Iceman 2015. Bad Dad hammers

Race Report!

Iceman. On my bike, 2 places feel like "home". Potowatami and Iceman. Sure, I have the great privilege of living in a place where people come to vacation -- on their mountain bikes -- but the tall maples, oaks, pines, black dirt, and crisp Midwestern air will always be home.   Iceman is where I got the bug for racing...the big events that bring together all kinds of likeminded, slightly insane people.  Iceman started the journey, has brought me my best friends, and has changed the path of my life in only positive ways.  Not bad for a short little race in crap weather.  As long as I can, I will be coming back.  2015 was looking to be a lot different than 2014...a full drivetrain and brake rebuild was unlikely to be required after this one.   

Iceman Start - like being home

Poto -- there are few better places to fall in love with knobbies

I lined up in 2015 with not much to prove, other than I can have a blast going as fast as I can for something around 2 hours. Go hard, don't crash, thank everyone I could see on the side of the trail, and finish with a smile. Easy goals.

As usual (not always) 900ft started in an earlier wave (but only 5 waves ahead this time), myself along with Dead Blow and Der Roadie were together. Fast Lady, Bike Boy and Captian Sloe were spread out over the next 10 waves.  I was hoping to ride with Der Roadie and Dead Blow a bit, but Iceman does not lend itself to riding with friends.

L to R, Der Roadie, Me, Deadblow at the start  Photo from Madame LaFrench

Start to Dockery (or thereabouts)

Iceman start is a road sprint, with a sharp left hand turn followed by a fast narrowing onto single track. This is very very jittery. Mountain bikers have no idea how to ride in a pack, and even less how to ride on a pace line. This happens at the Whiskey and at Leadville, but both those races don't really have bottlenecks early, so there's less of a mad sprint for the hole shot. They are also a little more self selecting, as 50- and 100- miles at altitude will thin the field a bit. Iceman is dead flat for about 1.5 miles. The goal here is to go out pretty hard, find the wheels and sit 4th or 5th. There are stronger people in the wave, and I planned to take advantage.

At one point Der Roadie said "this is the easy part!". I replied "yeah...just trying to find people who look like they won't crash". Harder than it sounds. As we made the big left hander, I was sitting 10th or so in a line on the right side of the road, behind a woman who kept grabbing her brakes, a guy who kept trying to move up between two pace lines that had formed, and to my left a guy who kept moving up and half-wheeling the pace line to the outside, then dropping back 1/2 a length or more.

I kept waiting for the wheels to touch and peoples race days to end before their tires saw dirt.

Through the miracle of bike racing dynamics and I think Der Roadie letting me in, a gap developed in the left, I jumped in and had a smooth cruise to the right turn hole shot.

Unfortunately, now I was up with the road bikers who heard this was a "road race on dirt" and didn't know how to navigate the sandy 2-track and quick turns. The goal here is to stay upright, keep an escape route open, and position for the 3 or 4 sand hills that are more like cyclocross obstacles than climbs.

My Shadetree setup saved me multiple times. Joey has me on the biggest volume tires that fit my rig, and a new XT 1x11 drivetrain. Pushed outside the 2-track into the grass?  No problem. Bad line in a crowd onto the sand?  No worries. Bad line onto the steepest part of the hill?  Click click with the right thumb, flawless shifting, stand up for 4 turns and leave a whole lot of people with grinding gears and washed out 2.1 tires behind to untangle themselves from each other.

I'm not sure where I lost Der Roadie, but later he told me he had mechanical issues early...fortunately did not end his day.

Pacelineing...until trouble

Popping over Nettie's hill I found 3 guys working a nice pace line. The trail made it hard to rotate in a disciplined way, but we switched off wherever possible. It was great to have this little group and we made great time through the first aid station, and into what we used to call "big ring jam".  I kind wished I had a few more teeth on the ring in this section, as I was spinning pretty fast in the top gear to keep up with the pace line, but fortunately there were enough sandy bits and turns to slow folks down to make it less of a problem.

