This is one epic son of a bitch. It is a true Spring Classic: 200km, gnarly gravel sections, steep leg-breaking climbs, and 160 of some of the best racers in the world. It can tear apart the dreams of even those riders with the best legs in the race, through flats and crashes and bad luck on the gravel.

It’s this kind of epic, brutal, glorious, beautiful event that keeps me and many others with whom I’ve raced for years coming back time and again, training through those horrible winter conditions in the mountains, salivating for the one day in April when they are truly put to the test.

I’ve been racing for a few weeks now, from San Dimas and Redlands in California to Boulder Roubaix and a local criterium in Colorado’s Front Range. I’ve done many long rides throughout the winter, lots of hours of skate skiing and trail running, and the legs have been getting better and better…and my motivation has peaked for April 15th. I raced with the Pure Energy Cycling/ProAirHFA team out of Lambertville, New Jersey, owned by a good friend and customer AND dealer of mine, Arounkone Sananikone. While a small elite team, we were well supported and ready to rock…and as anyone who’s raced Battenkill knows, it’s not about numbers, it’s about legs and luck.

I call this post BattleKill for a reason–this race truly is a battle, with other racers and with the elements and with your own soul. It will make you crawl into a deep dark place within yourself, The Pain Cave, and cry quietly as you suffer….and continue to suffer. It will test the fiber of your being. The second half, the “Kill” portion, is because it’s about Kill Or Be Killed. You take this race by the balls, or it takes you by yours. You cannot race defensively, you’ll be out of position and caught out when the winning move goes. You cannot sit in, there really is no way. You must ride at the front, like the European Classics, and avoid crashes and injuries and dropped riders like the plague. You must Battle and you must Kill.

This race is 200km. At our speed, that means five hours and no change. That means you must be calm and collected at all times, but ready to pounce when the move goes or strike when the opportunity arrises. It’s a difficult game of conservation and aggression that is played at the highest level, amongst winners of the biggest events in the world, without discussion or hesitation–things can be decided within any five of the 18,000 seconds in the race, and it’s your job to anticipate those five seconds and be ready without wasting energy, both physical and mental.

This race takes apart your bike, piece by piece. There are riders dropping like flies with flats and mechanicals, dropped chains and broken shifters and snapped cables and split saddles. They are getting off their bikes in the middle of a nondescript gravel road in the middle of upstate New York strewn with baby head cobblestones and cow manure. The races goes on, leaving them to chase valiantly in dust of the madly swerving team vehicles. The course does not discriminate, all racers are subject to the same outrageous conditions that test man and machine, that rip open tire sidewalls like chewing gum wrappers. To win this race can define a career.

So I toed the start line with confidence: I’ve done it four times before and I’ve got fantastic legs and a Boo that’s up to the task with special Enve SMART wheels and fat Challenge Paris Roubaix 27c tubulars. I’ve put things to the test in Boulder Roubaix and the Battenkill Pro-Am warm-up race the day before. I’ve broken things and found what really works when it’s crunch time. I know the course, I’ve seen how the race plays out in everything from high-80s and sun to low-40s and pouring rain. I’ve raced with every single rider in the peloton, many of them for a number of years. I know who’s been riding well, who gets extra motivated for this event, and who has a nose for the winning move. I’ve been on the East Coast in Philly for a number of wonderful, relaxed days before the Big Show.

In short, I’ve dotted as many i’s and crossed as many t’s as possible.

With the confidence comes a realistic set of expectations. I know the guys are world class, but I can pedal my bike pretty well too…but I also know that legs are just half the battle. Luck, which is somewhat connected to the legs, is the other half. Good legs help you ride in the front more easily, avoiding crashes and hold-ups with greater certainty….but it’s just a game of increasing your odds. There’s still a chance things can go haywire.

And haywire they did.

The race began with a ripping first lap. There was about 15km of “easy” riding in the entire first 100km lap. Yes, that’s right, two laps of a 100km course. Well, I was sitting pretty 80km into the lap. I’d avoided more crashes and flats than I could count. I actually thought it would be fun to count these for this post, but I actually lost count after 23. The first lap presents numerous opportunities to lose the race, either through nervous energy wasted or through actual serious crashes or chasing back on after flats and mechanicals. And I’d avoided all of these perfectly. I was racing with a smile, well fed and hydrated and warmed up and ready to rock the second lap, when the race really counts.

Until I had to get off my bike and run.

