MFXC 4: Final Update

Those of us at Seagal HQ are more excited about this weeked than Criss Angel was the summer he got hired as a  counselor at Camp Weeno Dubac Groundcheks...

The weather is looking totally amazors for July in Missouri. Today's little bit of rain should make the trails perfect. Don't forget a jacket so you don't upset your mom, there will be a chill in the air overnight.

There will still be water at one point on course just in case. We will also have a fire or two going at the start/finish to warm up to or throw some food on if you want after the non-race is over.

One last time:

Start/Finish in the Council Bluff Campground off of hwy DD in Iron County. Starts at 9pm.

Be there.

There will also be a group ride Sunday morningish around the lake with a trip up to the bluff. A not miss for those that haven't been there.

MFCX 4: Buffin dat trail

With MFXC 4 only 6 short days way Team Seagal HQ dispatched 3 jerks to check on and clean up most of this years race route. Many points of interest occupied the day from rye whiskey to the plight of feral cats stalking your favorite OT parking lot to the quality of meat in Hardees breakfast sausage, but the main goal of the day was to snap the wrists of any trees impeding or slowing the flow of Middlefork trail goodness.

Many a tree was rolled off the trail, snapped in a half, or brought down to a lower level. And thanks to the patented Reverse-Landing Strip* applied to the trail by the AmericaCorp mowing crews and the OTA the MFXC 4 route is getting ready to shred. If you want some of this, you will have to head to your favorite Northern Arkansas race next May.

Final course length looks to be about 28 miles with 9 miles of that on gravel. It's a little longer than wanted for a night non-race, so there will be a marked optional bail out of about 23 miles (a little over 9 on gravel) for those that worry about being out too long.

Not having a Lawman with us and his certified sawyering skills leaves you to hack away...

DrewB working out some frustrations

Titty approved!

My grandma could ride over that now

Using found objects as directional arrows

I think you need new gloves Mr Mammary

Found on an old North Trace section a couple of years ago

*all clean where you're looking to go, all bushy and overgrown off to the sides

MFXC 4: Teh Prizors

For those of you planning to be at the Council Bluff campground in 9 days, you know the reason you will be there: Team Seagal puts the party in "late night underground non-race awesomeness" (I'm sure there's a party in there somewhere, but if not it's still awesome and here's a "p" and "y" to help you out)

For those of you not spending the weekend getting ready to set your new PR at the local Y on Sunday,   here's some more reasons give the OTA $10. You could win any one of these prizes:

1. ENO Hammock

2. Pair of Velocity Blunt SL 29er rims

3. $300 worth of Gift certificates to the Hub Bicycle Company

4. Bags of custom roasted PNW Coffee beans from Middle Fork Roasters, Seattle WA.

Plus every $10 will get you one of those manly Kona thumbs up mugs.

PBR will provide beverages and other items as PBR Dave is known to do.


For those who can't be bothered to read any posts below this...

MFXC 4

Saturday July 27, 9:00PM

Council Bluff Campground

Length: approx 25 miles

MFXC 4: Moar details

It's time to release more details about the upcoming MFXC 4.

Like all non-races participation is always free, but there will be some differences this year. For one, no registration is required. Just show up with an acceptable bicycle and some lights (this is a night non-race after all). Not all bicycles are considered acceptable.

There will also be a raffle with this years MFXC. Tickets will be $10 with prizes from ENO, Velocity, the Hub and others. Every non-racer must purchase at least one raffle ticket to ride in MFXC 4. Plus Kona Bikes will be providing to every non-racer one of their brand new beer mugs*:

actual mugs stand upright, if it looks like this you've had too much. team seagal always reminds you to drink irresponsibly

Guess what the value is of each one is... yes, $10. Which is coincidentally the current value for a tanker truck full of jenkem. Sorry Coach.

EVERY DOLLAR FROM THOSE RAFFLE TICKETS WILL BE GIVEN TO THE FINE PEOPLE AT THE OZARK TRAIL ASSOCIATION. Without their past and current work there could be no MFXC.

