that the course goes up right from the start. Hey, thanks for the warm-up! With adrenaline from the spectacle coursing through our veins, we took off up the hill. After about 5 km, Brett was cooked. I was just getting warm. I half-heartedly mentioned the possibility of turning around and catching a ride back to Lillehammer. Brett would have none of it. In his trademark defiant style (athletically speaking), he said, “5 k downhill or 35 k more uphill? Dude!”
At the 10 km mark, he broke down crying. Not really, but he was not entirely unlike burnt toast. I helpfully used one of his favorite quips: “Sucks to be you!” [Note to team and readers – please add your favorite Brett-quote to the blog.] For the next 20-30 km, Brett kept soldiering on while I made sure we stopped at every refreshment stand to refuel with bananas, oranges and boller (bread rolls). Over the next hour or so towards our meeting spot with Sarah, there was little if any talking as we slogged up and down the hills. Even with good ski fitness, I was starting to get tired myself. Meanwhile, Brett was hanging tough, seemingly not getting any more tired. By the time we met Sarah at the 40 km mark, I was ready for a couch and a pillow while Brett got more energized. As we changed into dry tops, gloves and hats out there on the snow, Brett was bubbling effusively, “All downhill from here, dude!”
Snow conditions had been good to us to that point. The Swix race techs had picked the right grip wax for that side of the mountains. On the west (finishing) side of the mountain, though, there had not been any fresh snow in days. Together with the number of skiers that had already gone down the trail, what we faced was a rutted, icy descent. Rather than the expected leisurely saunter to Lillehammer, we got a terrifying, white-knuckle ride through hell.
Looking at the course profile, you might be thinking that at least you guys had the last, flat part of the course profile – nice way to finish. Without getting into too much detail about ski wax, it turns out that the wax that worked on the east side of the mountain did not work on the west side. For a skier, having wax that doesn’t grip means you can’t use your legs. We could have experimented with other waxes we were carrying in our backpacks, but the thought of stopping and digging through our backpacks, pulling off our skis, etc. was only slightly less appealing than jabbing our ski poles in our eyes. When you can't kick with your legs, all you're left with is your arms, using a technique called double-poling. For non-Vikings, it’s best done in small doses, not full-time for the last 8 to 10 kilometers of a 54 kilometer race. After fifteen minutes, our elbow tendons and muscles were shredded. In fact, I feel a twinge in my elbow again right now as I recall that section. I don’t know how long it took to do those last few bits of trail but it seemed an eternity.
By this time, we were both totally spent. How Brett pulled off the last 49 km of the Birkebeiner, I really don’t know. What I do know is that his sunny optimism and perseverance made for a memorable event I’ll never forget. What I hope is that I can call on those same qualities to get me through my 250-mile share of the Race Across the West.
No, not the capsule summary of this year's Race Across the West for the Wildcats Four Brett – cynic! Instead, it's a recollection of what might have been one of Brett's finest hours in sports, our adventure in the Norwegian Birkebeiner a few years back. Brett was short in stature but long on toughness – which the Birkebeiner amply demonstrated. With shortened training time for the Race Across the West due to illness, I am hoping that recalling and writing about Brett will inspire me to the same sort of effort in a few weeks.
For those not familiar with it, the Birkebeiner (http://epi.birkebeiner.no/English/Rennet) is a cross-country ski marathon that essentially goes from one side of a mountain to the other to end up in Lillehammer, Norway. For the history behind the Birkebeiner, including why you have to carry a 7 pound backpack, read http://epi.birkebeiner.no/English/Birkebeiner-history. Those who live in the Midwest or who cross country ski might know of the American Birkebeiner, which takes place every February from Cable to Heyward, Wisconsin. Having done that one a couple of times, I wanted to try the original.
