HOW TO PLAY: Print this out and take it to the next show you go to. If you'd prefer to play in South Philly without the distraction of live music, take it to the Dive or Ray's Happy Birthday Bar. When you get a bingo, scream "BINGO!" at the top of your lungs and break a bunch of beer bottles on the floor. Continue to yell "BINGO!" as the bouncers beat the shit out of you and toss you out the back door of the bar. Spit and curse at the bouncers for ruining your good time.
I've never quite figured out exactly what racers are escaping from, but regardless, this jewel of the Mid Atlantic off-road racing calender keeps 'em coming back year after year. Held on Granouge estate, a picturesque slice of northern Delaware real estate owned by one of the world's wealthiest families, the Escape from Granouge MTB race never fails to disappoint. It's one of those events that offers much to both the causal and serious racer: great organization, a unique and scenic setting, a deceptively tough course, plenty of competition across all classes, and last but certainly not least, a sense of community that you just don't find at most races.
For the past several years, Fatmarc (or is it Faticus?) has served as the Supreme Race Director for the Escape from Granouge race. Marc is a guy that lives and breathes bicycle racing, and if you've ever been to one of his events, it's obvious his enthusiasm for the sport is contagious. A legion of volunteers from the local cycling community help him pull off great events year after year, so you know there's something behind the guy's ability to rally the troops. But most importantly, Marc is a genuinely nice fellow, a guy who's heart is in the right place when it comes to the sport. And Marc's willingness to throw his support behind a good cause certainly underscores what a good heart the guy has.
Last year, Samantha and I approached Marc about organizing an ovarian cancer fund raiser in conjunction with the Escape from Granouge race. Our initial concept was simply to have prize raffle drawing on race day, with the Granouge event serving as our hosts. But Marc enthusiastically jumped on the idea, pledging a portion of everyone's entry fee as a donation to the Hera Women's Cancer Foundation, an organization Samantha has been working with since 2005, the year she was diagnosed with ovarian cancer. When all was said and done with last year's event, we netted over $3000 for Hera through a combination of the donated race entry fees, raffle ticket sales, and a couple of sizable corporate donations. The success of the fund raiser solidified our partnership with Marc and the Racing Group (the umbrella organization behind the Granouge races), and it was a no-brainer when we decided to make the Hera Foundation fund raiser at Granouge an annual event.
This year's fund raiser was organized along the same lines as last year. On-line ticket sales for the Big Bike Gear Raffle topped last year's mark, and race day sales (along with sales of bakery fresh soft pretzels and spring water) went very well. In the end, we exceeded last year's race day fund raising effort, and to top it off, many folks walked away with some great bike swag, including a custom Independent Fabrication MTB fork, a White Industries ENO freewheel, and an entry to the Stoopid 50 marathon next month. Thanks to everyone who threw a few bucks our way, particularly those who not only bought tickets, but also helped to publicize our efforts via the Internet. If you'd need proof that good karma truly exists, ask Tomi if he'll lend you his new Off Road to Athens DVD. Or better yet, next time you see Dicky, check out his Ride Your Bicycle t-shirt. Yinz are winners in more ways than one. There are lots of other folks that deserve thanks, so stay tuned for a final recap of our fund raising efforts.
Though my focus at Granouge was the fund raiser, I still managed to make it to the starting line for the Expert Vet 40-44 race. I was the only single speeder among the twenty or so guys in my class, but that didn't deter me from staying at the front of the pack during the quarter mile drag race start. I was among the leaders as we hit the first section of singletrack, and as we made our way around the first of three laps of the Granouge estate, I was feeling good enough to gun for the win. But halfway into the first lap, a stupid mechanical nearly put a damper on my day. I managed to dodge the proverbial bullet, and after a relatively quick fix of said mechanical, I was back in the saddle chasing the win.
For the next two and a half laps, I made steady progress through the Expert Single Speed and Expert Vet 35-39 fields, passing nearly all the racers that started in the two waves right in front of our group. My split times were consistent over the three laps and I took full advantage of the beer stop at the bottom of Weymouth's on each pass. I never made it back to the front of the Expert 40-44 field, but I still managed to finish in 4th place, 3 minutes and 15 seconds back of the winner.
After the previous weekend's bloodshed and brutality at the Rocktober Challenge, I was happy for a strong showing, and a call-up at the award ceremony made it three podium appearances in my last three races. Solid. Winning a race is a great feeling, but there's something to be said for consistency.