So make sure to spread the word (yes this even means the facebooks) to get as many jerks and jerk-affiliated peoples down for MFXC 4. If you don't have lights, borrow some or buy some. Your going to need them for Burnin' this year anyway because you are going to Burnin. Right?

MFXC 4: Saturday July 27, 9:00PM

Length of about 20-25 miles this year, so that people aren't out on the trail until the middle of the night.

UDPATE:
It's in the first post on MFXC4, but the start will be from the Council Bluff Campground like last year.


*while quantities last, total of 50 will be available

2013 Noah Memorial Ride

Greetings, Team Seagal Campionissimos! What a glorious set of weekends we've had. Last weekend, you may remember, we engaged in another Vampire Century, leaving us dozing off in the saddle, and drinking IPAs on the Arch steps. This weekend, a select few of your heros joined forces with another, potentially even more badass cycling entity, Team Noah, on the 2nd Annual Noah Memorial Ride.

This year, the goal of this ride - a full century - would be a no-drop ride, being kept at a talking pace for the entire time. Last year, the ride put the "balls" into "balls-out," and when the organizer of the ride ends up left behind, that is no fun at all. What is more fun is being able to enjoy the ride and comradery of your fellow lycra-clad dudes and dudettes all in a group for the whole day.

I was especially excited to find out that pace would be something that I could maintain the entire day, being more man than I used to be. Not only that, but with the infamous Peat as our wayfaring guide, the route was no doubt going to be a glorious path of cycling centuriosity.

The target time was 7AM at Steinberg Ice Rink, a most glorious of starting areas. I looked around, and found that our group was comprised mostly of mountain bikers reluctantly mounting skinny tires and drop bars for the sake of paved efficiency. This is no surprise, as Team Noah itself is comprised mostly of mountain bikers, such as D-Wayne, Peat, Brett H, new-ish to StL Maria, and others. We had an excellent group starting out, and if you'll look closely, you'll see the hulking masses that are Dr. Roland Sallinger, the Punch0r of Cocks, and myself, Crotchward F. Crotchback:

photo courtesy of Brad Baum

It was most excellent, rolling out early in cool weather, rolling through the Loop, up Midland, and out to Creve Coeur Lake, while making sure to stop fairly often for water/natural breaks. This early on a Sunday, the roads were empty - empty like Punch0r and I were wishing our bowels were for the first hour. Fortunately, our saddle pounded those gopher heads back into their dwellings. Punch0r started out the ride having had a quick onslaught of pressure, while the pressure I was feeling had slowly built up like the caldera of a Volcano slowly rising, waiting to blow.

Before long, our group shaved itself down to the core centurious club, and after wo-man-training through the Creve Coeur flats (and getting totally served by some hardcore broski with a Sora triple laying on his rest-bars) we ascended Hog Hollow and regrouped at the gas station at the top.

Continuing on, we found ourselves on a short section of the Vampire Century course, but we would soon detour onto some secret gems that Peat found hidden away in the suburban neighborhoods. Unfortunately, D-Wayne would come to break a spoke on the backside of Orville, however our very own Punch0r of Cocks came to the rescue and landed him a replacement wheels after a short detour to Casa del Punch0r.

During this period, I found out that this was only Maria's 3rd time riding road with other people since moving up to the Mound City, and I must say she was in luck, being able to experience some of the best roads that our region has to offer - such as one of the Death-By-Hills Highlights, Babler Forest. I saw 53 mph on the way back down that hill. We regrouped with Punch0r and D-Wayne at the top of Wild Glue-bag Creek Road, before descending down Reiger.

