It's raining and 57 degrees today in Colorado Springs. I can smell the 'cross in the air. In a few short weeks, we'll be hopping barriers and breathing at VO2max.
Are you ready? We're almost ready. The new team kits came in today so Jimmy Jam and I took the Voodoo Glowskulls out for a spin on our Canzo and Sobo bikes.
Our final preparation for 'cross is stop #2 of the Global 24hr series--- www.sleeplessinthesaddle.com. We're trying our hand at the duo competition.

Keep the rubber side down this weekend.

Over and out.

Not much to report from the Colorado Springs station, but I wanted to blog myself before the season starts so I understand how this technology works. I love technology...The travel schedule is starting to wind down for me, so riding has become more consistent and with the cross season looming I am becoming more motivated with each passing day. Next week I am headed to Europe for a couple of weeks, but the bike will make it on this trip and we will be doing lots of riding along the canals of the Netherlands or at least that is the idea before we ship off. A couple of weeks after that trip concludes, Tullous and I are going to go after the Duo at the Kona 24 Hour Global Series at Snow Mountain Ranch in Granby, CO. I've done 24-hour races as part of a 4-man and 5-man team, but the Duo will be a new experience for me; a lesson in pain and discipline-perfect for cross. We will follow that up with a trip to Flag for the AZ state road race. It will be a well-set table for the cross season, me and Julio down by the schoolyard.

Metal.

Pulled this from drunkcyclist.com
__________________________________________________
From: Big Tex
Subject: No Regrets on January Decision
Juan Grande,
Thursday, I reentered the world of racing NORBA nationals after a 3 year hiatus. I entered the Snowmass Marathon, which so happened to be exactly half of the distance and climbing of the race you entered called Leadville 100.

Wednesday night I got off of work and drove 3hrs to Independence pass--12,041 feet and slept in my car. The next morning, I rose with the sun and drove down to the local grocery store for some pre race eating and coffee. I got my number, 621, and warmed up by looking for a place to stash my feed bag. The race consisted of 2 laps so I figured 3 bottles per lap plus some needed carbs.

At the start, I saw old friends and rivals like J. Henry, T. Brown, and Little Fabio. The field was small but stacked and it was mass start----men, women, children---GO! One thing of note, racing is Aspen is very steep. The start was muy tranquilo. I wan
ted to hold back with the race being long. I expected a 4 hr finish time. Brown and Henry quickly established a small gap of less than a minute. I stayed with 3 others including Etough. On the descent, Etough and I separated from the others and then I went on alone to bridge the gap to the leaders----I'm riding a full suspension Voodoo Canzo---How can I not descend faster than most.

So I'm riding with the leaders. We're talking having a good time on some killer single track with creek crossings, roots, rocks, dust, everything you want in a MTB ride. We start up and with in 10 minutes I realize this is faster than working man's speed. I let the leaders go in hopes that I'm saving myself for the last lap. At the end of the lap, four riders had caught up to me. Not bad, I can ride with these guys. I stop to feed my self with a few more water bottles and powergels. I never see anyone again till the finish.

At the 2hr mark, my legs quit. I can't breathe hard or even push myself because my legs don't have the strength to push the pedals fast enough to breathe hard. I paid $65 to suffer like this?---I finishing the race. There's the downhill---I'll be fast on this section. That goes well but I still have 1500 feet of climbing to the finish on a barren ridge line with high altitude temperatures above 90 degrees.

I begin to wonder when the women will catch me. I ride my granny gear 24X34 for the next hour and still no one catches me but I see the finish at 4 hrs 10 minutes. Whew! It was good to blow my legs out like that and to get back into the racing scene a little but it sure did hurt. I immediately thought of you and I wish you the best of luck in a few weeks as you ride double my distance and climbing. I'll cheer from the sidelines or I'll be somewhere else cheering---there's a nice little Fat Tire Festival in Los Alamos that same weekend.