When I decided to go do the Birkebeiner, I cast about in my mind for the most gullible, er, adventurous of my friends with whom to go. It did not take long to set my targets on Brett, who made a habit of running up and down the Grand Canyon and other nonsense. Of course, he readily agreed and even talked his wife Sarah into coming along for support. Living in Colorado at the time, I had easy access to corduroy trails at cross country ski areas like Eldora and Frisco, and had no trouble getting in some good on-snow training. Surprisingly for a denizen of St. Paul, Minnesota, though, Brett had no such luck – it was a dry winter. So he showed up in Oslo generally fit but with no skilometers in his legs.
Now, the American Birkebeiner is no ski in the park. It's held on an undulating 50km trail through the glacier-carved moraines of Wisconsin. With 7,500 participants, it's the largest annual gathering of Minnesotans out in the woods, not counting the flies in the summertime.
Though it shares the name, the original Birkebeiner in Norway has a completely different topographical profile. Briefly, you go up about 3,000 feet and then come down over the course of 54 km (about 34 miles) with 14,000 of your closest friends and 28,000 skis to get tangled up with. In short, it’s an event only for the toughest Viking tough-guys (and -girls).
Well, the whistle blew at 7:00 am sharp in the start town of Rena and we were on our way. Brett’s wife Sarah was to meet us at the 40 km mark in case we wanted to change gloves, hats, etc., which would no doubt be soaked with sweat, before the descent to Lillehammer. You can see from the profile (read right to left) that the course goes up right from the start. Hey, thanks for the warm-up! With adrenaline from the spectacle coursing through our veins, we took off up the hill. After about 5 km, Brett was cooked. I was just getting warm. I half-heartedly mentioned the possibility of turning around and catching a ride back to Lillehammer. Brett would have none of it. In his trademark defiant style (athletically speaking), he said, “5 k downhill or 35 k more uphill? Dude!”
At the 10 km mark, he broke down crying. Not really, but he was not entirely unlike burnt toast. I helpfully used one of his favorite quips: “Sucks to be you!” [Note to team and readers – please add your favorite Brett-quote to the blog.] For the next 20-30 km, Brett kept soldiering on while I made sure we stopped at every refreshment stand to refuel with bananas, oranges and boller (bread rolls). Over the next hour or so towards our meeting spot with Sarah, there was little if any talking as we slogged up and down the hills. Even with good ski fitness, I was starting to get tired myself. Meanwhile, Brett was hanging tough, seemingly not getting any more tired. By the time we met Sarah at the 40 km mark, I was ready for a couch and a pillow while Brett got more energized. As we changed into dry tops, gloves and hats out there on the snow, Brett was bubbling effusively, “All downhill from here, dude!”
Snow conditions had been good to us to that point. The Swix race techs had picked the right grip wax for that side of the mountains. On the west (finishing) side of the mountain, though, there had not been any fresh snow in days. Together with the number of skiers that had already gone down the trail, what we faced was a rutted, icy descent. Rather than the expected leisurely saunter to Lillehammer, we got a terrifying, white-knuckle ride through hell.
Looking at the course profile, you might be thinking that at least you guys had the last, flat part of the course profile – nice way to finish. Without getting into too much detail about ski wax, it turns out that the wax that worked on the east side of the mountain did not work on the west side. For a skier, having wax that doesn’t grip means you can’t use your legs. We could have experimented with other waxes we were carrying in our backpacks, but the thought of stopping and digging through our backpacks, pulling off our skis, etc. was only slightly less appealing than jabbing our ski poles in our eyes. When you can't kick with your legs, all you're left with is your arms, using a technique called double-poling. For non-Vikings, it’s best done in small doses, not full-time for the last 8 to 10 kilometers of a 54 kilometer race. After fifteen minutes, our elbow tendons and muscles were shredded. In fact, I feel a twinge in my elbow again right now as I recall that section. I don’t know how long it took to do those last few bits of trail but it seemed an eternity.
By this time, we were both totally spent. How Brett pulled off the last 49 km of the Birkebeiner, I really don’t know. What I do know is that his sunny optimism and perseverance made for a memorable event I’ll never forget. What I hope is that I can call on those same qualities to get me through my 250-mile share of the Race Across the West.
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