Our next stop was the Mobile at Old Manchester and 100, where Punch0r, exhibiting a most Superior State of Mind, procured a sixer of Double-wide IPA, in which both he and I partook, though Peat served us both by showcasing a new parlor trick by inserting a straw into the neck of the bottle in order to more efficiently engage in pounding. Kind of like shotgunning a glass bottle. Meanwhile, Dr. Sallinger was spotted eating a salad. Whether or not he ate this salad to wash the taste of hobo-balls from his mouth is still unclear at this time. Departing this station, we choo-chooed around Ridge Road, passed Zombie Road, once again getting foiled by being unable to see downtown from the Ridge Road lookout due to the heavy haze in the air.

It was around this time that Punch0r reminded me that I definitely do put the "rot" into "Crotch." I could not have been happier. My happiness subsided briefly as I had to winch my ass up St. Paul Road, but it was not long before my happiness reached new heights when we had an unexpected run-in with the esteemed Tom Albert and his wonderfully hospitable family! What an amazing moment, as even though Tom may seem like a very responsible, upstanding, well-respected citizen and member of society, do not be fooled. This guy knows how to party. And from a fellow StL bike scene dork like myself, being greeted by Tom like this kinda of sums it all up:

Why I most certainly will drink that Shift!

His wonderful family recognized our state of mind in this wings-a-blahzin heat, and emerged from the house bearing a massive tub of ice, a flowing garden hose, and most amazingly, ice boners:

The self-lubricate as they're inserted.

Peeling wo-man train away from Das Albert Haus, we continued our mission up the hill. Peat, being a raised in suburbia like myself, knows that the best way to get around out there is to know the neighborhoods, and use them to get places. And this knowledge was most certainly employed to great effect, as we barely touched a single non-neighborhood road before doing a short loop on the actual sales floor of the Trek Store on Manchester Road. (No really, the automatic doors opened and we flowed through, passed the clothing racks, said hi, and left through the same automatic door.

Negotiating a hair-raising left turn from Manchester Road onto Mason, we took that to Ladue, and then up the rarely-encounter "Ladue Widowmaker," and then continuing into Clayton. Realizing that we were going to come up short on mileage, we called an audible and diverted to an ascent of the last granny-ring climb of the day - Southwest. We would then pass by Orin "Mason Storm Is My Landlord" Boyd's house, ride through The Hill, back into the Park, complete a loop, lose Peat as he had to go chase down a lucky lady, and pinch off the loop to give us a full hundo.

Whoah.

Arriving back at the Punch0r Mobile, I was amazed that we stayed together as a group of about a dozen people for the entire ride - pretty amazing. so to celebrate, I was elated to find delicious hot dogs already grilled up and ready to put in my face. Old Guy Extrordinaire Rich Pierce had prepared amazing black beans and torillas in an iron skillet, Maria hnad brought gooey butter cake, there were donuts, beer, fizzy sugary drinks, OH MAN.

What an excellent way to spend the day. And it won't be long before we try to get a double-berryman in the books with D-Wayne. It has to happen. An awesome day, awesome ride, and I am happy to say that almost no cars screwed with us, which is pretty surprising considering that our large group was usually taking the lane. In fact, the light at McCausland and Southwest had our group receiving probably a half-dozen drivers voicing their support to us, which was super cool!

Thanks to the Goscinski Family, Peat in all his bearded (and lycra-clad) glory, the Heurrings, and everybody who came for making a glorious day, one which we'll all be looking forward to next year!

-Casey F. Ryback

It's Back!!! MFXC 4

That's right Team Seagal aficionados, it is time for another MFXC non-race: MFXC 4, it's twice as much number 2.

Saturday July 27th 9PM

Start: Council Bluff campground

Route: estimate of 25-30 miles (still in progress)

Stay tuned for more details.

Second Official Vampire Century Down the Toilet/In the Books

Greetings, Team Seagal Muchachos! This past weekend yours truly (Coachward F. Crotchington) along with a like-minded, highly-trained strike force completed this year's first nocturnal (near) century. This being the prime time of year to embark on such an adventure, being that these are the shortest nights of the year, and it is into the hottest days. The irony about this is that this weekend we saw some of the coolest temperatures in weeks. We may have actually dipped below 60 degrees.