Start time was an early 7:30 am, with 50-odd men and women competitors of all ages taking the field. The morning was sunny and warm—surprising after a weekend of cold rain and, at one point on Saturday afternoon, hail. The course was 55 miles—including eight miles of the traditional XC course. With the starting gun, I rode off somewhere in the middle to the back of the pack, and settled in for a comfortable pace as I and my fellow marathoners began the steep 1700 ft climb up to the ridgeline. Traversing the ridge, we passed the chair lift for the downhill events (where the pro qualifiers would begin later that morning) to eventually drop down a screaming fire road descent for 2000 ft or so, navigating some sharp, rocky and gravelly switchback turns.

At mile 16.5 I passed the single feed zone on the course before going out for a long loop incorporating fire road and double track. The course was rolling, and on the double track descent, quite fast, with encroaching trees and bushes just ready to knock you off when you stopped paying attention. After looping back around to pass the feed station for the second and last time, I settled in for the extended climb back up to the saddle in the hot, late morning sun. It was at that point that my right contact, which had been threatening to slide out of my eye for the last half hour, decided to make the jump. (I'm blind without my contacts, so I always carry a spare lens—but being able to carefully and cleanly insert a sliver of plastic into my eye in the middle of a sweaty, dirty mountain bike race is a trick I haven't learned well yet.) Once I was 20/20 again, I mounted up for the long haul up to the top of the saddle. I didn't see any other riders around me, but kept pushing myself along the course, unsure of what place I held.

A couple of steep sections on the final long climb required cursing just for me to pedal up them, but then I realized I was still far from reaching top of the ridge, so I cursed some more. At this point (35-40 miles into the course) even rolling slowing up and over small to midsize rocks partially embedded in the road had the most jarring effect on my body. But just when I was starting to contemplate the value of endurance racing, I crested the saddle, and began speeding down along the open ridgeline. I tried—sometimes unsuccessfully—to find a smooth line for my bike as it thundered over the loose rock and small boulders collected on the trail. Once my tire kicked up a softball-sized rock that nailed me in the foot . . . good thing my whole body had gone numb an hour or so before.

Leaving the ridgeline, a rough, steep descent on double track and short fire road climb on a connector trail dropped me onto the XC course. Some of the former single track from last year had been widened and smoothed out due to logging, so the course was not as technical as in years' past. A few sharp switchback sections were eliminated, but some easier, fun switchbacks lower down sparked my memory. The small rock garden provided a nice if brief terrain change, and delivered playground fun as usual. A few muddle puddles and standing water collected in a lower section of the course, but over all the dirt was nice and tacky. I passed a male racer in this lower section, making me happy to see some sign of life on the course again (sometimes endurance racing can get lonely, when riders spread out during the 3-6 hours race). When I finally broke out of the woods where the course dumps onto the final fire road climb to the finish, I found myself riding up a small incline that for some reason felt tougher that the 1700 ft. climb up onto the top ridgeline. But the finish line waited just a short stretch ahead, and I crossed the line to take 4^th place in the women's open/pro division.

My Voodoo hardtail held up well over the chatter of the rocks and rough terrain on the seemingly never-ending fire road and double track descents, and it ascended skillfully up the course as well. Although I realized during the race that I hadn't positioned my saddle height and angle well, the bike climbed successfully despite my uncomfortable pedal-stroke. Despite this and the mishap with the contact, it was a good race, and I was happy to finish so strongly.

The marathon XC racecourse at Schweitzer Mountain was straightforward and offered no real surprises (as fire road typically doesn't). The best part of the race was the 8-mile XC course section, which was made more challenging by the fact that your arms and legs, tired after 48 miles of riding, don't always respond the way you expect them to. That certainly makes cornering and bombing down rutted-out single track interesting—and occasionally more fun.

