Hairy Hundred following a Hairy Hiatus.

Greetings, Team Seagal Fans! As you may have noticed, it has been a little while since this internet backwater has shown signs of life. Well, that is, unless you count the comment section of previous posts, in which case it has been full of life in the form of triku's, jenku's, and other depravity regarding certain island-based Asian cultures.A continuation of the comments section of Robort's blog, as it were.

The fact is that the life of the Crotch is a tumultuous, cavalcade of randomocity, failure, hatred, unpreditability and superiority - all rolled into one massively overstuffed burrito of piss and vinegar. To give you an idea of the items that may or may not have taken precedence over authoring the blorg recently include:

• hours upon days upon months applying for government grants in the field of advanced jenkem research, which involve a lot of overseas flights to the country of Zambia, all while drinking beer each night
• developing both a new disdain for most things related to humans and a new alcohol tolerance, the likes of which my body has not seen since college
• inability to get to many (if any) cycling events/races, on account of said races being held on Saturdays 95% of the fucking time, leaving me to do little else but drink after work
• going out for rides from my house, only to be distracted by all the cool shit one finds in the city if they pay attention to anything beyond their own meaningless existence, thus causing my rides to be less intense than usual and more of a sight-seeing mission - and when compounded with a rise in drinking, leads to less desire to attempt to go faster than someone on a race course
• a realization that buying fancy go-fast parts for my bicycles will not make me faster when pitted against an increase in alcohol consumption - thus leading to a reduced desire to feign an attempt at going fast during a race
• General bitterness - both relating to ones attitude towards everything and in the flavor profile of my beer consumption
• questioning the relevance of blogspot, having been told that tumblr is actually where "it" is currently at

This is not to say that there has not been a copious amount of shit happening so far this year  - I just have been a part of very little of it. And I can't very well be an authentic source of badassery if I didn't participate in an event now, could I? I mean, if I were writing a report about the nuances of this year's Cedar Cross (an event which I had very much been wanting to participate in but mistakenly vag'd out at the last minute,) and you knew for a fact that I was actually at home with my thumbs up my ass being a pile of turds, how could you ever believe anything that was said on this site ever again?

There are a lot of things that I had thought about trying to report, but having not been there it didn't seem morally right. Things such as Titty saving some brochacho's life in the aftermath of Syllamo's Revenge only to have his karma repaid by having the Vangina (otherwise known as the 'Stro) break its ass down - all while Jerkward and company were performing a "2010 Crotch Special" by failing to make the turn at Cabool, MO on the return trip home. Things such as the torrential monsoon that was delivered by an angry Energor at the Lost Valley Luau, leaving everyone to wonder if rain will ever not threaten this fucking awesome race. Things such as our very own t'aint-slayer Nad Snurb at the Missouri State Singlespeed Championships in St. Joseph State Park:

Things such as Sasha herself, of Team Seagal fame getting featured some tiny regional rag known as the New York Times while riding the Dirty Kanzaa: CLICK HERE FOR NYT VIDEO!

Things such as the OGRE, which involved a lot of massive Missouri Hills, and was handled nicely by a lot of St. Louis Crew.
And Things such as the new Tour of Hermann ride/race/gravel grinder, and event in which I actually did participate a couple of months ago, however the same day I sat down to write a little Coach-style report on the ride, that whole Boston Marathon bombing happened and I would have felt like an even bigger asshole than I normally do if I wrote a jerky report while the nation was grieving.


So here I sit, drinking a Mother's IPA (available in Potosi) , and recovering from only the second (or is it third?) out-of-town event that I have done this year - The Inaugural Hairy Hundred, put on by a couple of well-known dudes from Columbia - as I like to think of them, the "Best Johnson Duo" - Mike Best and Josh Johnson. I'm sure you're familiar - one of them makes frames, and they both make lesser mortals weep uncontrollably on the CX/MTB course. They called it the "Hairy Hundred" and I figured that since I'm so hairy that I'm often mistaken for a Bosnian woman, it would be a natural environment for me.  And since you can't spell "saturday" without "turd," I prepared my Kona Major one (read: lubed the chain) for a long day in the saddle in Howard County. The Leadbelt XC race was also happening (as mentioned earlier) yet I opted for the longer saddle time on account of my inability to get it otherwise.