The temps may have dipped below below 60, but the humidity stayed steady hovering in a very St. Louis-esque 90-150%, making sure to keep our arms sensuously glistening with sweat in the moonlight as we climbed up every Missouri Mountain in our sights.

We managed to put together quite the Murder as we met at Los Casa del Crotch-O a little earlier than last year, at about 10pm. Setting sail from Porto del Ryback, I was joined by the following posse:
-Gino "Let's Wake Up Steve Friedmann" Felino
-Nico "The Best Birthday Gift This Year Was Penis Free of Poison Ivy" Toscani
-Samuel "Wicked Witch of the West" Axel
-Jonathon "Quintuple the Size of Last Year's Tires" Cold
-Orin "Last Minute Entry" Boyd
-Cock "Wearing a Jacket With Shorts" Punch0r
-John "This Is How I Spend My Vacation" Lake
-Emily "You Mean We're Only Doing One Lap?" Korsch
-Hunter "Dark Horse Singlespeeder"
-Tyl0r "I've Reproduced" Bicknese

Notably absent from this year's ride: Tom "Ask Me How My Cycle Is Doing" Marsh, and Jack "Tubed Meat Specialist" Tagg0rt.

Embarking through the lit-streets of South StL, we took a path up Gregg Road in honor of Gino, passed Little Chinatown (formerly inhabited by Lt. Col. Austin Travis, Stoveward P. Stovington III, DA9SPDR, and Jerkward) and then westward down Clayton to Conway, where we enjoyed quiet, car-free county riding until we passed 141, where we experienced a cloudburst that was enough to have us seek shelter in the St. Luke's parking garage for a little while:

With our chamois' soaked and our lenses splattered, we continued slightly further upon the termination of precipitation to seek out some beverages to lift our moral at the nearest gas station:

2x4's were procured, and with one left over, Jerkward offered it to the wheel-chair bound toothless clerk, who respectfully declined, being a man of good work-ethic. Instead, we found a young, confused dude, possibly having emerged from his "office" behind the dumpster to see what the commotion was, and upon being offered this beverage, promptly took it and retreated to his office to await another client.

By this point, both Tyl0r and Axel peeled off, either being called home for familial duties or because water might speed up the melting process. We pressed on, out on Wild Horse Creek Road (although it would be Wild Glue Creek Road if I had any say in the matter) and took a quick "Leroy" onto Old Eatherton, where our course would merge with the Death By Hills course for a few miles. This means an ascent of Orville, and a lovely ride over the smoothest surface this side of the ass of the boys being held in Criss Angel's Pit of Anal Despair. We zigged and zagged until we found ourselves heading southward on Strecker until we reached Hwy 100. At this time of night, the usually-murderous stretch of 100 was as docile as the doped-up boys in Criss Angel's Pit.

Our sights were set on an exhilarating night-time descent of Woods Road, but before getting ripped on that, we had to stop at the On The Run for some more Talent Juice. We found that the rain we had experienced earlier had most likely been a spot shower, as we were experiencing wonderfully dry pavement. And the only thing to make the night-time descent of Woods even more awesome was being able to pass right by the entrance to Bartizan. Quickly juking onto the bike path, we marched towards the Al Foster Trail where we would see our only gravel for the night, as we would turn up Zombie Road (now known as The Rock Hollow Trail) where I treated all the youngin's to some spooky ghost stories of old Zombie Road urban legends. The (wo)man-train choo-choo'd up the 2 miles of climbing until we pooped out onto Ridge Road, where Gregward had the great suggestion to make a mini-detour up the road for a viewing of Downtown StL from 30 miles away. Unfortunately, we were unable to see through the haze of the night. If onlywe were like The T-800:



Bummed out but not crushed, we mot0red down Pierside, and then onto Kiefer Creek, which was the one fucking road that did not have a less traffic on it at 3AM as opposed to during rush hour. Taking the "easy way" to Big Bend by climbing up New Ballwin instead of Ries Road, we chuggalugged passed Tagg0rt's house and then onto Sulphur Springs, which deposited us right onto the Valley Park river path. This brought us to the one big effort we had to contend with: the "apartment climb" at the base of Marshall Road. ascending that to Big Bend, we went to Old Big Bend/Craig Road, and made the Leffingwell connection to Grants Trail, and yet another QT.