I'll be taking a break from racing until mid-June, and beyond that, I'm still kicking around some ideas for the remainder of the season. A return to 24 hour solo racing may be in the cards, but I'm not ready to tilt my hand just yet. There are plenty of great events to choose from, now it's just a matter of finalizing a plan. Stay tuned.
It's been quite some time since I posted, a testament to how busy life has been. I enjoy writing, but some subtle shifts in priorities have left little time to keep this site current. Ride less and write more? That just ain't happening. Better to live life in the saddle than sitting behind a keyboard. Commuting miles have been my mainstay as of late, but I've also found time to get reacquainted with my BMX cruiser. And with Spring fully sprung, woods riding has been nothing short of spectacular.
As noted in the previous post, my race season started out with a fizzle back in late March. Things didn't get much better over the next two races, the lap race at Fair Hill and the Cohutta 100. Lackluster finishes at both events had me wondering how much longer the after effects of the flu would linger around. But even as I struggled to get back on form, my patience never left, and by the end of April, I felt I was closing in on 100%. And a return to full power would be necessary for the next race on my schedule, the Pisgah Mountain Bike Adventure Race (PMBAR), an annual event held in the Pisgah National Forest, deep in the mountains of western North Carolina.
Back in the winter months, Dicky and I decided we would join our evil forces to conquer PMBAR. Several weeks of smack talk ensued, and once race day rolled around, it was a forgone conclusion that our unstoppable racing system would be tough to beat. Finishing second out of 72 teams made my early season woes a distant memory. It was an extraordinary day on the bike and one that will likely serve as the highwater mark of my 2008 season. I swear I'm going to write a race report for this one, but until then, check out Dicky's account of the day here and here with some pictures here.
A weekend of much needed R&R was followed by last Saturday's awkwardly named but incredibly worthwhile Rocktoberfest Challenge Marathon, held in the Bald Eagle State Forest in the mountains of central Pennsylvania. As always, race impresario Mike Kuhn came through with a great event. Seventy miles of brutal Appalachian racing had many racers wondering if they'd actually gone a hundred, with most finishers coming in well past the seven hour mark. It was another good day for me. A 4th place finish in the Single Speed class and an overall placing in the top fifteen was the best I could do against a stacked field, but given the difficulty of this race, the greater accomplishment was just finishing. Yeah, it was that hard. Props to Brandon for taking the overall win and to Matt Ferrari for his top single speed finish. Hopefully, I'll get my shit together and post a race report for this one as well.
My Spring campaign by the numbers: 5 events and 300+ miles of racing in a 7 week span. 2 podium finishes, 1 near miss and a couple of also rans. Needless to say, I'm a bit tired, but in the same regard, I'm encouraged by my apparent return to good form. What's next? I'll be at the Escape from Granouge this weekend, but the focus will be on the Big Bike Gear Raffle rather than racing. If you're not planning on it already, you should make the trip to Northern Delaware for this classic Mid Atlantic event. A portion of your entry fee will be donated to the HERA Foundation in support of ovarian cancer research and advocacy. And if you can't make the trip, do something excellent and plunk down a few bucks for a chance to win some great bike swag. 100% of the raffle proceeds will be donated to HERA.
The Fightin' Phils have not had a winning record in April since 2003, and this season appears to be headed in the same direction as the last four. In the final inning of Monday's Opening Day game, reliever Tom "Flash" Gordon managed to give up five runs in the top, all but assuring a Washington Nationals win and sending the fans out of Citizen Bank Park and into the streets of South Philly with yet another memory of an Opening Day loss.
Phillies fans have come to expect bad pitching on Opening Day, so the loss to the Nats wasn't exactly a crushing blow to the psyche of Phillies faithful. The Phillies should be in the thick of it when the pennant race kicks into high gear in September. Slow starts and late season competitiveness is how the current Phillies squad rolls, something that is generally accepted by the loyal fan base.
Much like our current hometown heroes, I have a recent history of kicking off the spring campaign on a down note. But we're talking mountain bike racing here, not baseball, and my mediocre showings in early April are typically attributed to illness and injury rather than a shaky pitching squad. If you've been reading this site for a while, you've heard it all before: chronic sinus infections, surgery, broken bones, more surgery, DNFs, frustration, and ultimately health and a bit of redemption. Just like the Phils, I should be right there when September rolls around, if not much sooner.
At last Saturday's Oddman MTB Duathlon, my season started on a similar path as the past few years. The Reader's Digest version of my race report goes something like this: Showed up to the starting line half sick, ran/rode a solid race but was a bit off my game, posted a decent but ultimately unsatisfying result, and woke up the next morning sick as dog, knocked horizontal with a one-two punch of the flu and an upper respiratory infection.
