Alexander Take 2

A little inspiration from the fridge.

It was a little after 1pm when Courtney dropped me back off at the Sweet Shop. As I re-packed my seatbag to head out, it stopped raining. I left every layer of clothing on anyway, just in case. I was hoping never to be cold again. I would say I was hoping never to be wet again, but I still had the water crossing in front of me so I went for warmth instead of dryness.

I was hoping to make it to Lansing, 87 miles away. It would be my only chance of a hotel before mile 195. I had a bivy and a liner, but I figured after the cold morning they might not be enough. I made decent time to Harmony, despite some of the freshest gravel ever. (I actually rode by the grading machine.) As I re-stocked on snacks, the cashier mentioned some guys on bikes were here when she started her shift at 1:30. It was 3:45.

I rode away hopeful some of them might stop in Mabel so I could catch up. I passed through Mabel since I still had plenty of water and entered the land of State Line Rd. As I rode along, cursing the wind every time I turned east onto State Line, I realized I was literally riding on the edge of more rain. If I turned north, I rode into sprinkles. If I turned south, I rode into sun. When I rode east, I rode right down the middle, skirting the rain. Somehow, this made the wind seem bearable.

The time passed quickly as I amused myself with this realization and around mile 90 I discovered I was finally catching someone on a bike. As I got closer, I noticed the familiar yellow bag on the handlebars. Ian! Fitting that I would catch up to him first, since he was the one who, in no uncertain terms, told me I'd better get my ass back out here.

Ian and I rode together for the next 25 or 30 miles. We passed Craig and Don at mile 103 where they stopped to bivy. The next 10 or so miles were the most beautiful of the trip. As the sun set, we headed down Irish Hollow Rd. Five miles of downhill later, I was still trying to convince both of us that since Lansing was on the river, maybe, just maybe, we might not have to ride back UP today.

I was wrong.

At some point in the next few miles, we turned onto a road with Hill in the name. I knew we were doomed. At first we rode up together, but eventually we each needed our own pace for what seemed like 5 miles of endless up.  When I got to the top it was dark and windy. At one point, I heard what I thought was screaming coming from the trees. I reluctantly kept riding, eventually turning the corner to discover a windmill screeching in the night.

Around 10:30 I arrived in Lansing and discovered that one hotel was full and another was not answering their phone. In a bit of a panic and at the advice of the bartender, I left Ian, who wanted to bivy, and went in search of a bed and breakfast. At nearly 11pm I rang the doorbell. Frank reluctantly opened the door. I figured I had a short window in which to prove I wasn't crazy so I blurted out the short story of my day and explained that I wasn't sure if I'd make it through the night in my bivy.

Less than an hour later, I was asleep in their only available room, a suite, having showered and dried my clothes in my own in-room dryer. My light was charging. Sam was resting on the porch. Life was good.

Tomorrow would be even better. So glad I kept going.....

Sliver Linings

I'm not really sure where to begin. A person (or at least not a sane one) doesn't just hop on a bike on the morning of a 382 mile bike race and start pedaling. I mean, you actually do sort of just hop on your back at 5am and start pedaling, but that's not really the beginning. I guess the beginning was back on Feb. 11th when I sent Chris this email:

"I got my 3 days off. I'm in for Alexander. Bring on the gravel...."

That was it. Then I all I had to do was just ride my bike a lot. Of course, it snowed for about 2 more months after that so I ended up riding my fat bike a lot, which was probably a good thing, because by the time Sam was all loaded up for Alexander, she ended up weighing about as much as Gracie the MiniMuk.

 Gracie

 Sam

Anyway,  on Friday, I rolled out of the Spring Valley Inn and into town for the 5am start on a fully loaded Sam. (I was happy to discover that my awesome Barking Bear Bagworks framebag can hold 100 oz of drink and 2 whole pizzas). 