Riding Grant's Trail at 3:30AM may be the best time to do so, as we did not see a single roller blader, recumbent, ElliptiGo, RowBike, Treadmill Bike, or shirtless ski-blader. It was pretty awesome. We found our way around through some neighborhoods, and into Jefferson Barracks Park, for a little connection to the new trail that goes behind the other pit of despair. This left us to wo-man-train up South Broadway (where we were unfortunate enough to pass by a recumbent after all) to the arch, for a vague, cloudy sunrise:

What does accomplishment taste like, Jerkward?

The end was in sight. By this time, some of our t'aint-al regions were feeling as though someone had given us the "minivan:"

But fear not, for we departed once again to pass by the "other" casino, where we had some encouragement from below:

Note the preferred pavement tire of Nico: 35c Panaracer T-Servs.

Our spirits were clinging to life, though our bodies were crawling into their metaphorical pajamas. Meanwhile, someone's baby had crawled out of it's diaper and left it behind:

This diaper had us later wondering if we'll ever find an adult diaper discarded onto the road.

We snaked our way up MLK, through SLUH, were glad to be with friends through the Central West End, and made a small arc through Forest Park, before funneling through the Hwy 40 Tunnel. At this point, we parted ways with Hunter and Kitten Bottoms, and we set our sights finally for a traversing of The Hill, and back into the "arrivals" area of the Crotch Airport.

Our t'aints were very glad to be back in dry clothing, having been marinating all night from the rain we'd gone through. My body felt pretty funny - like 6-finger-kid-in-a-Mi-Ranchito-wall-painting-funny:

Mrs. Crotch knew of this impending weirdness, and did bake us a bunch of delicious breakfast food, eliminating the need for tube meats. It was after this that sleep became a welcome companion, and enveloped my body, starting with the t'aint, like a group of juggalos envelops a van selling meth:

Beer and orange juice on the same table.

I know that the Brothers-Jerk and B-Squared would be jealous of our escapes from up in Seattle, but I can only hope that, even though we aren't keeping very good tabs on his ass, that the Tropical Depression Mason does not revert back to his fruit-booting ways - admittedly being a reformed roller blader.

What a great adventure.



Now, in other news, we have a great announcement to make. We are officially adding Valley Meat Co. of Roswell, NM as an honorary sponsor. Or rather, we would like to honorarily make ourselves an honorary sponsor or supporter of this company. Please read:

http://www.ktrs.com/news/local-news/item/9636-new-mexico-company-has-plans-to-put-horse-slaughterhouse-in-missouri

We would like to start a process to suggest a site for this new, proposed slaughterhouse. We are thinking somewhere in the vicinity of, or located within, Greensfelder Park. Imagine. An old, less-sure-footed horse snaps his leg somewhere while riding some super-muddy Greensfelder Trails, and is somehow dragged out of the woods. Normally, a broken leg for a horse results in that horse getting shot in its long face. Why not put this horse to good use and feed it into the supply chain for this new business?

Besides, I'm all out of tire glue, and I need to install new tires for this coming CX season.

-Casey F. Ryback

Vampire Century #2 ("Turd Edition") and Bonus Rant

Greetings, Team Seagal Connoisseurs! The heat is back. And I'm not talking about what we do to female loins. The weather now is routinely in the 90's, and that can be less than fun when going to ride. What better way to crush out mileage when in heat than to ride at night - a page from D-Wayne's book. This saTURDay we will be heading west once the sun goes down - not to return until the sun has come back up.