A very very fast section of rolling gravel road, with some extremely deep sandy sections, comes along 75km into the lap. I was too far back, confident that my legs would save me if anything happened and I needed to bridge a split in the field, and also overly satisfied with the energy I was saving just rolling along in the excellent draft of the 60 or so guys in front of me.

I paid for it when an incredibly deep sandy hill caused a compression within the field. Some guys crossed wheels and crashed at slow speed…right in the middle of the road. We all rode into the sides and some into the ditch, but it was even deeper there and unridable. I was following Karl Menzies, who was shouting some impressive expletives in his thick Tasmanian accent, and we both got off our bikes and ran for a solid 20 feet in our carbon non-treaded road shoes, along with about 40 other guys.

The small split in the field this caused was significant, because the last 20km of this race are brutally hard. Steep hills, some of the most treacherous gravel sections in the entire course, and a very motivated front group that was in the process of ripping the field apart and setting up what would be the winning breakaway of 10 or so of the best riders in the field.

I chased and chased and chased through the caravan cars, along with Menzies who I knew would 1) be an incredibly strong engine, and 2) receive some great help (read: motorpacing at 45mph) from the United HealthCare team car. And so it went. We were moving up and actually CAUGHT the front group at the base of the notoriously hard Stage Road gravel climb. I hung just off the back, with legs that had been seriously zapped during the course of our chase, hoping to stay within myself and within the caravan to have a nice motor-assisted ride back into the field on the final 5km of tarmac leading into the end of the lap.

The problem was the race tactics at that point: Optum Health (formerly Kelly Benefits) was ripping the peloton a new one. And when Karl dug deep and jumped on the last gravel kicker before some ripping tarmac descending, I just thought it best to save a match and stay steady and ride in the cars. Well, the match I saved there was easily set ablaze, along with my entire matchbook, on the ensuring FIFTY KILOMETER CHASE the resulted.

I ended up riding with a group of 12, including many of my good friends on the Juwi Solar team, but our chase’s motivation waxed and waned numerous times as the team vehicles passed, the ambulance passed, the broom wagons passed, and finally we were on open road, outside the “envelope” of the race’s rolling enclosure. At that point, it’s usually wise to pack it in and live to fight another day. But I KNEW all the group had to do was sit up for five minutes and we could catch them, it was just a matter of staying on the gas and staying motivated.

So I shouted my share of expletives and did twice my share of pulling, but at a certain point we had all resigned ourselves to just rolling around the course and finishing somehow. Now, this is the part of the race where I was literally thinking about what to write in this post, because this is the part where all the demons start talking to you. You think, “I don’t need this, the race is over, my teammates have all been taken out by flats and mechanicals and crashes and bad legs.” and “We’re never ever going to catch the group, and this wasted energy is for naught.” and “I can’t believe my bad luck and the stupid assholes who can’t ride in deep gravel and caused this mess for me.” But then, the angels say, “You can’t quit as long as there are other guys in your group racing.” and “You are the only person you can blame for your poor positioning and bad luck.” and “If you keep fighting, at best you’ll be back in the race, and at worst you’ll have good training and no regrets.”

I listened to the angels. I decided this was the point in my race when I had to Battle and not be Killed.

Then, out of nowhere, we saw a greatly diminished peloton with its glorious race caravan in tow!

We couldn’t believe our eyes, like Columbus striking America, it was an incredible feeling to be back in the race! After a total of 80km of chasing, I got back into the mix, related my epic story to some buddies in the field who had epic stories of their own, and resumed my role as a bike racer.

I then took stock of myself. I had great legs and had ridden a great first 80km. But then I’d been an idiot and had some bad luck mixed in and had a very hard, draining second 80km. Now there were 40km left in the race, and we were racing for 12th place after 11 of the best guys in the race had gone many minutes up the road. Things were very slow and I was able to eat and drink a lot, but I knew the race for 12th would be HOT and would likely start when things hit the fan on the first lap: with 25km to go.

And so they did. And so I got off my bike and had to carry it in the SAME PLACE as on the first lap! This time it wasn’t out of stupidity or laziness, it was simply a result of zapped legs from chasing and from the tole taken by 175km of hard bike racing.

This time, however, I was prepared and quickly got off and ran with my bike and re-mounted cyclocross-style and was just 20m off the back of the group…no problem to chase back on during the sketchiest gravel descent of the entire course, 23km from the finish. I was passed by three cars: Comm 1, Mavic, and a VIP car. On the descent, I easily passed the VIP and Mavic cars, rolling at about 40mph to their 35mph on the baby-head festooned, snakelike gravel road.

