The Fat@$$ Chronicles: The Iceman Indeed Cameth...

Soooo, I did it. I raced my mountain bike. What a day. What a weekend, really; I had a ton of fun and learned a few things along the way. Even as I write this on a chilly Sunday morning the washing machine is running, powering through the mud and guts that cover virtually everything I wore and touched yesterday. As a matter of fact, I actually used the "Heavy Soil" setting on the washer for the first time since the kids were little...

"Ya know, our moms used to make us come inside when the weather got like this," I chuckled to the rider next to me somewhere in the woods between Kalkaska and Traverse City. I should point out here for all who are wondering that though this was indeed a mountain bike race that there were many of us who were riding in packs throughout for no other reason than 5,500 riders don't really get spread out too much over 32 miles. So we had time to talk as we faced the occasional bottleneck in the singletrack.

He shook his head and smiled in agreement. The day had dawned, if you can call it that, cloudy, cold, rainy, and crappy. An expected high temperature of 37 degrees gave everyone cause for hope and encouragement...

The Bell's Iceman Cometh Challenge is the largest point-to-point mountain bike in the US. Stretching about 32 miles from Kalkaska to Traverse City in northern Michigan, it runs along a course consisting of pavement (about a mile), gravel roads (maybe two miles), and two-track and singletrack through the woods as it wends its way westward. This year was the 25th annual race; the history traces back to 1990 when six friends decided to see if they could do the ride. From that year to this it has grown into an event that encompasses a weekend of activities and over 5,000 riders including a flock of professionals. A festival atmosphere at the Friday evening packet pick-up and bike expo at the Grand Traverse Resort migrates to the finish line on Saturday at Timber Ridge campground. In between was one of the most difficult courses I could have imagined, and one of the best days I've had on a bike.

You've already read the pre-race entry stuff. On Thursday night I packed a bag, carefully listing, re-listing, and taking mental inventory of everything I could possibly need. This included adding virtually every item of winter cycling gear that I own. It was quite an agonizing decision, leading right up to about an hour before my wave took off, to figure out which outer layer I would wear. There's nothing worse than being too warm or too cold on a ride. Sweating in 30-degree temps just ends up making you cold in the long run; start out too cold and you never get warm enough. After getting all of it in a bag I stowed it in the car until morning, leaving my bike til last; that would go on the rack when I left for school.

Friday actually looked like good weather! Not too cold, no precipitation. Which had to mean that Saturday would be worse... We left Friday after school, heading north around 2:30. I should note here that I had an official "crew" with me. Cal DeKuiper, who also happens to be the ZPS Superintendent, has ridden this race at least five times. He didn't get an entry this year, but said he'd go along anyway and drive the van to the end and help along the way. He also provided lots of coaching and advice as well as a few training rides before the event. Very cool to have any person, let alone your boss, be around to assist in such a way!

First stop on the journey? The hunting cabin we were graciously allowed to use. Literally quite in the middle of nowhere, this log cabin in Mancelona was a warm and wonderful place to stay. Appealing to virtually all of my liberal leanings, it was filled with mounted animal trophies, several guns, and at least one crossbow... But what a great place to stay, and we really appreciated the band parents who offered its use.

After we found the cabin, having wisely decided to try to get there before complete darkness, it was time to head to packet pick-up and the bike expo at the Grand Traverse Resort. Thousands of people descend on these relatively small towns for this weekend, and the place was packed. Never before have I seen so many vehicles with bikes and bike racks attached all in one parking lot. Winding our way through the maze of people, vehicles, and gear we found the registration table. Number 4033. Packet received. Time to shop. Bought myself an Iceman jersey (I'm down to an XL!!) and the last crewneck sweatshirt (L!!), left my irreplaceable rider packet on the table, and walked away... Mild cardiac stress occurred about fifteen minutes later. Packet retrieved from the cash register, we continued to shop.