I'm just going to fess up right now, because it will come up numerous times, that I was fully under-dressed for the start. You'd think that when I arrived in my shorts to find everyone else in full rain gear, I might have booked it back to the hotel to get mine. Unfortunately, I didn't actually have full rain gear at the hotel because, well, I don't actually own full rain gear.

So, I followed Chris and the rest of the crew out of town in the pouring rain in my shorts and flimsy jacket. (Hey- at least I had my 2 pizzas!) At first we rode in one big bunch, with me in the back. Eventually, I worked my way up to Martin (whose name I thought was Mark until the finish), happy to have a little company for awhile. At some point, I realized I was getting really cold so when Martin made a pit stop, I pulled over to add a layer. I managed to get the warmer clothes out of the bag and get some of them on, but when it came time for the fine-motor skills stuff, I realized my hands were useless. So there, in the middle of the road less than 25 miles in, I had to ask Martin to buckle my helmet. When he was done, he zipped my jacket. When we hopped back on our bikes and headed down the road, I realized I had to use the palm of my hand to shift. I also realized that if this 382 miles was going to happen, I needed to warm up.

Less than 10 miles later, I got my chance. I was riding along, trying to keep Martin in my sights, when my right foot started to feel stuck to my bike. I took a few more pedal strokes and suddenly I was pedaling with my right pedal attached to my shoe, but not to my bike. Over then next 1/2 mile, I ended up putting the pedal back on numerous times, just to have it come off a few pedal strokes later. As other riders caught me, they tried to tighten it down, but to no avail. Eventually, I put the pedal back on the bike and resorted to running the ups and one-legging the flats and downs. (There is video of this out there somewhere) At some point during the 6 miles of this, I realized I was warming up. Every cloud has it's silver lining....

Thankfully, I'd chosen a section with quite a bit of downhill to break my pedal so I made it to Preston with quite a few other riders. We warmed up in the Sweet Shop and I called for a ride. At this point, I figured my race was over so I grabbed my seat bag and started giving things away- hand warmers, garbage bags, my phone number.....

One thing I've learned over the years is that you have to start crazy endeavors such as this with total acceptance of any outcome. If you go in thinking you'll be devastated if you don't finish, you're doomed. So, when Courtney came to pick me up, I was okay with going. As I said goodbye though, Ian said something along the lines of, "Go find a way to get yourself back out here." Then I got in the car and Courtney said, "You know, I have Crank Brothers pedals on my bike." Then I got a text from Big E that said, "Bill has pedals and he'll drive them down."

By the time we got back to the hotel, I walked into Chris's room and said I was going back out there. I told him I'd wait for Bill's pedals and go back to Preston. "There are two pedals on my bike right there," he said. 

Done deal.

We Did This

On Friday morning, probably around 10am, I was waiting for a ride to pick me up in Preston, MN. I was in a coffee shop at mile 39 of the Alexander version of Almanzo. I'd broken a pedal at mile 33 and run/pedaled one-legged to get here. I stood at the counter, giving another rider my phone number, just in case he needed help later in the race. After he wrote it down, I introduced myself. The woman behind the counter, looking shocked, said, "But you don't even know him!"

"That's just how we are," I told her.

I had absolutely no idea how true that was when I said it. I had no idea that in the next few hours, 3 different people, including the race organizer himself,  would offer to loan me pedals. I had no idea that I guy I barely knew would give me a ride to Spring Valley, wait for me to regroup and then return me to Preston. I had no idea how many people would help me ride nearly 400 miles.

At that point, I thought I was calling it quits. I did know, however, that in the few hours previous a guy named Martin had helped me dressed myself in the middle of a downpour so I could keep riding, more than one rider had tried to fix my pedal and some old ladies I didn't know had offered to give me a ride to the nearest bike shop. I figured if there'd been that many good people in my life before 10am, I could trust another rider with my phone number.

A few hours later, with new pedals and dry clothes, I was back on the course. As soon as I started to pedal, my brain started to wander and I realized that this day had already made up for all of the days in my life when I've lost faith in humanity. For all the bad days, it only takes one like this to make me forget, because for every bad person in this world there will always be a Chris Skogen, or a Martin or a Courtney. As I rode along, I wished there could be more people in the world like them.

