XTERRA 2011

I know, I know, the Double Fondo went down last weekend and I missed the post. There is a draft floating around in the web-o-sphere somewhere and let me assure you, the names may have changed, but the story is the same. Seven or eight old guys get their teeth stomped in by Joe Fish. Read last years recap and you'll have most of it.

Moving on to current events: generally, we here at FLP tend to frown upon any ride which is preceded by a swim, and/or followed by a run, but if you were brave enough to toe the line in this year's Xterra, well, you may have been slightly surprised by this lurking around the corner:

Or This:

Which, after a few or more early morning beers, degraded into something like this:

Unfortunately, it is virtually impossible to hold a giant syringe, a beer and a camera in just two hands, therefore I cannot show you any photos of the Caveman Conrad Stoltz shredding Buttermilk Trail, or Shonny V. riding Melanie McQuaid's wheel on lap 2, or Scottie D. suffering with the rest of the "also rans" out there.

Scottie D, let this be a lesson to you: a whole spring wasted - swimming, running and not drinking. You are one of us and we are not triatheletes, unless, of course, the events are riding, drinking and eating well. Now get back on yer bike, get some socks, ditch the sleeveless jersey and let's see if you can salvage a bit of self-respect in time for the SM100.

MON 6/13/2011 UPDATE:

This just in from the Forest Hill news bureau. Scottie D. assumes the position. No sleeves, no socks, no service!

This just in from Frank

Foghorn Leghorn approved-

Foghorn Leghorn Disapproved-

In light of the Tour de Cali cancelling the first stage due to snow squalls, I must request that you have Scottie, the intern, book a flight and go enforce some "no whining" policy in Tahoe. Thank you for your prompt attention to this matter.

Frank

PS- I believe that Jens Voight is exempt from correction based on past performances, but Scottie should at least give him a stern talking to.

Keen eye for irony and wit, has that Frank. He is one of us. Salute Frank, you just got yerself a dee-ploma from Foghorn U.

Somebody cue up "Pomp & Circumstance."

Enjoy your Easter weekend, but remember...

Brad will be suffering for your sins! Approximately one half hour ago, Foghorn Leghorn Productions place it's first entrant into the grueling TransIowa race, and he is probably some where about say, oh, I dunno, maybe 315 miles and 33.5 hours from the finish. The good Lord dumped ass loads of rain all week up there in Grinnell, but the weekend looks purty. Did I mention pavement is somewhat of an anomaly up that way. Give 'em hell Bradley, and remember rule #5. You will soon be only referred to as Mr. TransIowalter to all of us mortals.

Ferry-Roubaix 2011

As usual, you fucked up and missed it. But don't take my word for it, let me take you inside the mind of one of the eleven fearless riders/participants/competitors. I must say it takes quite a trusting soul to embark upon such an adventure, with no real concept of how, where, or when you will return. Its sooooooooo Lewis & Clark!

Let's just say, on a personal note, at around mile 110, I went into some sort of shell shocked state. Misery trumped pain, things got really weird, and had it not been for mouthing off on these very interwebs, I may well have eaten that pasty power bar of shame, and called for the sag. Yet, among the quiet chaos that was my emaciated skeletal being struggling to keep it on the road, I found a certain serenity in my pedal stroke. An effortless spin I have never felt before, that, despite being in extreme discomfort, almost felt, well, comfortable.

I have spent the past 4 days consuming everything I can get my hands on. DO NOT put your hands anywhere near my face. They will likely be eaten. Same goes for pets and children under 50 lbs.

UPDATED: Ferry-Roubaix is April 17

Update: Puxatawney Phil has cracked! Roubaix weather has returned!

Twenty days out & counting. Two course recon/route marking/preriding missions in the bag, and two flat tyres are already up on the board. A bonus point has been added for one rider going ass-over-tea kettle on Ware Creek Road. Priceless! Fortunately, to a soft, sandy, leafy landing. Keep that thing between the ditches, yo!

So the score is Swamp Fox: 3, Peloton: 0, if you are keeping track of that sort of thing.