I drove to Boonville for a brief stay at the Days Inn, and upon waking up the next morning, I ate some shitty food and lined up. On one hand, I was kind of hoping for a mechanical so I could get a chance to use my new multi-tool, the Crank Brothers "Pica+" which managed to actually improve on my up-til-now favorite multi-tool of all time, the Crank brothers multi-17. I probably wouldn't have bothered to purchase this new tool had I not lost my old one to the trail gods at Lost Valley. I changed a flat tire and failed to fully zip my saddle bag, and my beloved rusty 12 year old tool was lost forever. It doesn't owe me anything. Then I saw the Pica tool, which has every tool I want/need on a multi-tool, just like the multi-17, but this one is made with rust-resistance stainless steel! Also, all the tools have indented pivot points that click tools into place. It is a smoother, more rounded tool, and I was unable to find a reason to use it this past saturday. Must be because of my superior mechanical skills when prepping the race 'wheel. But this new awesome tool has me wondering, how can Crank Brothers make such a perfect multi-tool, and yet make piles of turd when it comes to pedals, wheels, seatposts, and especially pedals. (ie. everything else.) Man those pedals suck. Just ask anyone who has had them fall off while riding. "But Coach, I've never had a problem with my Candy's! I love them! They're the best pedals ever!" To that I would say "GTF, and purchase some SPD's, otherwise known as "The Clipless Pedal Promised Land."

This has me wondering, which pedals would I least like to use, Crank Brothers, or Frogs? Kinda of like trying to decide whether to cruise Grant's Trail on a Softride or on a Cruzbike conversion.

Pulling into Rocheport and toeing the line, I soon realized that this was in fact not a ride just for hairy Bosnian women like myself, but rather it was mostly populated with shaved, nubile twinks that were ready to snap my wrists into submission. No matter, I was already there, so I might as well get totally ripped. It was looking to be a good day, however I had a slight sense of uneasiness at the thought of having not partaken in my morning constitutional. I had engaged in heavy trench warfare with the toilet the previous night just before going to bed, and emerged victorious in a landslide (or mudslide, if you will) victory. I thought that it would hold me over. So I started the ride out with a little more ballast than I probably should have.

The roads were in great shape, with some surprise rain overnight having done little else beside keep the dust down. The hills were not quite as tall and steep as those that had been experienced at the Tour of Hermann, however they were came with enough rapid succession that my legs were in bad shape by the time I hit the town of Glasgow, the roughly half-way point. While riding for miles on end without headphones, you have plenty of time to think, and learn. For example, one thing I learned while riding these roads was that this is Budweiser country. This knowledge is solely based on the number and consistency of Bud/Bud Light/Busch cans and six-pack holders tossed out the window to the side of the road. They were almost as numerous as lives wasted at a Gathering of the Juggalos.

Reaching the halfway checkpoint in Glasgow, I was forced to come to terms with the arrival of a logjam that had broken free upstream, and finally had made it's way to the dam, otherwise known as my b-hole. If I didn't let it go under controlled conditions, there could be an uncontrolled breech of the dam. I was sure to find my way to the top of the hills a little more easily now.

Based on the elevation profile, the course would eventually drop down to the river bottoms and flat farm land, which proved to be a mixed blessing. The gravel on the first 10-ish miles was bah-rutal. This particular gravel, much like the boy in Criss Angel's cellar, had been very recently laid. It was rough going, hard to find a good line. I was more than a little jealous of Maria of Team Noah and the fat tires she had on her mountain bike at this point. Fortunately, this suffering paid off with a long stretch of flat of pavement, and just a hint of a tailwind to soothe my pummeled t'aint. Had I remembered that our very own Roland Sallinger, AKA Skeez-master Scooter was assaulting the Lumberjack 100 at the same time, I would have had to tell myself to sack-up and remember that I am not actually feeling that much pain, compared to him.

But, my legs were waning. Though, much like the burn-mark on the ground from the CXmas bonfire 7 months ago, they were still there. A few more miles of hills to crest before getting flushed out onto the Katy Trail and I'd be home free. Those last few hills nearly did me in, despite not being very big. Once on the Katy for the final stretch home, I happened upon another dude whom I never get to speak to any longer, Kevin Bonney who wasn't enjoying life too much, partly from having been out of water for some time. I had restocked my Camelbak at the last gas station, and had plenty of water to give. Then we came up on ANOTHER dude who was just sitting there in the shade. He asked, in a beat-down kind of voice if we had any water, so I gave him a bunch as well. Wasn't long to go at this point! Another few minutes, and we found ourselves reaching the land of milk, honey, BBBQ, and beer. Oooooweee!