Here is the rough route that Jerkward spear-headed, being the birthday boy. I know it is just shy of the full 100 miles on paper, but we can easily do a detour SOMEWHERE while riding that will easily get us over the top:
http://www.mapmyride.com/routes/view/235396753

Currently there is no off-pavement stuff on the route, so skinny tires should probably be fine. However, we're a bunch of jerks so good sTURDy tires (with extra tubes) will benefit you. I know there are gas stations at about mile 20, 35, 50, 60 (QT at the Grants Trail), 74, John's Donuts at about 75 (if he's open still), and by then we'll be in the city and headed through Forest Park. It would be a good idea to bring cash, as not all donut shops take credit card.

We're rolling at 9:30 from Casa del Crotch-O. Makes sure you have lights, because we'll be without the sun for like 6-7 hours.

By the way, You should congratulate Dr. Roland Sallinger for his back-to-back 100 mile MTB races, one of which he crushed the souls of everyone else in his way - 1st Place at ICCP! Lets not forget the 1-2 punch of Team Seagal teams at the same race, manned by the man-trains of Nico and Titty, and Pry0r and Weink0rn. Nice fucking work.



On a totally unrelated note, I have been meaning to get something off of my hairy chest. That is, as a bike mechanic and all around bike enthusiast, the overwhelming propensity for bicycle and bicycle accessory manufacturers to integrate bottle openers into every possible tool they can, is getting old and very overly-kitschy. Look around and you'll notice these things squeezed into everything. And I'm not talking about promotional cheap bottle openers that have the company's logo on it and are given away at trade shows, I'm specifically referring to the adding it onto existing tools that have other purposes. It's like when an entrepreneur thinks he has a great idea by taking an existing idea, and simply adding a clock or a radio into it. Then all the bro-chacho's, when given a gift by all their bro-chacho buddies, will be like "Sweet, brah! This headset press you got me even has a bottle opener on it!"

May I present the evidence:

This is the derailleur hanger on a Santa Cruz Chameleon. The opener is completely useless, unless you went out of your way to purchase an extra one and put it on your keychain.

Not to mention the hundreds and thousands of hits you get if you do a google search.

Because these rotor-truing forks weren't functional enough.

Because Thule didn't realize that their shitty wrench that is included with every hitch rack will never be used by anyone who has any real tools.

This is an Avid bleed block, and you may have missed the bottle opener. Good thing they have it though, because all the time you spend bleeding Avid brakes will require refreshment. Or maybe it is best to drink away your memories of all the times you have to bleed/service Avid brakes.

Felt and Pedro's both make extra cute tools that get mounted onto the water bottle bolts of your bro-tastic singlespeed or fixie-brah, because everyone know that singlespeeders are the hippest and most drunk of all cyclists, right? (This is in addition to Pedro's other bottle openers.)

Pedro's Trixie - and it doesn't even let your put a cage over it.

Felt's tool that comes with the Breed, and is required to remove the rear wheel on account of their shitty dropouts

Don't forget Surly, the most crunch-tastic brand out there. They offer two kitschy ways to remove caps from your beers:

The Tuggnut

The Jethro Tool - marginally better at tightening your nuts than removing your tops.

Park makes a pretty elegant wrench (which I own) and I'd carry it around more if it didn't weigh as much as my entire combo-wrench set (not to mention Park's other bottle opener):

Timbuk2 sews an opener onto their apron, which would be cool, if I didn't actually want to look professional when trying to convince a customer to let me charge them money to install some really expensive and finicky shit on their mega-expensive bike:

Personally, I prefer my Malliard Helicomatic cassette tool, which beat all these other kitschy tools to the integrated-bottle-opener-tool punch by like 35 years:

 And besides, everyone knows that an Shimano SPD pedal works great as a bottle opener, something which can't be said for Crank Bros pedals. (Just another reason to not use 'em.)

See you SaTURDay, and then again the following Sunday for the Team Noah Century.

-Casey F. Ryback

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/