Back at the cabin I carefully affixed my first official race placard on a bicycle (I don't consider the 24-Hour Challenge to be a "race," though you are officially competing against other riders), then taped two packets of GU to the top tube. Aaron D. gets full credit and MANY thanks for this genius idea. I've seen it before, but never considered it; I am usually riding slowly enough or in such an event that there is ample time and locations to grab nutrition. Not so at all here, especially considering the addition of the dirt. So all I had to do when I needed a shot was peel off the GU packet, which left the opening strip still taped to the bike. One hand, a few squeezes, and voila! GU consumed. Only a small amount of grit, and no awkward reach for the back of my jersey or taking off my gloves. Thanks, Aaron! Best idea ever.

Speaking of the best idea ever, did the guy who invented the Camelbak system ever win a Nobel Prize? Because he should have. Here's a shot of my "emergency" water bottle. Thanks to Cal I had a Camelbak for the weekend, and now I know why everyone on the trails has them all the time. (Christmas present idea alert!!) Again hands-free, no reaching, etc. These two ideas saved the day.

As expected the day "dawned" cloudy and miserable on Saturday. There was a light snow covering the ground outside the cabin, the temps hovered around 35 degrees, and there was a drizzly,

The morning of the race, right before we pulled out. Snow...

annoying rain falling. Great... I refer you, however, to a previous post at this time :) We left the warm confines of the cabin (thanks again, Bruce and Pam!) and made our way to Kalkaska for breakfast and scouting out the start area and all of that kind of stuff.

The atmosphere around the start area was festive and exciting. Tons of riders and spectators filled a parking lot behind the start corral either waiting for their wave to start or hanging out with their riders. We got there around Wave 8 or 9, and as we approached the line to watch I heard my name called. "Hey, Alex!" Alex Yingling, one of the guys from the shop was in the chute ready to start. Alex is one of the guys that makes me faster, because if I want to ride with him I have to keep up with him. As a point of reference here, he was in the first ten or so waves; I was in number 35... I also saw MC, Kaat, Jan, Melissa, and several others as we hung out and waited.

Back at the van to finally suit up and get to my start position we saw the guys in the car next to us packing up. Watching me peel off my outer jacket and grab my riding top they asked if I was still riding. "Yeah, we're out. Not riding in conditions like this." I beat those guys before the race even started... Here was the final call for outer wear. Base layer is a given. VCC jersey to represent the shop and team, even though no one will see it. And then what? Arm warmers? Which of the five jackets (I am not kidding - I had five jackets: windbreaker (HA!), rain coat, and three weights of cold weather ones) would be the one that I could wear? "Choose wisely..." Pearl Izumi PRO Race it is. Brand new, never tested, winter weight, water proof, breathable. The positive outweighed the negative, so even though I'd never worn it or tried it out on a ride at all, I slipped it on. No arm warmers (should I??). No full-face headgear (maybe I'll want it later??). Make a damn decision!

And off to the start. Boy, am I cold right now. Maybe I should have packed my warmest gloves. Oh my god, will you knock that s4!t off?? Just shut up and ride. Warmed up nicely, thank you. As a matter of fact I can't think of even one other cold weather ride where I have chosen more perfectly what I was going to wear. The Pearl jacket was the perfect combination of warm and dry, my fingers warmed up, as I knew they would, my feet stayed warm and dry, and my legs were just right in the medium-weight bib tights, though I had indeed packed heavy winter ones as well as a set of easily-removable leg warmers...

The suffering started shortly after the start. OK, that's an exaggeration. But it was wet, cold, and slippery right away. Lost my footing once very early in the woods, but after that I kept it together. The course zipped out of Kalkaska pretty fast, heading right toward a two-track service road sort of thing. Lots of seasonal roads up here; that means the county doesn't plow them or take care of them in the winter. About five miles in I started hearing my chain scraping with all of the muck it was starting to accumulate. By the end of the race my bike would weigh at least an extra five pounds.

