Author: Bill

I have this idea to describe an adventure in a personal ad type of way because during said adventure my thoughts drifted to so many friends and wishing they were present so that I could say, “Wow, isn’t that gorgeous”. Or, “what do you think? should we continue over that ridge”? So for a week I have been wondering what those acronyms really meant so I could title my blog post. Then this morning I was “gently” prodded to post something about last weekend. Plus this will be my only serious attempt at a personal ad. So here it goes

Category: SOLO

Title: Two is a crowd

Body: I am a winey, overly concerned, nervous in a crowd type guy. Not all high maintenance. In fact I feel my best when I can “do it myself” or “self sustained”, sometimes called “self supported”. I love my solitude, mostly, but there are those paths you take in life where it is much richer with someone. Do you love your solitude but can fit in a weekend frolic? I train alone and I think that is my solitude. At times I need to vent about the “day job” but mostly I am outside enjoying the earth in places where I am far from crowds. In the woods mostly.

But after our initial “passionate” phase and we exit the “public groping” days we will do as every couple has done since the dawn of feelings. We will start to find out compatibility. So lets just start there, cut to the slipstream so to speak.

Are you still reading this? Ok, I shall continue …

To me a “life adventure” companion, sometimes referred to as relationship, some call it a “situation”, has these qualities.

Would you mind weekends that instead of relaxing can be so complex, busy, and chaotic? And you wouldn’t mind “planning” on leaving town after I get off work but being so disorganized that in reality we barely get out of town before the sun sets. Driving further then the normal person and putting up a tent in the dark.

How about waking up near canyon walls and a raging river. Nature so loud that we can not sleep in. Then as the sun creeps down the canyon walls discussions erupt on where we will find the next pastry / coffee shop where then I start “hinting” that we should get going so I can make race registration.

Even though I talk a good game I stop to take photos and bask in the beautiful morning scenery. Now it is time for you to to remind me that there is a race today so we better keep hustling down the road.

Do you have time to slip in a mountain bike race here and there so I can “blow out the pipes” and try to impress, inspire, and show my affection by winning races for you. Sounds sick I know … but I think it is noble. Can you put up with that kind of tacky behavior? Do you mind hanging with someone who makes a non gluten bun out of potatoes salad for the free hot dog served at some races? You must be patient because I am usually involved in some kind of award exchange. So bring a good chair.

And when I don’t win, can you put up with statements like “I suck” and “This is my last race” for many hours. You must know that adventure heals the wounded and prod me to take “the long way home”.  And then there is the “slow poking” on the “long way home” to make the trip even longer then necessary.

Did I mention that some “stops” involve hiking away from the car to go see that “cool thing“? Oh yea, if you want to just get home then forget it. This will drive you crazy. Do you appreciate  a diverse route planning schemes while returning home “the long way”along the way?

Are you still reading this? Ok, I shall continue …

Ok, then maybe I will get into the hardest things you would have to put up with. More driving to exhaustion and more night time tent popping. Add to that with my sudden need to bring electronics into the tent so I can “try” to finish reading a friends book draft. Ill just fall asleep though so I am hoping my companion doesn’t give in for the desire to toss the thing out the tent door. Big bonus if you do this too.  I am understanding too because I know you have every right to be pissed when I wake you EARLY to see “some elk standing right over there”.  Yea, so expect a interrupted lifestyle at times.

That brings me to endurance. You cant be surprised when I proudly announce that today, a day after a big race, that I am “riding for a minimum of 6 hours”.  It is optional to go with, just act like it is some kind of big deal.

If you want to go along there are bonuses. You should feel comfortable half-baking route ideas. And those ideas must be completely insane. Turning around and not obtaining goals is optional.  Just realize I tend to continue just a “tad” further then most people would feel comfortable.

Maybe even just a few miles further to ensure “being in trouble” and “if I don’t turn around now might result in a serious situation” starts popping into our heads. But that is if you go. Like I said I am perfectly happy to go on a solitary adventure, just be prepared for a somewhat long wait. Would you mind having a sheet of emergency numbers handy so just in case … ?

Damn are you still reading this? Ok, I shall continue …

When the weather turns to crap would you mind continuing … enthusiastically? You are encouraged to become comfortable with the “slog”  How do you feel about snow slogging for 4 hours?

You should feel “OK” when we encounter a trail sign and embark suddenly to “see what’s up there”.

How are you at making excuses for extended adventure like “to warm up a little” or “raise my body temperature so I don’t pass out while riding in freezing rain”?