Later that night, having soothed my t'aint and fully-snapped wrists at home, I was fortunate to have the opportunity to introduce Nico to this video:

Thanks to Josh Johnson, Mike Best, and all the other volunteers, particularly the Rocheport Bike and BBQ for providing a place to engage in such activities.

Now, what kind of post would this be without updating everyone on the latest gossip. This little tidbit is a juicy one, too. Our lovably quirky buddy, Ben G (seen here) has recently gone and gotten himself a singlespeed, via the converting-his-old-bike-method. After having experienced it for the first time, he responded by saying "I am alive once again! It was awesome. So awesome. I don't think I ever experienced that much awesomeness on two wheels. I have switched sides. Forever and ever. I swear my first born over to you in gratitude." Nice work, you fucking jerk!

On another note, I feel it our duty (hehe, doodie) to share with you a particularly amazing short film, starring the one and only. I give you, Sheep Impact:

You're welcome.

While you're at it, educate yourself with this website, for it should be viewed as a Seagal Bible of sorts:
Every Steven Seagal Movie Ever Made. I think this website is best summed up in the FAQ's, where the proprietor answers the question "Why does your blog suck so much balls?" with a simple "Because fuck you, that's why." I literally could not have said it better, myself. It is your duty to pour through its content.

Again, you're welcome.


I leave you with a new tri-ku:

I train with power
Despite my beer belly
"Age group finisher"

-Casey F. Ryback, The Unflushable Turd

Monty's Revenge Update

http://montysrevengeride.blogspot.com/

Achtung! Atencion! ATTENTION! Fec-Kar is Cancelled! (For now)

You there! Listen up! If you had planned on embarking on this manly ride on Sunday, the Fec-Kar, then rest easy.

Much like the pressure that has been building all day ending up in a massive shit, you should be breathing a sigh of relief. On account of almost guaranteed rain, very few people who were definitely showing, and (by design) no provisions for a broom wagon or sag support of any kind, continuing with this super burly ride could actually lead to some problems. The projected 50-60 degrees could be super awesome all day in the sun... but... those same temperatures in the rain would be more miserable than having that one dumbass dump his huge beer all over you while he's is foolishly standing at the edge of the mosh pit. (Why the fuck do people do that?)

So in the interest of not sending people out on a death-march, stand down, get your bike m0ar dialed-in, and study those maps more closely. And stay tuned, as this ride is too badass to not reschedule. No word yet on when that will be, but to help temper yourself, you had better start taking a belt-sander to your t'aint now to get that callous nicely grown in.

In the meantime, I think that Simpsons were channeling Slayer here:




On Behalf of Pizz0rThyme,
-Casey F. Ryback

Gather round you FeC-Kars

The day has come. Here are the routes for the FeC-Kar 110 and the Lil FeC-Kar 70.

JPEG VERSIONS:

FeC-Kar 100 Map

Lil FeC-Kar 70 Map

100 and 70 Supplement Map

PDF VERSIONS if you'd rather have them:
-hosted at a possibly sketchy upload service. It was free... Anyway don't click on anything except the "Free" button on the first page, once it's enabled, and the black "download" button on the next page. And have your pop-up blockers on too. Otherwise your dirty japanese businessman-schoolgirl spanking porn on your computer will meld with the link you just clicked to destroy your computer. Such a scenario may or may not have been tested already.

FeC-Kar 100 Map

Lil FeC-Kar 70 Map

100 and 70 Supplement Map

I know most of you are as excited as Criss Angel at his first day as the school bus driver for an all boys parochial school. For those of you who feel more like the boy whose stop is the last one on the way home on that bus, don't worry the FeC-Kar is guaranteed to be the most fun you've had on a bike (guarantee not valid for any bike riding occurring in the state of missouri).

It still looks very likely to be raining most of the day on Sunday, but I'm still camping overnight from Saturday so I will be there at the boat launch parking lot Sunday morning. At that time we can see who shows up. Truthfully if it's only a handful of people the non-race is off. I will give those there some instructions and that will be it. No scoring. No water drops. If a bunch of people are there the FeC-Kar is on and we'll say "FeC-K you" to the rain.