Two days in bed followed by another day of putt-putting around the house gave me plenty of time to contemplate the whole situation. Dealing with illness and injury during race season has been my reality over the past four years. I've faced hardships of varying degrees and I've learned a lot in the process of overcoming those challenges. I've disovered a few truisms along the way, knowledge that I'm willing to pass on to those are willing to listen, or in this case, read. So with no fanfare and fewer apologies to no one in particular, I present to you Elk's Guide to Sick and Injured Racing.
The Wild Turkey Effect: This does not refer to drowning your sorrows in mid-priced bourbon, but is a reference to one of the less desirable side effect of antibiotics. Yes, antibiotics will make you shit like a wild turkey. And whatever additional side effects you may suffer coupled with the infection the antibiotics are fighting are probably reason enough to sit out a race rather than try to push through at half or three quarters speed. At least this is the conclusion I've reached after years of giving it a go while taking antibiotics and coming away with mediocre results.
However, there are exceptions to this guiding principle, the most important of which is the Feral Cat Attack Exception Rule, established in August 2007. I had recently finished four months of antibiotics related to chronic sinus disease and was gearing up to resume my race season. A few days before my first race back, I was attacked by a feral cat on the streets of South Philly. The ER doctors prescribed me a series of rabies shots and another fucking course of antibiotics. Ain't that some shit? But sometimes you need to re-write the rules and that's just what I did. My comeback race went reasonably well and I decided my next move would be to re-write the animal cruelty laws, but just the ones that apply to the filthy fucking felines that run rampant our corner of the city.
The Peter Principle of Pre-Entry: There are times I manage to stay ahead of the curve instead of behind the eight ball. During times of such motivation, it's common for me to pre-enter the next few races on my schedule. I'd like to believe this is a mechanism to keep focused on short term goals, but the reality is that I just want to save a few bucks on entry fees. But what seems to be a good cost saving measure is really a false economy.
Whenever I take this approach, it's inevitable that something will come up that'll having me sitting on the sidelines for at least one of those events. And more often than not, that something is illness or injury. The end result is eating the entry fee for that race, negating any cost savings I've earned from pre-entering the other events. So what's the lesson in all of this? It ain't easy being me sometimes. But seriously, if you want my advice, support your local race promoter and pre-enter races whenever you can. And if your interested in racing this year's Cohutta's 100 but got shut out, stay tuned this site. My spot in the field may go on the auction block some time in the near future.
Boots n' Saddle Theory: No, I'm not suggesting you head to the country and western bar on South Broad Street for a little line dancing. I'll leave the South Philly bar recommendations for another post. The central theme of the Boots and Saddle Rule is a "cowboy up" approach to cycling, essentially jumping back in the saddle a quickly as possible after getting sick or hurt. Sometimes this is a delicate balancing act, but this is more about cycling as a lifestyle rather than a means to an end.
Racing is just a small part of what I do on the bicycle, and I count every ride, whether it be commuting, running errands or a day long adventure in the mountains, as preparation for racing. Pushing through the times when I'm not feeling 100% is mostly about living, and big picture thinking enables priorities to be reshuffled and new goals to be set with a minimum of nail biting and hand wringing. In true cowboy fashion, I plan to die with my boots on.
Rock For Light Rule: Finally, go get yourself a copy of the classic Bad Brains album, Rock for Light. Throw it in your CD player, turn the volume to 11, and simultaneously hit the Play and Repeat options. Play it 'til your ears bleed or your neighbors call the cops, which ever comes first. If you're not familiar with the lyrics, keep your ear tuned to the wisdom of HR and you'll notice the concept of PMA, or Positive Mental Attitude, is featured prominently throughout. "Gotta, gotta, gotta, keep that P-M-A!" This has been my mantra on more than one occasion while sick or hurt, and sometimes the enlightenment that comes from reciting this mantra takes form of a laser sharp focus on a goal one, three, or six months down the road.
I don't fancy myself as the Philosopher King of South Philly, but I have a very strong belief in the power of positive thinking and attitude when it comes to overcoming health challenges. Being sick as the race season commences is a real buzz killer and the disappointment that comes along with it is genuine. But in the same regard, it is easy to visualize a return good health and success looming on the not so distant horizon. "Gotta, gotta, gotta, keep that P-M-A!" Goals don't always have to mean crossing the finish line first.