I can say that I do know when it is time to turn around. Even when the trail looks so delicious that to tear away from it’s engaging adventure is like ripping my heart out and kicking it off the ridge. I can turn around. Specially when we have climbed 1,500 feet in 40 minutes and the body temperature is STILL dropping.

I hope your stout … the ride down finishes most.

Can you open locked doors without the use of your fingers combined with hypothermia convulsions. Some guys, I have heard anyway, like women that can do exotic things … um … “things”. You know.  But not me.  If you can unlock the car, take down a tent in a down pour, and pack two bikes without the feeling in your extremities all while shivering uncontrollably … well, I think is very sexy.

It is not all hardships. After helping to save my life you can sit back and enjoy 6 hours of driving through some of thee most beautify country side one can find. We could knock off the drive in 4 without stopping, but that comes to my final requirement. Every town has something cool in it. Every town has a place with “snacks” and free Wi-Fi. So how are you with town-hoping back home that after a while seems like a entire vacation in itself. Point being, don’t expect to be home until midnight mostly.

Do you like packing a lifetime of adventure into a weekend. Call me. I am looking for a Single Outdoor Loving Ochlophobist.

I went on a ride today I call “The Bitter“. Its close to a 45 mile loop and with some extra logistics could be the grounds for a underground race. Well, one can scheme … right?

The loop is some of my favorite trails but early morning things did not look good. I had no energy today. I was able to venture out to City Brew  but soon the scones and coffee wore off and I was asleep on the couch. I had to go to the Red Barn in Hamilton to get my shifter looked at and my front wheel fixed. After 138 miles the front wheel to my cross bike had a bad case of stink bearing and loose spokes. Tomorrow is my 6 hour pace simulation so I had to get going or risk not making it to Hamilton before Chad left. I struck out early mid afternoon.

On the way I came up with todays adventure / challenge.  I really wanted to do the Lake Como Loop but that alone was not long enough. I couldn’t wait to be hanging in the mountains and lakes.  I have done the Lake Como Loop and the Coyote Coolie Loop before in fact they are my favorites. One time my friend Larry and I did both in one day with a stop in between for a buffalo burger. But that took all day. I figured that if I could ride from Red Barn, do the Como Loop, traverse over to the Coyote Coolie Loop, and then get back to the barn in 3 hours that would be impressive.

I arrived and Chad was not around so I had no one to boast about my grand scheme. For this to work I needed to tell someone and that in turn would make me responsible for following through with my big idea. But on the way down the gravel road to Darby I ran into Chad. We chatted about doing the Tour Divide since what I was doing greatly resembled some of its dirt road sections.  I love traveling along dirt roads, specially when they lead to sweet single-track.

great country side

It was suggested that 5 hours was the expected time and I held firm to my 3 hour idea and took off towards lake Como with the challenge firmly in place. Somewhere halfway around the Lake I totally forgot I was doing a mock race pace. I pulled out my camera which has not seen any action lately. I snapped off a few shots but nothing real cool. I guess I lost my touch. The loop around the lake was beautiful and the trail itself astonishingly fun. It is a technical trail but so much fun. I am contemplating going back tomorrow for my 6 hours of solo pacing.

From that loop I headed over to Coyote Coolie trail. But before I set my wheels onto some for the best single-track in the Root I had a mountain pass to get over. I climbed very well and was greeted with such a great view of some Bitterroot mountains. I arrived and started my way around the Coyote Coolie trail. Half way around I hit a trail that was suggested by Chad and I bombed out into some of the most beautiful country side I have seen in a while. I started to wish I could live in the Bitterroot. I think I will have to put some effort into this.

I arrived at Red Barn at about 3:20 so it was a pretty decent time. I did stop to chat about doing the Tour Divide with a couple dudes and stopped often to take some photos.  The photos didn’t turn out but the memory remains.

The 2011 edition kicked off with me not exactly at my sharpest. Pre-race jitters? Check. Eating a whole pound of toffee-covered peanuts at midnight? Also check. Why? Well, because sometimes the brain doesn’t quite catch up with what the stomach can handle.

So there I was at 1 a.m., trying to cobble together what I thought were “correct” directions to the race for my buddy, while practically sleepwalking. We made a pit stop for coffee, and of course, I thought it was a brilliant idea to add a mountain of candy and trail mix to the mix. Come morning, my stomach was staging a full-blown revolt, complete with cramps and sharp pains. Our remedy? A quick dash to town for the greasiest bacon and strongest coffee we could find. Unbeknownst to me, this combo was about to become my secret weapon.

There I was at the start line, fifteen rows back, wondering if the cramps would hit me like a freight train if I pushed too hard. My starting position? Terrible. Stuck on the far side, a direct bee-line forward would have me plowing right into the scaffolding. So, I just shuffled forward, wondering what the day would bring.