-Gino "the FeC-Kar" Felino

FeC-Kar Update Numero Deuce

Here's another update as the day gets closer...

Non-Race

From what it sounds like I'm not sure how many will be doing the 110 route (you should. it's the best of the two), but for those looking to non-race this is the only option.

I mentioned needing a camera in the earlier post. If you choose to non-race you will be required to take pics along the route to serve as checkpoints. You will then need to show those pics to me at the finish. All of the pic spots will be marked on the map. So take with you whatever you want to use and carry. Most of the pics should be takeable while barely slowing down, much less stopping. Team Seagal assumes no liability for your inability to take a picture while riding. Any falls that may occur are, while hilarious, entirely your own fault. If someone gets a picture of you falling we will reward the picture-taker appropriately.

Maps

Maps of the course will appear on this website on Friday morning for your viewing and printing.

Water

Just a reminder that you need to be largely responsible for your own water. I will have 4 water jugs on course at two spots, but since we don't know how many riders/non-racers there will be I wouldn't count on them for most of your water, but you probably don't need to look this guy:

***Also this time of year the water is normally off at Council Bluff campground so you need to bring all of your water with you.***

The forecast is currently calling for rain on Sunday. I might cancel the FeC-Kar (or reschedule) if the weather turns really bad. Rain alone will not cancel it. The weather looks great Friday and Saturday so lets hope it persists into Sunday.

DBH and Teh Fec-Ker

Greetings, Team Seagal Aficionados. It happened again - no, not the moist bed thing, I'm talkin' about The Death By Hills ride. Despite the biggest snowstorm in two years happening just a few days prior, we were able to complete a most heinous route, from which we will build copious amounts of muscle and endurance capacity. Holy shit.

The route was the same, and as usual, only a few knew where they were going. Many people showed up, despite the morning temperatures being just like I like my women: in the teens. That didn't stop a ton of wrist-snapping experts to saddle up early and actually ride TO the ride, a la Pete Goode, who also was there, having rode there. I mean, you wanna talk about iron t'aints, anyone who rode to the ride with the intentions of doing the whole thing has a t'aint that is so hardened, it must have been forged in Satan's red hot b-hole. Hell, perhaps their t'aints were made of titanium. T'aintanium, if you will.

The rest of us mere mortals showed up in our vehicles carrying our bikes. Justin White, in a classic move, showed up after something like a 12 hour all-night shift. He doesn't give a fuck. Another such mortal was good ole' Jimmy Bacon, who had the balls to show up to a Seagal ride on a tri-bike. I know I know, such an egregious infraction of badassery risks severe berating and belittling, the likes of which they've nevar heard bef0re. But, much like wearing pink boxing shorts, if you can back it up, it's cool - and back it up he did. When I learned of his front chainring combo of a 42/56, I felt something in my wrist that may have developed a small crack. Then, Later on, when he pulled away from my bloated ass up each climb, that cracked wrist turned fully-snapped. I'll admit it.

Shall I mention the rest of us, who, in continuing the tradition set by Matt Keeven in the first install ment of DBH by riding his fucking SS 29'r with road tires. Fuck! This year, included in the SS class were Jerkward Nicscani, Baby J (who quadrupled his single-ride climbing on this ride and also snapped the fuck out of my wrist), Snurby-McSnurberson, Stroveward Frodeman, and let us not forget Peat Henry who rode out to the ride with Dwayne and Brett, only to ride back home for over 120 miles on the day. All of them showed me their legs, cast from the purest Quantanium.

How much more badassery could be exhibited today?

Well I'll give you another example - Mike Bobelak, on the final stretch coming DOWN the gnarly steep Bartizan Hill, received the dreaded front-tire-blowout. I was witness to this, and witness a superior state of mind as his kept the mother fucker upright, ever-slo-slightly correcting when needed, until he was able to bring his bucking bronco to a halt. Wrists of the tube-flatting demons: snapped. Speaking of demons, hey Damon, of Principia, when you gonna come back 'round?