Then I noticed my brakes and gears were not where I left them. Dammit!  My handle bars were slightly loose and rotating!  I pushed them back into place, and felt a "click" as the stem settled into the grooves on protective material. I was hoping it was a one-timer but I was 99% certain I was going to need to stop. Sure enough, at the next sharp climb my pulling on the bars rotated them back. I was about 1/2 way at this stage.  Some moron must have built the bike up while talking on the phone and drinking a beer Friday.  Oh, that was me?  never mind then.

I resolved to stop at the next intersection with a course volunteer and tighten the bars. I knew I could go for a bit, but no way I could go another hour like this. To my extraordinary luck, the place I pulled over had a guy with a full toolset. Official neutral support!!  Super lucky for me, as it saved me getting the bag open, finding the tool, etc. unfortunately, I was not carrying any "volunteer tips" like I usually do, and I forgot to get his name. But I'll say mr neutral support at about 22K -- you are the MAN!

Yeah Neutral Support past where Williamsburg party used to be...

For the next 2-3 miles I passed people. I had lost my group, and there was lot of traffic. Not enough to bottleneck, but enough that I needed to focus on when to pass and when to wait. I misjudged the skills of one guy in front of me, and hit him pretty hard as he missed his line on one of the "cross obstacle" hills. No damage, but a bit of a bummer to have to put my foot down and run for a bit.

By the time I got to Williamsburg road, I was clear, and riding pretty much alone. Completely strange. 4000 people in this race 1000 had started before me. The race is infamous for its traffic and bottlenecks...and I was pretty much alone.

I kept it pegged and started glancing at the garmin. Hmmm...2:00 ain't happening but 2:15 is a real possibility....maybe even 2:10. I did know this. I was going to get to Mt Gary right on schedule.

Riding through the 2nd aid there was a bit of traffic, which quickly dissipated. I played leap frog with a guy in an Audi kit. He seemed to have more power on the long flats, I would catch and pass him on the punchy climbs or in the space immediately following as he puffed over them a bit.

I cleaned Anita's -- 2nd time ever! -- and glanced at the Garmin. I was starting to feel the effort of pushing hard (zone 4 mostly for you data geeks) for the past hour and 45 minutes. I set my finish goal at 2:10. I might just pull that off.  Passing though the 3rd aid I downed the last of my first bottle (really didn't need that 2nd one) and a bit of GU. Traffic was thick again. I was spending a good amount of energy not hitting people.  The way the course works there would be traffic all the way to the line.

Mt Gary and the Finish

I crossed Lands End road and got a smile on my face. 3 turns and about 90 seconds away was the top of Mt Gary!  Of course none of them saw me, despite my identifying sticker. No worries though, by subtly steering my bike right at them, the gang figured out I was there.

Up the woodchips and into the barriers through the single track. Then one more hard effort up the Icebreaker. I crossed the final timing mat at 2:08. 3 minutes. Time for a finish kick!  Stand up, and gears...and no kick. Nothing. I was moving, but a finish sprint this was not.  I tried again...no cramps...not a lot of pain, just no more power to be had.  I made the big right hand turn to see the finish banner and made the line in 2:13. That's a PR, and that felt good.

Just a little confused at the finish

900Ft was hanging out at the finish line and called out as I crossed.  Somewhat thankfully, he had not had time to change yet.  I found some Drunkcyclists (always nice to have friends anywhere you go...just look for the colors!) and shared a few shots of Fireball provided for just such a purpose by Der Roadie.  

I even got to hug Steve Brown, which I think he found disturbing.  This is serious business after all.

Another great day on the bike, courtesy of Steve Brown (who takes way too much crap for the amazing race he puts on every year), great friends, (even a new one named Carl courtesy of DC and Dirty) and the beauty that is Northern Michigan.  The only sadness is that it takes another whole year for Iceman to roll around again.  

I can't wait.

Iceman 2015. Mt Gary comes of age.

This is all Very Serious

Bike racing is serious business best undertaken by serious men, and seriouser women.  Cheering at a bike race must follow certain established rules and decorum, and must remind all participants of their suffering. After all this is serious business.

Before we get into too much, 900ft shot this sweet video of the course.  It's just over 2 min of your life.  Watch it:

Iceman 2015 hosted by Dead Blow and Tickleticklepuke and as always enabled by the Iceman himself was a fantastic addition to the series.