We have already received preregistration commitments from some notable rookies and potential contenders, as well as the usual lot of surly, wily and drunken veterans. Accordingly, we have petitioned UCI (Underground Cycling Internationale) and waived the team kit penalty, and the matching kit penalty and, oh what the hell, the matching team kit double penalty has been waived as well. All that being said, keep the attire proper people. Your Jelly Belly jersey with those Maipei bibs simply will not fly here. When in doubt, black on black with black trim is timeless and understated. If you look like Vader you will ride like Vader. That is, Jedi... straight outta the dark side.

While we are on the subject of protocol, I did mention this is run on 99% publicly owned and open roads, right? The route is rural as all hell, but there are a few unavoidable stretches of Route 10, Route 30, Route 60 and Route 155, that can be a bit hairy, particularly after the 100 mile marker. Also the left hand shoulder always seems pretty comfy on these gravel roads, particularly when the road kinda bends to the left. Bubba would like nothing more than a carbon fiber hood ornament for Easter this year. Hold yer line, know yer rights and responsibilities, and signal yer intentions and everything will be just hunky-dory. Remember, no matter how much you think people like you, nobody cares about you as much as you do.

Still looking for our first female starter...

Several of you have contacted me and said: "Do I have the legs, can I try this?"

Master Yoda provides your answer: "Do or do not, there is no try." All I can tell you is when the going gets tough, and the road gets rough, you are out on course alone and don't know if you are 10 minutes up or 20 minutes back, and no matter how many times you wipe it off there is perpetually a droplet of low-viscosity snot hanging from your nose, and every sip of air is like inhaling sulfuric acid, and you don't know when the last time was you actually saw one of those ?????-colored arrows - are you gonna reach down and grab that bidon full of courage, take a big-ass gulp and stand up on the pedals, or are you gonna stop, unwrap your pasty power bar of shame, and wait on the roadside to pile up in the broom truck?

Your call, young Skywalker, your call...

Mtn Foz is all smiles moments after experiencing a disturbance in the force, while

Scottie D. strictly enforces the no whining rule.

Ferry-Roubaix 2011 is April 17!

Oh yes, Oh yes, Oh yes! Spring has sprung and Puxatawney Phil has gone solo off the front! Once again we find it is time for the annual two wheeled wander through the Shires of Kent and Surrey and York, the Counties of Prince George and King James and King Charles, The Burg of King William and his queen Mary. This year's event pits Team Hard-ass against Team Dumb-ass, and who is unwittingly riding for whom has yet to be determined. After 3 years of deliberation, we have received our provisional status as an instant classic from UCI (Underground Cycling Internationale). Race radios will be neither banned nor approved.

Over the past few years, riders have reached out and said "Foghorn: we want more gravel! Foghorn: we want more distance!" This year, Foghorn responds with the Third Annual. The Swamp Fox Edition. Five gravel sections, an even 200 kilometers and one boat ride. It will be 140k of civilized riding and 60k of cut throat cycling. Plus a new finishing route previously known only to the Fox.

If you have not ridden F-R before it is every bit in the spirit of the Spring Classics. Each year we push the distance a little further, and ride surfaces that are a little rougher. The lines between ride & race, between friend & foe, between tough & stupid, between road & off-road all become blurred as man & machine are stretched to their limits. Along the way, we tackle the Benjamin Harrison Bridge, the Jamestown Ferry, the Colonial Parkway, Aromas Coffee Shop, York River State Park and the gravel backroads of the Chickahominy Swamp. These are the landmarks that threaten to test & tempt the steel & muscle, the nerve & resolve, the lungs & legs of those who dare traverse the boundary. When hurt is the only thing that will ease the pain, that is Ferry-Roubaix.

A select field of veterans and capable rookies has been chosen. Meanwhile doubt, remorse and questions loom large and last years debts must be repaid in misery and suffering. Without G. Hincraftie in his pocket this year, who will bring last year's champion Scottie D. to the line? Will the Brown Jersey make a showing? Will Foghorn be able to move up the podio on home turf? Will the peloton ever reach double digits? Will Big Frank work a double shift in the morning and take the afternoon off? Can Metro stay on course? Will the girls of Aye Eta Pi sorority house be out for coffee? A few have the guns to go the distance, while the rest just may be too stupid to know the difference.

There are but three rules: No Registration, No Waiver and No Whining. As usual, Scottie D. will be enforcing.