The pros sauntered off the start line with elegance, while us mere mortals in the cat 1 group prepped for the chaos. Last minute, I shot a hopeful glance at the official, half-joking about needing a sudden upgrade. Remembering last year’s crash fest, I took a deep breath. Then the gun sounded. I surged forward, tackling the trail in bite-sized chunks—pass five, recover, and repeat.

By the time we hit the long climb to the course’s main feature, only three riders were ahead of me. I managed to pull alongside the race leader just before we dove into the main attraction: a downhill section, like a dirt luge, full of banked corners begging for a full-speed attack and a few well-timed “yee-haas!” My rival wobbled in the sand, and I filed that away as a prime spot to make my move next round.

Suddenly, I was leading the pack. “What age group are you?” came a shout from behind as I pedaled furiously away.

“45… I’m a grandpa,” I shouted back, grinning.

On the next lap, I mulled over just how fast I wanted to chase the pros. There’s always a temptation to steamroll over everyone in your path, isn’t there? But then, cruising behind a couple of pros, I relaxed into the pace, even letting one pull ahead as I drifted into memories of last season.

The fishermen were up with the dawn, meticulously fine-tuning the drag on their reels, while the sun gently kissed the very tops of the hills surrounding Riggins, Idaho. Zzzzzzz. Zzzzzzz. But wait a minute! Why would fisher folks be up at the crack of dawn, pulling line out of their reels with such gusto, creating that unmistakable zzzzzzz sound?

Ross sat bolt upright, and I felt the need to demystify the source of our morning symphony. “This lube is the real deal. Can you believe this chain is still slick after 50 miles in the desert?” I nudged the chain forward to tend to another section. Zzzzzzz. The freehub hummed a melody akin to a cyclist coasting down a hill, then fell silent.

“This morning, I stepped outside, and the first thing that caught my eye,” I said, flinging the window open to reveal a hillside cradled by a trail snaking up the ridge. “Just feast your eyes on that trail.”

Oh boy, what a whirlwind of a Friday! Punched out of work at the stroke of 2 but didn’t manage to flee town till about 4. Ross and I bid adieu to Lolo around 5, only to crash into our beds at the ungodly hour of 1:40 AM on Saturday. Not exactly what you’d call a masterclass in race prep, huh?

To add to my list of questionable life choices, I was harboring a gut bomb of some peanut-infused trail mix that I was positively certain would come back to haunt me at dawn.

And haunt me it did. The next morning’s “issues” led me on a pilgrimage to Melba for what I hoped would be a magical trio: bacon, sausage, and a triumvirate of coffee cups aimed at… let’s say, easing the situation. Little did I know, I was on the brink of discovering my next big pre-race secret weapon. Armed with nothing but grease and caffeine coursing through my veins, I left my competition in the dust. Honestly, it was my best showing since the infamous Rolling Thunder.

As we were driving away from the adrenaline-pumped scene at Barking Spider, Ross hit me with, “You must feel pretty good about today’s outcome,”

“Well, of course… but,” I trailed off, my mind racing back through the day’s escapades. Let’s tally it up: started in something like 70th place, made a beeline to the front, and then zoomed off to outpace the pro field by a cool 3 minutes. The whole affair was nothing short of astounding, and it hadn’t really fully sunk in yet.

“I’d trade it all in a heartbeat to get back what I’ve lost,” I murmured, my voice tapering into a mumble as I braced myself for the impending need to elaborate. Ross, bless him, stayed silent. Just like my pals back in Plattsburgh, NY, came to realize, I wasn’t racing solo today – brought my demons along for the ride.

The wind makes such an eerie sound when it passes through power lines at high speeds. It’s my favorite sound when I am climbing University Mountain. But to hear it while pedaling my bike was unsettling. Also unsettling was the fact I had just ran out of Carbo Rocket and my speed was dropping below 12 mph. I glanced up the road as another 40 mph gust of wind hit my face to see the lead group much smaller then before. When we turned into the wind they were “just right there”.

Struggling against the winds I thought to myself, “wow, I am going like … 40 miles and hour”. I was trying to candy coat the fact that I had been dropped and now was struggling off the back of the 2011 Speedwagon Classic break. Now all I could hope for was to stay way and not get caught by the peloton.

Earlier in the day when Chad picked me up it was raining and I had a shit eating grin on my face. Today was going to be epic. Driving rain on dirt roads … can you say slog … with a hellacious climb near the end. Anyone who would make it that far would be totally wrecked. I couldn’t wait to get it on. As we pulled into the race host parking lot it was still raining and the ground so saturated that tire tracks from other cars looked more like tiny little grand canyons.