For the racers, conditions were near perfect.  The just right amount of rain kept the sand in check without creating mud bogs. Hero dirt on the climbs virtually eliminated wheel slip, translating to descents with the left hand wrapped around the bar, and just a little braking for us cowards. Skies were overcast steel grey Midwestern fall, letting loose some rain and sleet as racers dressed for a 40 degree start to feel uncomfortably warm

Serious Men

Putting the hammer down off the line and keeping it pinned as much as possible left one pretty clammy at the finish. Those November North Michigan temps quickly turned the finisher into an ice cube, looking for a recovery beverage and a trademark Iceman bonfire to warm up and dry off.

Bad Dad Recovering

Wool hats and puffy coats were probably best for spectating.
Unless the coat needed to be shed to allow some ventilation for efforts incurred while screaming for world class pros like Chloe, Georgia, Katerina, and Evelyn, plus some dudes with names like Troy, Todd, Brian...

Pretty sure this sign pushed Chloe onto the top step

I am fully confident the Mt Gary crew made the ride for some racers.  Maybe some didn't like it -- after all, this is serious business. Can't say any definitive moves were made at our little patch of awesomeness -- too far from the finish really -- but more than a few gave us a smile, a wheelie or a fist pump. We were only flipped off once, we think.

Troy, Brian, Geoff, Todd...

Cheering for the fast women and very serious men who amaze us with their feats of aerobic intensity and quads of steel is certainly a fun time.  If we've done it right, those folks will think to themselves "Iceman...shitty weather, kinda short, kinda flat course, a long way from where I am....but I'm not missing out on my icemaniac love this year!" Those fast women and serious men will drag themselves out of the mountains of Arizona and Colorado again next fall. We'll be there, on My Gary, and it will be very serious. Very. Serious. Indeed.

Of course there's the Mt Gary friends and family.  Bad Dad, 900ft, Dead Blow, Captain Sloe, Der Roadie, Fast Lady (hello...3rd in her category), and Bike Boy all made it happen this year.  Of course there is The Elder.  Who, at 13 finished...ummm.....faster than all of us, and 2nd in his age group.  Barely 90 seconds off the lead.  I heard he rides a 1x10, but only uses 7-10.  Somebody get that boy a bigger chainring.  It was probably his sister in the "Unicorn" suit that gave him those last few watts. 

Fast Lady on the Barrel!

The Elder.  He's on the right.  He'll get a few more

There's another element to Mt Gary. By 12:30 or so all of the racer boys and fit chicks have come through. They're clicking their Garmins, seeing if they got a new PR, realizing they lost to their buddy by under 3 minutes AGAIN (3 god damn minutes. 2:45 actually. Did I mention the 2:13:30 was a PR?  And that I had to stop and tighten my handlebars about mile 10, which took about 3 minutes?  Ok, back to the point). They're downing Bell's, taking selfies and checking the leader boards to see if they made the podium and calculating their wave starts for next year.

Bad Dad and 900ft Post Race

That's when the heroes show up. The people who have to work for this.

First timers at Iceman who were pretty sure they could get their mountain bike from Kalkaska to Traverse City. People who have had Iceman in their "maybe one day" list for years. People who move more mass than 2 of those racer boys (and their bikes) put together. People with grand kids. Great grand kids. People who have taken 4 shots at Iceman and dammit, they are going to finish this year. Guys racing with their dads. The guy has kids.  People who are going to F-ING KILL their friend who told them this would be fun, then dropped them on Nettie's hill, 3 miles into the race.

These folks make the downhill left hander after the short sharp uphill from the road, drift into the uphill left-right S turn that starts the 1/3 mile climb, and stop. They are finished. This hill, which you cannot see the top of from the base (the only one I can think of at iceman) is a freakin' wall at Mile 28. They pull their feet off the pedals, look up, drop their head, and start pushing. Some sit down. Some eat something. Most get the zombie-look of someone who just wants it to end. Those who do stay on their bikes are spinning a 1:3 gear as hard as they can, and they just keep moving.

This is where we come in.