We will make every effort to scare up some sag support, but ultimately you need to be responsible for yourself. If you would like to volunteer someone, send 'em my way. Obviously, this is on open roads and all due care should be taken. Safety first, kids. The route is 100% legal and property of the Commonwealth. There will be plenty of feed stops along the way. Come prepared for anything & everything. Minimum 25c tyres recommended, especially if you are still "a couple months out from racing weight." I do not get paid to promote a brand or product, but Continental Gatorskin Pros work quite well. Otherwise, bring a spare tube, and a backup for that, plus one extra.

See the proposed route here

Sunday April 17, 2011
5443 Ridgewood Drive New Kent, VA
We roll at 8:30, if you are late you can chase in the sag wagon
preride breakfast served until about 7:45
no specific post ride festivities are planned, but pizza is just a phone call away
your unofficial race flyer is attached

Strade Quintonia

It started out as as brilliant scheme not to have to drive anywhere this weekend. Grab a couple of hammer heads and show them the best (and worst) of what New Kent cycling had to offer. In the spirit of the Spring Classics, 80 miles with 10-12 unpaved sections should do the trick quite nicely, I surmised. I had seen VDOT out earlier in the week "improving" the local gravels, so I new it would be a bike handler's wet dream out there this weekend. I'd been trying to lure T. (not team) Green out this way for a while, and I thought for sure he had taken the bait and I had him on the hook this time. Scottie D., as always, was in, and typically has an influential way with the Green. I considered expanding the group of invitees but then realized that some of these routes aren't exactly public, and a few amount to downright blatant trespassing. Keeps the blood flowing, I say, but a string of potential stragglers would be a liability.

Well right out of the gate practically, I knew this day would be one best forgotten. Mile 6 saw us onto a short 1 km section of soft clay, and boom, Scottie has dropped out of the rear view right away. A little heavy over the rear wheel, that one is. Founding him digging mud out of his tires, in what will one day be some retirees front yard. Coupla' miles later we are on the gravels of Criss Cross and boom again, Scottie has a puncture. And by puncture I mean "catastrophic sidewall tear." Apparently, this only cost one dollar to repair, which I begrudgingly surrendered in order to salvage any sort of ride for the day. By this time dude has no spare tubes, no CO2, and very little patience for the antics of one F.Leghorn. I thought the whole ride might be in the gutter, but he is convinced to go further. Now we come upon Section #3, Shooters Run. As the name implies, not exactly the type of place you want to go mechanical. Hell it is not even a public road. I inhale a wasp and hit the first climb in the big ring, but Scottie D wont play. The gravel just gets deeper and the road gets narrower. We regroup in the flat and I inhale a hornet and hit the second climb. Again, no Scottie. We regroup again on Clarke and there is a bit of a chance to recover. That is until Scottie gets a dog on. I peek over my shoulder and its a like war of attrition back there. Wheezing, coughing, matching black kits with grey whiskers, I thought I was being chased by Scottie and his better looking canine twin!

This goes on for a couple more hours, I throw in a half-hearted attack, Scottie declines to counter or even ignores me altogether. I can definitely sense he is hearing the banjos when we pull in for a little lunch. My offer for another loop is quickly dismissed, however, mention of cold beer in my garage gets the old twinkle back into Scottie's eye. I opt for another pass at Criss Cross, then the quickest, hilliest, busiest & most direct route home to finish him off.





Scottie D. hears the banjos as he tops out on the fresh gravel of Criss Cross Road.

Pantani Pics

From the darkroom of Frank, the pics just in:






Frank caught us at just the right time, we had just crested the summit of that mother for the second time, certainly the more challenging of the 2 routes, and that look on my face says "Dial 991, I fell like just inhaled a swarm of yellow jackets!"

Again, I reiterate, take that camera and turn it 45 degrees either way, and you have a more accurate representation of the gradient of these roads.

Thanks Frank!

Looks like a beautiful weekend!

I believe that children are our future. An active, healthy lifestyle is one of the best examples you can set for your kids, so be sure to get off your fat ass and take a kid for a ride this weekend.



Seriously, this is why some people never learn to ride a bike.

Ride Report: Pantani Ride

Marco, you broke my heart yesterday, just as you did so many years ago. But more than that, you broke my soul. You left it torn & tattered in the mud on top of Simmons Gap. Then you did it again. Godspeed, Il Pirata. RIP.