The UK hasn't produced a good band in thirtysomething years, but when it comes to public service announcements, those limey bastards got us beat by an English mile. Ever notice that our Share the Road road signs depict an aggressive motorist getting ready to run over a blissfully unaware cyclist? Even though those signs seem to be ignored by most people, at least they are "anatomically correct." The Brits get right with this video, delivering the same basic message in a way that's far more engaging and provocative. If you haven't seen this yet, take a couple of minutes and give it a view.
The Empire State Building Run Up is the crown jewel of competitive stair climbs. The event is organized by the New York Road Runners Club, the same organization behind one of the world's greatest athletic events, the New York City Marathon. Unlike the Climb the Tower race and last weekend's 21st Annual Wawa Stair Climb (race report to follow), the ESB Run Up features a mass start, essentially a sprint across the lobby before "the course" funnels runners through a narrow doorway.
This video documents the start of the 2007 ESB Run Up and is vaguely reminiscent of another famous event featuring an international field of runners. Even though that other event throws some angry bulls into the mix, both feature a mad dash and trampled bodies. Stay with the video long enough to catch the instant replay. The added commentary will give you a good idea of the chaos these runners endure in the name of sport.
I'll admit to being rather intrigued by stair climbs. Though I'm not ready to give up mountain bike racing in favor of these events, I've found they provide a nice off-season diversion. The NYRRC lists the ESB Run Up as an invitation only event and I've decided to throw my hat in the ring for next year's race. Hopefully, two solid finishes in stair climbs in the past two weeks coupled with my decade old resume of marathon running will be enough to earn me an slot in the 2009 event.
I was listening to Apostrophe over my Sunday morning coffee and somewhere around Cosmic Debris, I decided once and for all that Frank Zappa is the greatest rock n' roll guitarist that ever lived. If you're unfamiliar with Zappa's music, Apostrophe is a good starting point. The CD version of Apostrophe also includes another Zappa classic, Overnight Sensation. It's just as good as Apostophe and even better when paired up with a strong cup o' joe. But if you're looking for the true early 1970's Zappa experience, ask your middle aged hippie uncle if you can borrow his scratchy Apostrophe or Ovenight Sensation LP. Hell, maybe he'll even show you how the stoners of the day used album covers to clean their reefer.
Listening to Frank Zappa brings me back to my college running days. When we would travel to away meets, I would bring a boom box and a cassette tape of The Mothers Live at the Fillmore East 1971 on the team van. This didn't go over to well with my Fellowship of Christian Athletes teammates, but in my mind, I was doing them a favor by enlightening them to the genius of Zappa. C'mon, where else were these guys gonna learn about the legend of the Mudshark?
This weekend's Climb the Tower stair climb was another throwback to my running days. While I'm not averse to jumping in a foot race on a whim, I committed to this race a month or two back at Samantha's suggestion. Samantha had competed in the inaugural race in 2007, and from Samantha's report, it sounded like a real hoot. And in thirteen years of competitive running, I had never done anything remotely similar. The stair climb would be a brand spanking new challenge.
The venue for the race was the 739' tall Bell Atlantic Tower, the fifth tallest building on the Philadelphia skyline and the 79th tallest building in the country. The course was fifty stories of stairs finishing at the Top of the Tower, a banquet hall occupying the top two floors of the building. The race was organized as a benefit for the American Lung Association, a very worthy cause. Not only would we be running for our own edification, but we would be running in support of those affected by lung disease.
Samantha also convinced her brother Jeff to race, and after meeting for breakfast at our house in South Philly, Jeff, Samantha and I headed to the Bell Atlantic Building at 17th and Arch Streets. When we arrived at the building, the lobby was packed with runners and their supporters. We picked up our race packets, attempted to decipher the pre-race announcements, stretched and got ready to go. After a bit of confusion, the race director sent us outside onto the sidewalk to queue up with the other runners.
The race was set up as a time trial, with runners sent off every ten or fifteen seconds. Timing was done via a computer chip fastened to your wrist via a Velcro strap, a technology also used at some of the bigger 24 hour races. Runners were instructed to keep right and pass left. Aid stations were set up on every tenth floor.
My strategy for the race was simple: Run to the point of puking and toe that line for the remainder of the race. I wasn't sure of the most efficient way to run up seven hundred vertical feet of steps, so I really didn't flesh out that part of the race plan. All I knew was that I needed to run the entire way up, and if necessary, find a discreet place to toss my cookies.