Today as we ascended onto the ethereal planes of existence on the way up each classic Missouri hill, our earthen bodies were left behind while our attitudes, minds, and spirits reach new levels of euphoria, despite the lack of jenkem on route. We all found new ways to come to terms with the pain that tries to get us to dismount and walk our sorry asses to the top, rather than using our trusty steeds. This, despite each time I had my head down, staring at my cassette (which happened a lot) I had a constant thought, "man, my derailleur sho' is close to my spokes..."

Hill by hill, we destroyed everything. Some dropped off, while others continued onto glory. I was amused by the lady with whom I reach the top of Bartizan, as I said "Alright, 1 down!" And she exasperatingly said something to the effect of, "Geez, how many more are there gonna be like that one?!" I kind of chuckled while saying, "only a few like this one..." I wonder how she ended up. With stronger legs, no doubt.

Strove came through in spades, providing the kegger around mile 10 or something, and that was awesome - almost as awesome as his parents standing out in the cold providing us hungry cyclists with delicious PBJs! Doesn't get much more Superior. Upon seeing that sammich table, I was more relieved than Criss Angel after a few hours in the boy scout camp shower house.

Don't be a pussy! DO IT

Even though Cremin's Green was all snowed over, as was Starwoods and Scenic Loop, we were still mighty hungry. No big deal.

As Schlomo ingeniously put it, perhaps all the people were scared away from the ice that wasn't on the roads, and decided to go do the Live For Flats ride instead of our Death By Hills ride. The least they could do is the Scraping By on Rollers ride. Geez.

Gregward and Tittay showed up in rare form today, atop geared bikes. No matter, their status is already cemented in the Halls of Badassery, on account of their repeated skull-crushing performances. Gino especially, since he has concocted a most challenging of rides, surpassing anything any of our minds has yet to come up with. If you've been perusing this internet gimp room of a blog that we have, you may have read about it already, his 100% self-supported gravel ride, the Fec-Kar, which will turn your nuts into large rocks, the kind of which you'll find in the bottom of the streams that will be providing your drinking water.

I'm a little overwhelmed at the level of badassery displayed today, so I'm going to eat another dinner.

In the meantime, this dog is awesome.

Why would he do that? Because fuck you, that's why!

Stankfully yours,
-Casey F. Ryback

FeC-Kar Update #1

To ensure that Missouri's throngs of gravel grinderers don't disappear into the rugged Ozark wilderness, here is the first of a couple of updates.

There will be two separate routes for the FeC-Kar. The main event at 110 miles and the Lil FeC-Kar at 70 miles. Both will have their share of climbing. Both will share a lot of the same route, albeit sometimes in different directions.

FeC-Kar 110 and Lil FeC-Kar 70
Iron County-Karkaghne Gravel Ride

Date: Sunday 3/10/13
Start time: 8:00am
Start Location : Boatlaunch Parking Lot, Council Bluff Lake
Fee: FREE

Finishing Time Cut-Off: 7:00pm

Important Details:

Non-Race: Only the 110 mile route will be run as a non-race with the top 10 or so finishers scored. Those planning on non-racing need to make sure they will have some sort of way to take digital photos. A cell phone is fine. I will explain this further in another post.

Caution: Choose the distance that you feel is appropriate. There will be no volunteers on course, and no one to help you if you are having trouble finishing. You must be entirely self-sufficient. The courses are in mostly forest service land. There are no gas stations or similar businesses. I will have a couple of spots on course with a water cooler or two. If you're that type, there are also a few treatable streams/springs. I will also be driving parts of the course throughout the day but you can't count on seeing me. I plan to pack up and be out of there by a little after 7 Sunday. Cell-phone service is spotty down there, generally only working on certain ridgetops.

Bike Recommendations: Ride whatever you like to ride on gravel roads. I recommend a cross bike with decent size tires. These are ozark rural gravel roads. They can be a little rough/course, and are never what I would call smooth.  A mountain bike would be fine (and comfy) but would be overkill in weight and such. The 110 mile route is 80%+ gravel. Nearly all of the pavement comes at the beginning/finish. It's a necessarily evil for having an easily found parking lot of good size. The 70 mile route will have a little over 1 mile of singletrack, but it is not technical or rough.

Course: The Thursday or Friday before the date I will post maps of the routes. You are required to print out your own copies. I will have arrow markings on the road, but they will be as minimal as possible. Also the maps will help you with any bailout options, and will be key for those non-racing.


Now, enough official sounding BS. If you're taints and legs need a good warm-up be at Lone Wolf Sunday morning for Death by Hills.