These people get cheers. They get encouragement. They get vuvuzuela-ed.  They are told there is beer and water at the top (there is, really) and they get a push if they can mount up. Sometimes we help them find an inhaler. We help them get a GU or a sandwich out of their packs. We also let them know they need to keep moving. Because we know, you can't give up. They made the cut off at Williamsburg road...maybe just barely. But they need to keep racing. Even 3 miles from the finish at the bottom of the hill, the sweep is coming. The quad sweeper and the Motos that clear the way for those who take this hill in 45 seconds or less while talking to their neighbor or pulling a wheelie are coming fast behind...and these folks want and need to finish.

Most of the gang has DNFd iceman one year or another. Some of us more than once. We cheer for these people so that today it won't be DNF for them.  After all, these folks had the guts to start, they need to finish. No DNF. Not once you get to Mt Gary.  Feel the love.  See you 11/5/16

Showing the Love

900ft.  moving his small mass

Captain Sloe worked traffic all day pulled a PR

Dead Blow.  Hammer wrapped in a sandbag

Bike Boy and his Baggies

Sweep Marhall gets Love too!

Iceman is here

This is it.

It's Iceman week.

I love this week.

I love this week because I am so excited.  Yes, I get pretty damn excited for The Whiskey.  I take the entire week off to go to Leadville.  both of those races the week before is more like "HOLY CRAP I HAVE TO RIDE THAT THING ON SATURDAY!"  I seriously want to crap my pants the entire week before The Whiskey and Leadville.   

There is no fear of Iceman.  There is no dread.  No concern of "do I have it in me?"  Iceman is an old friend.  I know her turns and hills, though they change every year.  She has stopped trying to kill me, and just likes to remind me who's really stronger these days.  Truth is, I'm just getting this 45 year old body over the abuse I put it through starting in February and going until mid August 15 in Leadville.  I stretched that peak another 2 weeks, and was so ready for Barnburner on August 29 that when it was canceled, I cried a bit.  Then I danced.  

But now, now I am going home.  Back to Michigan.  Back to where it's cold in November.  Where your tires roll on black dirt, and I recognize friends old, older, new and newer at every turn on the course.  Back to the race that kept me turning pedals for many years.  Back to the first place where I felt the kinship of the 2 wheel dirtbags.  

I can say this race has brought me much closer to a few of my friends, and has introduced me to people I plan to call my friends for a very long time.  And for that, I go back every year.  Yeah, it's a pain.  Yeah, it's a short race.  Yeah, the weather stinks.  Yeah, I need to drive, fly, sleep, drive just to get to where I shipped my bike.  Then build, get packet, eat, drink, sleep, wake, drive, RACE, finish, party, sleep, wake, drive, fly... 

And I'm not trading it for anything.

Life has changed over the past 20 years since I first did this thing.  I've lost family and friends to age and accidents.  Gained friends and family in the usual ways.  I've changed myself quite a bit, and so has the gang I roll with.

Iceman used to be the longest event on all our calendars.  "EPIC" 30 miles through the woods in Northern Michigan.  Yeah...that's a nice warm up these days.  I don't mind admitting it.  It's true for all of the guys I ride with.  Perhaps we're older, wiser, more stubborn...everyone is coming into this year's race with multiple 100 milers under their belt this season. Everyone is fast as they have ever been....and the energy put into the post-party seems to inexplicably go up and up and up.  And that is a great thing.

So here's to Iceman.  Here's to Steve Brown.  To Northern Michigan.  To friends.  To family.

See you all in 2 days.

There's at least this many more in the house somewhere.  And one in Dave's Garage

Iceman 2014

Iceman -- The Weather Takes Center Stage

A lot of pixels have been committed to Iceman 2014.  The conditions were epic.  Bikes, roads, and riders were eaten by Michigan sand, mud, rain, sleet and snow.  There are many great writeups describing just how crazy the whole thing was. The folks at Pinkbike posted one here.  Einstein Cycles has one here.  And of course there's the Iceman website itself.  

Since all that has been written, I'll just assume you know about the rain, sleet, mud, sand, mud, more sand and mud.  I'll say this about the conditions.  They ate my brake pads.

Iceman ate my brakes.  And I gave more money to Joey

I will put in this little reminder of what Iceman is.  30ish miles from Kalkaska to Traverse City.  Northern Michigan, in November.  The terrain undulates and twists through the Pere Marquette National Forest, along the VASA singlegtrack, and ends at the Timber Ridge campground at one of the BEST parties anywhere in mountain biking.  Some would say I have more parties to go to...