Things went pear-shaped when I was rolling up to Comm 1. I was on the far left of the road, in the proper position to pass, on a left-hand turn. I was doing my job, but unfortunately Comm 1 wasn’t. They started drifting left, and then really far left, and I was fully committed. There’s no braking on this section. I was at the limit of turning, hanging it all out on some of the gnarliest of gnarly gravel. And the driver continued moving left.

My tiny passing lane eventually disappeared, only after I’d come in front of Comm 1’s rear bumper. I leaned the handlebars even further left, extending my upper-body right, in an effort to move my bike enough to squeeze through…but it wasn’t enough. My right brake lever clipped Comm 1’s driver’s side mirror and I pitched a yard sale. Flipped over the bars onto my back at 40mph, rolling and landing with my knee into a bunch of cobblestones, and then continuing to roll into a bunch of thorn bushes, eventually landing upright and standing on my feet, thoroughly shaken.

At that point, game over, thanks for playing, and don’t let the door smack you in your ass on the way out. All I could do was sit there in the ditch, like so many racers from so many Spring Classics, with my head in the hands, a broken man trying to comprehend that all the suffering was only to post a DNF. Medics and drivers and the team all came scrambling to help me, but nothing could assuage the disappointment and frustration. The physical pain was of no consequence, the mental pain could only be cured by time and hard alcohol.

BattleKill took its pound of flesh from many a bike racer today, and each and every one has war stories no matter their placing or lack thereof. My story, while unique, is not uncommon. The Battle is glorious and while most are Killed, having the opportunity to Kill is what keeps us coming back to races like these. Find me a racer whose heart rate doesn’t elevate, whose adrenaline doesn’t flow, when thinking of or discussing the Tour of Battenkill and I’ll find you one who’s truly over it.

Well I’m obviously not over it, and I’m already plotting my return in 2013.

The races were held in the “heart” of LA, if there is one, on December 3rd and 4th. While not USGPs, they attracted a good number of heavy hitters (Tim Johnson, Ben Berden, Chris Jones, etc.) and the extremely windy conditions made for interesting racing.

Tyler and I flew into LA from Salt Lake City and Denver, respectively, and were excited to spend the weekend with our good friend and former teammate Ivan “the Cuban Missile” Dominguez. If you haven’t met him, he’s one of the nicest, funniest, most gregarious people I’ve ever met–any time with him is a good time.

I got Tyler’s Boo cross bikes set up and picked him up the day of the race. We scouted the course, did some fine tuning of tire pressures and derailleurs, and prayed to the God of Cyclocross (Sven Nys) for good luck.

You’ll see from the video that Tyler was in the front group or leading the front group throughout most of the two days. The Enve 1.25/King wheels with Challenge Fangos (26-28psi for the bumpy, dry conditions) simply ripped, and Tyler’s mentioned to me just how much improved the frames are with the FAT 1.5″ straight head tubes, Enve tapered Cross forks, and huge Press Fit 30 BB shells. I felt like a proud father.

Sven came through for us on Day One, when Tyler fought for all 60 minutes to take 6th place, just behind the front group of five. The windy conditions meant the racing looked like a circuit race more than a cyclocross race, and Tyler couldn’t hold onto the train through the tight corners…and fighting a headwind while closing gaps throughout the entire race takes a toll!

I guess Sven punished us on Day Two for not paying him sufficient respect: Tyler had a front tire roll halfway through the race, while he was leading the front group. The legs were there, the luck was not. He came in to pit and raced the second half on the B bike, which is identical to the A bike except for one key piece: wheels/tires. We didn’t have time to get another set of Challenge tubulars glued onto the other set of Enve wheels, so we had been using tubeless Hutchinson Bulldog tires with cheap Ultegra training wheels on the B bike. And, while excellent for training, they are horrible for UCI-level racing. Tyler had no hope of catching the charging front group, which was shattered by Ben Berden shortly after Tyler got onto the B bike.

It was a painful sight, a sad fall from grace, but I got video and photo evidence of the excellent ride he was having before Nys took his pound of flesh.

There are many, MANY more photos from Chris See to post…these will go up later this weekend. There are some great close-up shots of the bikes, and after a full season of ‘cross racing we have them totally dialed and I’m sure you will be interested to see the details.

Until then, enjoy the video!

MOUNTAIN FLYER MAGAZINE TEST REVIEW: BOO 29ER

While the Boo 29er is getting some great recognition, the Boo Cross–specifically, Tyler Wren’s Boos–are in for a serious spanking this weekend in Boulder. The Boulder Cup (Sunday, in the new Valmont Park) is a perennial favorite on the cyclocross circuit, and it’s a veritable who’s-who of professional ‘crossers.