Also, if you want a professional-like, top-notch gravel race go do the Cedar Cross outside Jeff City. That Bob Jenkins knows how to throw a party gravel race. He has things like volunteers, prize monies, swaggage, and a crazy low entry fee. There won't be any of that shit at the FeC-Kar, except the low entry fee.

-Gino "Ginorm/Digiorno/It's Not Delivery/Pizza Time" Felino

Death By Hills - gonna be wiggity wack

Greetings. If I hear the fucking words "snowpocalypse," snowmaggaedon" or any ironic derivation of how a few inches of snow is going to be the end of the world, I am going to find some puppies and then hack them up for barbeque. Cute puppies - the kind that Sarah McGlaughlin would sing sad songs about for ASPCA commercials. Fuck. I don't remember hearing people using those words back when we would get several snowfalls like this per winter.

Since I've been asked multiple times this morning about Sunday, I'm still calling it a go. I think that we'll have enough time between now and 9am Sunday morning for the roads to become clear enough for us to ride without dodging swimming pools of slush.We may have to skip some hills (like the Scenic Loop) if they are closed or uncleared. However, snow in Missouri has a tendency to not stick around for very long - particularly on pavement.

So sack up/vag up, clean the sand/ice crystals out of your gash, and do what this day-laborer did (and what I plan on doing), and put some fenders on your bike to control the spray of the snow melt:

 

Don't have any fenders? Fenders don't fit your carbon race machine? Patronize your local bike shop and pick up some SKS Race-Blade fenders, or something like them.

If you're worried about getting sprayed in the face, seek out one of these contraptions:

See you Sunday.

Gaseously Yours,
-Casey F. Ryback

Wings Ride und Das DBH

Greetings, Jerks.  This past weekend found several of your heroes sallying forth into the hinterlands of Hermann, MO. Beckoned by a man who does more for Missouri cycling during his morning constitutional than the rest of us could hope to do in a decade, Jeff Yielding, we had a clear goal: to c-c-c-crush some gravelly roads o'er yonder. Myself, Jerkward, Titt-ay, Mr. Ax0l, and Dr. Roland Sallinger, alongside our noble ally Justin White, saddled up and met the rest of the people in Hermann at the Wings-a-Blazin. (pronounced "bl-ah-zn".)

We rolled out with a number of other like-minded wheelmen and women, happy to have a wonderfully sunny day keeping our spirits higher than the tops of the numerous hills we ascended. The roads pulled us through beautiful scenery, and passed some interesting homesteads:

Not far after that was "Happy Farm." No joke.

The first loop went quicker than I expected to, despite the headwind on the return trip down the Katy. It provided a warm nice warm-up for the second loop, which provided us with ample bosoms/opportunity to stretch our climbing legs. And fortunately, when you reach the top of a hill, you eventually have to go back down, and the descents were absolutely rippin'. Totally, brah.Myself and Edwardsville Todd arrived back at Wings-a-Blahzn just in time for our stomach to have squeezed every final drop of sustenance from the last snacks we had about an hour earlier - which worked out well, because we destroyed every morsel of food on our plates.

I could tell that everyone was excited to have this "season" getting underway, with much discussion about various gravel rides (I.E. the Fec-Kar), road rides, and mountain rides being had. Fuck.




Speaking of  rides, don't forget that the 5th Death By Hills is gonna get did this weekend. Other than the rules of the road, there aren't really any rules to consider. However, if I may offer up one suggested rule for this ride, it is this:

NO COMPLAINING ABOUT THE HILLS.

You're showing up for a long ride that is specifically designed to (and purposefully advertised as such) go up all the hardest hills in a certain area. So that being said, and since I/we are "organizing" this ride, it is annoying as fuck to hear someone's sandy vag start coughing up gritty beach sand. If you feel a sudden complaint coming on, take the advice of this gif:

By the way, the newest additions to the List of Manliness:
-bitter coffee
-defeating the Predator

-Casey F. Ryback

2013 World CX Championships

Greetings, Team Seagal Bandolero's!

There are only a handful of things, in life, that I have ever planned on doing more than a year before they happened. The wedding, school graduations, that time I attempted to assassinate Shaggy 2-Dope,
and now this: the World CX Championships coming to Louisville this year. Anyone who actually bothers to continue to read this fucking blog probably knows all about that race and how important it is/was, so I shouldn't have to explain that to you. That would be like Violent J trying to teach a random juggalo how to do meth and fail at life - they already are fucking experts at that business.