For me, Iceman is a bonus Chritsmas and Thanskgiving. I counted Iceman race numbers the other day.  14.  I had no idea I had done that many, but evidently I have.  My best friends are there every year.  Some I have known since I was 12.  Some I know only because of the race.  All have shared the best parts of my life with me, and I'll be back as long as Steve keeps running the race.

A long year of racing for me, and a long year of too much work stress. 2 hundred-milers, 2 50+, 1 40, and a few 30s...Leadville, Barnburner, The Whiskey, Tahoe Trail...and this is the race I was looking forward to the most.  There was only one year I needed Iceman and the extended family and friends it brings more than this one...but man I needed it this year. 

This year we had Dave, Conrad and Scott.  Cliff did not make it, but I am sure he will be back one of these years.  The party has just gotten too good.  Also met knew friends Joel, Mary, and the Klaus. Plus a gang of kids, one of which won this slush cup!  Iceman did not disappoint.

onto the race... 

Wave 2!

Iceman has 3500+ riders.  On a 30 mile course.  With a lot of singletrack.  Several years ago (like 15) Steve Brown and the team at Iceman decided to go with a wave start.  Several ideas have been iterated, and most made sense.  Waves by age group, waves by class (sport/beginner/expert), and of late, waves based previous year's results. There are a few other races that use this method, and it makes sense.  Last few years I stated in my appointed wave, passed a whole bunch of people, got passed a little bit, had a few singeltrack bottlenecks, and life was good.

This year, Steve decided to use previous year's performance (mine was not 1/2 bad) and factored in the amount of riding you had done on Strava.  Because I live in the mountains (well, bigger mountains than exist in Michigan) and I did a few insane things this year in Colorado, California, and Northern Arizona, I ended up with massive points on the Iceman training rankings.  

The Iceman computer spit out Wave 2 for me.  That's in the first 200 riders.  

That's completely insane.

Iceman is a crazy fast course for 30 miles.  Cyclocross-like in it's demands for sprinter's speed between short climbs and twisty singletrack. Iceman is the one place I know that I use the hills to recover from the all-out bursts on the flat straight sections.  There are no significant extended climbs, and the descents are mostly technical things with lots of turns.  

Basically, a recipe for me not going very fast compared to everyone else.  I'm a long-distance endurance guy.  Big climbs, 4+ hours in the saddle...and I'm sitting in wave 2.  

I was nervous.  Excited, yes.  But nervous about trying to keep up with a bunch of guys who were riding their home trails.  Conrad and Dave (wave 7 and 11 respectively) deserved Wave 2.   I was not sure I did, but I was going to try and prove that I belonged.  

So I lined up with the Wave 2 gang.  All full team and shop kit. While I was not sporting any colors (need to work in that Mr. Joey and Mr Kaolin...one of you guys is willing to let me fly the shop colors, even if they are moving slow), I was at least dressed appropriately.  Lightweight goretex jacket, shants (some call them knickers), long finger gloves, and cycling cap under helmet.  A few rain capes around, but no one in ski gear or inappropriately over-dressed.  Lots of 1x11 drivetrains, lots of big chainrings.  This group was built to go hard and go fast.

For all that serious seriousness around, this being Iceman the mood was light, fist bumps at the start, and lots of chatter about the season to date.  I got a few skeptical looks (I always do), but the race completion resume earned me a few nods of appreciation.  The first wave went off and the countdown was on for wave 2.  

3 minutes later, we're counting down from 10...and we're off!

Hammer time

With an amped up, super-competitive group of racers gunning to see how many of the wave-1 guys they could catch, it may have been smart to hang at the back and catch a few wheels as we rode through Kalkaska en route to the first stretch of 2-track.  

But I was not out for a Saturday ride in the rain.  This was a race.  I had a chance to stay on some wheels and maybe, just maybe stay in front of Conrad and Dave.

So I hammered off the line, went to the far right side of the road, and grabbed the wheels.  I figured I would stay out of the fray in the slippery paved corner we all hit at 20+mph, and avoid being bottlenecked into the first stretch of singlegtrack. 