If you’re on the Front Range, come by the Boo tent out on course for one of the best beers you’ll put to your lips (New Belgium) and to check out other customers’ rigs. Beer, bamboo bikes, music, mud, and mayhem.

Check out the Facebook gallery from both of their races. As you can see, we’ve lined up a list of the best sponsors in the entire industry to make sure the Boo bikes drop jaws as quickly as they’re pedaled! Every company we work with makes products which I buy myself, because they’re the best designed and performing pieces available–I’m happy to preach the gospel because I’m a believer

Cane Creek
Clif Bar
Challenge Tires
Chris King
Enve Composites
Fizik
Giro
Pactimo
Ritchey
Shimano
Smith
TRP

Corey Collier and Lara Kroepsch are joining Tyler as the newest Boo Crossers, and while Tyler was shredding Providence, Corey was blowing out the cobwebs at Fort Collins’ own New Belgium Cup. After driving from GRAND JUNCTION on Friday, gluing tubulars and building bikes Friday evening and Saturday, he raced for the first time in over a year on Sunday. In a USGP ‘cross race. At altitude.

Yes, I’m actively searching for a motivated psychiatrist.

Corey is now on a crazy journey to Brazil for a mountain bike stage race, where he’ll be working to raise awareness for Light Gives Heat, a charity very near and dear to him and his fiance Lara. They’re racing for more than results, and I’m proud to have them on Boo.

While I’m working on getting a few words from him on Sunday’s New Belgium Cup, Tyler has a bit to say about his Providence trip:

As usual during the labor-intensive ‘cross season, it was a whirlwind of assembly and prep getting all our sponsors’ equipment built up on the two new Boo frames. It all came together just in time for my trip to the UCI C1 & C2 weekend in Providence, and the bikes debuted flawlessly. I was battling for the podium both days, and, despite some crashes caused by pilot error, still managed a great top ten result in the more prestigious C1 event. The Boo ‘cross rigs are evolving phenomenally well. The new head tubes and bottom bracket areas are as stiff and track as well as an oversized aluminum frame, but the bikes retain that amazing bamboo compliance over the rough terrain. The weekend gave me enormous confidence in this year’s bikes and, with the cobwebs blown out, I’m looking forward to battling again for the podiums in Boulder at the end of the month.

The next big race weekend on tap for Boo is October 29/30 in Boulder. Tyler’s flying in, photog-extraordinair Chris See is flying in, and Corey and Lara and I will be the local yocals. It’s going to be real! So stay tuned–same Bat-time, same Bat-channel!
 

I’ll be posting a race schedule soon, and of course a full bike review as soon as possible–likely the end of October, after the Boos have been raced a few times.

Custom details to note on Tyler’s rigs:

1) we’ve moved to the Press Fit 30 bottom bracket standard, utilizing a 46mm ID carbon tube as an internal sleeve.  Around this sleeve, we wrap with unidirectional T700 carbon fiber in our proprietary (i.e. sorry, no pics of that step!) layup.  The PF30 setup shaves almost 100 grams from the frame alone–but the stiffness increase is significant.  We can use larger OD tubing and have a great wrapping area for the carbon fiber.  The crank and BB themselves are stiffer and a cleaner design (without ugly bearing cups sticking from the gorgeous Boo BB), but the best part is the increased heal clearance–in extremely muddy conditions, it’s quite common to see both normal (non-BB30) crankarms completely worn by the inside of the racer’s shoes.  It mars the finish, is quite uncomfortable or even painful, and surely can’t help transfer those watts to the rear wheel.

2) we’ve also used a FULL 1.5″ head tube on Tyler’s Boos.  Yes folks, not a curvy, tapered HT…it’s a full freaking 49.61mm ID from bottom to top!  This means ridiculous stiffness, lots less weight, and lots more fork/headset options.  We’ll run Enve Composites tapered Cross fork, which from our experience is the stiffest, most precise ‘cross fork on the market.  Then a Cane Creek headset composed of a normal external-bearing lower cup and a trick ZeroStack internal top cup.  The headset stack height is reduced, allowing us to run a slightly longer HT–you want that for the stiffest front-end possible–and the top cup disappears into the frame for a very slick look but without the generally crappy feel of “integrated” headsets.  If you’re curious why Chris King has never, and will never, make an “integrated” headset, read it from the horse’s mouth.