As a matter of fact, I can't even fathom the horrors visited upon my drivetrain over the 30 miles. I saw many riders off the trail fixing chains, derailleurs, and flats. Another award is due here - this one to the mechanics at Velo City who keep all of my rides in tip-top shape. "Keith, you better put a new chain on your Cervelo." Brent, Nate, and Hawkins are terrific. Between miles 12 and 22 or so my rear derailleur started skipping and being frustrating, but everything held together and I finished the race without a single mechanical issue. Cal did end up driving a couple riders out of the course and to the next bail-out area; broken-down riders had to walk their bikes to the rescue locations, so he helped a few out. I left the F-29 at the shop Sunday afternoon with the promise of at least a six-pack of homebrew if they could bring her back to normal.

I'd give you a play-by-play of the whole ride, but that would be boring as well as quite impossible. Here's an idea of the conditions, though. Thick, juicy, sucking mud. And some trees. Sometimes the mud went through the trees, unless it was on the logging trail part, in which case it was just thick, oozing muck. I pedaled up more hills than I walked, and most of the time I walked only because I couldn't get the wheels to grab the surface. Oh, there were some walking hills. Oh, yes... But most of the ones I walked up I thought would have been possible if there hadn't been as much mud and traffic. The conditions were described by veteran riders as the worst they had ever experienced. According to one report even the pros ended up about 20% slower than usual. So my time can only get better in the future, right??

I did learn one thing on this trip: worse than swallowing a bug? Swallowing a blob of mud... Flung up from my front wheel as I negotiated a slip through a bog, a blob the size of at least a large fly popped right into my gasping mouth. The thing about bugs is you can spit them out. Mud is forever. Gritty teeth, sandy cheeks. Mmmm... Good stuff. Mixed well with the GU.

The absolute coolest thing, though? I wouldn't have changed a thing I did as far as technique, clothing, or gear. I already told you the clothes were just right. I can attribute my slower-than-goal time to conditions, traffic, and maybe some rookie dreaming of a 3-hour finish, but it had nothing at all to do with my riding. That made me happy. I had energy and power all the way to the end. The finish


See the loops in the middle?

area did make me cry a little - they loop you into the finish area and then right back out for one more muddy, nasty kilometer of hell. On the absolute final stretch you get to go under the bridge that you rode over a few minutes ago, and of course my front derailleur chose just that moment to balk and be annoying. "Get that gear!!" a spectator shouted as he heard metal on mud screaming to get a grip.

But I FINISHED. I officially came in #2463 out of 3514 finishers. 54/74 in my age group. I officially beat over 1000 riders. Not that it matters. I did this for fun. For myself. To see if I could. To challenge my ability. To see what I could take. And I never once even remotely considered giving up. (OK, maybe as I trudged up one of those evil muddy hills, but not more than say, 2-3 times...) I am not one to tout my own accomplishments, but this one indeed was a big one. I don't think I've been happier with a personal result. Sure, I would have liked a faster time, but I'll be back.

In case I missed anyone, I will thank people again here. First and foremost my wife, Dana, who allows me to spend frivolously on silliness like this and brewing beer, and has stuck with me for almost 25 years of marriage, two kids, and all the crap that goes with it. She has also enjoyed riding an MTB this fall! Perhaps she will join me next year...

Thanks again to Cal. I wonder if any other CEOs drove up north for the weekend to support a middle manager? Most of the pictures you see here were taken by him, most while he was running along side me shouting encouragement.

Bruce and Pam's (and Jalen's) cabin was awesome. And free. And I forgot to take a selection of homebrew to leave as a thank-you. (And based on what I saw, there's some crappy beer consumed at the hunting cabin. Time for an upgrade!!) The warm hospitality was very much appreciated.

Brad, Jenny, Aaron, Brent, Nate, Mark, Hawkins, Sandy, and Alex - I defy anyone to find a better place for bicycling than Velo City Cycles. What a great crew. Thanks for encouraging me.