As we came to the first corner I stole a look at the Garmin.  28mph.  HO-LY CRAP.  We were absolutely flying.  Made it though the corner just fine when a guy decided to pull a PRO move and pass OUTSIDE my line.  I was already riding the white line on the right side of the pavement, so he went PRO, and bumped me with his shoulder and thigh as he went by.  

By some miracle I did not freak out, and just kept going.  I had visions of hitting the pavement in a twisted pile of carbon, bodies, and aluminum, but somehow, i stayed upright and cursed instead.

Wheels made the dirt in what Strava tells me was record time.  For the first 2 miles of the course, I averaged 23mph.  On a mountain bike, in the rain.  Damn.

The next 5 miles or so of the course are sandy and gritty.  Within about 10 minutes, everything was grinding.  All moving parts on the bike were covered in sand, mud, and grit.  Brake rotors were rubbing, chain was grinding even the brake levers and shift levers made noise every time I touched them.

About 20 minutes in front-ring shifting became a complete crap-shoot.  I was concerned that something was wrong with the bike, so despite feeling pretty good, I stopped (which allowed the entire wave to pass) and checked out the bike.  As everyone was passing, I realized ALL the bikes sounded like that, so it was time to rocket on.

Slog

As we passed the first aid station near Dockery road, the ride transformed from a romp through the wet woods to a slog through some serious mucky muck.  Singletrack sections were greasy slimy mess, road sections had trenches of water, and the logging road sections were just plain impassable. 

I slogged up the hills, held on for dear life and muscled my way around the corners on the downhills, and basically worked for every single meter.  I did spend some time in the draft, but I have lost my mudder skills, and fell behind on any slick section.  I couldn't really see out of my glasses, and the garmin was constantly caked in a layer of mud.  

I knew I was losing time as my average speed kept dropping.  I was hoping to maintain 12-13 mph, but was kind of wallowing in the 9-10mph range.  I would tell myself to HTFU, add a few gears, stand up and gain some speed only to have the wheels slip out on the next singltrack, or take the wrong line around a mud pit and end up 1/2 way to the hubs in muck with a foot down.

About 2 miles past the Williamsburg road aid station I missed the line entirely on a downhill singletrack section and ended up in the woods with my bars in a tree.  The right thing to do would have been to slam a GU, run back up to the trail, and rocket on.  Instead I futzed with my bike for a few minutes before I finally got going.  I didn't know it at the time, but that's when I stopped racing, and shifted to riding.

Times were out the window.  I was sitting around 9.5mph, and staring at a 3hr+.  Really, I was hoping for sub-2.  Not today.

Mt Gary and the Finish

The Vasa singletrack means you are close to the end of Iceman.  Except for the paved start this is the fastest part of the course.  Sweeping turns, wide trails, and a sweet flow that means it's time for the big ring and laying it all out there. Anita's hill is completed, and all that stands between you, the finish, and a pints of Bell's beer is Mt Gary.  

Mt Gary is not marked anywhere.  It's only about 50 ft of elevation gain, but at Mile 28 on the Iceman course after nearly 3 hours in the cold, mud, muck, and sand, it's a doozy.  Mt Gary has an awesome feature.  The fans at the top.  Yvonne, Abby (11), Zoe (8), and Olivia (10), the Klaus and Joel were all hanging at the top of the climb.  I was told my high-5 and smile were the most forced they have been in years, but indeed I was having fun.  I big ringed that sucker, and headed into the last 2 miles of twisty, muddy singletrack.

Those last 2 miles were tough.  I was hell bent on a sub-3, and the corners were seriously greasy.  I managed to make it through upright, through the tunnel, ground up the icebreaker, through the fly-under and into the finish straight.  

The race announcer let everyone know that "Rohit from Scottsdale" must be really cold (he was right).  I did manage a 2-arm salute across the line, and somehow managed 2:55, and stayed a few minutes in front of Conrad.  He beat my total time by 15 minutes...but small victories.  Of course he had hit a tree and busted his rear brake lever part way through the race, but I'll still take it.  

Another Iceman in the books.  Lots of stories in the changing tent of broken or frozen bikes, guys taken headers in the mud, and people abandoning at Williamsburg road.  I ended up top 1/3 overall and in the age group.  I'll take it.  