3) the stuff you cannot see…James has almost 200 Boo frames under his belt now, and every single one is better than the next.  As we work together to improve the integration of various components into the overall bike design, we’ve also optimized our tube sizes (both outside diameter and wall thickness) and our joint-specific carbon layups.  These details are ours to see and to know, but for our customers and racers to feel–the newest batch of Boo bikes has been getting rave reviews from customers, which I’ll be posting as soon as I get some good looking pictures to go along with!

So check in as we ramp up for a great 2011 cyclocross season and show what Boos are capable of!

Bikes at Outdoor Demo will be in the TRP booth, right across from the Shimano and Trek booths. There will be a Boo CX on display, and a 29er available for test ride, both with carbon belt drives!

At the indoor show, Brad Cole’s bike will be on display at Challenge Tires (booth 9084). Troy Evans’ will be on display at Tektro Technology (parent corp of TRP) at booth 12073.

Come check them out at the Challenge Tires booth at Interbike!

Brad’s Boo 29er SS will be available at the Outdoor Demo in the TRP booth…you can check out the TRP Dash Carbon brakes and ride the most unique, high-performance SS 29er at the show. Talk to Lance Larabee at TRP and Bill Marshall at Challenge.

But one thing we simply take for granted: that there even exist start and finish lines!  The people and work behind those two lines is astounding, actually more impressive than many of the performance between those two lines.  As I’ve been to more and more races as a professional, and become more involved with the business of cycling as a professional sport, I have gotten a glimpse of some of the immense obstacles promoters must tackle to pull it all off.

As I’ve nursed my knee wound, which seems to be coming together (literally) quite well, I have witnessed the Tour do Rio from the sidelines–behind the barriers at the start, in the van during, and behind the podium at the finish.  And I’ve also been seeing how the multitude of race staff, organization, commissaires, medics, and doping controllers work together in concert to keep the show on the road.

The Tour do Rio has been one of my most memorable races for this reason.  I cannot remember ever as a rider experiencing a stage race without racing in it, and it’s been an eye opener.  The course design, figuring out how to pass through towns with spectators lining the avenues, take in the incredible climbs around Rio de Janeiro, descend safely through some wicked mountain peaks, and come together for a grand finale–these are some of the key ingredients that make a race grow and prosper and create incredible drama and marketing value for its sponsors.

The Tour do Rio has it in spades.  Often riders declare courses unsafe, sometimes even unridable, but the race must seek out incredible challenges to allow the cream to rise over the course of the tour.  Rio provides an epic backdrop for the drama, and navigating its back roads has been hair raising for sure, but the event has calmed down as all tours do throughout their stages.

We can only hope for more coverage in the future, including video, to capture this spectacle as it happens.  Hearing from the guys after each stage, there are more opportunities for attacks, regrouping, chases, and various tactics between teams to play out than almost any races we do in the US.  The roads are so demanding that it’s simply not possible to have a boring stage with a lone break that is slowly reeled in before a bunch sprint.  The Tour do Rio has taken a cue from the Tour de France in using middle mountains throughout the stages to make the race a fascinating battle between strong rolleurs and grimpiers, with teams required to constantly react to changing conditions.

I cannot lie: it’s been very tough spectating at the Tour do Rio, made all the more difficult by the epic courses and challenges and tactics that I’ve seen.  As a racer, we look for the start and finish lines to determine success and failure–to what races are we invited and how do we perform at them?  But what comes between them, oh, that’s the good stuff, the beauty–what keeps us coming back for more.

I can only hope we are so lucky to come back to the Tour do Rio in 2012, their third year running.  I’ll know what to expect, I’ll be ready for the considerable challenges, and I’ll look forward to the good stuff.

But to race for 80 miles, up over 10,000ft of vert, with just a single gear?  I was getting ready to call up Nurse Ratchet when Brad told me this plan.  Maybe some old-school therapy would help dissuade him.

It turns out Nurse isn’t really practicing anymore, so Brad had his way–and with great success!  He took a dominant win in the Crusher’s singlespeed category (yes, apparently there were others who had fallen off the deep end), coming in top-15 in the overall top men’s division to boot!

So, what steed helped him perform this masochistic, sadistic, demented, tormented act?  A fully-rigid, belt-driven bamboo-carbon mountain bike with 29″ road bike wheels and tubulars.

At least he had brakes!

Now feast your eyes on the gallery of a madman’s bicycle.  And reflect on the famous words (many times the *last* words): “If you’re gonna go, go all in!”