Then racers started pulling in and yanking bikes off of racks. But it was apparent there was a big decision taking place between Matt the organizer and someone in a red pickup truck who obviously just drove the upper part of the new course. We learned that Matt pulled the plug on the new upper part of the course in the mountains because the trucks putting up the signs couldn’t even drive the roads. So the Speedwagon for 2011 was shortened to a multi lap which included some great muddy terrain with one little climb that put the hurt in the legs.

The race started with the usual frolics and road racing tactics. I think they were tactics but how would I know. There was the occasional “car up” meaning there was an oncoming vehicle. Hand gestures for road obstacles were furious due to the bad road conditions at times. One place there was running water over the road. Then I heard a “Shetland pony” from team mate Corey.

Half way around the first lap we ran into a long muddy road section. There were places that resembled quick sand where you would be riding about 30 mph and suddenly be slowed to 7. And then suddenly there was just 6 of us all alone way out front. By the time we hit pavement the entire field was no where to be seen. I just tried to hang on until eventually I would be dropped. Previously I just wanted to get in a hard 20 minutes then just sit in and relax and have fun. The group was fast and I had to dig deep just to keep with them.

I searched my mind for excuses to slow down and voluntarily get dropped. Then I saw an opportunity. My front wheel skewer was only half way clamped down. It stuck out and meant that my front wheel could fall off. Ah ha. I had a excuse to stop. I could blame it on my “safety stop”. I announced that my skewer was loose and waited for the best time to slow down to try a fix while moving slower. Then I would try to catch up but as everyone knows would be impossible to bridge up to a group of 5 working to break each other.

“Hey everyone”, Matt yelled up to the group. “Wanna stop and let Bill fix his front wheel?”

“Yea, no problem”

And they all just stopped. What an honor I thought to have the entire break group stop so I could fix my wheel. So we called the race off for a couple minutes. That was so cool. Then we were off again and onto the second climb to start our 3rd and final loop. The group attacked the hill and I laid back and just powered ever so softly back to them near the top. I was finding some great sustained power as long as I didn’t go to hard. Going hard was just a waist of energy. All extra energy would just make you sink in more and slow. I kept it powerful but light. Then Alex dropped off the back.

As we approached a well maintained highway I looked back hoping maybe Alex would show some signs of wanting to catch up. Didn’t look good for him and by the time I looked back the group got a 10 foot gap. I thought “no problem” and tried to carry more speed through the corner. But the little gap grew as we headed directly into the wind. I no longer wanted to get dropped but was torn between powering back to the group and risk going too hard and going harder but steadily catch back up. By the time I realized I needed to go hard or die it was too late. They were gone.

Now I was here on the straight section of road with a howling 40 mph wind in my face going 12 … 11 … 10 … 7 mph. I was struggling. I looked back frequently to see if the group would catch me or even Alex who is very strong and could have a second wind. I saw no one every time I looked back. One time I was just starring at the ground and struggling. I would look up and be totally on the left side of the road. I snapped back to the right. I must keep it together. Then I saw it. A arrow … the arrow. To turn right and finish on top of the hill.

I never been so happy to see a hill in my life. A hill is WAY better then the wind. I seemed to find some new power and could see the lead pack start attacking each other. I stood up to power ahead. Maybe I could catch a straggler. Then my chain fell off. I sat back down and fiddled with my shifter. “What the f&$^”. My bottom bracket was coming apart. So the rest of the way up the climb it seemed to me that every stroke was a blessing. A blessing because my chain was NOT broken YET and even though I was making sounds like a hundred marbles being crushed in a meat grinder I was still moving. I was imagining having to run the last 200 yards with a group of cyclists catching me just before I could reach the finish line.

Everything held up and I came across in 5th place. A good solid effort. I waited not to much longer and the rest of the decimated field came through. Chad came up the hill in 11th; then Erik, Julie, then Norman. And finally in dead freaking last Cory. In fact I waited at the finish line so long, one hour and ten minutes, I actually got the “good teammate” award. The caloric festival after is the main reason most of us were there … and of course, each others company. It was like a big ol family reunion. And like good family reunions was a fabulous time.

Thank you Chad for taking me and posting my entry. Also my friend Norman who saved my ass by letting me have some of his Carbo Rocket 333. Also by all the Action Wipe packets laying around on Sicz’s basement floor you know I was presentable and smelled great for the social affair upstairs.