In the next 40-some hours, I discovered there are. If you had asked me three days ago if I thought I could ride 389 miles and do 262 of it all in one push, I would tell you, "Hell no." In fact, I still don't necessarily want to say "I" rode all that way, because, in fact, it was really "we" who rode all that way. Martin and I in the rain, Ian and I in the amazing first night sunset, Pat and I in the heat of day two, Jonas and Lindsay and I through an entire night. Not to mention the bartender who helped me find a room night one, the bed and breakfast guy who let me in at 11pm, Big E who raced his own race and then came back to wait for me early the next morning.

In the days to come, I will share the stories from my ride, but I wanted to share this part first. If there is one part of the story people read, I hope it is this part, the one says how unbelievably grateful I am to every single person who helped me finish this race. I pushed the pedals, but each of you carried me a little bit of the way. Thank you. 

Fastest Turtle in MN

I can't really complain about the last week since I spent almost 20 hours on my bike. At one point, I left work on a Monday and had ridden over 6 hours by the time I returned on Tuesday. Of course, I arrived on Tuesday sans shower, but hey, I got my rides in.

The highlight of the week was this guy.

Seconds after I snapped this photo I discovered that turtles can, in fact, haul ass toward the pond when they're scared. He was fine with me taking his photo. He just wasn't real thrilled when another biker rode by an inch from his shell.

Other highlights of the week included figuring out how to pee in the middle of Wisconsin farmland without anyone noticing (hopefully), navigating the bike to some new trails without too much traffic (because driving to the trail is highly overrated) and discovering that GU's apparently don't actually expire.

While eating this one after seven hours on the bike, I somehow convinced myself that it not only lasted as long as a Twinkie, but tasted like one too. I have no idea if this is actually true. It just seemed like a good idea when I was hungry enough to eat my own arm.

Although once the gloves are off, I have to admit, my arms are pretty creepy.

Of course, I might have taken this the same day I arrived at work sans shower. It's all starting to run together.

Either way. Ride on, be happy, enjoy the sun!

And More!

Last Thursday it was in the 40's.  I rode in tights and winter boots. On Friday, I swapped those for shorts and short sleeves. I rode to some friend's house for drinks, carrying flip flops and a sundress in my frame bag.

Welcome to spring in Minnesota.

It's hard to convince my brain that it's ok to wear shorts when I'm riding by lakes still filled with ice.

The sun and 70's stayed on Saturday so I ventured into Wisconsin to take advantage of the hillier, better maintained roads. I even escaped the wind while I was there. Of course as soon as I crossed the river back into MN I was given the opportunity to practice riding into a headwind.....for three hours.

I could've sworn I never had the wind at my back, but then does anyone ever really notice when the wind is at her back?

Since it felt like summer, we ended the day by having our first ghetto bonfire of the season, complete with redneck drinks.

Sunday brought more adventures and a lot of bridges. Seven bridge crossings later, I can now say I've conquered my fear of riding across bridges with a side wind.

Since the weather forecast for later in the week is back to 40's and rain, today I decided to adopt my "just one more" attitude again, but this time I was taking advantage of just one more day of sunny and 70. I swapped Sam and her skinny tires out for Chili Uno and her fatter ones and found a place with trails dry enough for some riding.

Of course that didn't keep me from ending up laying in the creek.

Yes, somehow I managed to crash in that tiny little creek. Apparently just because a creek is skinny doesn't mean it's shallow. I attempted to ride confidently across and instead proceeded to flip over the handlebars and into the water.  My feet probably would've stayed drier if I'd just walked across.  The rest of me definitely would've. At least no one saw this act of gracefulness. Well, at least not anyone close enough for me to hear their laughter.

Hopefully tomorrow I can sneak in just one more before the rain hits!

Just A Lot More

Over a month ago, I wrote "Just One More." I was out there nearly every day in the snow, trying to get one last fix before it disappeared.