Needless to say, the Pantani ride, a celebration of the life & death of yet another one of cycling's human spectacles, did not disappoint. I was prepared for the worst, only to find out I was not quite prepared enough. Dave T. and company put on a fine, no bullshit event. Here's your map, a few words of wisdom, and a balls to the wall shotgun start. This is technically a road race, there are no trails involved.

Well the Foghorn/DP contingent got spit out the back right off the bat. We hung together and did what I thought was a pretty nice pace around the main loop. We caught a few guys, a few guys caught us, it was all pretty chummy. There is a place out there called Mission Home, and the story is, this was the place that took in the severely disabled inbreds of the local population back in the day. I guess back then you were either an asset or a liability.

Once you pass Mission Home and take the turn off on Simmons Gap Road, Wyatt Mtn Road and Brokenback Mtn Road: Welcome to Appalachia! It was amazing what qualifies for a road out there. These roads were so steep, loose, rocky, narrow and generally shitty that it was incredible. Did I mention steep? The view of the road ahead was so demoralizing, so mentally devastating, it was nearly impossible to keep the pedals turning over. Finally I was able to fix myself on Tom Haines wheel and get myself back over the top of that damn thing. Frank was there, right on time, to snap our photo. My freakin' knees felt like they were going to explode. The descent down the other side was fast, loose, & sketchy. After a rather windy 10 miles on the pavement back, 4:02. Only seven minutes of stopped time. Survived. Not too shabby.



What happens on Brokenback Mtn stays on Brokenback Mtn.

Between a Rock and Hard Place

Well the Super Bowl Sunday ride for 2011 is in the books, and let me say it went off the map. Literally. I was fortunate enough to secure overnight accommodations with some of the H'burg natives, and thus was able to fulfill one of the Foghorn mantras of riding to the ride. Actually, rode to the ride that rode to the ride. It was all good fun, what with the fire roads being covered with ice & all, essentially dual bobsled runs, beautiful. My tater hole puckered up tight as a ticks ass more times than once, but I managed to keep her upright and really had no problems negotiating the mess. I was fortunate to jump on the big loop led by none other than the mayor of H'burg hisself, Mike Carpenter. So 53 some odd miles, several beers and at least one bacon, sausage and cheese bagel later, Chad and I were able to slip away from the group and claim the city limits 1-2 for good ole Richmond. How or why that was allowed to happen remains a mystery, but it happened.

If I had remembered my camera, there would be some sweet pictures. As it were, I ripped this one from SVBC:


Moving on, I was looking forward to some leisure riding this weekend, when this call out came across these interwebbings:

ROOOSTER! I'm calling you out.

Sunday.

Love,
Marco Pantani.

I have no idea what he's talking about.

I thought Il Pirata and I broke up last year around this time, but apparently, I was wrong. He probably just needs a date for Valentine's Day. I just keep thinking Sunday Bloody Sunday.

2011 New Year's 50/50

What the hell is there to say? The rain delay & reschedule from the previous weekend played out perfectly, as riders were greeted by an inch of fresh snow on the ground and temps right around the freezing mark. The Foghorn Clan rolled out early and cut fresh tracks all over the river city. Invisible ice patches and frozen bridges claimed their fair share of the group, but everybody kept on riding. A few brief flurries added to the wintery effect. Rising temps turned the trails to slop, and a frozen, wet chamois appeared to be the norm. A group of about 25 hung together pretty well all morning, and by lunch time the 50/50 had seen it's first 3 female participants complete the stage.

The road stage saw the mercury peak and begin to fall rapidly as the skies clouded up, and the wind begin to howl. The wind split the group early, and any hope of regaining contact was shattered by a funeral crossing the course. Light flurries turned to white out conditions about 10 miles in. Six riders made the selection and were delivered through the storm to the bottom of Old Gun, but by the time they reached the top, the true selection of Travis, Tom, and Jamie had been made. THe FLP trio of Foghorn, Scottie and Metro gave weak pursuit but never got a glimpse.

Huge props to everyone who made the ride, put in the full day, and brought home the coveted bottle opener. Travis got the Chokin' the Chickin' socks award, for marking the wheel of the leader all day, and pouring on a huge helping of Rule #5 all day. Tom Haines and his wife Tracy deserve the most applause for hosting, and providing an avalanche of treats all day.