So I don't really have to tell you what it felt like as we walked the ~mile from the car to the course, the sheer excitement that coursed through my veins as we heard the loudspeakers in the distance, or the uncontrollable elation when seeing the Elite racers pass by for the first time, having waited so long! Not to mention the pride at hearing the loudest crowd I've ever heard, or will likely ever hear, at a bike race. It was so loud that Velonews said it was the "most frenzied championship" in the event's 63 year history, and was without a doubt louder than the 50,000-60,000 people last year in Koksijde, Belgium (despite having only 10,000 people.) It was so loud, that for most of the course, heckling was pretty much futile, so you might as well just cheer/scream/make noise. I felt like Homer Simpson in Australia when he saw the special toilet that made the water swirl the opposite way: patriotic. Go 'Murica!

I had waited a long time for this moment. Anyone know how to rotate video?

From our Travel Agent, Nico, providing us with insanely cheap hotel rates, to Tittay providing (some of) us with safe travel down there, it was a glorious event that will forever be etched into our brain, not unlike the scent of my fart gas has been forever singed into Mrs. Crotch's nostrils. Energor help her. The bars were filled with bike dorks all throughout the town, it was surreal.

The morning of the one AND ONLY race day, we awoke to a badass breakfast, which would serve to help fuel my frenzy the rest of the day. And once that food wore off, it would just be pure, un-distilled adrenaline that would keep the party rolling along the sideline where we would run into so many people from St. Louis, it almost felt like home! Fortunately for the rest of us though, Tittay forgot his never-ending air-horn for the second half of the day, hehehe...

Straight outta Belgium:

These goddamned Canucks fell off their moose on the way to a hockey game:

This headgear made me more than a little homesick:

 Super badass!

Unbeknownst to us, we were hanging out with and receiving dirty, sinful playing cards from none other than the owner of the Cross Crusade in Portland, OR. This was a man from whom we have much to learn. We were thankful, as it gave us something to do in between races:

Some dirty sinful business had worked its way onto course:

Trebon!

 Ms. Tittay and the business card for her new pen-pal:

Best placing American, Tim Johnson, as he pre-rides - we made sure to tell him to pre-ride that shit:

In Soviet Russia, flag waves you!

Tom, upon realizing his true sexuality after staring for a LOOOONG time at his playing card, decided to go for it whole-hog and maybe pick up some male-suitors in the process:

Tyl0r the Chicken meeting Chicken Little with Wonder Woman and a hot dog.

Brad Huff, up in dem trees, like The Predator:

Much of the crown, lining the hillside:

Hearing the thunderous pounding in the distance of the crowd banging on the boards lining the finishing straight was just chillingly badass. It was like a storm. Oooooo fucking weeee.


It wasn't until probably Wednesday that my voice started to sound like normal, and perhaps if I worked in a non-bike-related industry that would seem weird to my co-workers. All I know is that if you are a fan of bike racing (CX or otherwise) and you weren't down in Louisville this past weekend, you missed out - kinda like Criss Angel not getting a ticket onto the Noah's Ark of boys.


There is just too much to be said about this past weekend, and one thing is for sure, I am not the person to give you the true rundown. So go look up moar video and photos, you may find someone you recognize.

With this momentous occasion in the books, we now turn our focus onto a spring/summer of badass rides/races. Here are *SOME* of those that are on the radar for the next few months:

-"Wings" Ride
-Death By Hills
-Fec-Kar
-OGRE
-Tour of Hermann, Gravel Edition
-Cedar Cross  << Don't forget to sign up now on bikereg.com!!
-The Hairy Hundred in SoBoCoMo
-Dirty Kanzaa
-Oh yeah, and training camp.


And now, time for some "Predator" movie trivia:
-Q. What was the name that Blaine, played by Jesse "The Body" Ventura, gave to the badass Mini-Gun that he was holding when killed?

-Q. When the Predator set his self-destruct mechanism at the end of the movie, he started to "playback" the sound of someone laughing, from earlier in the movie. Whose laugh was it?

Get your wind-blade sail ready for some serious training rides, as it's about to become gnarl-city.
-Casey F.U. Ryback