I just received a email from race organizer Matt, “Despite the morning rain and revised course, the Speedwagon started with gusto under dry skies and lived up to expectations. Hearty racers were treated to a challenging combination of soft mud, deep ruts, humbling wind, and searing leg fatigue. It was true Montana bike racing and Julie Zickovich and Shaun Radley were crowned 2011 Speedwagon champions. Of course the event’s real jewel was the post race feast at the Sicz place.

“Thanks to all the racers and the generous volunteers who once again made this event special. I have attached the results and the link below will take you to some photos of the event.”

Matt

And just like that, the joy fizzles out. Every day, it’s like I’m counting down to my next culinary rendezvous—I swear, I live meal to meal. But recently, I’ve put a full stop to all that, only to realize how much my mood’s been hitching a ride on my food habits. Let’s be real: food shouldn’t double as your personal brand of happiness. Sure, it’s a blast to indulge and there’s nothing wrong with savoring a good meal, but living solely for the thrill of the next bite? That’s no way to roll. Time to ditch the feast-or-famine routine and scout out what genuinely makes me happy, sans the sugar coating.

I might be off-base here, but hey, we’re not just wandering through life without a clue. Our brains and bodies are basically our personal petri dishes. Sure, there’s a chance this whole thing could spiral into me swapping one vice for another—hello, blackjack and basement poker nights, or, heaven forbid, something heavier. But, fingers crossed, that’s not on my horizon. With all the running and racing that usually keeps me on my toes, I’ve got enough distractions. Especially now, with a bit of downtime between training cycles, the timing couldn’t be more spot-on.

So, last night at 8, I hit a milestone: a full 24-hour stretch without so much as a crumb making its way past my lips. But why stop there? Now, I’m clocking in at 39 hours and gunning for 60. I’ve danced with 24-hour fasts before, chasing that detox high and giving my body a chance to hit the reset button. And, let me tell you, the buzz around town—about how overeating’s the grim reaper in disguise—might just have a point. The minimalist eaters out there, they’re onto something, living life in the slow lane, longevity-wise. Plus, there’s something almost magical about how the body kicks into repair mode when you ease off the feeding frenzy. A weekend of pushing my limits, followed by strategic refueling, and bam—I’m back, better than ever.

But this new 60-hour gig? It’s more than just a test of will. It’s about digging deeper into the why behind my food fixations, more than the what. A part of me is just curious to see if I’ve got the grit. And through this, I’ve stumbled upon a goldmine of endurance tactics—mastering the art of pacing and keeping a cool head when everything else is a blur. When I emerge on the other side, I’ll ease back into the world of flavors, bit by bit, gearing up for my next training chapter. And who knows? Maybe I’ll finally shake off those late-night cravings for cardamom ice cream.

I have bloggers block but know from experience I must blurt out something. I guess I will go with the old format. What did I do, what am I doing, and what am I going to do. I am searching my mind for something to report but the lack of glucose in my brain prohibits me from synthesizing anything. I haven’t  eaten all day. Yesterday I did. Oh it is coming back to me now. I had fish and chips with a beer at the Hamilton House. I was up all night wrestling with what it did to my super polished Carbo Rocket processor. Now I cant eat … makes me ill.  Damn that social eating.

What does the photo to the right have to do with this story?  Nothing … just did some photos from last month and liked this one. It is of when I rode my Turner around Big Sky for a day.  Super beautiful up there.

So why was I in Victor? Well my buddy and I did a 6 hour fun ride in and around Corvallis to check out the only dry trails in all of Montana. Norm and I hit up Flat Rock, Willow Creek Road, and took a spin up to Calf Creek to see if that was open. It was not.  So after that and the sun came out we headed over to the Hamilton house for some refreshments. It was good.

Well that covers what I did and what I am doing now. This morning on the commute to work I told my friend Lydia that my plan was to fly under the radar today and just try to escape to Tuesday. Well that didn’t happen. Got in trouble at work for letting a client’s domain name expire so I am pretty exposed to life right now. So I guess I will just go home and work out.

BTW: Congrats to my friends who raced this weekend. Zephanie got 12 in the Fontana cross country and 9th in the short track. Then Jill managed to bust out a hundred miles in the mountains of Alaska shaving 5 hours of last years time in the WM100. Damn good job girls …o/o

Good luck to Jill Homer in the White Mountain 100 snow bike race. Here is the beta. I am planning on some sporadic spot watching parties during the next 20 hours. Goooo Jill. Here is the beta.
means Jill is biking …o/o

Beat is going to compete on foot, so his icon is a little runner.

And, if her pace slows to a speed not conducive to bike riding the icon changes to a little bike-pushing aol figure.

• Jill’s tracking page is located at this link
• Beat’s page is at this link
• Race updates and information will be posted here