I probably could've chilled out a little back then, since it's currently dumping snow and Big E is out riding his fat bike. In April.

Of course, the snow has melted and come back numerous times since then. I've heard/seen thundersnow, dropped out of Ragnarok because I wasn't sure my feet were still there and moved out of my apartment because I could no longer get up the driveway.

Thankfully Big E has 4WD and a basement to store my stuff.

I've decided I should just accept the fact that my stuff will continue to end up in storage units, basements, the back of my van..... Perhaps I just wasn't meant to live in peace in a normal apartment or house for too long.  My old climbing buddies would say, "Once a groveller, always a groveller." At least Big E lets me sleep in the bed so I don't have to couch surf like back in the climbing days.

Of course, other things have changed since the old climbing bum days as well. For instance, somehow between Big E and I we own what appears to be 500 hangers. I have no idea how this happened. I mean, the fact that we probably own over 50 bottles of liquor between us makes sense, but 500 hangers for a couple of dirty bikers is completely baffling.

Of course, the fact that neither of us owns a dresser may have something to do with this.

We also have numerous jars of pickles. Big E keeps me amused at night by proving that the ones with the 2010 expiration date are still good.

I've learned to check all expiration dates before I eat anything in his house. I think there might be some canned goods older than me. At least we won't go hungry, since we currently have two refrigerators full of food.

We probably won't go sober long either by the looks of the liquor closet.....

80 miles and 40 pounds of Fun!

I'm still not sure what exactly to say about what happened on Saturday...except perhaps it was a good thing Big E installed some fenders on Gracie?

I'd like to say I knew what I was getting myself into, but honestly nothing I've done had really prepared me for riding a (at best guess) 40 pound bike for over 80 miles. The only way I can describe it is this- even during the 50 mile ultramarathon or last summer's nearly 300 miles of Gravel Conspiracy, there were moments when it felt easy for awhile. You know, you're cruising along, thinking could win this thing.....and then reality slaps you in the face and you crap your pants....or get lost....or imagine you're being stalked by a wolf. 

Well, riding a fat bike for 80 miles is nothing like that. It never feels easy. Even mile one felt sluggish, although it probably would've been a heck of a lot easier if I hadn't missed the start because I was putting chamois cream on my ass.

I've had nightmares about missing starts for years. It finally happens and it's not because I overslept. It's because I decided the skin on my hiney was more important than starting with everyone else.

In case you're wondering, yes, I actually debated this. For about 10 seconds. Then I decided I'd like to be able to sit down in the next week.

So, anyway, back to these 80ish miles. Long story short- there was ice, there was mud and there was tons of FUN. This is mostly because I met up with The Girlfriends J at the halfway point and they provided constant entertainment for the next 40 miles. They tried to talk me into some lame "we all finish together" bullshit with 10 miles to go.

Whatever. I don't do that crap. With a quarter mile left I saw one of my favorite peeps, JIMAY!!!, manning the finish line and forced them into a sprint. At least it felt like a sprint to us. We probably managed to go all of about 12 miles an hour. Unfortunately, the finish line was crooked so I was forced to take 2nd, which was not really 2nd because at that point we were in nearly last place anyway. This is what I get for trying to race two guys who'd been clearly waiting for me at every stop sign for the last 15 miles.

Quite frankly, I'm lucky old Gracie even managed to make it to the line at all, because really how did this part even keep turning?

And my front derailleur? Well, it had already taken to shifting when it chose, so I was just hoping it didn't decide to shift into the small ring mid-sprint.

Poor Jimay thought we were all just going to blow right by the finish and not stop to chat. What he didn't know was, by then, stopping had become a bit of a challenge.

So- all in all, an awesome day on the bikes in the mud. Thanks to Sarge for putting on an awesome L-M-L race! (Some of the best tulip notes ever!)

Of course thanks to Big E too, for saving my face and butt and back from being covered in mud....and for letting me clean Gracie in your basement. Sorry about that pile of gravel......