"Five, four, three, two, one...GO!" I took off at a nice pace and was surprised that the first few stories also included short sections of hallway. I pinballed around the narrow hallways and connecting staircases, feeling a little like an an extra in a B horror movie running from some sort of evil. I caught up with Samantha somewhere around the tenth floor, and handed her the bandanna she had dropped a few fights earlier.
By the twentieth floor, I had settled into a nice rhythm. I was running one step at time and keeping a nice pace. People were heeding the "keep right pass left" pre-race instruction, which made things a hell of a lot easier for all involved. The biggest obstacle on the course turned out to be the dry, stale air in the fifty story fire tower.
By the thirtieth floor, the combination of my effort and the poor air quality had my on the verge of vomit. I was just past the halfway point and my race plan was being executed with military-like precision. The last twenty floors were a blur. I got loopy as I neared the top and started to think there were fifty one stories, not fifty. The fiftieth floor finish line seemed to come a floor to soon, but I wasn't complaining. I crossed the finish line, scanned my chip, and wandered off to find a good place to puke, staggering around the Top of the Tower in search of a discreetly positioned trash can.
By that point, Samantha had finished and she was in similar shape. Couples that puke together, stay together, right? Maybe, but I wasn't really up for some dual puking action. I got Samantha to her feet and again wandered off, dry heaving into the Climb the Tower towel the race organizers had provided all finishers. I eventually ended up in the men's room and hung out there for a spell, kicking it Larry Craig style while waiting for the inevitable upchuck.
I somehow dodged that bullet, and after some additional wandering around, Samantha and I made our way to the awards ceremony. I ended up finishing 7th overall in a time of 7:33, winning the Men's 40-49 category. But the real story of the day was Samantha, who finished 2nd Overall among all women, just five seconds off the winning pace. (Go here to read Samantha's race report.) Race day was also the third anniversary of Samantha's cancer diagnosis, which made her result even more extraordinary. Samantha never stops amazing me.
Next up is another stair climb, a race to the top of the Mellon Bank Center, the fourth tallest building in the city. I have a couple of other running related events on my schedule before the proper start of the race season, but I'm keeping those plans under wraps for the time being. But I will confirm that my training includes going to the Main Line just before dawn to knock the little jockeys off the rich people's lawns. Frank would want it that way, ya know?
There are plenty of great bands that come out of the Philly music scene, but few make it to the national spotlight. Back in the early 90's, The Goats were one of the top local acts, and as the alternative hip-hop scene was getting national attention, they signed with a major record label. The Goats put out two albums, Tricks of the Shade and No Goats, No Glory, then broke up and seemingly faded into obscurity.
Subsequently, Maxx, one of three MC's that fronted The Goats, paired up with another Goats alumni, DJ Smoove to form Incognegro. Incognegro put out one album, a self-titled record that didn't seem to get any buzz beyond the streets of Philly. Incognergro was tight, but their sound wasn't what the major record labels were pushing in 1999. Incognegro disbanded and Maxx split for Europe and started making electronic music under the moniker of Blue Maxx Goat.
This is video is for Dear God, a song that will be included on Black Landlord's upcoming EP. Black Landlord borrows the best elements from both the Goats (live instrumentation) and Incognegro (Maxx's superior MC skills), but unfortunately, it is doubtful they will ever make it big. But that's no reason to write them off. So sit back and enjoy. And remember bitches, the rent due on the first, not the fifth.
If you've been following Dicky's Smacktalkapalooza 2008, maybe wondered if the brother could keep up the scorching pace he set in the first few installments. And after Dicky threw down the gauntlet to other bloggers, perhaps you're waiting for him to take it to that other level. But in the past few days, it looks like Dicky has been on hiatus from the smack talk, so maybe it's time for the rest of us to step it up. Does he know there's blood in the water? And has he noticed the sharks are circling?
So I figured the time was right to dust off my opus of shit talk, the Elk Fight Song. Initially released in the spring of 2006, the Elk Fight Song was an instant hit, but it was not without its detractors. Lest anyone get their knickers in a twist, I offer this disclaimer: This shit ain't personal. This is smack talk. And ya'll better recognize. 'Cause I'm one of the all time greats.
You haters think you can step to me? Well, think again. 'Cause I'm the best ever. I'm the most brutal, the most vicious, the most ruthless champion there's ever been. No one can stop me. I'm Sonny Liston, I'm Jack Dempsey. I'm the best ever. EVER! There's no one that can match me. My style is impetuous, my defense is impregnable, and I'm just ferocious. I want your heart. I want to eat your children. Praise be to Allah!
So without further ado, and with no apologies to Santa Claus, I present to you the Elk Fight Song.