Conrad looking Serious

Grinding

Because, Iceman

Cheering and Pushing

A magic part of Iceman is the pros racing AFTER the rest of us.  After gathering up Conrad, Dave and Scott (who managed to break 2 derailleur hangers(!) and DNFd), and Marie (who kicked butt in 3:30!) we got ourselves supplied and headed for the top of Mt Gary. The Gary gang was in full glory...Dave, Yvonne, Joel, Marie, Chris, and J-.  Myself, Conrad, and Scott as honorary participants.  There was a bonfire, posters, and beverages.

ROLL THAT FATTY

We yelled and screamed for the folks finishing the race.  We offered GUs if people really needed them, let them know it was 2 miles to the finish, and gave pushed up the last hill as needed.  Besides, who can resist being encouraged by 3 screaming pre-teens and 9 semi-sober adults?

We kept anticipating the pros coming in...it was getting dark, and they are usually done in 1:30 or so.  As the clock got closer to 2 hours from their start, we knew this was truly an epic day at Iceman.

Then we heard it...the lead moto of the pro race.  We lined up, cowbells and beverages in hand and screamed for Brian, Jeremiah, Georgia, Emily and Kelli.  We begged every girl to chick the guys in front of them, and offered beers for wheelies once the leaders had gone by.  We handed up more than a few beers.

As darkness fell, I'm pretty sure we gave the guy and girl in DFL the encouragement they needed to make it across the line.  We then retreated to the warmth of Dave's abode, drained the beer, bourbon, and tequila, boxed the bikes while more beer was procured, then retired to spinning tunes in the shop.

why?  Because Iceman.

See you all in 2015.  

Iceman Cometh Challenge -- 2013

Iceman Cometh Challenge - 2013

20ish years ago Scott Booth and I made the trek to Traverse city to ride in iceman in it's 4th or 5th year. We had steel mountain bikes thrown on the roof rack, started the race at Kalkaska high school, ended at Mt Holiday, and rode through 3 feet of snow along the way. We were cold as hell...and a tradition was born. Iceman was my first endurance mountain bike event, and is the one I go back to every year. I managed to skip a few for getting married, the birth of Anika, and the wedding of Jason Frankena and Rebekah Wolford. But for the most part, the 1st Saturday of November means getting to Traverse City, hanging with awesome friends, thrashing the trails through 30 miles of sand, mud, and the (rare) snowstorm. The race has humbled me with 2 DNFs, 1 4:30+, and many finishes with good stories attached. 

This year was a banner year with a 2:22, Dave Hunter running a 2:21, and Conrad Wasmer running a 2:15. PRs all around, and much happiness and draining of Bell's cups at the end. we missed Cliff and Scott this year, but no doubt they'll be back 

The race was really fantastic. A magic combination rain, a little cold, and the mud and sand seemed to turn the entire course into hero-dirt. That black tacky soil that lets your tires stick no matter how hard you crank or how far you lean. I felt great. I've clearly got some fitness left over from the last race (that one in Colorado...). Riding on cloud nine as I passed multitudes huffing and puffing up climbs as I flicked the thumb for a bigger gear. I even cleaned Anita's hill. Haven't done that, ever. I was pretty convinced I was finally going to win among the little gang i ride with, but Dave and Conrad were out there having even better days. To that I say...see you on November 8, 2014! 

But this race is about so much more than hammering through the woods. Iceman is real. Iceman is 4000+ people putting their wheel on the line to see if they might make it fast enough to get some beer before the taps run dry. Iceman is great friends -- some of whom I know because of this race (yeah, that's you Hunters), kids ringing cowbells, and my home state on proud display. Iceman is a bonus Christmas where I get to see people I don't see but once a year and for 72-96 hours forget all about whatever I'm sending email about day in and day out. Iceman is Bells beer at the finish, Michigan natives beating national champions, and the smell of pines and fall leaves in the north woods. Iceman set me on a path that winds through forests, mountains, over a few passes and up a few peaks. Iceman keeps me sane, and every once in a while shows me I can do more than I think I can. and this year, they took this picture of me. awwww yeah

Showboating on the last jump