Thanks to NORBA and its 2005 sponsors, as well as Schweitzer Mountain Resort, for making possible such a well-organized and fun event. And, of course, thanks to Voodoo for putting together a strong, fast pony for me to race. When I was climbing up that final switchback before reaching the ridgeline, one of three official volunteers standing on the side of the course started yelling: "How do you do that voodoo that you do so well?" I smiled, pleased he was sending me some good mojo. - Angela

The second in the SISU BC Cup Marathon Series, the North Shore Credit Union "Shore 2 tha Core" XC mountain bike race kicked off its inaugural event on the campus of Capilano College in North Vancouver, BC. Covering trails in and around Mount Seymour, the course features a large percentage of single track, as well as some rocky double track and fire road ascents. The climbing was brutal, because some of it was quite steep . . . and none of it was smooth. Even on the fire road, rolling over embedded rocks interrupted any rhythmic groove this hardtail rider tried to get into. Because I had no opportunity to pre-ride (and I was new to riding the Shore) this course was one startling surprise after another.

A few steep, technical climbs forced me and most of the racers around me to jump off our bikes at one point or another, simply because it wasted less energy to cyclocross over some sections rather than to try to clean them. And when we hit the first rocky, switchback decent—well, I had this surreal sense of bodies scrambling around me, either running with their bikes, or falling down with them. I just managed to get around this one guy that fell trying to get out of my way after failing to make a switchback, and in my speed to pass him and get away from the mess of riders bottlenecking behind me, I bombed down a rocky chute. When I tried to slow before coming up to a turn, my new hydraulic disc brakes surprised my not-so-gentle hand, and I flew off my bike to crash for the first time in a long while. But in a flash I jumped up and took off, with only seconds lost and a newly gained bruise on my right quad. I trotted down a big drop with a herd of other scurrying riders all around me. No other mishaps afflicted me during the race, unless one counts the grueling climb that ended with me pushing the bike for a short span up the difficult Blair Range Trails. And the course held further surprises—like discovering bridges and 4-5 ft drop-offs in a marathon XC event! When I finally rolled across the finish line back at the college, pulling a respectable 8^th for my first race of the season, I was more exhausted than I remember being in a long, long time.

The BCCU "Shore 2 tha Core" Marathon was an amazing course—the most technical marathon course in Canada, as I learned later. It was definitely not a NORBA course, known mostly for being comprised of miles of non-technical fire road and the token single-track trail or two. This race was a taste of the Shore, marathon-style. And what a flavor it was--since I wasn't familiar with the course, it was always a thrill to roll onto a bridge and wonder whether it would end in a ramp or a drop-off. There were a few times during the race when I thought about the other racers on their plush suspension bikes—but my Voodoo Sobo, with its scandium frame and amazing Fox F80 Terra Logic fork, held up superbly on a course where other hardtails feared to tread. I didn't notice any other women racing hardtails at the event, and I only spotted a few men riding them. Most riders were sporting 3-4 inches of travel. Certainly this course was geared to the travel-minded, but the Voodoo proved it could hang with the heavies.

I learned at the awards ceremony that among the 150 or so competitors (mostly riders from Vancouver or BC), no one in the race, which included Olympians and World Cup competitors, managed to clean the whole course. This race was challenging, and quite a challenge for me for my first time back in the racing saddle. But mountain bike racecourses should be challenging—I wish there were more courses in the U.S. built like this one. The trails around Mount Seymour were well engineered, remarkable in their diversity, and in a few places, quite technical. Ned's Atomic Dustbin and Bottle Top were super fun—but by the time I hit some of the more technical descents, my body was so beat up from riding for hours and absorbing the chatter of the trail that I couldn't appreciate them as much as I would have during a more leisurely ride. At the time, I was far more concerned with just getting down the trail without having parts of my tired body drop off from the constant jolts. I'm happy to say, though, that I remain in one piece.

Thanks 2 tha Core to the North Shore Credit Union for sponsoring the event, which was part of the NSCU World Mountain Bike Festival & Conference. - Angela

Jason Tullous came out of retirement today at the Norba Marathon in Aspen, CO on his Canzo FS. Check back for his report.